Kakahead

Here in West Michigan, it’s the height of planting season.  We had a wet, cold spring this year so I’m a bit behind getting stuff in the ground.  I did get my plants in pretty early though.

“Gotta get yer peas and potatoes in by Good Friday,” Grandpa Bunny used to always say.  Well I didn’t quite make it.  Just a week before we had quite a bit of rain.  Since we live in Bear Swamp, I knew full well that tilling the garden would be very much like running a rototiller in ankle deep chocolate pudding.

So I waited a bit.  Went to Weesies just before Mothers Day to buy my plants before the rush came.  Around here, all the veggie plants become slim pickin’s by Memorial Day.  Of course, if you let your peppers, eggplant, and tomatoes sit in those little tray thingies for very long they get root-bound.  Therefore, each year I “commit sacrilege” by putting my frost sensitive plants in the ground before Memorial Day.

I love to share my adventures in the garden  When I tell my friends I’ve had my peppers, eggplant, and tomatoes in the ground for almost three weeks, their eyes get big and they shake their heads and say things like:    “Aren’t you worried about frost??”  “I thought you weren’t supposed to put anything like that in until after Memorial Day!!”  I reassure them that it’s very OK so long as you have enough “hot caps” to cover each one if there’s a danger of frost.

“Hot caps??”  they ask quizzically.  “Yeah, you know, buckets,” I explain.  “Keep them handy so you can put them upside down over the plant before you go to bed.  That way when the frost comes they don’t get killed.  But make sure you take them off first thing in the morning or your plants will get roasted inside those things.”  They’ll say “OOoohh…” but I can sense they are wondering whether I’m OK in the noodle or not.  Of course when they hear I went to Dollar General and spent $50 on buckets they may really think I’m nuts (at least they were made in the U.S.!!).  Seven buckets at $1.75 each and 13 waste baskets at $2.25.  The guy at Dollar General said, “you must have a lot of trash!!”

Hot caps or no, there’s nothing quite so unnerving as carefully planting your baby tomatoes, etc. and waking up the next day to find a decapitated stem with its head lying next to it.  It’s happened to me… but only once.  The stupid pest didn’t even have the decency to eat the leaves that fell to the ground!!  Here’s a picture of the culprit:

A cutworm... photo by Neil Phillips, UK

It’s called a cutworm.  It’s not a worm at all, but a caterpillar; and after it devours the stalk of your baby plant it curls up just under the soil and takes a nap.  Then off it goes later to search for another.

Well I learned about cutworm collars after one of my babies got decapitated all those seasons ago, and I’ve been using them ever since.  Very easy to make, I simply cut the bottom off of a paper drinking cup.  I use paper coffee cups from the vending machine at work.  I simply flatten the cup and cut about 1 ½ inches from the bottom and turn it upside down over the plant.  Then I press it into the soil just a bit so the wind won’t blow it away, and also making sure the leaves of the plant are above the cup.  Here’s an example:

Paper Cup Cutworm Collar

Something like that.

Well, enough of this monkey business.  This video has absolutely nothing to do with cut collar worms.  I’ve never grown Black Eyed Peas, but in my professional opinion, this video of theirs is a lot of fun.  So there.

Our acquaintance first began when we were both just 17 years old.  Sociology class in high school.  I remember that she said she was from a big town, Detroit.  I was from Long Island and our family had relatives in Brooklyn.  Two “city kids” (ok, “suburb kids”) transplanted at different times together to Rhinelander, a dinky town in northern Wisconsin.  I have no idea what the premise was.  I do remember being in front of the class and asking her some question that related to having been yanked out of a rather urban environment.

Fast forward into the last half of senior year, which brought a new set of classes and a new study hall which met in the cafeteria.  The study hall teacher was convinced that if he placed us boy / girl in alphabetical order that there would be very little talking.  Senior year and the boys and girls don’t talk to each other?  Anyway, I lucked out and this “city kid” was planted right next to me.

We became friends pretty quickly.  We sometimes commiserated about how the little hick town of Rhinelander took some getting used to.   Mostly I acted like the silly person I still am today, writing silly stories and sharing them at school, acting weird, making her laugh.  I admit though, that I was a bit dumb about dating and it basically took a clunk over the head with a big stick for me to get a clue.  That came in the form of female attire:  she switched from blue jeans and smock tops to dresses and make up.

I remember being mesmerized by this lovely lady and exclaiming to myself, “OH!  I get it now!  SHE LIKES ME!!!”

Fast forward again to May 19.  The “big day.”  By this time we were more than friends… no kissing or anything yet…  However, each of us were going steady with another.  Her beau was in the Navy and my sweetheart was in a suburb of Chicago.  My new lady friend wrote her Navy man a “dear John” letter (poor guy).  My dirty work was done face to face:  she was due to come “to the cottage” for the first of her family’s annual northward treks.  We met during one of her family’s summer stays and wrote gooshy letters when she had to go back home.

