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Where the heck did my weekend go?? It's 10 p.m. on Sunday night, and despite sleeping in this morning, I feel like it's just zipped on by with me whirling around in its wake with a dizzy expression on my face. I can't even remember what we did yesterday. Did we do something yesterday? Ah yes, we did. And today we went to our friends Mats & Annelott for the afternoon, and a nice dinner of delicious pizza.

Dear Garlic,
Why you gotta be like that when you know I love you so?
Uncomfortably Yours,

Another crazy week ahead: AWC Julbord, Birthday present shopping, Birthday party/dinner, concert, Kid birthday party, Scouts Christmas market, AWC glögg party. And that's all AFTER WORK.

There is only one turkey leg left in the fridge. But it's probably going to get pitched since it's over a week old now. I hate emptying leftovers out of the fridge. It squicks me out totally. Most of the time I know that we won't eat up leftovers and I'd rather just pitch them up front, but I feel guilty (starving children! In Africa! STARVING!) when I do. Strangely enough, there is no more stuffing.

My friend Annelott apparently has an even browner green thumb than I have. She has dead plants, still in their pots, all over the place. If a plant dies on me I pitch it. BUT I cannot pitch it if it's still green. Even if it's very obviously giving up its little green ghost. I feel guilty throwing out things that are alive. Which is why I often have poinsettias until April or so when my mother-in-law wrests them from my guilty grasping hands and pitches them because ENOUGH ALREADY, LIZ.

Annelott also has a giant cat who is white with big black spots just like a cow. They call him Cow-Cat. He is the nicest cat but he takes no shit from the neighbor cats, judging by the wicked scar that was sliced across his face from eye to chin. "You should see the other guys!" he meowed at me as he stretched out on the sofa and headbutted my hand for more petting. I'm a sucker for really big cats and really small cats. ...heh. Who am I kidding? I'm a sucker for ANY cat.

I'm going to take the few remaining shreds of my weekend, curl them up around my shoulders like a blanket and jump in bed with them. And Sherlock. (Holmes, that is)

Lovely Laughing Bright and Bouncing Birthday Wishes to thesidhe!
mood: annoyed
music: garlic burps *urp*


Cow Cat is an absolutely wonderful name!!

I don't have a problem pitching dying plants...but I do have to have the Xmas tree pried from my grasp. I love to keep it up until about mid-January. :)

I love the letter to garlic :)

If a plant dies on me I pitch it. BUT I cannot pitch it if it's still green. Even if it's very obviously giving up its little green ghost. I feel guilty throwing out things that are alive.

I'm the same way. It's horrible. I'll even try to revive them by taking a cutting. It's pathetic.

I love your letter to Garlic. :)

I'll refrain to commenting about your dying plants, 'cause you know what a heartless snail killer like me would do. I'll just say, find the right plant for the right place and you won't have to deal with the guilt.

Do you believe in euthenasia? Or putting a suffering dog to sleep?

Yeah, I do, actually....but that's not the same as THROWING A LIVING THING in the garbage. At least your snail-crunching is QUICK.

So much for "refraining"

Which is why I don't simply throw them in the garbage and let them be gassed/cooked/starved to death. Lots of people are ok with death, as long as they don't have to see it. I don't agree with this. Death is never pretty, but it is a fact of life.

Life eats life; it's part of the cycle. (This is a rather personal belief, so be free to ignore me.)

Frost kills most house plants quick, if you're interested.

Personally, I put dying plants in the compost pile. At least they then reenter the cycle.

Re: So much for "refraining"

I agree with you, actually. I think we need a compost pile! :)

November 2019
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lizardek's obiter photos
lizardek's obiter photos

Feeling generous? Be my guest!

I can complain because rose bushes have thorns or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.

Abraham Lincoln

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