Manly Man with Tailless Cats

Here is Manly Man with both of the tailless cats. It's cold outside and they are all trying to stay warm. Ignore our unfinished window, we are still remodeling. These are the cats that chase my butterflys in the summer. They will also pop you on the bohiny when you walk past them without a proper petting. He is the manly man who makes all of my garden hardscapes. Life is good.

Abby Internet Police Dog

I wasn't going to post, I really wasn't. I am a night person. I generally get the monkeys to bed and play on the internet until at least 11:30 or maybe 1:00 am. I may have some wine or beer until I get sleepy. Well I am trying to change my evil ways and go to bed early say 10:30, after the news. I will not waste any more of my time watching entertainment news shows. How many famous people trashing their lives can I watch after all?

So I make a cup of herbal tea and get ready to wind this party down (not much of a party without beer). Hopefully, I will get up early like a good little gardener. I get myself into my pj's and look for Abby. Oops, I left her outside. Part of my stay up late ritual is bringing in the dog for her dinner, then search for gardening blogs until it is late late late.

Tonight was the night I changed and she was having none of it. I tried to feed her and just leave the bedroom door open so she could come in at her leisure. Nope, she paced up and down the hall. So I got up. She ran into my office and spun in circle beating me with her baseball bat sized tail until I sat down on my ball (yes, I sit on a stability ball). Then she got up about every thirty seconds to poke me with her nose to make sure I was going to stay on the ball and do my job (play on the computer). Her job, apparently, is to make sure I do this every night. Now she is happy and laying down in the living room, her usual habit.

This is a German Shepherd and she is taking her job way too seriously. I can't have her in the house and walk from room to room without her trying to walk in front of me to make sure something does not get me. This causes tripping (still not graceful) and hollering "ABBY LAY DOWN," or "ABBY KENNEL." She also drops a huge chew bone on my feet about three times a week. It hurts. I am safer with this dog than ever before, except for the bruises.

Sad State of Affairs.

I get a phone call from my manly man. He is in a big box home improvement store. Some poor woman was bringing back her third dead rosemary to get yet another replacement. She could not figure out why they kept dying and there was no one on the stores staff who had any plant knowledge at all. So he felt bad for her and called me and put her on the phone. Turns out she was trying to grow it in container on a covered porch and was watering it every single day. Death by overwatering and lack of light. So I did that stupid stores work for them and answered her questions. Now here is my problem. Why the hell don't these stores hire some one who actually knows something about plants or train the people they have hired. I won't buy plants from them because they are so poorly cared for in the stores that I have had a hard time getting them to thrive after I transplant them. Ask a simple question say "Sun or shade?" The response is generally a blank stare. Even the plant varieities they sell may or may not be appropriate for our zone. This is why I try to always buy my plants from an independent nursery or even a chain that specializes in plants. Better yet are shared plants from other gardeners. Stupid big box store.

Isnt She Lovely/Sorry About the Cat

Dyed the Cat Blue

Apparently, when I was about 16, I dyed my sisiter's cat blue. I don't remember this, but about 100 of my family members confirmed it at Gracie's birthday party yesterday. Mamala said I was busted by the blue food coloring stains on my hands. I was really mean to this sister. I didn't like her getting any of the attention. Sorry sister. I will not dye any of your critters blue ever again, unless they ask me to.

Compost and Buck Roses

The compost pile topped out at 92 degrees this afternoon. I added blood meal and more water. This is one boring compost pile. I am definitely losing interest.

Remember the Buck rose cuttings? About half of them are already putting out new growth. That is a record for cuttings taking in my experience. I don't use rooting hormone. These maybe the easiest to propagate yet. Yes, Meme, they are just sticks I stuck in the dirt. Yes, the lived. Yes, they will be full sized rose bushes in about three years. Yes, if you are nice to me you may have some. You also have to protect me from the rest of the sisters.

I guess now is a good time to explain the Meme. In our house Meme is not a list of questions we answer about ourselves. It is such a good friend that I would pick her as a sister. She is an expert monkey handler. She can leave the real sisters standing there with their mouths open in disbelief. She once picked me up after I ran into a tree. This was after I saved her life when she punched a frat boy. We did that in 5 inch heels in 1984 in the rain. I am pretty sure she broke the frat boy's nose - Good times. Years later she would help me get monkey #1 to latch on when we were having nursing issues. She is a "feed the baby champion" as she exclusively breast fed twin girls her first time as a mom. Yes they lived. Yes, they now have babies of their own. I would post a picture of her, but her beauty would blind you. Meme is appropriate as she has very healthy self esteem. So, you don't need to send me a meme, I already have one. Oh, and the real deal sealer, I CAN WEAR HER SHOES!!!!!!!!

Balmy Compost Pile

It is 3:30 in the a.m. The compost pile is at 85 degrees.

As you may have read yesterday, I added bunny poo tea and liquid fish to the pile. The only thing I have left to add is blood meal and tears.

I have recieved several suggestions advising to "just to leave it alone and let compost happen." This is very Zen and rock solid advice, however, I am late in the winter season and don't want to have to buy compost for spring planting. Plus, it just makes me crazy when I don't get my way. I was an only child until age 4 when Mom decided to have 6 more babies over the next fourteen years. I frequently have "a fit and fall in it," as my dear mother would say. This may explain the neediness and control freak aspects of my gardening personality, or maybe I am just crazy.