My hands and arms are like lead due to my Kamikaze-like gardening methods. For example, I’ll do things like pull on an errant root like a badger with a snake’s tail, rather than stand up and get a shovel. Last weekend I gardened for a total of about 16 hours, and yesterday for four hours, and now my body’s weak from the experience.
But it’s that time of year, so if not now, then never. Hence, I’ve now planted an inordinate number of tomatoes, including some heritage varieties, one of which will be almost black! I also have potatoes, cucumbers, broccoli, peppers, Swiss chard, beets, carrots and green beans. I’m pretty excited.
Yesterday the weather was motivational, so Nicky and his friends helped me with some difficult work like weed eating. As this isn’t your conventional yard, the weed eater is a gas-powered behemoth that I can barely lift, never mind maneuver around the plants.
You’d think with the four times per week of gym attendance, and the heavy gardening and yard work, I’d be as thin as Nicole Kidman, but no. It’s strange, but working like a mule seems to engender a mule’s appetite, and I indulge it.
The SOSS (Southern Okanagan Secondary School) grad class of 1972’s having a reunion on the Labour Day weekend, and I can’t be the largest one there. It’s frightful enough to have to show up all jowls, but with Donald Trump’s girth to boot, it’s just too much.
Mojo resembled The Donald the other day, too. I put down the dogs’ bowls of their dry munchies for breakfast, and Mojo just looked at hers. This never happens with a dachshund, so I felt her body and realized she was as taut and blown-up as a zeppelin.
I don’t know what caused it, but she was fine by dinner time. The day before the cats had brought in a mouse, as they like to do. Mojo won’t tolerate a mouse in the house, so after stalking it for some time, she was finally able to get it when I moved the TV and stand out of the way.
However, in the past I’ve always been able to get her to drop the mouse once dead, but this time she just couldn’t stop herself and ate the whole thing. I’m thinking the mouse must’ve disagreed with my pure-bred dog.
But unfortunately, not a single food item seems to disagree with me. I invited my friends Kathy and David, Pat and Larry for dinner on Wednesday. I made the broccoli and coconut milk soup I had in my latest newsletter, as well as chicken, rice, beet salad and a four-layer chocolate chunk torte for dessert.
Thankfully I know myself well enough, and before they left I wrapped the remaining cake and gave it to the two couples to take home. I knew what was going to happen to it if left in my possession, and with three months to go until the reunion, I can’t take any chances.