Gardening Woes

Sadly, I've been over-watering my plumeria, having fallen prey to the common misconception that the plumeria is a tropical plant. It is not, in fact, a tropical plant, and, as it turns out, one of the worst things that you can do to it is over-water. Sigh. I will cease watering immediately, but it may already be too late.

In other news, having long been annoyed by the monstrous size of the Italian oregano growing in our planter boxes (where, at some point during the late winter/early spring, it oozed this weird foamy white stuff resembling soap suds), we moved the shrubs to a spot "outside the fence": our phrase for the small portion of our land that lies - you guessed it - outside of the fenced-in portion of the back yard. "Outside the fence" is a rather desolate zone with loose, gravelly soil that has yet to host much life. It is our flora Siberia. We've been trying, however, with some small success, to convert it to a more flourishing region. So far the Lilies of the Nile and tiger orchids that we've planted are still alive, if not exactly vibrant. The bougainvilla* has gone from looking like a dead branch to sporting leaves. And the oregano, despite our none-to-gentle handling, seems to be settling into its new home. So maybe we will transform Siberia yet.

* Have just learned that bougainvilla, although also looking deceptively tropical, should not be over-watered. Damn.

Eden

The surf was unrideable again this weekend, but we went to the beach anyway. And it was actually kind of nice to be there, sans board - it's been a while since we walked along the shore and paid attention to the ocean's many other attractions besides its waves. The stretch of beach that we were on was deserted, possibly because it was cold and misty on the coast (although sunny back home). I should clarify: the beach was deserted by people, but more than amply populated by avian and marine life. We encountered numerous starfish along the shore, washed up by the tides, which we threw back into the water. Crab shells littered the beach, but we saw only one live crab. My husband put a stick near it, which the crab clung to for dear life, and we threw it, too, back into the ocean and away from the marauding birds.

I've said before, and I say again, I hate birds. Nature red in tooth and claw was definitely present on our walk: we found a dead bird, with a bloody hole in its chest. "Could it have been cannibalized by the other birds?" I no sooner asked the question than a crow flew over and began tearing flesh from the carcass with its beak. No different, perhaps, than humans and their consumption of the flesh of animals, but it disgusted us nevertheless.

On a happier note, we spent the remainder of the weekend gardening. We purchased and planted: yellow pear tomatoes, two different kinds of pumpkin, two different kinds of basil, and a peach tree. We also moved some of the plants around, digging up two wildly overgrown oregano shrubs and re-planting them away from the more delicate cilantro and basil plants. Unfortunately, some asparagus was damaged in the melee.

Empty Spaces

We are finally returning the hospitality of all the people who had us over repeatedly during our apartment-dwelling years, and so have been having little dinners every couple of weeks with various folk. Unfortunately, we still have no dining room furniture. We do have a comfortable-enough table and chairs in the eating area next to the kitchen, which is where we've been doing our entertaining, although this sort of dining lacks a certain ambiance.

It doesn't look like we're going to be getting dining furniture any time soon, either. I think we've more or less made up our minds that we're going to use the space to hold a baby grand piano, once we can afford one. (This will probably be many years into the future.) It was my idea, but now I'm not sure how I feel about it.

I started playing the piano when I was three or four years old. In junior high and high school I used to compete. And I hated it. The competitions, that is, not the actual playing of music, which I enjoyed. One day, one competition, I completely forgot the entire final movement of the sonata I was playing. So I played the first movement over again and retreated from the stage in great embarrassment. After that I quit, and I haven't really played (except for messing around when I go to my parents' house) or even owned a piano since then. Over the last few years, I started to miss it a lot. Thus was born my great desire for a piano of my own. But I guess I'm not sure how it's going to feel once I have one again. I don't think it's like riding a bike; you lose a lot of the skills when you haven't touched a keyboard in years and years and years. I'm sort of afraid of it, having to start over, re-learning stuff before I can get to the part that I actually enjoy. Maybe it's better to just get a dining room set after all?

Birds and Bees

On today's to-do list: build a small cage around our strawberry patch to keep away marauding birds. I hate birds, even pretty ones (hummingbirds excepted), and the blue-jays and magpies that surround our house are at the top of my list. They've been picking off the strawberries as they ripen. This is unacceptable.

Other things on the to-do list: clean out old letters/cards. I have to admit, I'm something of a packrat. My husband, too, although less so. Between the two of us, we have quite an archive of correspondence. I have cards I received twenty years ago, from people I no longer remember. I have really personal cards from people I can't remember having been that close to (admittedly, my memory for such things is not long). I think I've kept every scrap of paper that anyone has ever written me, no matter how insignificant the message or the relationship. While it seems sad to toss away a fifteen-year-old message asking me if I want to go shopping, I think it's time to put these in the recycling bin. Of course, I'm going to continue to keep some of them, the ones from people who still matter to me, the ones with really meaningful messages.

