Futility

Isn't there a saying that goes something like, insanity is the act do doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result? Although, as I type that, I feel like that must be wrong because isn't that scientific theory? You repeat the same things over and over and if you don't get a different result, well then, hot damn, you done invented or discovered something sciencey? I'm going to vote science and say that despite my many years of trying to grow herbs and killing them, and again trying this year and having things look, well, bleak, I am a scientist at heart. A cautiously pessimistic scientist who decided to fix her broken herbs by adding more dirt to the pots. My husband had the good idea that we should stake the stuff, but when asked to elaborate and explain how we woulod do this, he gave me a shoulder shrug and said, "I thought you said I only needed to help for a moment, this is taking way longer than a moment." You could say he moved past cautiously pessimistic and into, YOU ARE WASTING MY TIME WOMAN! Anywho.

With my husband's help, I went out to tend my plants and add more dirt to their limp broken stems. I didn't have much more dirt, but I used up the rest that I had and built little dirt mounds around the bases. I also used the white plastic herb/plant labels as counter-weights to prop things the opposite direction of which they were leaning. While I was out there, and much to my was-only-suppose-to-have-to-carry-dirt-I-may-have-been-duped husband's dismay, I decided to also trim back my basil and limp weed dill weed. The tomatoes being are left to fate, and she seems to be a cruel bitch.

I had not planned on trimming back anything, and so I had no vessel in which to transport my bounty. Improvising, I borrowed my daughter's lego box lid. I'd like to say that this, like my dirt mounds, plastic label counter-weights and homemade icepack (water with a little isopropyl rubbing alcohol mixed together in a ziplock, left in the freezer for a few hours, makes a perfectly cold slushy icepack) are ingenious. MacGyver-esque. My husband, he has taken to calling me MacGruber. If I could catch him, I'd show him my MacGruber alright. In the meantime, I am going to feed him homemade pesto and he is going to like it.