Let's Talk

Things we won't talk about:

1) Nursing on a plane. Let's just say: SO NOT FUN.

2) Changing diapers on a plane. See: SO NOT FUN.

3) Changing an entire baby outfit on a plane because of the above-mentioned diaper change and GOOD LORD CHILD, what have you been eating?!

4) Budget car rental. Who said, when I called to check, that sure they have car seats! We've never run out of car seats! There will be a car seat waiting when you arrive!

There were no car seats. They don't even HAVE infant car seats. And so Enterprise wins this particular customer's loyalty.

Things we will talk about:

1) Enterprise. How I love thee and your helpful staff and infant car seats, amen.

2) The Residence Inn Marriott. Free breakfast, and not a shitty "continental breakfast" either. PLUS a free dinner buffett WITH free beer and wine! We may live here forever.

3) Hotels in general. Blessed air conditioning. And hot water. And cleaning fairies that whisk away all messes. I love you, cleaning fairies. Will you come home with me?

4) Seeing my family and introducing them to Cubby. Grandpa in particular is a BIG hit.

5) Disposable diapers. I still feel vaguely guilty using them for the trip and just throwing them away, but OH MY GOD, the lure of convenience, it is strong.

Practice Run

Okay, Cubby. We're leaving this morning for New Orleans. You're going to be meeting all of your relatives from my family for the first time, and you have until Saturday to charm them. You want to make a good impression, don't you? Of course you do! So let's practice that big smile.

Don't give me that look, young man. When I say smile, you smile.

That's better. I'm glad you've adjusted your attitude. Now let's see a little more happiness . . .

Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about.

Get ready, New Orleans. Cubby is a comin'.

File This Under "Stupid Things I Have Done"

It's a big file. And its most recent entry is mulching my precious tomato seedlings with the urine-soaked straw from the sheep barn.

Not that this is inherently bad. In fact, it's supposed to be good. So say all the experts. So I finally decided to sack up this year and haul wheelbarrows of sheep-soiled straw to mulch the tomatoes. So virtuous of me! Such a disgusting chore! So relieved when it was done!

However.

I dug down too far, into the really ammonia-heavy muck in the bottom layers of straw. The result? Some of my seedlings got burned, meaning the leaves are all grayish and brittle.

STUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID.

There are HOURS of work in those seedlings, and now it could all be wasted. It's not certain that the plants will die; the stems aren't wilting or anything, and most of them have some small new-growth green leaves on them that I'm hoping will bring the plants back to life. And I do have a few extra seedlings that aren't planted yet, so I can replace some.

BUT STILL. STUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID.

It's a Sickness

I can't stop taking pictures of Cubby with every flower on the property when it blooms.

But really, why should I?

Cleansed

It was at least 80 degrees yesterday, humid and sunny. After preparing the ground for and planting another dozen tomato plants, half a dozen basil plants, and four jalapeno plants, and then stacking a truckload of firewood that A. had cut and split, plus cleaning the ashes out the woodstove and hauling them to the burn pile along with a couple of wheelbarrow loads of trimmings from the bushes by the front porch . . . I was beyond sweaty. I was totally, absolutely, and without a doubt disgusting. Unfit for polite company.

And so OF COURSE A.'s friend joined us for dinner. I don't think I contributed much to the appetizing atmosphere of the meal. Gross.

ANYWAY.

I finally got to bathe at 8 p.m., after Cubby went to bed. And OH MY GOD, the sweet relief of not being sticky and smelly anymore.

Heaven is a shower after a long day of hot labor.