Half-Assed Homemaker

Ahh delectable. The garlicy, acidic saltiness with a mysterious kiss of sweetness make for an excellent pickle experience. We opened the first jar yesterday and I doubt it will see another day.

I was watching No Maps for These Territories, which I highly recommend, (hence the link) and I heard the subjects interesting take on religion which I tried to paraphrase for you but I ended up butchering so you must see the film.

A bumper crop of cucumbers in the hands of an evil genius can mean only one thing.

The sprinkler frequency has been adjusted. It took a morning trip to the laundry machine to place me in front of the sprinkler timer while the need to adjust it was still fresh in my mind. I am pathetic.

Now that I have the sprinklers working, my lawn is lush and green as a stack of unmarked bills. Something tells me it is now time to scale back the watering duration or frequency. A bunch of somethings: water conservation, money conservation, and the seasonal recession of the pelting sunshine.

Sadly, this thought usually enters my mind at 6 something in the morning when I hear the things turn on and the thought is usually followed by me falling back asleep. It enters my mind throughout the day too but, conveniently, I am not at home and thus not able to do anything about it. Ironically, when I am sleeping I am no less than two feet away from the timer computer thingy. I'm just on the wrong side of the wall... and the wrong side of lazy.

I posted some photos from our Labor Day weekend trip to Portland. iPhoto was good enough to only include the first 40 characters of the descriptions of photos when it puts them up on the web. Does this retched piece of software tell you it is butchering your descriptions? No, use your imagination. There are some good shots of the band that we saw.

I was discussion christianity with a coworker, it is Thursday after all. He spoke of Cain and Abel and how God preferred Abel's sacrificial lamb over Cain's offering of the fruits of the earth.

Could that rejection have caused our tendency toward making such vegetative offerings to each other instead? How many of us here have received an offering of fruits or vegetables from the garden of a friend? Who among us has not celebrated a friendship or romance with sacrificial blossoms? Is it the ugly side of sacrifice that makes such a gesture special?

Other questions:
Is a potted plant any less special because the plant (ideally) lives on, and is not sacrificed at all?
Who do people who do give you gifts of jerky, steak or other meat think they are? Who do they think YOU are?