Let Your Love Grow

In my house, right now, there are two levels of development colliding. There is the youngest child, not able to read those gargantuant 900+ page books by cool authors about boy wizards, boys on dragons, and the like. What else can you do when your two older siblings (one dancing hard with teenage angst and one starting to blush whenever ANYTHING about girls is said) won't play with you, can't appreciate that you read a picture book all by yourself, and generally treat you like a 'baby'? Well, you can terrorize them by saying things about kissing (sure to make the most stubborn face turn beet red) or worse.....the birds and bees have nothing on a determined imagination fueled by frustration at being called a 'baby'. People, I've even blushed more than once.

Ah, and if you are the older sibling (which you should be ashamed of yourself for harassing the poor child and being so selfish as to overlook his need for your friendship and acceptance) and you have been relentlessly tormented by the fact that H. Potter has just appeared in a production TOTALLY NAKED and, wonder of all wonders, the story involves HORSES - your personal favorite - it may be a small wonder that the small wonder has survived your wrath. Let's face it, you want to club him on the head with your latest works of great poetry or screenplays NOT involving H. Potter naked - but that only gets you more mundane drudgery of chores like dishes and penalties such as sweeping the WHOLE house (hope your arms aren't sore from that terrible task) so you, finally, opt for REVENGE. Did you have to pull him aside and teach him the really embarrassing words like 'breeding', etc. These are not the kinds of things you want to be asked in the local chain store while shopping for groceries and craft supplies, "Hey, mom, when people are breeding, uh...." Who knows what came after that, I blacked out and when I re-gained my senses, I grabbed a box of colored pencils and got the heck out of there. This week, my pets, it is time to delve into 'anatomy'. Why am I putting this in my blog - no reason, really, just that this is the back-drop of my life and for some crazy reason, I thought you'd want to know.

If you want more civilized conversation, go to another blog. Liz at Pocket Farm has a great thing going on and, because she mentioned the seed starting bug first I feel vindicated in acknowledging that I am having episodes of PURE, UN-RESTRAINED DESIRE to start my seeds. I will wait till the Spring Equinox but then the gloves are off. My seed place of eternity is fedco seeds. These people are from another planet and as soon as I find out which one, I am buying real estate there. If it weren't for the Fedco geniuses, I may never have gone beyond the 'tepid beginner garden'. You know the one, about as big as a sandbox and stripped down to the essentials. There's nothing wrong with this, but, ya'll, I'm from Texas - you know I wanted a HUGE garden. But the honest perspective in their catalogs, the friendly help and chat I receive at every tree sale, and the occasional bouts of blind optimism that they have bestowed have made me a gardener for life. Of course, I can't be faithful to just one company (foolish acts of rebellion) so I always order just a few packets (okay, usually more but I am trying to change) from Seeds of Change and Seed Saver's Exchange - both top notch companies but because I am spoiled by living 15 miles from Fedco, they enjoy MOST of my loyalty. Well, I'm not sure about the enjoying part but they smile and treat me nice so I fantasize that they've been waiting on little ole me all day.

The blanket in the background wasn't finished until last night. Truth told, it needs another 10 inches around to fit across the whole bed and drape the edges. But, as it was below 0 at bedtime last night, and my arms are tired from crocheting this damn monster - I declared it done. Go ahead, send the lazy fiber wench police after me. But, before you do, you should know that this ENTIRE king-sized blanket was crocheted out of all HANDSPUN yarn most of which was raised, washed, dyed, hand-carded, and spun with only a beginner's ambition, by moi. Don't EVER throw away your old handspun, your new technique learned but the stuff looks like molded noodles handspun, or the color you thought was genius but turned out to be puked up peas. Why would you waste it when you could torture yourself by making a gargantuant blanket? Things 1, 2, and 3 drooled over it as I draped in on the bed for the first time last night. I began my retroactive blushing tactics by accepting all their kind comments and smiling as I told them that the best part was that is was an enchanted blanket. Ooooh, they cooed, enchanted how, they mused and started sharing all the wonderful magical enchantments they would wish for in a blanket. No, I said, this one is enchanted with LOVE. EEEWWW! thing 2, all purply like in the face color, this is you and dad's bed, mom, that is SO GROSS! Yep, I think I'm liking this return to freakish immaturity....