The new way we're doing shit around here

Just a picture of a cute dog about to eat a squirrel in the woods

So, i have all of these random things i keep wanting to tell you guys about but i get all, "Oh that can't be a post, it's just like one thing about lettuce." so then i keep it in my head until i have more things i can add to a post so that it's not just about lettuce or how this fucking keyboard's shift key is broken but i don't have time to fix it so I can't reliably capitalize things and keep my posts all nice and accurately capitalized and shit and oh here we are.

so instead of waiting until i have time to fix the keyboard or collecting any other items about which to post so that i can appear coherent in any way, i'm just forging ahead with what will likely be a very disjointed and most certainly ill-capitalized post about lettuce so that we can hang out again.

hey, friends! i grow lettuce now.

i mean, yes, i grow it at home in the garden because that's where we eat salad, of which lettuce is a main ingredient, but what i really mean is that i grow aquaponic lettuce (meaning it grows in water that's enriched with the power of fish poo) along with my other crops in the college greenhouse now and it's rad.

And because i've been so nerdy about introducing you to all of my other crops, i thought i'd at least keep some semblance of a theme, here.

Everyone, this is lettuce. Lettuce, this is everyone. and hey! the shift key worked, like, twice right there.

so, yeah - lettuce. i grow it all hydroponic-like in our greenhouse and then when there are a bunch of baby seedlings left over, i bring them home to my garden because i don't know when to just knock it the hell off.

one week's worth of leftover lettuce seedlings and then OH HEY here are some seeds that were donated to the program/my front yard meadow.

turns out that the hydro lettuce also likes soil growing because it's flexy that way.

Also from the world of I Miss you guys So i'm posting even though my Shift key doesn't work fOr shit - i'm not doing NaNoWriMo again this year.

i mean, i just don't see any way that it could happen. even if a hungry wormhole opened up and swallowed half of the projects i'm working on right now, i'd still be a bit frantic to be putting down 1,667 words a day.

So, boo. next year I hope to get back at it - writing stories about purple alien boyfriends with three dicks and such. which, yes, i did write about in year 1 and no i don't actually plan to revisit. it was sort of...how you say...absurd. perhaps i was drinking when i set out on day 1? i mean, maybe.

And while we're getting used to the new format of I Blast Randomness at you In the Name of Us All still hanging Out - here's some shit from the last month that i've wanted to post about but failed to find the brainpower/time/energy for. in bulleted list form because, hello, we've met...

• my neighbors started putting out Halloween stuff in September and then had their thanksgiving stuff out while there were still Halloween candy wrappers on the ground
• there are still Halloween candy wrappers on the ground in my neighborhood this morning when i walked the dog. CLEAN SHIT UP YOU ASSHOLE KIDS.
• i'm still getting As in my classes despite the mind-scrambling chemistry and math that has been foisted upon my brains
• I got suddenly and grossly ill a few weeks ago and had to cancel all my commitments in order to effectively curl up into a ball and try my best to die for two days which sucked
• The winter garden is totally in and i THINK that this year i'll actually have a good crop of onions for the first time ever so WOO (used the CAPS LOCK for that one)

And then i'm sure there are a million more random things that i could throw at you, but i'm really sick of looking at this poorly-capitalized post with all of its lowercase letters that should be uppercase, so i'm going to leave you with this.

this being the new format of finnyknits in which i blast random thoughts at you without any regard for the formatting of the post. so, you know, it's like most of the internet now.

Chat soon, my lovelies.

Another gratifying post for people who think blogs are just full of stupid shit.

While some may consider my entire blog to be full of posts like this, I do not. However, this post most assuredly fits into the Why The Fuck Does Anyone Bother category, which I happen to know that you people like.

YOU people. 

I really like it when people use the grand and wide sweeping "YOU", by the way. Because it both brings together and alienates people at the same time. It's controversial. SOME people hate it a lot and they get all mad. All of these features appeal to me. Just thought I'd share that with you since we've already decided that this post is going to be full of stupid useless shit anyway. 

