Another year, another post

Look at that. It's been a year since my last post. And another year since the previous one. And in both of those I was posting about being in some other country. Well, the trend continues. March once again finds me long from home and in yet another country not previously visited (by posts, I've been here before.)

What have I been doing, you ask. Pretty much the same thing everyday. Working 12-16 hours a day and saving up the 3.50 I get paid daily, hoping to buy my freedom one day. That's not true, I don't hope.

But there is also lots to be done while not at work. Sleeping is one of those things, and takes up most of the non-work time. I've been doing a lot of reading. Stacks of paperback books at work, and my trusty kindle back in my room. But there is also wasting time on the internet, and productive time spent on the internet. Skype is very nice. Signal is much better this year than previous visits to the region. I think some scientist figured out how to use flies as a wi-fi signal booster, because, boy, we sure do have a lot of flies here.

Hopefully next March finds me at home again, without another trip being scheduled. I think I've seen enough of this part of the world to last me a while.

Another Trip to Brazil

My job sends me to a lot of places, most of them I don't want to go to. But last week I got the chance to go back to Brazil, something I haven't done since I was a missionary. I thought it somewhat odd how different this trip was, and would like to relate a few of the things that I did which I never did as a missionary:

1. Walked around by myself.

2. Did not wear a white shirt.

3. Did not wear a tie, at all, even in a button up shirt.

4. Ate whatever I wanted without concern for offending my host.

5. Did not get sick after eating whatever I wanted.

6. Stayed in a hotel. That cost as much per night as what I paid for rent as a missionary.

7. Took pictures with a digital camera.

8. Accessed the internet from a laptop computer.

9. Talked to my wife and children via the internet.

10. Looked at birds and really wondered what they were.

Numbers 7 and 8 probably have more to do with being the year 2011 instead of 1998, but still, I never did them as a missionary.

Going on a trip

Sometimes I get a little vacation from the business trip I'm on. It's nice to get out of the office on occasion and get some sand in your shoes.

Too bad the video of dune crashing in SUVs didn't turn out as well as I had hoped. Also good that no video of my dancing skills has surfaced yet.

Fun with Old Sci-Fi

I like sci-fi books. I know, it's akin to admitting that I'm a nerd, but I have no problem admitting that. One of the funnest things in sci-fi that I've started to read are collections of short stories. There are lots out there, under titles of "The Best of Sci-Fi 2006" or whatever. The best ones are the old ones you can find in used book stores. Find the best sci-fi of 1942 and read that. You'll see what people were worried about then projected into the future. Imagine space settlements under the direction of the Third Reich. Hey, that's a good idea, I'd read that story.

I'm reading a book currently called 2041. It's a collection of short stories written in 1991 about what the world will be like 50 years into the future. You remember 1991, right? End of the Cold War. Stealth technology debuting in the first Gulf War. PCs were becoming common in the home, but no one had the internet. Fax machines and car phones were new, cell phones weren't around yet. Neither were digital cameras, GPS devices, DVDs, or LCD screens. The cassette tape was being phased out for the CD, and Windows 3.1 was the cool new thing that replaced DOS.

So what does 50 years into the future look like in 1991? Computers will have replaced teachers in the schools. Everyone will have a fax machine in their car. We'll watch books on CD-viewers. And we'll have space settlements on the moon and Mars.

It's easy to imagine improvements to existing technology. Computers will be faster, TVs will be bigger, thinner, and more life like. Your mp-3 player, cell phone, laptop, GPS, and portable DVD player will all be combined into one small hand-held unit with a virtual reality interface. But what's the next big thing?

Isaac Asimov was writing about robots and space settlements before there were personal computers or manned space flight. Star Trek, the original series, showed voice controlled computers, personal communication devices and teleportation.

I suppose we're still trying to create some of the technologies foreseen by these early sci-fi geniuses, but I pose the question: What's the next big thing? Is there any author today who can match Asimov's creations from the 40s and 50s? Let me know what you've seen, because I want to read it, and live it.

Nine Great Things About Being Married Nine Years

9. The TV never says "I love you" back.
8. Always having a date for Friday night.
7. Someone else's leg to warm cold feet on.
6. Extra driver for those long extended road trips.
5. Never having to wonder if that tie goes with those pants.
4. Someone to fix the back of your head when you cut your own hair.
3. Someone who thinks you're great for emptying out the mouse traps.
2. Someone always willing to pick you up when your truck breaks down.
1. Someone there to help you get through the hard levels on Lego Indiana Jones.

