I would like to know what motherfucker thought it would be an excellent idea to plant bush beans this summer. What a fucking PAIN IN THE ASS it is to go down a row of those fucking things and find all the beans that are big enough to pick.
That motherfucker was me, by the way. I was all “Nah, let’s do bush beans this year instead of pole beans!” and Fred was all “But what a pain in the ass!” and then I was all “Well, I’ll take care of picking them. You always pick them when they’re too big and they get all stringy and shit.”
Spring Robyn is always FAR too happy to sign up Summer Robyn for shit like that, and as Summer Robyn, let me just say: Shut the fuck up, Spring Robyn, you fucking asshole.
Next year we’re doing pole beans (and no doubt Spring 2012 Robyn will be ALL too happy to sign Summer 2012 Robyn up to pick those fucking beans, too). Why do we grow so many goddamn green beans, anyway? Who loves beans THAT much? We always end up with ten tons of them in the freezer and have to eat them at every meal and by December we’re all “O goody. Beans again!”
Note, because I know someone out there is wondering and doesn’t know the difference (I sure didn’t before we had our own garden): bush beans grow in bushes so that the beans hide under the leaves of the plant. Pole beans grow up a pole or – in our case – a fence panel. The pole beans can still hide under the leaves of the plant, but you don’t have to spend as much time bent over, digging through the fucking plant to see them. Also, bush beans produce beans all at once and then stop, whereas pole beans keep producing them – thus, with bush beans the work of blanching and freezing (I don’t much care for canned green beans, for the record) happens all at once, but with pole beans the work is more spread out.
I’m sure next summer I’ll be bitching about the pole beans and swearing to do bush beans in 2013.
One thing I bought this year that has come in really handy is a garden cart, like this one (I bought it at Lowe’s, though). I was able to sit on that thing and scoot down the row of green beans rather than having to stand bent over. It was a lot easier on my back. It also came in handy when I was going down the row of tomatoes pruning and checking for early blight (which I haven’t seen since I sprayed for it twice).
Speaking of tomatoes, we’ve eaten exactly three cherry tomatoes. We have a bazillion green tomatoes that are inching ever closer toward ripening, and hopefully that’ll happen this century.
We’ve been eating the hell out of squash and zucchini – for dinner last week, we had scrambled eggs every night, with sides of veggies. Thursday night, I made pattypan squash stuffed with sauteed zucchini and yellow squash, roasted yellow squash, and sliced raw zucchini with ranch dressing for dipping. Oh! And leftover zucchini fritters. When dinner was over, Fred said “This is the most squash-centric meal I’ve ever eaten.”
The squash side dishes have just begun! ::evil laugh::
Last week I got an email from Burpee exhorting me to start thinking about my Fall garden (seriously, wtf? It’s not even July, motherfuckers!), and one of the links in the email was to their selection of garlic. So I clicked on that to go over and see what was what with the garlic they had (I’ve never grown garlic before, but I’m thinking of planting it this Fall so it’ll be ready to harvest next summer. I love me some garlic.). A few days later, I got an email from them proclaiming that I could get FREE shipping on garlic.
Fucking stalkers. They could be a LITTLE more subtle about the fact that they were following me around the internet looking over my shoulder as I perused their site, no?
(I haven’t decided about the garlic yet. If I do plant some this Fall, I’ll probably get it from the local co-op.)
Speaking of, um, stinky veggies, I don’t know if I mentioned this before, but this Spring I planted about 150 onions. Currently, I’ve got about 20 growing. I find that SO FUCKING ANNOYING. I love onions! (Between my onion and garlic love, don’t you wish you were kissing acquaintances with me?) Fred mentioned the possibility of doing a long raised bed next year for the onions, so that’s something to look forward to.
All the kittens are doing well. It’s like a crazy house in here these days, with kittens hopping everywhere like fleas. It’s surprisingly quiet in the middle of the day, with them flopped everywhere sleeping – but wild little monkeys first thing in the morning and at dusk.
I weighed the Spice Girls over the weekend. Cilantro and Cori are both a couple of ounces over 2 pounds, and little Clove is at 1 pound, 10 ounces, so it’ll be a bit longer before they all go to be spayed. Fred reported that he saw Clove rooting around in Miz Poo’s belly fur, clearly looking for a nipple, and Miz Poo was not appreciative of this development, so hissed and smacked at her.
Poor Clove (but I can’t say that I blame Miz Poo!)
Macushla’s in charge of guarding the food.
Ciara, trying to latch on. Poor Maggie – she tries her best to ignore them when they do this. Eventually, she either gives in, or jumps up where they can’t get to her.
Sleeping McMaos.
There’s a bed RIGHT THERE, but noooo, he has to curl up in a miserable ball on top of my sewing basket. Weirdo.
They’re so ridiculously long and lanky at this age.
Okay, well, THAT looks comfy.
So proud of herself for flinging that pink hat off her head.
Cilantro, eye on the feather teaser.
Planning her jump.
Whoaaaa…. back she goes!
Still swingin’!
Clove in profile.
Cilantro in profile.
Her little smile just slays me.
Maxi keeps me company when I do outside chores.
Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: You spoil them rotten until they get big-ass, then you slaughter and eat them, of course!
2007: Is it just me, or do these look like weirdly posed scenes, like something you’d see in the JC Penney catalog? I imagine a photographer yelling “Frick! You WANT him, you want him with every feather on your body, but Sugarbutt! You don’t even notice Frick, you’re just standing there being beautiful. Be beautiful, Sugarbutt! Be beautiful and feisty and unattainable, and Frick! Want him! Want him badly, but sadly, knowing that you can never have someone that beautiful. He’s out of your league! PERFECT!”
2006: The meals sucked, but we got t-shirts that were pretty cute, so I guess it all worked out.
2005: Can I sue for emotional distress?
2004: No entry.
2003: I never said I had a long attention span.
2002: You can imagine the zany situations.
2001: No entry.
2000: Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.