For the main stupid useless shit topic of this post though - casters.

Yeah, like little free-swiveling wheels that turn awkward and heavy objects into movable, useful, way better versions of themselves automatically.

Take The Cube, for instance.

He ain't fancy, but Awesome doesn't require fancy.

You should first know that we love The Cube. It's the most useful piece of furniture (indoors or outdoors) that we own, we've had it since before Bubba and I were a thing and, in its time, it has served one million purposes, such as:

1. Throw a tablecloth over it and it becomes a Patio Bar

2. and a Patio Side Table

3. Add a cushion to that and it becomes an extra seat

4. Take the cushion away and it becomes a reception table

5. Denude it completely and it becomes a bike repair stand

6. Brewing table

7. Painting table

8. Lock the wheels and it becomes a step stool

9. Unlock the wheels and it easily moves big heavy things

10. Speaker box

1,000,000. Extra seat in the garage for lazy wives

What I'm saying is that if this thing, which is just six pieces of particle board nailed together into a big ass box, was just a box without wheels, it'd be mostly useless and we'd have destroyed/gotten rid of it years ago. 

But because it has wheels STRIKE THAT locking casters - it's the most useful piece of furniture that we own.

And that fact - that putting wheels on something otherwise useless and annoying makes it super useful and The Best - has influenced our household. In the way that we now consider the Caster Factor before we sell/toss/burn any piece of furniture or other rigid thing.

What Would Casters Do?

Well, let me tell you:

Metal box into Paint Cart

Tool Box into Tool Box That's Not Always In The Wrong Place ALL THE FUCKING TIME

Five huge storage totes that are impossible to get into INTO Five huge storage totes that are easily accessible

Giant wooden crate for VW parts that's ALWAYS in the way INTO Giant wooden crate for VW parts that's ALWAYS in the way but at least marginally easy to relocate to some less in the way place.

Metal desk that can be anywhere, any time, any way you like it.  We also love The Desk very much.

And the fact that The Cube fits neatly under The Desk makes the whole situation that much more enjoyable/bloggable. 

YES.

I'd like to be able to say that when we brought home this metal desk, we tested The Cube to see whether it'd fit under it, but alas, we did not have that kind of forethought. HOWEVER, when Bubba built the leg extensions with the casters for The Desk and then we slid The Cube underneath it, thus discovering the next layer of Awesome lurking in The Cube's repertoire, I can say that we weren't surprised.

It is The Cube after all. He only knows Awesome. And casters.

That's all I got.

I'm playing Surface Tension with my life.

Alright. It's November 1 and my denial is no longer denial, it's just reality.

I'm not doing NaNoWriMo this year.

There. I said it. It's out on the internetting and there's nothing I can do about it. Officially I'm not writing 1,667 words a day for the month of November.

I'm not sweating words from my fingertips onto my poor MacBook's can't-quite-keep-up-with-my-typing-speed keyboard in the dark lonely hours of the night.

I'm not tethering myself inextricably to @NaNoWriMo's Twitter feed.

I'm not tearing out clumps of hair during breaks from @NaNoWordSprints.

I'm not probing the inner recesses of my ear canal with a tablespoon digging desperately for The Point To My Story.

I'm not crying.

I'm not accepting caffeine as my lord and savior.

I'm not doing premature spring wardrobe shopping, ordering holiday cards with overly elaborate designs, shaving cryptic messages into the cat's fur, custom blending toenail polish colors for the dog's pedicure, cooking my way through Cook's Illustrated's back catalog, taking up crossbow hunting, training for a marathon or rebuilding a 1967 VW Squareback's engine.

Well, to be clear, I'm not doing any of those things while procrastinating on my NaNoWriMo novel.

Though I may do them while procrastinating on the millions of other things that have clogged up my life to the point where I can't do NaNoWriMo because The End would be so visibly near if I were to heap that beast somehow on the tippy top of Mount HOLY SHIT HOW WILL I EVER GET ALL THIS STUFF DONE over here.