Why Easter Is Not a 3 Day Weekend

Today is Good Friday. I think most Christians recognize that but only the Catholics do anything about it. Maybe the Lutherans too, but I digress. I had to work today. I think most people did. My children had to go to school, but some people's children did not have school today. I think they attend private Christian schools who let out for Good Friday and Easter Monday. Yeah, I'd never heard of Easter Monday either but my Dilbert calendar lists it, as well as Easter Saturday. Apparently Canada and Australia like their Easter to last.
In the US most people can expect to get out of quite a bit of work around Christmas, but not other religious holidays. And I say "other religious holidays" meaning the religious holidays of other religions since Christmas and Easter are the only Christian holidays that I can think of (at least in the US). I'll just ignore the Utahans claiming the 24th of July.
So why does the US Government have no problem shutting down the economy for Christmas but not for Easter? Could it be the that the vast commercialization of Christmas allows for a day off from spending since we had just finished blowing the budget all month anyway? Could it be that Easter is always on a Sunday which most people have off anyway? That may be a part of it, but I don't believe it's the root cause.
The answer, like so many simple questions in primary, is Jesus. The US Government doesn't know what to do about Jesus. They can accept that He was born, and that a lot of people like Him, but that's about the extent of it. They can't accept that He was resurrected, and that in consequence all of us will be resurrected. If everyone will live again, and will live immortally, it causes serious budgeting issues. Will the recently un-departed be re-given social security benefits? Will the military pensions of Revolutionary War soldiers have to be paid? Where are all these immortals going to live, surely not on the streets? We'll have a whole new kind of housing crisis.
So the next time you hear someone talking about why the Atheistic/Socialistic Canadians get extra religious holidays off you can be assured that it is because their Atheistic/Socialistic government understands the dynamics of resurrected beings. Feel free to expound on this topic in your Sunday School classes this weekend.

Why Guns are Dangerous

For a long time our house was gun free, then I went to war. It was not the sight of battle that convinced me (for me the sight of battle looks like a computer screen with dots on it); but it was the long hours of sitting around with not much to do. Not much to do means plenty of time for reading. Plenty of time for reading means you burn through every novel and magazine you were previously interested in and start expanding genres to see what else you might be interested in.
My buddy was interested in guns. He has a small arsenal in his house. He subscribes to every legitimate gun magazine in the English language. When he finished memorizing each article he would pass them on to me. I would look at the pictures and read one or two articles per magazine. And then he showed me the Mosin Nagant. It's a Russian rifle mass produced during World War 2, and you could buy one online for 70 bucks. I knew I had to make one mine.
Today it came. Complete with a cleaning kit that I don't know how to use, and a container of genuine Russian grease. There was also a bayonet. Now a dull bayonet is worthless, so I had to find out if this one was sharp. I applied a proven scientific test to the bayonet to test its sharpness. First I jammed the bayonet onto the barrel, and failing to get it to lock into place I tried to pull it back off. In so doing I scientifically ran my thumb over the tip and sliced it neatly in half. Satisfied with the sharpness I decided to remove some of the 60 year old grease from the cut and put the gun back into the bubble wrap and locked it up, where it will safely stay until I can go to a rifle range and unsafely blow the smithereens out of tiny paper targets.

What's Your BMI?

These days in the corporate world it seems the bosses are always trying to find a way to save money. This week's victim is the corporate health care plan. It wasn't enough to disable the elevators and make everyone take the stairs. We thought when they removed all the candy bars from the vending machines and replaced them with soy-bars that we had seen the limits. But now it's getting personal.
Our self-appointed health guru (a.k.a. the guy who picks the new cheapest health care plan every year) had developed a health stimulus system to reward the people who statistically will use less of the health care money. If you don't know who that is, it's the skinny people. The system they gave us to measure ourselves against was the Body Mass Index (BMI). A simple calculator can be found here.
The big kicker is that anyone with a BMI over 25 is considered overweight, and anything over 30 is obese. Now, I'm not called Big Morty without reason. I'm a bit taller than average, and weigh in on the far side of 200 pounds, but I carry my bulk pretty well, as anyone can tell you who has had the unfortunate experience of getting in my way while driving to the hoop. But I must admit to you all now, that I am obese.
All employees categorized in the obese category had to meet with the regional manager who oversees benefits and he would decide if we needed to be placed on a company sponsored nutrition program. I also knew that this regional manager played one of the many company volleyball teams, the very team that my team would be facing last night.
Turns out being big still carries some advantages as my team of obese dudes carried the day against a much slimmer team of one regional manager, two girls who played in college and one metrosexual who sang a lot during the game. After winning the game and knocking their team out of tournament play, my entire team of unhealthy fatties was excused from the nutrition program.