A subset of the old letters/cards category is the memorabilia of past relationships. Both my husband and I had a "box" for each former flame. Going through these boxes was amusing - we've been together for so long that it felt like rifling through someone else's life, like gossip, rather than anything we had personally gone through. It did, however, make me feel old. Were we ever really as young as we sounded in these notes? I can't remember having been so young that it seemed important to keep things like receipts, showing where I'd been and when. And yet, they were there, in the Boxes. I do remember cutting paper snowflakes, which, when unfolded, said "I love u." Embarrassing to think of now. Hopefully, somewhere out there, my exes have already destroyed any Box they may have kept.

My husband, being a boy, had fewer such embarrassments. The same can't be said for his ex-girlfriends, who should be very relieved to know that these Boxes have now, finally, all been laid to rest in our shredder/recycling bin. The stuffed animals and other assorted gifts have been packed off to various charities. Ah, de-cluttering. Makes me feel like a new woman.

Becoming Handy

Rule number one of home ownership: things will break. Corresponding rules: plumbers charge > $150/hour (clearly I entered the wrong profession); contractors charge a gazillion dollars an hour, and, moreover, will not return your phone calls or keep appointments;
and, finally, your average, run-of-the-mill, non-bankruptcy-causing handyman has gone extinct.

Corollary to the above rules: you must learn to do many things yourself. Unless, of course, you have a lot of money and don't mind spending it all on routine house maintenance.

So, here are the things I have learned to do since purchasing the house:

• diagnose common plumbing issues;
  
• replace toilet fill valves and other toilet anatomy miscellanea;
• install drapery rods and other window treatments;
• engage in minor sprinkler repairs;
• dig holes and plant stuff;
• caulk many, many things (it's amazing how many problems can be solved by a tube of caulk);
  
• find studs;
• drill holes and attach stuff.

I've gotten to know my local Home Depot very well.

And I've gotten to spend much quality time with my sewing machine, making drapes, matching pillows, etc.

In addition, I now have a yard (both front and back) full of living things whose lives depend largely on my vigilance. Many, many hours a day are spent watering, weeding, digging, spraying, etc., etc. Someone suggested using a gardening service, but, being descended from my father, a master gardener, I feel like that would be a blow to the pride and honor of my family, not to mention cheating.

With all of this, who has time to work?

Procrastination

Last night's dinner: baked mahimahi breaded in a mixture of ground macadamia nuts, coconut milk, flour, and bread crumbs, and an artichoke risotto. I used rice vinegar in the risotto, which added an interesting flavor - I kind of liked it. I'd had an artichoke risotto in Rome, and was trying to re-create it. Ditto with the mahimahi, although that was not in Rome but somewhere in the U.S. I was winging it and a little nervous about how everything was going to turn out, but it worked.

These are the things I think about while I should be writing.

Learning New Things

I have only been a homeowner for a few weeks now, and I have already learned so much. All about retaining walls and sump pumps and grout - phrases whose meanings were unknown to me until very recently. I have also developed new attitudes, about rain, for example. We were hit by an unexpected shower this morning (although it is now sunny and cloudless outside). And, upon waking to find rain outside my window, I didn't feel nostalgic or depressed. Instead, I thought, Great! Now my plants will get watered and I can put off figuring out the sprinkler system for another day!

Foodwise

We've become highly domesticated. Since purchasing the house, we spend almost all of our free time doing things to it. (LOVE the house, but I have to admit that I'm aching to surf.) First was the moving, then the furnishing and fixing up (still ongoing processes). Stores which I have gotten to know very, very, very well: Home Depot, Costco, Target, and Ikea (a great place to buy mirrors). Especially Home Depot, which I visit every day. During yesterday's visit, we bought a lawnmower and the husband mowed our lawn for the first time! We've spent time planing doors, installing shelves and towel rods, tending to the garden, etc., but the lawnmowing was what made the house really feel like ours.

Moreover, today we had our first dinner guests. I made pork chops with a soy-honey glaze, accompanied by baby carrots sauteed in the same, and mashed golden potatoes with pan-roasted garlic. And a banana-nut concoction for dessert. Simple but satisfying.

Home sweet home.

The Drill

The most important tool for a new home owner is a power drill. With a full set of drill bits, which can be purchased at Home Depot for about $15.00. We bought the bits after we received the drill for Christmas. As with the grill, it was a gift that I only belatedly came to appreciate, but the drill has already proven its worth. It enabled us to put in shelves, an additional lock on the front door, assemble furniture quickly....

It is, however, important to note a caveat: learn how to use the drill before you actually attempt to put holes in the walls of your new house. It will save you some grief. Tired of waiting for my husband to get home, I decided to use the drill myself to do some minor household project. How hard could it possibly be? Insert bit, press button. Easy-peasy in theory, but in the practice of it, I put some dents in the wood of our front door, scratched up the paint a bit. :( I also broke one of the drill bits (but don't tell my husband).

At least I escaped physically unscathed, which is more than I can say for some of the other projects I've undertaken.