We’re having a mishmosh for dinner tonight. That’s what results from a lack of enthusiasm for grocery shopping and two fridges full of leftover stuff. It’s apropos, though, because it’s been a mishmosh kind of day, too.
This morning seemed like a good day for sleeping in, so I did. For me, seven a.m. is darn near lunchtime, but once in a while I decide to roll over and pull the covers a little tighter if the five o’clock temperature seems to demand such an action. Outside temps last night, according to the newspaper reports, dipped below 50 degrees. Thanks to a very efficient furnace, it doesn’t reach that state inside, of course, but it’s the thought of the thing. Anyway, I hauled the carcass out of bed about 7:30, did all the automatic switch flicks (power strip on, computer on, mouse jiggled, coffeepot on, corn bag in microwave) and settled down to face the morning.
Actually, I had plans for a very organized day, beginning right after breakfast with paying the latest bills (check out yesterday’s post) and moving on to basic income tax prep. But, as they say, the best laid plans…
My first mistake was taking out the garbage. I figured I ought to do that before I started paperwork, because coffee grounds are good for the compost, and nobody wants garbage sitting all day in the sink, right? I should have known better, because when I turned the compost pile to cover the breakfast effluvium, I found worms. Lovely, wiggling, wriggling, red worms just milling around, minding their own business and producing castings to make the compost rich and wonderful for my garden. How could I not take just a little minute to walk around the yard and check out all the growing things? The bills could wait a few minutes.
A couple of hours later, I made it back inside, having tied up the first of this year’s sweet pea vines in preparation for a wall full of blossoms later on. There were still some empty little pots out there that could hold trimmings from some plants I cut back while I was trellising the sweet peas, but the bottle of rooting hormone was empty. Well, obviously a trip to the nursery was called for. The bills could wait a few more minutes.
I don’t know about you, but as far as I’m concerned, there is absolutely no way that I can walk into a nursery, or the garden section of the big box hardware store, and walk right back out with a single item. Today, the cart held perlite, a cute little houseplant in a ceramic elephant, a bare root Thompson Seedless grape vine, and a book on how to build the pergola to support said grape vine. I didn’t purchase the wood for the project only because I didn’t have the truck with me.
When I got home, I stopped by the sewing machine for a second to firm up the stitching on the second-from-bottom button of my gardening shirt. As long as I was there, I experimented with a couple of new ways to make grow bags out of weedblock fabric. It turned out to be a collection of varied sizes and shapes which truly called to me to take them out and fill them with compost, perlite, rooting hormone, and cuttings from the sweet pea area. The bills…well, you know.
Somehow, lunch got lost in the shuffled-up schedule. Hubby made do with an orange from the back yard–he’s been known to do this rather often when I get caught up in unplanned activities–and I promised him a nice dinner later. Unfortunately, the rest of the day sort of followed the same nebulous format, and by dinner time the menu turned out to be last night’s sausage-and-hominy leftovers, some plump yams with plenty of butter (substitute), and some frozen shrimp rather optimistically called “butterfly” which I cooked up and served with cocktail sauce. Fresh oranges for salad and fresh oranges for dessert. Mmmm.
A mishmosh meal, but pretty tasty for all that.
I’ll see you again, after the commercial.
After The Commercial 