Next week: The fat guys from sales versus the Asian guys from research in the pie eating contest.

Shave and Hair Cut

It's been a long time since I paid for a haircut. Mrs. Morty used to cut it, until I decided to simply cut it all off every few weeks and just embrace the inevitable baldness. My hair was getting pretty long (unfortunately not on top) and I hadn't bought new clippers since the smoke came out of my last ones, so I went to the barber shop.
I knew something was odd by the number of heavily musk scented Asian men who were working there, but thought nothing of it. Maybe barber shops have changed in the years since I began do-it-yourself hair cutting. I walked in and Shin-Jo directed me to his chair. I hoped he understood my instructions and was relieved when he replied in broken English "All skin sir?" He cut the hair quickly and efficiently without any unnecessary comments about the patch in the back that required no cutting. And when he finished he patted me on the shoulders and began squeezing.
"Oh," I thought, "a shoulder rub from a dude. That's odd. Maybe one of those foreign things from a country where people have no personal space bubble around them." And so I figured I'd enjoy the short massage and be done. Then he moved up to my neck. Fine. And started massaging my scalp. Okay, maybe it stimulates follicle growth and he get's more repeat business that way. Then he starting hitting my scalp. It hurt. Then he was squeezing my forehead. I didn't know I had deep tissue on my forehead, but there he was doing deep tissue massage on it. And he kept going, down to my eyes. Now I rub my eyes in the mornings when I wake up and it feels pretty good. I've never had another person rub my eyes for me, and it did not feel pretty good. It felt awesome. Now I'm addicted. I can't wait for my hair to grow back in to go get another shoulder/neck/scalp/forehead/eyeball massage. Maybe I should have the guy shave my back.

The Business End

Apparently the little "business trip" I took to Hawaii last month was not entirely without legal repercussions. Something about trafficking in human capital something or other. I'm completely innocent I assure you. I have no idea how that bus load of Guatemalan tourists got sold to an indigenous tribe to be offered up as a sacrifice to the volcanic gods; but I sure was surprised to see that briefcase full of cash tucked in with by bags. I put the money to good use though; I'm starting an at home business, selling VHS and cassette tapes. Nobody sells those things anymore, I'll make a fortune. The IRS did an in depth audit though, and they confiscated my computer. I'll post more when I get it back. Knowing their efficiency it shouldn't take more than a year or two right?

They Plump When You Cook Them

Driving to church every Sunday we get to see "hot dog man." Occasionally "hot dog man" is not there, but "mustard girl" is there in his stead. Both hold signs advertising the two chili-dogs, fries and a drink for $3.99 at The Dog House. Their menu also apparently includes hot dogs, coneys, and frito pies (at least that's what the painted window says). We've never eaten there, as hot dogs are not something that we generally like to pay for since I can easily make them just as tasty at home for much less money. I've only ever been tempted to eat there on Sunday's due to feeling bad for the poor soul stuck in a food related costume on a hot afternoon. Unfortunately I never see them on other days of the week because I'm never in that part of town at lunchtime on any other day of the week. Being burdened with steady employment unlike "hot dog man" and "mustard girl" I don't get to wander the city looking fight with illegal immigrants for jobs that pay cash and don't ask questions. I'd also never go there on a Sunday due to my aversion to Sabbath breaking and buying questionable meat products in a strip mall.
One exceptionally hot Sunday afternoon we saw "hot dog man" out enthusiastically waving his sign, and stopping every 30 seconds to drink from a large styrofoam cup. Apparently free soda is one of the fringe benefits to day labor. On the way home from Church the weather had gotten much hotter and we were worried about poor "hot dog man" cooking in the hot sun, and wondered how much enthusiasm he would have left. But much to our eye's terror "hot dog man" had been replaced by "obese hot dog girl." Despite the horror of an under-dressed and over-fed homeless girl trying to cover her ample posterior with the "one size fits most" hot dog costume, I was able to make a witty remark at another's expense when I leaned over to Mrs. Morty and said "It's true. They do plump when you cook them."

I swear, they sent me there for work

I had to go to Hawaii last week for work.

I visited all the Pearl Harbor memorials.

And saw a lot of the local sites on Oahu.

I found some time for swimming at the beach.

And I saw some sea turtles while snorkeling.

