Mother Nature Saves The Day, Again

As surprising as it may seem, even my own incompetence cannot foil mother nature.



Even after originally being planted upside-down, my lovely little callas sprang up this weekend. Adversity's got nothin' on these flowers.

Additionally, despite my bumbling beginner-gardening, I have managed to keep the plants alive long enough to produce something resembling actual food.



Amazing, isn't it?



I am so proud of my little tomatoes! I feel so accomplished - I can make food appear from the dirt!



(And, because we all know that pride cometh before a fall, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the Good Lord, the sunshine, the folks at Lowes who actually planted the seeds, and my trusty watering can. Now everybody cross your fingers that it doesn't hail until November.)

I suppose I should also thank Steven for letting me take over the porch. (Myself included for scale.)



The harvest of our first little tomato has also brought a secondary discovery: Pringles is apparently a vegetarian. He is just dying to get at that tomato.



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This has been a big weekend for Pringles. He has found his new arch-nemesis. I give you, Oster, the evil bread machine.



Mom Steele gifted this bread machine to me at least two years ago, and today is the first time that I've actually used it. I am remiss in my gift-using. I blame the combination of GMU Law and BarBri entirely.

We bought some bread machine flour on Saturday, and I tossed the ingredients into the bread maker this afternoon. I plugged her in, and from her metal belly came the loudest, screechiest beep I have ever heard from a kitchen appliance.



It sounded like a fire alarm. And it made Pringles angry.



He officially hates the bread machine now. He barked at it for a solid hour after that first beep. And then, when it beeped again to signal that it was finished kneading the dough, Pringles launched into a second round of vicious barking, growling, and glaring menacingly at Oster.

To calm Pringles' shattered nerves, I stood guard until the bread was finished baking.



He still doesn't entirely trust the thing, but since it was producing such delicious smells, I think Pringles has forgiven the bread maker for its breach of the peace.



For now, anyway. He's still keeping a watchful eye on it from his spot here on the bed.