First I joined a CSA. I got Sister #2 and Ben to go halfsies on a half-share, and even with that I’m a little worried that it will be more than I can eat before it goes bad. I’m super excited and I love love love the idea of giving my money to actual people rather than a big business.
After I joined the CSA I decided that I needed some homegrown herbs to go with my super-spiffy, locally-grown herbs to go with them. I tried to grow herbs last summer, but it didn’t go well. Madison ever the counter jumper and eater of everything, made it nearly impossible to keep herbs indoors. I moved the herbs outdoors and they were promptly flooded by a deluge when I wasn’t home. Apparently, it was not the right time.
But now that it’s just me and Paco, I think I can grow me some dill. Paco’s not a counter jumper or an eater of anything but catfood. In fact, he can’t even get on the windowsill where I’ve stored the herbs unless I put a chair there first. And I do keep a chair there, I just made sure that no herbs were in his spot.
This new CSA-sharing, herb-growing phase of my life disturbs me a little bit not only because I’m still scarred by The Great Hippiefest Incident of Aught Seven, but because I am not a hippie. I don’t want to be a hippie. But here I am, acting all hippie-like. Barf. You know what makes this even worse? I didn’t tell you about the patchouli-scented hippie organic deodorant my niece found in the bookcase last weekend.
What’s happening to me?