I went to a luau at Paradise Cove.

Then noticed some weird looking dude in a hat kept popping up in most of my pictures.

I'll Never Cry Again

Most of you have never seen me cry. There are obviously a few exceptions, Mom, for instance, saw me cry a couple of times. There was also the "Candy Land" incident which Dad takes great pleasure in bringing up when playing board games with the grandkids.
I understand that it is acceptable for the modern man to be in touch with his emotions and to actually cry on occasion. I once tried out that lifestyle, but had it beaten out of me by a certain older brother who will go unnamed. Now, according to Mrs. Morty, I have become a cold and heartless robot who has no feelings about anything and even if I did have a feeling I wouldn't talk about it or acknowledge it. In other words, I have become a role model for all men.
But I confess, there have been a few occasions recently that brought me to tears. I'd be standing in the kitchen, watching my young children, growing up so fast, being to kind and loving toward each other. Morty Jr would be telling Little Girl Morty what pre-school will be like, and don't worry, 'cause he'll be there at the same school to take care of her. I'd get a little tear in my eye, and try to wipe it away before anyone noticed. I'd have to wipe carefully lest I stab myself with the knife I'd been using to cut onions.
Onions always really get the old tear ducts working. I guess it's good to know that they still work. But no more will I have to suffer the indignity of cutting onions. How's that? you ask. Has Mrs. Morty freed you from helping in the kitchen so you can comfortably nap in your recliner while dinner is being made? No, not yet. But we did buy a new blender with a food processor attachment. Now our kitchen flows with fresh made salsas, finely chopped onions, and other assorted vegetable things that can be cut into little tiny bits by the rapidly spinning steel blades of tear-free onion death.

(If you thought this was going to be a post where I bear my innermost feelings and finally get in touch with my emotions then you really must not know me at all.)

It's Now Okay to Steal

Oklahoma is a state that prides itself as being the "Buckle of the Bible Belt" based on the number of huge churches which are filled every Wednesday night and most Sundays. The high moral ground occupied by all these Bible-thumpers has been a protection to the people of this state against all forces of nature and acts of God (except tornadoes, wild fires, ice storms, drought, and more tornadoes). This is a state that has constitutionally defined marriage and still allows the display of the 10 commandments in government buildings. That some of the commandments are scratched and faded should not imply that the rule of law is not held in the highest esteem and absolute honesty expected of all the ladies and gentlemen calling themselves residents of this great state. Unless it was someone else's mistake, and you're really just taking advantage... not stealing really, because you didn't actually take anything... and not lying, if nobody asks you any direct questions. After all, they have insurance to cover these sorts of things, and I've been ripped off a time or two, so it's just karma paying me back. I feel completely justified in my ability to rationalize.
The point of these ramblings can best be illustrated by a story I'd like to share:
We recently purchased new cell phones, the kind with a slot for a memory card so you can save songs and pictures on the phone. We ordered the memory cards online through Best Buy because that was cheaper than ordering the card through the phone company, or buying them in the store. We opted for free shipping rather than in-store pickup because it was free and we weren't planning on heading into that part of town anytime soon. Several days later (4 days longer than the "expected" ship date and at least 3 trips into that part of town) a large box arrived at our doorstep. Much larger than would be needed to ship two small memory cards. Opening the box revealed two Sony Cybershot digital cameras. Being the savvy consumers that we are we immediately kept the cameras and called to complain that we didn't get the memory cards. No, wait, that's what people thought we should have done. We took the cameras to the Best Buy (4th trip to that part of town) and exchanged them for the memory cards. The exchange went something like this:
Me: We ordered memory cards but got these cameras. Can I exchange them for the memory cards?
Customer service rep: (incredulously) You want to exchange them? I'd just keep the cameras.
Me: I didn't pay for cameras, and I don't really need another digital camera.
Customer service rep: Okay. (On radio to electrics manager) I need two micro memory cards for a customer who received two cameras by mistake.
Electronics manager: Why doesn't he keep the cameras?
Customer service rep: He says he doesn't need them and didn't pay for them.
Electronics manager: Okay, but I'd just keep them.
Customer service manager: What's going on here?
Customer service rep: This guy ordered two memory cards for like 40 bucks but got these two cameras which sell for like 300 bucks, and he wants to exchange them.
Customer service manger: Wow, I'd just keep them and buy new memory cards.
Customer service rep: Me too, but he wants to return them.
Customer service manger: Hmm, must believe in karma or something. (To me) Well, it pays to be honest, I guess, so we'll give you one of the memory cards free.
Me: (Somewhat happy and somewhat disgusted) Thanks.

