And You Thought I Was Kidding About All That Spaghetti Squash
I harvested the garden as planned this weekend and my squash haul was impressive if you consider having enough spaghetti squash to adequately feed a small army impressive which, I don’t ; I was hoping for at least half as many butternut squashes but, you know, you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit. Or, you throw a fit and hope that no one is watching.
I did manage to salvage that one itty-bitty butternut from the evil clutches of the spaghetti squash but, alas, it was far too tiny to provide enough pulp for butternut soup and I was forced to purchase butternuts from the local farmer’s stand. Then, in a move so classically me; I fell out of the mood to cook butternut soup and those butternuts will sit on the countertop in my kitchen until such time as I feel the mood returns. I’m a fickle bitch that way.
When I wasn’t tearing squash out of the garden or bemoaning my lack of motivation to puree, I was driving. For instance, I drove over an hour each way for The Teenager’s final volleyball tournament. Her team went into the tournament in the championship bracket by virtue of having a near-undefeated season, I believe they lost one game, and; our hopes for a first-place finish were high. Unfortunately, t’was not to be; the girls lost their only game in the single-elimination tourney and we turned around and drove home.
That sounds sad, huh? Ok, it wasn’t really but, only because my parents and my niece had made the trip to the tournament from their side of the mountain and The Teenager got to spend some time with her cousin whom she worships like a goddess. This naturally put her in a terrific (for a surly teenager) mood which I took full advantage of; we spent the rest of the day together, visiting the hair salon and shopping. It was great. Mother-daughter bonding! Rainbows! Unicorns!
Then, I helped her clean Audrey’s cage and I drove her to her science fair partner’s house for a sleep-over and so they could begin their Hamster Trials (not to be confused with Witch Trials although, if it were me and one of those rodents escaped in my house, a burning at the stake might very well follow).
To recap: A full day with The Teenager, in a good mood (and the heavenly choir sang JOY to the world! All the boys and girls, joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea and joy to you and me!)
That is, until one o’clock the following morning when she called from her science fair partner’s house to tell me that she was throwing up and that I would have to pick her and Audrey up, right away.
And, as I was driving to her friend’s house in my sweats and fuzzy slippers, I had a total flashback to every Friday night in college when my boyfriend would call me from a bar or party to pick his ass up and drive it home. Which, in hindsight, totally prepared me for parenthood; I guess I should probably take back every nasty thing that I said about him in the years since.
But, I digress.
The Teenager’s stomach flu lasted the normal twelve or so hours and, while she slept it off, I bonded with my other child by decorating the house for Halloween and working in the yard which is where we spied this guy
who has been making regular visits to the feeders for the past week or so. I’m guessing he is a teenage runaway because, the last time I checked, parakeets weren’t indigenous to the Colorado Rockies. I hope he lives through the winter or that he finally wises up and heads back home; it’s tough living on the streets and we wouldn’t want to see him get hooked up with some lowlife drug-dealing sparrows or something sinister like that.
And, yes, I’m sure he is a teenager because, at one point, he fluffed up his feathers and looked at me like I was the lowliest piece of dirt under his feet even though I was feeding him. Also, the eye roll totally gave it away.
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