So on May 19 I hopped on my Honda CB-175 and rode to Holiday Acres to let my long distance sweetheart goodbye.  Not fun, but business, as they say, is business.

That day was, no fooling, the first day of the rest of my life.  May 19, 1972.  My new love and I rode to the fire tower and climbed to the top.  One could see for miles from up there.  Back down we went, off to the Dairy Queen for an ice cream, and basically just burned up the daylight enjoying each other’s company.  Upon nightfall we hopped back on the Honda and buzzed back to the fire tower to catch a glimpse of the small town lights and thousands of stars.

I drove her home, again no smooching yet… just two youngsters falling in love and loving life.

We got married the following year and are still smitten with each other to this day.  Sure, we’ve had good times and bad.  Marriage has given us many “growth opportunities.”  Nearly grew apart a few times… both of us have indulged in shenanigans that could have destroyed our relationship.  Fortunately for us, The Divine Committee Upstairs apparently kept smiling on us and gave us the ability to work out our problems.  Our marriage is very good.  Not every day is happy happy joy joy mind you.  We’re into reality now.  If you’re old like me you might remember a bumper sticker that read:  REALITY IS FOR PEOPLE WHO CAN’T HANDLE DRUGS.  Well, guess what?  We’ve handled more than our share of drugs and we much prefer reality.  Sometimes reality stinks and puts us in a bad mood; which helps us say or do stupid and even hurtful things.  We still butt heads occasionally; but a “fight” that often lasted days or even longer now gets shrugged off in less than an hour.  Most of the time.

We are still very much in love and tell each other so every day.  We even have that same 1970 Honda CB-175 motorcycle… it sits patiently in our shed waiting for both of us to get skinny enough to be on it together again.  Hasn’t run in years but hey, it’s a Honda… we’ll get it going.  Life is good.  We have each other, a nice home, cars that actually run and don’t even leak oil.  We are blessed and very grateful for it.  She even lets me kiss her!

May 19, 1972.  We celebrate it every year.  I had a crazy work schedule yesterday so not much celebrating except a kiss and hug and a “Happy First Date!”  I made up for it today; I picked lilacs for her.  Then I picked some asparagus from the garden and made asparagus and bean wet burritos.  Now that’s living!!

Oh by the way, please don’t tell anyone about the fire tower, I don’t think we were supposed to be up there.

Our favorite songs from all those years ago still conjure up some rather blissful memories. We both still love “Strawberry Fields Forever” but alas, the song’s video shows the Fab Four doing some rather weird stuff. Hey, it was the ’60s for crying out loud. So I found a much nicer video. Although my favorite Beatle is not necessarily Paul, this song still brings warmth to our hearts when we hear it.

Holy Hemoglobin, Batman!  There are vampires lurking outside!!  I narrowly escaped having every last corpuscle removed.  I ran to the garlic patch and yanked off some of the greenery and stuffed it into my face.  Chewy chewy chewy… “ooooey gack” you say?  Well, I don’t mind a little pinch of garlic between cheek and gum now and then.  As Grandma Loftus used to say, “it’s good for what ails ya.  And if nothin’ ails ya, it’s good for that too.”   And vampires are supposed to be repelled by garlic, right??  But in spite of my ingestion of Instant Vampire Be Gone, many of those little boogers kept coming back for more blood.

I’ve recorded the horrible sound they make and have put it into this here Frappy Hiday for your conjugation.  Just click right hereVAMPIRE!! Give it a moment to load, then play the horrifying recording.  I hope you can still sleep at night after listening.  That is the taunting noise they make while trying to suck the life force out of me.  It’s like they can smell me from miles away.  And I even bathe once in awhile!!  Honest!!  I’m convinced they have some sort of signaling network…

Calling all vampires!!  Dinner is served!!! He’s out here in the garden with shorts and no shirt on!  COME AND GET IT!!!

So you know what I do? Foist of awl, I pretend I don’t notice them.  Maybe let a few of them start to feed on me to get their confidence.  Then:   I smack them. I kersmoosh them into my skin. They bleed my blood. They die. Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha on you, you lousy rotten vampire pigdog jerkface monsterheads!!  Sure, maybe I should drive a wooden stake into their hearts to make absolutely certain they are dead.  That’s what they do in the movies to get rid of vampires.  But judging by what’s left of their kersmooshed bodies, I don’t think they’re going to slurp any more type A negative from the likes of me.  Or anyone else, for that matter.  Besides, do you know how tiny the wooden stake would have to be on this particular breed of vampire??  Every try to drive a toothpick through the heart of a mosquito??  Or maybe a gnat??  First you need a very small hammer…

Oh jeez, I gave it away. Ah well, it’s likely you already guessed I was talking about those doggone bugs!!  Man I hate those things.  When we were kids we used to douse ourselves with OFF or Cutter’s or some other DEET spray.  Well, after learning a bit more about that stuff, I don’t like to put poison on my skin to repel those stinkyheaded dirtmonkeys.  Sometimes I use that Avon Skin So Soft, and it does work pretty well.  Much safer than DEET.  I read somewhere that eating garlic will make them less interested in you.  Seems to actually work, although not completely; so I end up getting nailed a few times.