Is it so rare for a person to be honest and not try to take advantage of someone's mistake that everyone at the store was shocked that I would bring in 300 dollars worth of merchandise to get my 40 dollar memory cards? I guess retail is a lot like politics, if you expect people to be dishonest, self-serving, and cheats, you'll get what you expected.

Scout Camp, and Why Dads are the Greatest

This last week I had the great privilege of accompanying the boys from our troop to Scout Camp. Located just outside the city of Talihina (Town Motto: Everything closes before 7!) Oklahoma. Of the adults who were able to attend with the troop I was in the unique position of being to only one without a son attending as well. Thus, I was able to observe the unique interactions between father and son outside the deeply entrenched patterns of the home.
Boys with involved fathers are more motivated to accomplish the various tasks assigned them at Scout Camp. This is not because Dad is yelling at them, or forcing them to do these things. The real motivator comes from the previous 12 to 16 years of Dad teaching them to do good things, and more importantly, working with them, and teaching them how to do good things well. When removed from the social settings of girls and friends from school, it is very easy to see the influence of good father in the life of their sons. Not every Dad was able to attend Scout Camp this week, but it didn't matter, their boys behaved the same as they would have if Dad had been there, because Dad has always been there at every crossroad of their lives.
My Dad was involved. I remember tagging along with him before I was Scout age, as he took the Scouts on various outings. I remember going to work with him when he was framing houses. We got to bring him tools and lumber, even though it would have been faster for him to get them himself. We got to eat lunch with him out of his lunch box. When we'd get bored, he'd nail together some scraps of lumber into the shape of an airplane, with spinning propeller, and we'd be set to play for hours. Dad was there at school sports. He watched the soccer team that never won a game. He sat in the classroom during three years of math relays. He couldn't always be at home, but whenever possible he took the family with him on business trips, to places like Coeur-d'-Alene, Washington D.C. and Orlando (I didn't go on that one, but the younger kids did).
As a kid it is rare to appreciate the true value of a great Dad. To me, he was just Dad. But when I started to associate with a lot of adults, who had known and worked with my Dad, and they took the time to let me know how impressed they've been by my Dad, and how lucky I am to have such a great guy for a father, I got the chance to reflect and see that they were right, and that I really did have a wonderful man for a father. Now that I'm older (not grown up) and have kids of my own, I can see even more clearly the great example of my Dad gave to me as a young boy at Scout Camp.

Good Sports

I've recently been coaching/playing on a basketball team for physically and mentally challenged adults. (None of them are "legally handicapped" or "genetically different" from what society has defined as "normal," but the physical and mental challenges are much more difficult for a bunch of slightly overweight guys who've never actually played organized basketball.) We play Tuesday nights at the Church as part of the infamous "Stake Basketball League." If you've ever played Church sports you understand that it is much different from "organized" sports. Organization is one of the key issues.
One of the major obstacles to Church sports is the distribution of talent. In an organized league you can set up different levels of teams, such as competitive, recreational, and terrible. In Church sports everyone gets dumped into the same pool and is allowed to compete together. Allowing players to form their own rosters added even more spice to the typical drama. In our local congregation the guys who had played in high school and still play regularly quickly found each other and filled their roster without an open invitation. Other teams were filled by people in a common age group, or who work at a particular place. I set out to recruit players with qualities similar to my own: Can't make a free throw, don't know all the rules, aren't very concerned with winning, enjoy playing for the fun of it, and need the exercise.
We've actually developed excellent skills as a team, playing off each other's strengths, and compensating for the abundant weaknesses. For example, I never get to dribble. Not that I'm not allowed to, I just don't do it very well, and so I pass the ball away as quickly as I can, most often to players on my team. I also have a designated spot to stand, right where the black squares are by the key. There I use my highly developed talent of being taller and heavier than most players to knock people out of the way and then hope the ball comes to me either by pass or missed shot. I then proceed to shoot the ball multiple times until it eventually lands in the basket, or someone else manages to jump over me and get the ball. I don't score a lot of points, but I lead the league in rebounds.
Our team has even won a few games, including against teams who were much better than us if taken as individuals. It just goes to show you that if you play as a team, and if the best players on the other team don't show up, you can win at any game you try.

Thank You, I Love You

Found an old file on the computer, from Mother's Day 1995. Enjoy:

There was an old woman
Who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children
She didn't know what to do.
So she gave them some soup
Without any bread,
Then beat them all soundly,
And sent them to bed.

