duck-shaped pain

2000-09-18
Where I Natter On About Various Things

I guess it's just about the time of year where I admit my complete and utter failure at gardening. Wait -- maybe just a complete failure, since I didn't actually kill all of my plants.

The harvest is not quite what I expected -- certainly not what I expected to yield when planning all of this out last spring. It is my first attempt, admittedly, but I have no idea whether I should be proud of my meager efforts or not.

It wasn't all bad -- the rosemary is looking good (it's about twice as big now as it appears in the photo) and the flat-leaf parsley, which appeared to be doing nothing at all for months, finally got its act together and now I have more parsley than I know what to do with.

The basil did okay for awhile, but now it's sort of spindly and weak-looking. The mint and oregano were fine for awhile, but finally succumbed during one really hot day when I wasn't home to water them. The strawberries are alive, but haven't produced a strawberry since April. The squash died, miserably, a few weeks back. Quite the caretaker I am.


I bought a book the other day -- Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. I've been waiting to read it forever -- Murakami is my favorite contemporary [1] author, and this is one of the few works of his that hasn't been translated into English before.

I still haven't opened it up and read it, however, no matter how much I want to. I've been waiting so long to read it, and that's almost always a sign that you're going to be easily disappointed. Every time I think about reading it, I think to myself, This is it. This is the only one you haven't read. Once you finish it, that's it. Nothing to look forward to, not until he writes a new book. I hate book anxiety -- I should just shut up and read it.


One thing that's been seriously cutting into my free time (read: entry-writing time) is the Olympics. Other people have written much more eloquently than I can about how much they love the Olympics, and how misty-eyed they make them, and all I can do is agree. Few things can turn me into an utter couch potato, and the Olympics are one of them, even if I do have to put up with the NBC version of Australia.

I realize that not everyone shares my opinion -- the other night, I was trying to convince members of my family that we should watch them (as opposed to Entertainment Tonight, the choice of the majority in the room), which gained me nothing but a lot of grief. Oh well.

The only thing that could make me happier is if it were the Winter Olympics, which I like much more than the Summer ones. Skiing, hockey, skating -- all those gristly, snowy sports that I like to watch whether I admit it or not. The next Winter Olympics will take place only a few hours' drive from where I live now. Making plans two years in advance is usually futile, but I'd like to actually try to attend some of the events in Salt Lake City, if I can.


[1] I hate that word.

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