Troy's mom is flying in tonight to watch the little one while we take a three day vacation down to Moab. I'm sorry to report that there will be a break in the blogging action.
For those of you interested in a garden update, here ya go (please ignore the beautiful weed border surrounding my plants. It's hard enough to keep them out of the actual garden and I spend many an afternoon plucking them out.):
We have taken the Butternut Squash plant off of life support. Granted, he's quite a bit smaller than his cousins, The Zuccs, but he's growing rapidly now. The corn is getting taller. Troy tells me that there is an old saying that corn is supposed to be knee high by the fourth of July. Well, it's pretty darn close. The tomato plants have bunches of blossoms and the strawberries have little white flowers all over them. And then there are The Zuccs. They are like the mafia of my garden. They are trying to take over the other plants by sheer intimidation. There are about ten little zucchinis growing under those huge leaves. It's incredible that they started as tiny plants with five or six little leaves on them. But then, my son started out as a small little bean looking thing and he'll be two in less than three weeks. Just for effect, I took a picture of my foot on top of one of the zucchini leaves. I don't have a tiny little woman foot. A wear an 8.5 or a 9.
So that is the garden. I did not kill it. I so did not kill it. I am actually starting to think that it may kill me. I think those two zucchini plants might just team up and take over the world.
I am going to miss Olympic swimming because we'll be in Tahoe. We do not have TiVo. I'm sure no one out there in the blog world wants to record it for me. Do you? Because of this travesty I have been watching the trials each night. I know that most people do not understand the appeal of swimming back and forth. I can comprehend it, intellectually. However, my heart does not get it. I watch them and I'm twelve years old all over again. I want to throw on a suit and drive to the nearest pool. I want to have shoulder surgery and find myself a coach and do it all over again. It is simply magical.
Garrett has been watching with me. Last night the Padres were on TV here (a rarity) and I was switching between the game and the swimming. The swimming hadn't actually started yet but Garrett saw the pool. "Oool! Oool! Oool!" he screamed when I changed the channel to the game. I told him I would turn it right back. He looked at me, narrowed his eyes and shouted, "Moah!" When I flipped back to the swimming he grinned and nestled himself tighter into the couch. I glanced out of the corner of my eye at my husband and smiled.
I would never force my son to do the sport that I did. But if he chooses it there would be no complaints from this parent. I'd just hope those Doozleberry calves he inherited from his father wouldn't sink him right straight to the bottom. I grow zucchini. Doozleberry's grow prize winning leg muscles.