Now this covered
The Mother's day job alright,
But what did she do
When she stayed up all night?
She washed lots of shirts
And socks all in bunches.
Then she found them some bread,
And made them all lunches.

In the morning she woke
Before the first crack of dawn,
And made up some oatmeal
Because the cereal was gone.
She then woke up her kids,
And heard them all fuss;
But she got them already
In time for the bus.

With the older ones at school
And the young ones under foot,
She read them all stories,
And kept them all put.
For dinner, more soup;
But the sisters and brothers
Offered their love for their’s,
The greatest of all mothers.

I hope the next pictures aren't of dead plants

This is the first fruits of our garden. I suppose technically we should have offered it up as a tithe. Maybe that's why I got smote with bloody knuckles.

You can see that the radishes and peas are doing well. The lettuce is also starting to look more salad-like. The corn isn't looking very healthy though. It may have sprouted too early and gotten frost bitten, or the pelting with hail stones may have broken its spirit. I think the onions are all dead. Maybe we'll cheat and buy some onion starts but not tell you when we post the next pictures.

We certainly did not cheat and buy strawberry starts. Just don't scroll down to the previous post and realize that there were no strawberry plants pictured, nor did I mention planting them. The fact that they are producing mutant strawberries should in no way be taken as indicative of the character of the care giver.

Here's another radish, actually the third one deemed large enough to be plucked out of the earth and devoured. Some of the radish seeds fell into the clay outside the garden and were actually growing faster than the ones inside. Turns out it was all show and no fruit. I tried to transplant some of the larger ones to better soil, but turns out ripping them from the ground and burying them again is not actually transplanting.

This is my brick patio. I made it with bricks that I "scavenged" from nearby construction sites. It is related to the garden because the clay I removed for the bricks is the clay that leveled a spot for the garden to sit on. Now I need to build a bench, plant some flowers around it, and get rid of the excess bricks. Maybe I could sell them to looters at a riot.

A Conversation With a Man With No Tools

Him: Hey, I need your help with a shelf.
Me: Okay, what, like moving it?
Him: No, I'm building one, but I need some tools.
Me: What do you need, a drill?
Him: No, I have a pounder, but I need a cutter.
Me: You mean a saw? Are you building from scratch or from a kit?
Him: The wife wanted a shelf, so I went and bought some lumber. I need to cut it.
Me: I'll load the truck, see you in a few...

Me: I brought a circular saw, a table saw, a miter saw, and a coping saw.
Him: That's a lot of saws. I just want to cut the shelves.
Me: We'll use the table saw for long cuts, for the sides of...
Him: How do I turn this on?
Me: You don't. Then the miter saw to do the angles...
Him: I think the blades in backwards, see...
Me: It's not in backwards, it cuts from the bottom.
Him: No, look, if I put my finger here, and turn it on...
Me: See, that's why you don't turn it on.
Him: There should be some safety guard on these things.
Me: That was the thing you pushed out of the way before you cut yourself.
Him: Yeah, I must have forgotten about that when I passed out.
Me: Don't worry, you didn't hurt any of my tools on the way down.
Him: Yeah, I was worried about that. Did you find my finger yet?

Haikus... Again?

Playing at the park
Why don't children have more fun
Not sharing their toys

Lego Star Wars Two
Keeping them busy today
Lets me get work done

Running marathons
Leave me with the crazy kids
Run Miss Giggle Run

How does my garden grow?

Literally thousands of you have been asking how the square foot garden is coming along. Nicely, thanks for asking.
Well, here's some pictures so you can see for yourself.

Here's the whole thing, not much of a perspective, but you can see the green in spots.

Here are the radishes, our first to sprout.

I think this is a green bean. Its about 50/50 right now if I will eat any green beans or not.

These are carrots. They look a lot like the onions, so only one picture.

This is corn in the fore ground, and you can see the peas in the background. The peas are our fastest growers.

Not pictured are the sprouts of cucumber, broccoli, onions, lettuce, artichoke, or pumpkin. (If you open up the pictures you can actually see some of them.) The tomatoes and jalapeños have not sprouted yet. We'll probably abandon hope on the tomato seeds and buy some tomato starts next week. It's pretty much guaranteed that I won't be eating any of the tomatoes, unless they are in salsa.

Look Familiar?

I really should not be left alone with the kids. Especially with Morty Jr following me around with a camera as I try to follow the guide book on taking care of Baby Morty.