garden update

Beets!

Hops!

Peas on my genius trellis! (Twine and a curtain rod)

Spinach!

Jalapeno!

Kale!

Mustard greens!

Wear a damn helmet

Before I am chastised by the awesome hair set about my new Bike Helmet Evangelism, learn this: I was in a crash two weeks ago yesterday that woulda killed me had I not been wearing one. So wear a damn helmet. I've hashed and rehashed this story, so check it out elsewhere, please.

So the accident and the attendant Oxycodone haze explain the lack of posting, right? Yep. That and the garden taking over my whole life. Pictures at eleven.

Virus attack - don't click on links from me

Hi folks,

I got virused. Please don't click on any links from me for the time being.

Best,
Erica

Turbo!

Taken at a party with a phone. Quality pictures to come, eventually.

Enter Turbo

The Scene: A birthday party for a friend who answers to "Creepy"
The Time: About a beer into it
The Cast: Myself, my roommate, a couple buddies

Enter TURBO THE CAT, who looks like my mom's cat, if my mom's cat had been left outside for a couple months.

TURBO
Meooow!

ERICA
Well, hell-O! (Starts petting TURBO. TURBO immediately starts head-butting ERICA, and showing a desperate need for affection)

ROOMMATE
(coos at TURBO)

TURBO
(works her way onto our laps)

FRIEND WHOSE APARTMENT WE'RE AT
Take that cat! She's my neighbors, and he's going to abandon her. On account of his eviction and his laziness, you see.

ERICA AND ROOMMATE
Oh great heavens! We must adopt her!

TURBO (From ERICA'S arms)
purrrrr.

Once said friend confronts the cat's neglectful owner, Turbo is all ours. Turbo is a new name. Old Owner called her Macaroni. Unacceptable.

Also, I've been at work for more than 2.5 hours and just now noticed the box of doughnuts on my desk.

the verdant hills of north portland

I do love these tiny beet sprouts and their purple stems.

DINO KALE! RAAWWR! If only the leaves were dinosaur-shaped.

These peas are growing so quickly that I don't think I can afford to wait until the weekend to put up the trellis. Uh oh.

The chard is the only green in the self-watering containers that is still going strong. Perhaps we didn't trim the mesclun mix back enough (too much?), but they're bolting like banks from Bernanke. (Does that make sense? Topicality isn't my strong point these days. Bolting like hysterical tourists from Mexico?)

Hops! Mt. Hood variety. I biked them home and they've been reacting well to the transplant. A home-spun dry-hopping this fall? A girl can dream.

Remember when this strawberry was but three leaves and no flowers? They grow up so fast...

Garlic.

Pretty little spinach, row on row.

Arugula! Better, cheaper, pepperier than the store-bought stuff by a mile. Verily, by a hectare.

bikus

woodpeckers rattle
as dogwoods slink into bloom
how alive we are

wafts of hops and malt
as I pass widmer's mash tuns
a shame their beer sucks

In your face, Houston!

That's right, suckas. 107-103. In your collective face. Even you, Brooks, although I secretly hope you and Pretty Boy Roy will swap someday soon.