Composthaste’s Weblog

Just another weblog

Ms. steps

with 3 comments

It may have been noticed by the large fan base created by this blog (I believe there are four of you), that there has been a small break in entries. Well fear not gentle reader, I have returned to entertain both of you with the latest garden calamities. I will not go into detail about why I have been reluctant to blog; I will just mention that Mother Nature is indeed a woman and a fickle one at that. There I am, trying to do my part and composte, and M.N, bitch slaps me across the face (literally) with a branch of poison ivy. I would go into detail about the eyelid swollen shut, the pruritic lesions that covered my body, and the general misery induced by being itchy on steroids, but I wouldn’t want to be accused of dredging the waters of your emotions for some sympathy. I won’t even try to describe the looks on patients’ faces when I would walk into their room and introduce myself as their caregiver. Although, I might say that I have a new empathy for lepers.
Anyway, yesterday I made a huge error. You never know, when you start living with someone, the little phrases, actions or inactions that will throw them into a state of indignation. I really don’t know how it happened. I was merely preparing for a lovely Sunday morning walk with my canine and my human best friend and suddenly I found myself on the front porch by myself with the dog. This would have been ok I guess but I could still hear the ranting, raving and pacing going on inside the nice air conditioned home that I thought we co-habited well together. Like most major melt-downs, it started very simply (I’m sure the Germans said the same thing “all we did was shoot von Bismark, what’s the big deal?”, or in early America, “what’s the problem with a little tea in the harbor?”).
I was looking at the website listed on the milk carton (…..awesome), and was reading about lovely families who lived picture perfect lives on idyllic 300 acre organic farms. Here, modern day families with actual teenagers, lived in and amongst nature in 100 year old farmhouses that now had WiFi. They had real life cows in their yard, and watched the sun set every night over their land (granted they were still working at this time of day). Their children were smiling and freckled. They hugged each other and wore their t-shirts with organic slogans on them. Interns would come to their farms from all over the world to learn their farming practices and some farmers would set aside calves for them so that at the end of their internship, they would have a “starter-herd”. Can you imagine anything so lovely? They make their own butter and cream, bake their own bread, and some of them have “espresso hours” in the afternoon every day to partake of fresh fruit and coffee and discuss their day. The children are neither pouting nor pierced, there is no synthetic coloring to their hair, and they appear to be working away happily for the sake of the farm.
That was when it happened. I dreamily announced, “I want a farm”.

The response was swift and powerful. “No! You are NOT getting a farm! I am NOT a farmer, I do NOT want a farm and if YOU want a *#$%&#-ing farm, you better just drop me now”

(…it continued)

“Can you see me in OVERALLS? Do you see ME dealing with animal SHIT? I am a CITY MOUSE. I can barely deal with the animals and the dirt they track in now, can you imagine us on a *#Q&#-ing farm? And, YOU are afraid of snakes. Don’t you think that there are SNAKES on a farm? Do I need to MENTION the poison ivy incident? [now this was a low blow] You are ALLERGIC to nature! You wouldn’t last a week! You would be walking along the farm, see a snake, have a heart attack, fall into a patch of poison ivy. Your skin would start melting off you before the heart attack would have a chance to kill you. You would be dead and I would be stuck with the *#&&#^%-ing farm! And I AM NOT A FARMER!”
At this point, I was kicked out of the house to walk the dog by myself.

So, it looks like, I will be working in my little garden from now on. I was given permission to expand it, as long as somebody came and took out the poison ivy. There will be no fresh butter and cream from this household, I guess my espresso hour will have to continue to be at Starbucks. No fresh eggs either…unless….I can get the cats to do something spectacular……I think I’ll keep these little ideas to myself.


Written by composthaste

August 4, 2008 at 5:19 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

3 Responses

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  1. OMFG!

    I just about fell out of my chair reading this. I can just hear her saying “all that stuff and everything”.


    August 4, 2008 at 9:06 pm

  2. OMG- we were falling out of our chairs laughing at this post!


    August 5, 2008 at 3:05 pm

  3. oh dear. i was actually wincing as i read it.

    it’s always troublesome when our wistful mental wanderings get shot down the moment we articulate them. that’s why i always try and say them around ruth. she doesn’t discourage or encourage me. the bad ideas she reckons will get overruled by the slow passing of time. “why yes, mom. a farm is a great idea. and tomorrow you’ll think about snakes and poison ivy…then your farm will fall by the way. then you’ll once again start coveting something more reasonable. like all of the seasons of star trek voyager on dvd.” she’s really very wise that ruth.

    you and poison ivy. like. a. magnet.


    August 5, 2008 at 6:21 pm

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