Two Tales of a Quiet Helen

Last Spring, I spent a day doing backbreaking labor (while Ed monitored sandbox painting). I turned the entire garden (which is relatively large), I then installed weed fabric, and finally, planted the garden out. It was exhausting. But oh, it was going to be fabulous. For starters, I did not plant regular tomatoes, because every year the birds or squirrels, or some other nuisance eats them before I can pluck them. Not this year. Cherry tomatoes only - and we had plenty. I also didn't battle weeds, because that weed fabric totally works. For weeks, I saw the most enormous melon vines grow. They produced probably 100 flowers that turned into melons, maybe more. And then the melons starting getting bigger, and bigger, and then they disappeared. One by one, almost every melon was plucked from its vine. We ate a few, but not that many. It's totally Ed's fault because he finally put a bungee cord on our trash can, so the raccoon that visits had to find another food source. Prior to the bungee cord, the fu**er would dine on clam shells recovered from our trash as it sat on our car.

But no more. On Friday, I decided to pull the remains of the garden. Every bit of it. Then I instructed Ed to pour grass seed on it as soon as possible, lest I become optimistic over the winter and decide to plant a garden again. I guess next year will not be the year I cross off #9 on my bucket list.

So on Saturday, we had a big day of yard work planned - oh, the fun! After breakfast, Helen busied herself by getting dressed, finding her hat and putting it on, putting on her sunglasses, going to the pantry and getting herself a little snack bag of peanuts, and then putting her shoes on. She was preparing to walk out the door when Ed found her, and doused her with sunscreen. For the record, she would've put that on, too, if she were able to reach the shelf I store it on. This probably marks the most productive, undirected period of Helen's entire existence. Typically when she's quiet, she's slowly plotting to either take over the world or destroy it. Sometimes both.

Which leads me to today, when she was similarly quiet. The results were a bit different this time. She was outside, playing near her sink. I looked up from inside my kitchen to see all three neighbor boys laughing and looking across our shared driveway in Helen's direction. They were looking at this.

Win some, lose some.

Elaine