Yes, friends, I have successfully filled my life to the absolute brim.

I'm playing Surface Tension with my life.

The combination of going back to school, starting a business, winter gardening (winter garden blahblahblah coming soon), trying to get in some fall fishing, taking up fly tying (yep, hobby #1001 right there), taking up Crossfit (is that considered a hobby? I'm not counting it as one.), indulging in the Giants World Series victory  (this takes serious dedication, so do not roll your damn eyes at me) and project managing our forever-taking bathroom remodel has taken me to the very edge of the glass that is my life.

I'm afraid that if I were to add even a drop of NaNoWriMo to that glass, it would spill over onto the counter and I would lose it.

"It" being "My Sanity". And we know what a tenuous hold I have on that already.

So, I'm just not doing it.

It pains me and I hate not doing it because I love NaNoWriMo's sick torturous fun and I am on a three consecutive year roll of winning and I have two stories outlined in Scrivener (love you, Scrivy!) that I could totally blast 50,000 words at and everything, but no.

I musn't.

Instead, I am going to write on this blog.

And my business's blog.

And Examiner.

And Twitter. And Twitter.

And Facebook. And Facebook.

And write term papers.

And scholarship applications.

And midterms and finals that are supposed to be comprised of 20 short answer questions but really end up being 40-50 short to long answer questions because SOME professors like to make single questions into 10 sub-parts that each require their own short to long explanation so end up taking THREE MUTHER EFFING HOURS to complete.

All of that I'm going to do instead of NaNoWriMo.

I hope you understand.

Also, here's pictures from some of that shit I just said was doing all the Life Clogging.

Obviously we were dressed as Giants' Bat Girls for the Halloween Giants World Series Victory parade. OBVIOUSLY.

That's the Giants manager holding THE SECOND WORLD SERIES TROPHY THE GIANTS HAVE WON IN THREE YEARS.

You know that I will wear those wrist warmers even when I'm not being a Giants Bat Girl.

I tied this fly.

I fished this fly.

And despite the beauty and perfect conditions, I caught nothing.

Which is OK because I got to hang out with this sexy guy all day who bit my hat sometimes.

The winter garden is KICK ASS so far.

Ever wondered what juvenile buckwheat looks like? Wonder no more.

That guy is a cauliflower. He lives under that fabric. More to come on this.

I now have five fewer flies than this box was holding at the time of this photograph. THANKS JERK TROUT.

There's more than just cover crops in the garden this winter. BIG TIMES.

Ah, to have a fully functioning bathroom without paper covering the new flooring. That's the dream.

Oh right. And also to be able to shower in my own house.

Pudding brain

Oh dudes. This month is totally getting away from me and I hate just hate that.

Know what else I hate? Only blogging once a week. Seriously.

I have shit to tell you people and when it gets to the weekend and I sit down to tell you all of it, my brain numbs up and I have a hard time scraping together two coherent words that you might want to read.

But that's mostly because I've been spending all my words on NaNoWriMo.

So far, I'm about 30K words into the 50K goal and I'm on track to win again this year, for the third year in a row. YAY.

In even better NaNoNews (which is a thing I just made up. You should go use it as a hash tag on Twitter and get a trend going. I'll join in! Maybe.) I may be writing a novel this year that actually makes it to Stage 2: Editing. Which will be wholly unlike my previous two novels that will die a cold solitary death in the forever phase of Stage 1: NaNoWriMo Draft.

Now, granted, I'm not 100% sure that I'll edit this novel, but since I never made it this far into the month while still liking my novel and the characters therein, it at least has a better chance than either of the two stink bombs from years past.

