If Only Cheeze Doodles Grew On Trees...

 

Aahhhh, Sundays....

Here it is, late in the afternoon on the 4th of the month, with my self-imposed blog post deadline looming . . . and I've got nothing.

Some of my eagle-eyed spammers-from-Malaysia may be wondering why I'm still blogging, anyway: I had only committed to doing it until July, after all.  But then Mr. C's birthday hit, and he asked for more posts.  And, also, I just didn't want to leave my final post as one that was . . . rough.  So, here we are until Christmas!

You can bet that I'd rather be doing what I was just doing: melting into the couch, Savasana Kombucha on full display, as Bee and I watch yet-another episode of the survival show "Alone".  I'll tell you: there's no feeling in the world quite like the one you get while shoving your face full of cheeze doodles as you criticize someone for how they're (not) catching fish or fighting off bears in the Mongolian wilderness.  Now THAT'S a fun time!

Nevertheless, the survival experts on "Alone" weren't heeding my helpful, couch-potato advice, so it was time to take a break and attempt something constructive (if blogging can be considered constructive).

The only other daily constructive thing in my life right now is my garden.  And you can see how well THAT'S going:

World's Smallest Melon

Seriously, I don't know why I keep trying.

The few tomatoes we have just aren't ripening, either.  And the peppers are pretty anemic.  We DID get some good basil, which is great (I love pesto!): 

mmmmm

And we got some monster zucchini, though probably not the over-abundance everyone else seems to get:

(spatula for size)

Plus, "Audrey II", our squash plant, is sending out runners far and wide. She even started putting out babies last month!

 

I was so frickin' excited for the 3 little butternut squash Audrey was growing.  Then we came out one morning to discover this had happened:

gah

I suspect deer.  And I'm trying to remember that they probably need the squash more than I do . . . but they don't mentally need the triumph of that squash more than I do.

Truly, the only things I can get to grow in our yard are things I don't mean to grow:

All these catalpa trees are just volunteers from seeds that launched themselves into those pots.  And this is only half of them.  They're outgrowing their homes, but we really don't have room to plant them in our yard.  I'm thinking of trying to sell them on Craigslist, and letting new volunteers start again next spring.

Anyway, enough braggin' about my yard.

Let me brag about my kid instead:

Here we have some of Mr. C's Scout Troop working to complete the Hiking Merit Badge.  The majority of us (yours truly included) managed 10 miles of this hike at sunset.  But 2 Scouts (Mr. C included) kept going after nightfall, completing a total of 20 miles and getting back to camp at 2:30 a.m.

I don't know how they managed it, and I really don't know how their Scoutmasters -- who are well over the age of 20  -- managed it.  By the end of the 10 miles I did, I was getting dizzy and irritable and dehydrated, despite all the water I was drinking.  It gave me more appreciation for what the contestants on "Alone" go through on day 7 with no food.  (An appreciation I conveniently forgot once I was back home binge-watching with cheeze doodles safely in lap.)

My downfall may have been the pound of pasta I chugged just before setting off on the hike.  Who knew?  (Besides everyone.)

Despite not timing my food-intake correctly, I did have a slight triumph in that the previous, shorter hikes I've gone on with the Troop have taught me a little more about how to properly hike.  Mainly: cushy shoes are important, but a double-layer of cushy socks may be even more important; also, stretch every time you stop.  I am proud to say that, despite hobbling in at 10 pm with my legs and feet sore, I woke up perfectly fine the next morning after small stretches during the hike and deep stretches just before bed.

Generally, Mr. C feels no pain after any of these hikes; but he felt it after waking up from this one. Naturally, as his mother, I was concerned and chastised him for not stretching more, etc . . . but, as his mother, I was also slightly pleased that he finally (finally!) knew the pain I felt at the end of every, single, other hike I'd been on with them.

 Alright: I have made the decision to not subject you to any more of my "slice of life" ramblings.  Plus, our newest foster kitten, Chewbacca, is apparently making it his life mission to keep me from typing:

those kitten claws are SHARP

 

And I have to go harvest some zucchini for tonight's dinner.

And, let's face it: 

 

the cheeze doodles are calling.