The most boring post I'll ever write.

So, it keeps being a while between posts.

Because of "I'm busy" and STUDYING THEY FACE OFF and etc.

But the real truth is that I've been flailing about all nimbly bimbly from tree to tree (who's with me on this one, yes?) trying to land on something to post about.

Because usually my muse is Bitchy Finny. I have a whole label for it after all. And, if memory serves, it has the most posts of any label...well close, anyway.

But yeah - what happens when the muse is not bitchy?

People, I'm not that bitchy right now.

Actually, y'all - I'm kinda totally happy.

This is, I think, one of those times that I'll look back on in the future and be all, "Dude. That was the good times. Good thing you totally rolled around in it while you had the chance. Way to go."

Which, I think we'll all agree, is rad.

But then - what about that it's totally killing my muse.

Because you guys don't want to hear about how "OH THIS IS SO FUN WORKING IN A GREENHOUSE" and Oh yay I love school so much and whatever. That shit annoys people.

It annoys me, anyway.

No - what we want to hear - what I want to hear - is the crazy wrong shit. That's the stuff that entertains me.

Plus, it makes me feel normal and I like to feel normal, because 100% of the time I feel like The Weird Girl and being able to read someone else's blog post about how their life did something crazy and then they lived through it in an entertaining way - that's good shit.

And that's what I've always turned to in the time of "Hey, I'm going to post to the blog.", in case you haven't noticed.

But I don't have that right now. Because nothing's that crazy wrong right now and I don't have a way to dramatize the wrongness of it because obviously so all that I'm left with is...

I'm happy.

No one to blame or bitch about or draw dramatic emphasis from - things are good.

I effing love school - it's amazing. I loveLOVElove my student assistant job growing hydroponic food crops  and a hopyard. I even love the every day torture of small business starting. And I know it won't go on forever so I'm totally trying to live it up before reality swoops in and is all, "Come back to me, Finny. We have things to discuss."

That's for later. For now - I'm annoyingly ridiculously right now happy and I just hope that you guys don't start to hate me when my bitchy posts have a few shiny happy ones in between.

STILL LOVE ME, OK?! That's what I want.

Also - look at my crops.

Cascade hops in the home hopyard - they're really putting out. So, we're obviously going to call the beer brewed from these hops, Slutty IPA. OBVIOUSLY.

This is my hopyard at school. It's not putting out yet because it doesn't want to be the school slut. 

These are my newest babies - pak choi - and they'll probably get bullied at school because they are the weeniest.

Um...I've run out of schoolyard scenarios. This is basil.

Sorry - that was boring.

Straight As. It's not what you think.

OK, so it is what you think, but it's also something else.

Firstly - here's one thing that Straight As means:

Right - like, obviously. Too bad obviously it nearly fucking killed me this semester. Perhaps you doubt how strenuous a horticulture curriculum can be and to you I say - suck it.

There was math. There was chemistry. There was a good deal of physical labor (that was also badass fun, but still LABOR fun). There were some REALLY super mind-bendingly annoying students that I had to exercise all of my fist clenching abilities to avoid killing with my car, laptop, pruning shears, just whatever dull object was close by at the time. There was a bug collection for which I had to catch, kill and pin bugs into a box.

See? Blech. Did not enjoy.

There were things, people, things that made this semester the total bitch that I predicted it would be.

And now HALLELUJAH PRAISE POPCORN I AM SAVED because that shit is over.

Done.

I'm done with the hell semester and BAM! got some more As to show for it. Still straight ones. Phew and such.

Then there's the other thing that Straight As means:

A for Ass, of course - what's left of it.

Yeah, so for those of you who've been with us around Finny Rips All of The Asses Out of Her Pants Land for a while - this isn't a surprise.

I rip asses out of pants pretty regularly. Like, I think this goes down as Pants Rendered Asunder #5 in my history of pants killings. And - super annoyingly - it's my third pair of Sanctuary pants to rip in this exact same place because Sanctuary apparently builds a self-destruct mode into their pathetically fragile clothing so that it can't be worn for 11 years and, therefore, have its value truly enjoyed by its owner.

No. As much as I love Sanctuary (and I do OH HOW I DO) - these guys are fucks. They make the most awesome-fitting, awesomely styled, wear with anything clothes a person could want out of fucking tissue paper.

I think, anyway.