I attribute this relative success to three things:

1. Scrivener
   Seriously, having actual writing software that lets you put together character sketches, outlines, scene descriptions and so on, is actually as helpful as the Theys of the world say it is. Not that Scrivener is paying me to say that or anything. I just really like it and it's helping me not hate my book this year. Hooray.
2. I wrote an outline before I started writing.
   Now, granted, I wrote two outlines and did research and wrote up chapter summaries and everything before doing my usual punt at the 11th hour by deciding to go with an entirely new, un-outlined premise, but then I wrote up a quick outline for that idea and it's been semi-smooth sailing since. In the sense that I have only rewritten the premise once or twice and the novel has taken only two or three major shifts since I started writing. OK, so it's not the same premise at all, really, but I haven't changed the title, so that's something.
3. @NaNoWordSprints
   Ever had to sit down and catch up on 5,000 words in a day? Yeah. It's not the best. Particularly when your brain is filled with pudding and you can't come up with the brain power to order a burrito, much less write a novel in draft form.
   But having the @NaNoWordSprints deal going on Twitter, where they have some nice NaNoWriMo person tweeting ideas, commands, prompts and silliness to get you writing as many words as humanly possible in 20-30 minute increments is EXTREMELY helpful when your fingers thud down on the keyboard and immediately freeze. What? I need to have a sudden and powerful weather shift occur in my story? OK. I can think of something for that. Or, an alligator or anteater needs to appear or be mentioned? OK. I can fit that in somehow. Give me 10 minutes. So, yeah, super helpful.

 Mostly, I feel like this year's NaNoWriMo situation is an improvement over past efforts since I'm 10 days from the finish line and I haven't gone on a wordly killing spree inspired by intense hatred of all my characters.

Though someone will have to die soon. I have a chapter in my head all written up for that scene, so unless someone starts pissing me off, I'm just going to have to make up someone annoying to knock off so I can have them shoved carelessly into the back of an ambulance like so much bagged lawn clippings.

Anyway, that's what's up with NaNoWriMo. I'm going for my third win and no one has died yet. I'll let you know when I cross the finish line and we can do a body count together.

In other November news, I signed up for the Applied Materials Turkey Trot again, for the 4th consecutive year, and almost immediately after paying my $35 registration fee, decided I probably won't run it after all.

Why would I throw $35 in a hole like that?

Well, when you submit your registration, you end up on a thank you page of sorts, and this page has a hideous counter to tell you how many other idiots are running this race on Thanksgiving morning in some half assed effort to wish away the calories from the 16 pies they plan to eat.
And when that counter says 18,296 like it did when I was sent there after registering, I had to take a moment to get over nearly swallowing my tongue and then swiftly decide that my $35 would just be considered a donation to the food banks that benefit from the race as well as a little gift to myself in the form of a run through my vacant town on Thanksgiving morning while all these crazy fuckers are off running this race on the other side of town.

Yeah. Jada and I will be going for a solitary run around my neighborhood and, on our way home, will stop by a friend's place for Thanksgiving bloody Marys and ZERO race day bullshittery.

I'm pretty sure.

I mean, you know how much I love a balloon arch and race day jitters and all that shite, so I may give in at the last minute and subject myself to the throngs of insane morons dressed in costume pressed together in the name of extra pie, but it's likely that I'll opt for a quiet run through empty streets with the dog, followed by bloodies with a good friend and some race fries even though I didn't run a race at all.

Because I guess I'm just a cheater like that.

Also, the bees went nigh-night after their third sugaring, nearly all the fava beans have germinated and at this very moment I'm sitting in front of a fully functional gas fireplace that is giving me no guff whatsoever when I go to turn it on.

I feel like I should probably go buy a lottery ticket.

The Death Clock of free time is at 18 days...

You may never get sleeves.

Friends, shit's been busy.

Which, obviously, otherwise I'd be posting here a lot more often because HELLO I have things to tell you about.

Like the fact that we harvested honey from our work hives last week and that my hive is about to go nigh-nigh for the season and that the garden is about to come down and that I made an awesome potato and kale soup without a recipe but just from my own pea brain and also I nearly snapped off a toe during a drunken descent from my Adirondack chair on Girls Weekend and...

We harvested one million jars of honey. It was glorious.

White Trash Dinner Season is upon us.

I blame the champs for my unscheduled dive off the patio.

Potato Kale Leek Sausage soup. I'll have to give you the recipe sometime. Except that's basically it.

