Lesson: How Not to Garden

It's Thursday, and if you pay any attention you know that Thursday is Guy Food Night, wherein the guy(s) plan (the best part) and prepare dinner. Tonight, My Dearest O prepared dinner by swinging by Harmony Bar and Grill (always a good choice) on the way home.

I made up for a week or almost totally vegetarian meals from the garden by selecting a cheeseburger with all the trimmings, along with a side of hot chips. The hot chips are just what they sound like: Thinly sliced potatoes, deep fried to a golden, crunchy perfection on the outside, slightly creamy soft and potatoey on the inside. They're Heaven dipped in the blue cheese sauce. OMG.

Of course, to wash it all down I had to order a pint of Sprecher's Special Amber. (Don't judge me; I've had a rough week at work. It's a wonder I don't drink more.) If you know me and my thirst for any kind of beverage, you know that I finished my beer before I was done with my burger, so of course I had to order a MadTown Nut Brown to finish it off. (Don't judge me; I'm supporting the local economy.)

Arriving home happy and satiated, I headed out to the garden with an eye on ridding the tomatoes of their blighted leaves and spraying with Serenade (an organic fungicide). What I did instead was break one of the tomato stakes in half and then desperately try to tape it together while being bombarded by mosquitoes. I also managed to knock several not-quite-ripe tomatoes of different varieties to the ground, again while being bombarded by mosquitoes.

Moral: Don't drink and garden, kids.

Bowl of mostly not-quite-ripe tomatoes, many knocked to the ground by the tipsy gardener.

If you're nice--or if you beg--I might post a photo of me wearing my mosquito-proof headnet.

Cheers-
b