I Shouldn't Say This Out Loud . . .

Or rather, type it for all the world to see, because everyone knows that's a surefire way of cursing oneself, but what the hell. I'm gonna say it anyway: The garden looks really good.

I can't tell you what a relief it is to not have the weedy hellhole of last year. It's been a joint effort this year.  The MiL is taking care of the top section of the garden planted to leeks, onions, parsnips, and kohlrabi. A. has been diligent about tilling when I request it and keeping the rabbit trap by the fence set to catch the numerous rabbits that try to infiltrate from the adjoining gully (and one very unlucky skunk that got caught in the trap, but we won't talk about that). And I've been weeding and mulching and weeding and mulching more than I ever have in the past.

Good thing too, because the clumps of pigweed seedlings that keep reappearing are TERRIFYING in their numbers.

Even the garden tasks that I kind of hate--like hilling potatoes--are made significantly less awful for the simple reason that I can actually DO THEM this year, rather than standing there on my pregnancy-swollen ankles, watching helplessly as everything goes entirely to shit.

Everything has finally been planted. We've had enough rain that it's all growing, too. I've done the first potato hilling. The corn has just started appearing; not all the peas have been decimated by the rabbits; none of my transplanted tomato seedlings died (yet).

Happiness is a well-ordered vegetable garden. Well, MY happiness is, anyway, and so far this year? I'm very, very happy.

Mobile

Hey, guess who's crawling!

Your electrical cords are no longer safe.

Yup, the little grub is no longer so grub-like. He can now maneuver himself quite spryly in pursuit of the dogs' water dish in the kitchen, intriguing chunks of dirt outside, and the aforementioned electrical cords near the television.

Although he's been commando-crawling for awhile now, yesterday was the first day he did some honest-to-God, no-doubt-about-it, hands and knees crawling. He spent today practicing and picking up speed.

Also today he held onto my hand and walked (okay, so it was more lurching than walking, but whatever) all the way across the kitchen with the very purposeful intent of playing in that irresistible dog water. I foiled that plan, of course.

So I guess Charlie is going to try both walking and crawling at the same time and come to a decision at some later point as to which method of locomotion is suitable for him.

And me? Well, if you need me, I'll be spending all my time hauling him away from choking hazards and providing a helping hand for walking practice.

Chips and (Unorthodox) Dip

Gather 'round, children, for I have a great pearl of wisdom to share with all of you today.  And that pearl is this: Chips make everything better.

Consider:

Chili? Scoop it up with tortilla chips.

Likewise any kind of taco or burrito filling. Ditch the actual tortilla; go with the chips.

Chicken or tuna salad? Way better scooped up with potato chips than on any bread.

Tuna casserole? Don't bother with those ridiculous little crumbs of potato chips sprinkled over the top. Go big or go home: Scoop it right up with the whole chips.

What's a sandwich without chips? Not much of a sandwich, in my opinion.

I've even seen cookie recipes that incorporate crushed potato chips. The only reason I haven't made them is because I know damn well I'd eat them all in one go.

It's the chips, y'all. Can't beat 'em.

You're welcome for that priceless pearl. Now go eat some chips.