Yeah. But then this pesky thing called work/life/100 hobbies got in the way and so here I am.

I've begun knitting a thing. A thing that, in a few weeks' time, will likely end up sitting unmoving in its lovely WIP bag (as seen above) until December.

Because in a few weeks' time, NaNoWriMo begins. Specifically, 18 days, 16 hours, 36 minutes and ... seconds from now.

That countdown is like the deathclock of any remaining free time.

Yes! That's right! I'm still planning to carve out enough time on a daily basis to write 1600 or so words during November and, in a month's time, 50,000 or more words all pressed together in what is my new NaNoWriMo machine.

Sticker is not enormous - machine is just real small.

I wouldn't say I'm getting *too* serious about the NaNo business, but with Scrivener on Mac only (although I just saw something about it being available on PC soon - oh.) and us traveling back and forth from the mountains regularly and me needing to be able to AT ANY MOMENT write a word, I figured I needed a buddy.

So, a buddy I got. And thank you to a very good and nice friend of mine who loaned me her Apple discount so that this buddy could be 15% less wallet sucking.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say with all this is that even though I've been quiet-ish around here lately, I don't *mean* to be, but in a few weeks - if it gets quiet again - I *do* mean to be. Because I'm using all my words elsewhere.

In a novel that, for once, even has a vague outline and - TEE DAH - some research applied to it.

Weird.

Also, seed saving. I've been doing that. But won't be. In 18 days, 16 hours, 36 minutes and...

Flip-flops: The latest in winter wear.

Remember when I told you the big news?

No?

You know...about our fireplace? The new one?

Still, no?

With the remote control that will keep me safe from blowing off my face?

Really? Still, no?

The one that will retire the Ugly Librarian Sweater?

Oh yeah, NOW you remember. You're just like Bubba. I can say a million meaningful things but the second I mention that, "blahblahblah I don't think I'll need the Ugly Librarian Sweater anymore blahblahblah", his eyes light up like it's Christmas friggen morning.

Sheesh.

Anyway, so the new fireplace. It's in.

The sub-contractors who came out to professionally torture me with their Down With The Sickness ringtones also happened to install our gas insert over the course of, like, five hours, so now I get to push ON with delight and watch my fireplace do something that used to take at least 20 minutes, a change of clothes, a hike to the backyard (usually in the rain) and a few tries to get going.

POOF - on. I love that.

And, an announcement that may be of greater importance than the potential retiring of the Ugly Librarian Sweater - I can possibly wear flip-flops year round now.

SERIOUSLY! That is big news right there. Not that I'll be able to work on my flip-flop tan in the winter months since, while I can be warmed by this fake fire, I can not actually be tanned by it, but still - big news that I won't have to maybe wear socks and leg warmers and slippers all at once to keep my toes from freezing off from November - April.

That is awesome.

Unfortunately, we haven't quite mastered restraint with the push button greatness of this fireplace yet and so ended up cooking ourselves into a Finny and Bubba stew yesterday as we watched Sunday football and made up for a Saturday off of NaNoWriMo by writing 3K+ words in one sitting.

It's possible that my novel has taken on a football theme, though I can't be sure since I refuse to go back and read anything I've written because I'll be too tempted to edit. And you can't edit during NaNoWriMo!

I mean, you can, but then you might kill your word count and no one wants that.

So, yeah, this post isn't really all that substantive, but I thought you should know that I will probably be wearing flip-flops all winter long when I'm at home, while NOT wearing the Ugly Librarian Sweater as long as when the gas bill arrives it doesn't rival our mortgage payment.

Because we fully realize that we're riding the sweet spot with the new fireplace right now. That time after it's arrived BUT before you get the bill, so you *don't really know how bad it will be* so you just crank it up and then, when it gets too hot, you turn it off and open the front door to catch a breeze as though it's the middle of July.

Yeah, we've been bad. But I'm sure that first bill will set us straight.

