Soon to be renowned!

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

And then—BROCCOLI!

Two 'c's in broccoli, thank you

Like a groggy late-sleeper rolling out of bed straight into guilty zumba; like a truant worker sneaking in then clacking loudly on the keyboard to convince the office he was here all along; like a purple-sprouting flash mob that forgot to coordinate watches; it's broccoli time. Apparently. Late January is now broccoli time. Or so my weirdo garden would have you believe.

But why not broccoli? Who am I to question this midwinter chorus of cruciferous glee? Broccoli gotta be broccoli, y'know? Never mind that I've planted this same variety three times at all different times of year and never once gotten anything but sullen, barren stalks. Broccoli is, I guess, like a teenager—capricious, stubborn, lazy, but capable of amazing things if they would only look up from their stupid phone and put their mind to it. Also susceptible to aphids in warm weather. Is that a teenager thing? God, I hope my daughter never grows up.

We still haven't tasted it, but at this point the flavor is almost beside the point. It's fresh broccoli in January, which is like … I don't know, a foot massage at the dentist's. Only, you know, not creepy.

(*Bonus question for this post— the word “broccoli” appears in this entry almost ten times: can anyone guess how many times I correctly spelled “broccoli” on the first attempt while typing?)

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Bring Forth the Hot Dogs!

 Oh sing in me, deep fires of the Earth.

<Low cackling>

Make your home in Fencebroke, within the new cauldron I have—er, the cauldron my wife has assembled for thee.

<Dragging of firepit across the lawn>

Come forth and feed upon my humble offering.

<Crumpling of newspaper and pizza coupons>

Crackle and roar into this garden. Unleash timeless inferno and blaze!

<Repeated striking of matches>

… Inferno and blaze—


Inferno and—

<Rummaging in drawer. Flicking of lighter>

Ha! Inferno and blaze!

<Weak smoldering>

Good enough! Bring forth the hot dogs! Mmmwahahaaaa!

Anyone? Hey, could someone bring forth the hot dogs? They're right there, in the fridge.

<Slumping of shoulders>

Fine, never mind, I'll get them myself.

<Muttering under breath >

POLISH DOGS!!! MWAHAHA—hey, what happened to the timeless inferno … ?

<Raining raining rainrainraining for four more months>

Timeless inferno! Can I pencil you in for early June? Wonderful. And so, let the feast of a thousand cold hot dogs begin!

<Sifting through ashes>

Dangit, where's that pizza coupon?