So far I have my tomatoes, peppers and eggplants in the ground.  No, not the vegetables!!  The PLANTS, you ninny!!  Some folks think I’m nuts for putting these plants in so early, but global warming has brought a strange benefit:  I’ve been putting tomatoes and such in the ground in early May for several years now.  Just need to keep buckets ready to cover them up when the frost comes, because although it was about 80 degrees today, we’ll probably get at least one more frost before summer is official.  I can remember when putting tomato, pepper and eggplant seedlings in the ground before Memorial Day would be considered pure lunacy.  Knot enny moor!!

Got my peas and potatoes in this evening, along with some beets, Swiss chard, spinach, lettuce, and onions.  All those are way late but hey, a few weeks ago we had so much water my garden soil was like chocolate pudding.

Along with this wonderfully strange, early summer weather we’re having here in West Michigan comes bugs.  Lots of ‘em.  Of course, the fact that our house is literally on the edge of a swamp gives all those nasty flying blood suckers a really nice place to settle down and raise a family. And they are all very hungry.  And some of them had dinner on me tonight, and I have the itchbumps to prove it.  But I also smooshed quite a few of those flame headed wombats.  Dirty rotten vampire bugs!  Now they are dead.  Or are they??

Anyone have some toothpicks and a teensy-tiny hammer??

So… I was hunting for a vampire video and looky here what I found!! Boop boop e doop!!

Dear Ninks and Semmerflubens,

I am writing to all of you from the back yard where no children are stuffing bread into the worm holes.  This week has been especially stressful at work, and a lot has been going on in the news.  Therefore, in the interest of clam flavored desserts, I feel the need to remove my corporate tortellini.  Those of you who know me are aware that some stressfully sprinkled donuts prompt me to write letters to fire hydrants.

Let this past century of my work week be no Oldsmobile to that incubation.

I was walking through the factory the other day, scowling inside my rib cage and doing my darndest to ignore all the noisy dirt.  Soon I found myself saying, “hey Self!  For why you are so poofely??  Don’t you agree that your employment status brings gas to your table and puts food in your car?  Are you not, indeed, a very fortunate person who no longer requires adult supervision at most Twinkie eating contests??  And c’mon man!  Get with the gratitude awreddy.”

My Self agreed that grouch makes ouch.  I decided I really ought not allow this job to remove my ventricles or extinguish my lapis lazuli.

The following morning, I smiled and decided not to be El Groucho inside my brain world any longer.  At least not for 27 minutes, then I could reevaluate and perhaps even continue another 14 milliseconds.  By golly, that may have actually worked.  I tried hard to not take work too poisonously.  Sure, since my friend Reebo has retired and I inherited an extra work load my job has become inflamed with large pickles that fly violently in all directions.  And yes, there is really no way to keep up with the demand, unless I find a way to successfully clone my onion rings before Hubert The Closet Painter arrives from Denderflaven.  If he gets here before the sauerkraut capsules are fully declawed, there is absolutely no guarantee of the existence of any newly sharpened Jell-O forks.

And we all know what that means!!

So, I’ve decided to just be happy until I feel grouchy again, which seems to come quickly when people at work allow their children to surf the web on their work computer, and then they come crying to me because they can’t get their computer to do anything except offer to fix horrible computer problems that don’t exist, and then I get to spend many minutes trying to kill the bugs when all they had to do was forget to allow their kids to surf the web with their work computer, and then I end up blasting the hard drive anyway so I can write run-on sentences with increased vigor and lengthy applesauce.

After all of that new grouchiness, I start my day over again with a new happy and grateful attitude.  Then I get grouchy once more, but a little less, and keep practicing the gratitude thing.  Then I go between buildings and sing happy songs like:

Leave me alone or I’ll bite you.

Your ears are made of sticks.

Why do you talk to ME like that??

I’ll send you cat logs in the mail.

This of course is sung to the tune of “Leave Me Alone Or I’ll Bite You.”

Then I laugh at my silliness and life is once again refreshing and full of new opportunities to enjoy fruit and perhaps even the occasional flying insect.

Sometimes I restart my day 479 times or more.

So, how was YOUR week?