Two mini-dramas of the day:
1) Starbucks for morning coffee, 8:53am. Lady in front of me is ordering a large caramel frappuccino with extra caramel and extra whipped cream. The barista takes a venti 24oz cup and starts marking it with the order. The customer exclaims, "Did you not hear me? I said a LARGE. I want THIS SIZE!" and points to the new trenta 31oz cup. "Sorry Ma'am. We can only serve iced coffee and iced tea in that size, Corporate's orders." Commence five solid minutes of arguing back and forth and accusations of atrocious customer service, concluding with the customer grabbing the measly 24oz of sugary yum-yums and storming out of the store in a huff.
2) Target for a box of Pacific Natural Butternut Squash Soup, 5:35pm. Cashier scans the soup and demands to see my ID. I ask why; he says I can't buy "that stuff" without being 21. I tell him that I'm not showing my ID. It's soup. He says that a lot of wine looks just like what I'm buying. That's fine, but I'm not buying boxed wine. I'm buying soup! He will not relent. Cashier calls the manager to the register. The manager confirms that I do not need to show ID to buy butternut squash soup. Thank you.
Life is uncertain; grab a sweater.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Naive Son & Midnight in the Garden of Goo and Evil (#bookswithalettermissing)
(More #bookswithalettermissing, my favorite Twitter hashtag in ages).
Truly, though, the Sons were naïvely optimistic this year when it came to garden tomatoes. We planted our tomatoes in early April, thinking that by the time July rolled around we'd see something like this:
Instead, Texas decided to have its hottest summer in 30 years (and possibly ever, if we keep up the 100+ degree days for another week). At first we were amused by the early high temperatures, thinking that the weather would settle down and only the first round of tomatoes would be affected:
Soon, though, we realized that we were not going to enjoy limitless tomato-basil salads, bloody marys, and homemade pasta sauce. In the course of about three weeks one of our crops went from this:
To this:
So, 2011 in Dallas, Texas. Not the best year for tomato gardens. I will say, though, that Roland and his green thumb managed to save a healthy dozen or so of the tomatoes before they dried up, and his basil is thriving like a desert plant. And he cultivated a bunch of cucumbers and this beautiful eggplant that was delicious with olive oil & salt:
Truly, though, the Sons were naïvely optimistic this year when it came to garden tomatoes. We planted our tomatoes in early April, thinking that by the time July rolled around we'd see something like this:
 |
| RESULTS NOT TYPICAL |
Instead, Texas decided to have its hottest summer in 30 years (and possibly ever, if we keep up the 100+ degree days for another week). At first we were amused by the early high temperatures, thinking that the weather would settle down and only the first round of tomatoes would be affected:
 |
| Haha, the heat rotted out one of the tomatoes to look like a mouth! How cute! |
Soon, though, we realized that we were not going to enjoy limitless tomato-basil salads, bloody marys, and homemade pasta sauce. In the course of about three weeks one of our crops went from this:
 |
| Look how healthy! We're going to have so many tomatoes we'll have to give them away!! :D |
To this:
 |
| Oh. |
So, 2011 in Dallas, Texas. Not the best year for tomato gardens. I will say, though, that Roland and his green thumb managed to save a healthy dozen or so of the tomatoes before they dried up, and his basil is thriving like a desert plant. And he cultivated a bunch of cucumbers and this beautiful eggplant that was delicious with olive oil & salt:
 |
| Survivor: Garden Edition |
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