So, on second thought, the Ugly Librarian Sweater may be back IN and the flip-flops may go back out into the garage with the off-season clothes, but I'm waiting for that first bill to decide. Don't tell Bubba.

And sorry for the bizarre posts this month, you'll have to bear with me, as NaNoWriMo is working in tandem with the fireplace to cook my brains.

You may wonder why I bothered.

I feel like I should have something specific and earth shattering to talk about today, but for all my brain wrestling, I can't figure out what it is.

It's certainly not any running news since I still haven't signed up for any races because I'm a lazy ass and being a lazy ass is so nice that I think I'll just run around aimlessly and without a goal some more.

And it's not the garden, because even though I do have updates in that department, I haven't taken photos of any of them and you know I'm not posting a garden update without photos. Ridiculous.

And on the same No Photo No Bloggo (wow, that's creative) note, I have a crafting update for our One Yard Wonders sew along, but it will have to wait until I can do a few things simultaneously; activate my brain cells, pull out the fabric I've cut and push the big button on the camera.

Don't pressure me, though! I have a big enough zit as it is. And, on that note, how can I even get a zit? I'm 32 years old. 32 year olds aren't supposed to get zits. And on anotherANOTHER note, how did I get to be 32 years old? Just yesterday I was 19 and certain I'd stay that age forever. And that I'd also be wearing my size 4 Abercrombie khaki shorts until the day I died because that justified spending an ungodly amount of college tuition money on them for spring break.

What was I saying?

Oh yeah, and it's not any of those other sidebar items except I guess I could tell you that I'm now the Featured Gardening Contributor for Associated Content even though it's been brought to my attention that following such announcements is made a tad tricky by the Associated Content people. (Sorry. If you want to follow my articles, you can subscribe to my RSS feed by adding http://www.associatedcontent.com/rss/user_836130.xml to your Readers.)

So, I guess I'll just tell you how I'm madly in love with Lake Tahoe. Not like it's a new love or anything, since I've been going there all my life and you've seen evidence of all the attention we give the place, especially in winter, but we went up there last weekend for a friend's party and WHOA if I didn't come home all re-enamored with a place.

 Maybe it's because it's fall up there, or at least the beginnings of it, but the place just brutalizes me with its beauty. Like my head is being yanked back and forth from glorious thing to awesome thing to LOOK WHAT THE DOG'S EATING thing.

It's pretty. It's impressive. It's gross.

And the combo of these things makes me love a place, it would seem.

Though I probably don't need to see Jada ripping apart a dead bird and savoring its snapping ligaments to love a place, but I am pretty sure it makes her love a place and, let me tell you, that dog fucking loves Tahoe.

Like, Will Sit 4 Hours Smushed Into The Cab of the Truck love:

I'm ready to lick your ear for 4 hours now.

 Because Tahoe, my friends, is No Leash land and this dog loves to roam and run and sniff without me being all, Come on, dog, I have to go to work sometime today and stop eating that spider.

Hey, Sam, you gonna eat that spider?

She also loves our friends' place because of a lot of reasons but mostly because it has a big deck with a big view that gives her the viewpoint from which to spot many chase-able things.

I see you, vole, and I will have you. Just so you know.

Plus, when the cabin backs up against forest land and there's nothing between her and digging a hole in the woods for an hour and a half but a sliding glass door that opens every five seconds because we are listless drunks, she knows she has it good.

I am out for the 50th time today and now I shall eat a dead something. Or poop in the neighbor's driveway.

And since we're basically in the woods with only but the finest forgiving (and also party happy) neighbors, there's plenty of jackassery going on while we all chant *SNOW*SNOW*SNOW*SNOW. Because if one thing was said more than anything else over the weekend, it was "I can't wait for it to snow."

Wish I were here.

And that is your random blog post for today. I hope you're not wondering why I bothered because my zit and I would be offended. And, really, you don't want to offend this zit. It's bigger than both of us and it fights dirty.

October things and future freaking out

It's random mind-wandering thought time around here, but thankfully it's October and since all of these thoughts occur and have something ever so slightly to do with October, I have myself a handy theme.

