Thursday, July 24, 2008


Some people can walk past a bar and never feel the slightest tug, others need to be carried out nightly. Some of us smoke and quit and smoke and quit and I have heard nicotine addiction to be as difficult to quit as heroin--I believe it. Any addiction that is relatively socially acceptible sorts you into two factions: the addicted and the non-addicted, with the smoker, drinker, gum chewer, faction always urging you to continue, partly because they don't want to be alone with their cravings. "Well, they smoke, drink, chew gum too", we reason. "We're not alone."

Then there is the internet addiction, which encompasses a huge percentage of the population, and inside that large group we have managed to splinter off into our own justified (and relatively silent or at least private) passions; whether it's porn, net surfing, blogs, chat rooms or games,
it's ours and no one needs to know unless we tell 'em.

Hi, my name is Mittens and I am a game addict.

Up until now the free games have been a nice middle ground for me, free without the pressure of pay to play and play to justify the 20$ or the 15 or the whatever it costs. I have an account at Pogo, which is my only (at the moment) pay to play game, and I am resisting the siren call of several others. However.

Blizzard has an offer of a ten day free trial for Worlds of WarCraft, no credit cards involved, just play your brains out for ten days, and if you're hooked then you go to the store and buy a store game that hooks into the net. Hook is the word. I finally gave in at least as far as the free trial goes, if only to satisfy my curiosity about it; I can see where it grabs at you. The reward and punishment psychology is perfect, and you get to dress your avatar in ever more powerful armor and weapons.

But, knowing my tendencies to play like mad for about three months and then wander off to something new, perhaps I can resist the lure of the download. I. Will. Resist.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Cuffy Photo

Some people look at this and say, that is one mean looking son of a bitch, others say, he looks like he owns everything and knows it. Let's just say he has rules, very fixed rules, and as long as you obey them, he'll let you live in the house with him.

He has turned out to be a water cat, meaning if you run water in the sink he's there, watching it run down the drain. If you pour a bucket of water on the driveway he will follow that stream of water all the way until it runs out and sinks into the dirt. He doesn't mind wet grass, rain, or the garden hose. I suspect he would enjoy a nice swim now and then, if we had a pond. And no I am not building a pond for Cuffy. Im just glad he hasnt figured out how to get the taps turned on yet.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Tomato talk

One of my tomato plants was uprooted, cage and all, two days ago, after a really violent thunderstorm. I was horrified. It looked like a half dead beast, lying there on its side...but I upended it, stuffed the roots back in the ground, and anchored the cage a bit more firmly.
It sulked all day yesterday and today when I went to check it was looking much better. The stress must be amazing, especially when you have two dozen tomatoes hanging off your limbs...

Counted tomatoes this morning, just for fun. One of my inground plants has over forty, one has more than fifty, but I lost my place in the count...These are Early Girls and they have always performed well for me. I also have two in pots, Better Boys, and they don't impress me nearly as much.

I plan to can this stuff, since I'm the only one who likes raw tomatoes, and shouldnt really be eating them anyway--and last year I discovered that skinning them as they come ripe and then freezing what you have is a perfect way to get the fruit at its peak without having to wait for all the tomatoes to ripen before you start canning.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

this is the way it looks from the upstairs window. At ground level, it's just a collection of flowers in different places. Higher up you can see most of it all at once. Damn, ain't that green

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Ever notice that small garden tools are carefully painted GREEN? Or left a tasteful shade of natural wood color, both of which blend into the grass where you dropped them five minutes ago. The next time you find them is with the mower.

What better way to sell garden tools...

Monday, July 7, 2008

whew that was scary. Yesterday in the middle of something my hard drive just turned itself off and died. Luckily I have a husband who Understands Such Things and he futzed with this and futzed with that and now I have a 100 G (oh be still my heart) hard drive in which I barely make a presence.
Its like being gifted with a 400 room house and told to fill it up. oh, right.

But it's also a kind of time machine, or at least as close as I think we might ever get to one. I had a backup system restore thingy that had been made a week ago, and my old back up hard drive was from January. I got to see things on that that I had forgotten even existed.

In a way losing a chunk of your life/time that way is like losing your wallet or your purse. Like bubbles coming up from the depths, you remember, one by one, what's missing. Oh damn, you think, there was that bill I was going to pay. My credit cards. That letter I just got and hadn't opened yet. Little things, but all of them part of you. That's what this felt like. There are five days gone from my cyber life that I will never get back.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Compost and other Magical Things

First, there's Cuffy. His breathing settled down to normal overnight, and since last week his asthma/breathing attacks have been reduced to one or two a day, very mild. He also has far more energy, and trots about as if he owned the place. We've been going for walks in the woods. He looks all the way UP tall trees, over and over again, as if he was assessing them for climbing. He's very careful about new adventures, and tends to watch me, see what I'm going to do next.

This evening he has spent outside on the porch, looking off into the darkness, listening to night sounds. I keep remembering how different this life must be for him, and how much adapting he has had to do. I just hope he doesnt decide that the porcupines are a new form of playtoy.

Compost. Damn, what a magical thing that is. I call it "magic dirt" and it is indeed. I've been learning how to build a proper pile so it heats up to a nice even 150 degrees and stays there long enough to break things down. Then turn it (not as big a chore as I used to think it was), mix it up, get some air into it, and let it cook some more. It takes at least three or four turns before you begin to see results, but once that happens...
we are now, suddenly, smack in the middle of summer, heading for heat, for mid summer flowers, for Hot Weather. Damn all, but that was fast.