I mean, either that or the self-destruct button in their pants is the left butt cheek pocket (and, hey, if you're going to put a button somewhere, I guess it *should* be on the ass) and I am really good at hitting it.

And before you say it, BECAUSE I CAN HEAR YOU THINKING IT, my ass is not that big. For reals. None of the pants I have that have had their asses ripped as such have been tight. In fact, all of these pants are/were so loose that when the ass ripping happened, I had to be informed of said ass ripping because I couldn't, like, feel the destroyed fabric caressing my bare buttock or anything. Which you would be able to feel if it was a super tight pair of pants, right?

Right.

Anyway, that's the other Straight As I was really referring to. Because having all of my favorite pairs of pants ripped straight down the ass is not my favorite thing. As you can probably imagine.

Though, like the others, I shall patch these babies up as best I can and keep them in the rotation because now I'm a starving student who can't just run back to Zappos and buy another pair to fill the void in my closet/life.

Please look forward to a future post in which I perhaps make these into a craft. Or a noose. That would just totally break at the worst moment.

Wow. That got dark. Don't worry! I'm fine! Just mad about the pants.

Yay for Straight As! Boo for other Straight As.

You look like you could use a break FOR GARDEN LOOKING.

Even though I should be studying for finals (which are almost over this week YAY HOORAY HALLELUJAH I NEED A NAP) and you should probably be working or something, let's just stop everything we're doing and look because whoa...

The tomatoes are happening. 

Like, they're happening their pants off over here.

Paul Robeson - because we're fancy like that here. YES WE ARE.

Jaune Flamme - because we like two bite tomatoes by the handful for lunch every day for months on end.

Hahms Gelbe Topftomate - because I just had to see what this tiny ass tomato was all about. Apparently it's tiny-ness.

This is the Jaune Flamme again - because I SAID SO. Why do you try to fight me on this? 

Better Boy - because always.

And because the rest of the garden is *not* to be shown up by the likes of a few tomato plants, everything else is doing shit, too.

Like making lanterns. It's like a fucking lantern fest over here.

A lantern fest wherein we check the tomatillos' buttholes for signs of life. 

"We see you checking buttholes and we judge you."

These sneaky *not* pole beans went ahead and put on beans, thus proving beyond a doubt that they were a bush variety. So glad I placed them strategically on the tepee lines.
Oh.

We're already eating basil with all of our meals. And will be forevermore. Which is fine by me.

Thankfully some of the beans were pole beans, otherwise that tepee would just be, like, decoration or something. 

This jalapeno better be super mighty to keep up with the Salsa Verde dreams I'm harboring thanks to those beast tomatillo plants.

A future square watermelon because round watermelons are so five minutes ago.

These guys are going into the fridge with some brine TODAY. First pickles of the year in 24 hours.  COUNT IT DOWN.

First true harvest of Concord Grapists is forthcoming

This is probably the dumbest picture of my wee kumquat tree, but there you have it. Kumquats. Quatting. It's what they do. Per Bubba.

I grow kale because I hate Bubba. Or so he says.

This cucumber trellis is already dangerously close to exceeding capacity. Which is just how I like it.

Guess what happens when you don't pull the Chrysanthemum greens you planted in early spring for salad? Yeah, this.

Hey! The bees are back and super happy! And then the jerk cilantro bolted because it's a jerk. JERK.

Do not fear - I have since thinned these apples, but don't they look nice? DO NOT FEAR, I said. Stop fearing.

Bubba has renamed them fartichokes because you know why.

Yeah - it's kind of a scene over here in the garden right now.

And because people have started to get to know me and my weakness for orphan vegetable plants, I'm now growing a pumpkin and a spaghetti squash in the front yard meadow, thus confirming all of our neighbors' suspicions that I'm a lunatic and that our front yard is becoming dangerously similar to a homeless encampment.

"You wouldn't want me to just throw this spaghetti squash plant into the compost pile would you?"

I tell you, these "friends" of ours are sneaky bastards.

Anyway, that's enough of me blowing off studying. I'll try to round up some brain cells once finals are over to put up a halfway entertaining post.

It might be about my new job growing indoor food crops. It might be about how I made myself ill eating a whole jar of homemade refrigerator pickles before breakfast just because they were there YAY FINALLY. It might be about how I finally snapped and strangled the annoying woman who plagued three of my classes this semester when she refused to just shut the hell up and let the professor give us our test.

Who knows what Post-Finals Brain will bring. Or whether I'll be writing blog posts from behind bars.