I need a theme, people. Or a guiding notion. Or something to keep me from talking endlessly about, say, the process for converting a wood fireplace to gas and how I will be bear-hugging the Heatilater blower all winter.

See - it could get pretty fucking random around here if I'm away from a theme too long. Or, like illegal in 23 states what with the fireplace love.You see.

So, October then! What's up with October?

Well, firstly, my Giants are in the playoffs and, so far, kicking some serious ass via the bullpen. YAY! And that's all I'll say about that because I don't really need to go into my baseball love. It's there. It's a part of me. I can't release myself from its grasps and, since it's October, it's an ever-present state of mind especially since my boys are actually in the post-season for once.

*Quietly chanting* Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants. Giants.

Nextly, there are spiders all over the place and, most noticeably, all over my garden - making the harvesting of end of season produce a special webtastic event.

Also chanting: Will not put face in spider web. Will not...

See, unlike those of you who are, at this moment, stripping yourselves nude and shrieking through the halls of your office or house trying to clear your faces and hairs of imagined spiders and their webs, I love the spiders.

Can you imagine if she was in your hairs? YEEK.

I mean, I don't want their webs wrapped around my face or, say, back of my head when I go to put on a hoodie that's been hanging from the coat rack since last winter (Blech. Imagine it. It happened to Bubba. He asked me since when were we the Addams Family and I said, "Since we hired a cleaning lady that either doesn't know the words 'cobweb' or 'spiderweb' or doesn't care."), but I love that they're out in my garden right now eating the nasties that start to multiply toward the end of the season to wreak havoc on whatever produce remains out there.

"I love nasties. Burp."

I'm just waiting for one of them to snare a cucumber beetle so that I can give her (these big spiders, I've heard, are all ladies and the dudes are these little insignificant things that exist only for sexiness and then disappear. Little trivia for you, there.) a little high five and then carefully navigate around her web to pick a languishing tomato. 

Don't hate the playah, hate the game.

So yeah, the garden's getting creepy what with the spiders and webs and the dying back of the huge tomato plants that have built me a cave and the vines crawling everywhere making a trip to the garden for some basil an acrobatic task fit for a Cirque Du Soleil training group. 

I haven't been able to walk between these plants since June.

I can't do some of these positions in bikram class, but if there's a tomato branch in danger of being snapped by my wayward foot, well, I can contort myself magically to miss it.

I can't be out there crushing tomato plants, that would be ridiculous.

Plus, they're bigger than me and would win in a fight for sure.

So, yeah, tomato yoga and spider caves. My life gets weird in October.

This is the prettiest tomato that I grew. That's all.

It also gets stressy a little bit because NaNoWriMo is next month and the emails from the NaNoWriMo folks have begun to crop up in the inbox and in Facebook and I'm realizing that I'm going to have to make good on my flushed-with-a-recent-NaNoWriMo-win promise to go at it again. 

Though I only made that promise to myself and maybe to Bubba, but I like pretty web badges and letting my brain's unpredictable turns leak out onto the page, so I'm planning to give it another go. Though with the premise I have in mind for this year, there will be fewer alien dicks and extraneous boobs and spaceships landing in Palm Desert.

I know. What WAS I thinking last year? Or perhaps, drinking, is the better question. Oh well, that's so 11 months ago and now we're on to bigger and less purple things.

Did I tell you there was a purple alien last year? Really. My brain is an odd place.

But, come November, you can call probably expect a bit of YAY NaNoWriMo has begun! excitement and then a bit of I am going to be a NaNoWriMo failure because my brain has halted all its literary functions and I haven't typed a new word in 78 minutes! sadness and then a Send Help! I'm buried in caramel corn in my office because I wanted to see if I could fill my house with and then swim through caramel corn instead of writing my daily 1,667 words! alert and then, if we're lucky, a Phew. I finished my 50,000 words and am now going to crawl under this rug and contemplate the dust bunnies. sigh of relief.

If we're lucky.

So, yeah - that's October for you. In a weird little shell.