As geekette sows, so do I reap.

Well, actually I'm sure her planting is going a lot better than my foraging for food in an increasingly empty kitchen. Tomorrow, for instance, I will eat a steak that is now defrosting in the refrigerator. The label has a "sell by" date: April 24, 2000.

I suspect the steak will be as yummy as the chicken I cooked earlier in the week. Anticipating my imminent relocation, I have also sorted through my prized assortments of scary canned foods. Not so much to eat the stuff -- though I would, if the cans in questions weren't each so many years old and quite possibly botulized.

My favorite is, of course, the fried dace in salted black beans. Mike Yee used to keep that stuff in the cabinet when we lived together in college. And when he wasn't around Guido and I would eat the stuff. We couldn't decide if we liked it because it was tasty (tasty in its literal meaning: "full of taste") or because it was utterly ridiculous. Is it true that Mike went on to study global food politics at NYU? Maybe he can help us figure out why they don't carry food this interesting at Stop & Shop. Or Publix. Maybe I'll go to the Giant Beagle in Berea and ask them if they can start stocking the stuff -- just to see what they say.

Unfortunately I have decided that my scary canned food collection is not worth packing and moving, so off it goes. But not before I pry open that classic can of dace, given to me as a parting gift from a kind-hearted co-worker at the Law Journal so many years ago.

Yep, stuff still looks the same as it did in the 1980s. Unable to help myself, I even ate a bite of the stuff. Tasty... just like I remember.

And now I don't feel so good.

Spring Fever has me in it's clutches. Three trips to shop already this month and everyone of the trips ended with me bringing in something to pot up or stick in to the ground.

The Reger begonias have to stay indoors for another month, but then they can go out to the patio in the shade with the rest of the house plants I drag in and out according to the season. It's a full day job in both directions, but I truly am a green freak.

I have pansies blooming along with the daffodils, jonquils, and grape hyacinths. (I planted hyacinths last fall in pots lined with chicken wire to keep the squirrels from digging them up and eating them, but they still didn't survive.)

The peas I planted and mulched in January are peeking out. The strawberry plants are greening up (I lost about half of them and all my azaleas to the repeated freeze-thaw cycles we had this winter--pretty common in Nebraska).

The forsythia I planted last fall are about 18 inches tall and rather funny looking with six or seven tiny blossoms on each. In a couple of years they should be pretty. . .at least they survived being poisoned with weed killer by the crazed neighbor next door.

I planted another row of peas, a row of broccoli (not Rabe) and two of onion sets. It got dark before I got the potatos, spinach, lettuce, cabbage and collards in the ground. Just as well. . .turning up the ground with a turning fork is murder on my back so four rows is really pushing it.

We may have severe weather tonight and tomorrow, but the plants had to go in the ground because we are going out to an Emergency Management conference this weekend and I wasn't about to get a house sitter for a dozen pansies and three dozen broccoli plants.

Of course if the 'large hail' in the forecast happens, it will shred them and I will be out the $$ I spent on them and will be doing the work all over, too, when the ground has dried out. I mulched them with straw in hopes that it might protect them from the weather. I suspect Mother Nature can find them no matter how well I try to camouflage them.

If Mother Nature doesn't get them. . .the rabbits might. I have a cat and a dog and the rabbits are not afraid of them at all and enjoy feasting on the garden. (We also have to contend with ground hogs and deer.) It was too dark to put the netting down over the rows that I finished. I stumbled back to the house in the dark as it was.

Now that you are home owners, you can look forward to to spring fever and yard work, too!

Colon health. Wouldn't seem to be an issue for anyone who recently received 10 lbs of broccoli rabe in the mail. Right now I'm eating some chicken that was chiseled from the freezer earlier this week. I don't know how long it was in there. Years, certainly. It tastes like freezer .

What does freezer taste like?

Hard to describe, but it don't taste like chicken.

I made a cauldron full of lentil soup, and I have been eating it everyday. Not only for lunch, but dinner as well. For one, it agrees well with my stomach, two, I really like the word lentil and bean for that matter, and three, there is that old saying: You are what you eat.
It would be the most joyous occassion if I turned into a Lentil -OR- my famed snack, a Prune Bifidus Regularis Activa Yogurt. mmmm...that's colon healthy.

I booked myself into the Y W-C-A. I said I like it here, can I stay?

I don't think I ever drive 25 mph around here, except maybe on the Gowanus Expressway (no, probably never that fast on the Gowanus).

Roto is rude.

Hey Guys, Sorry I hadn't blogged in a while, I had the Rotovirus-Lite this weekend, and yesterday. It's quite sexy, I have that whole cocaine chic look down to a 'T'. Now that the virus has stopped, I have accomplished the task of completely dehydrating my whole body, so now I'm dealing with respiratory complications. No worries, it's nothing that shouldn't subside by next week. I just keep telling myself that my last day of Special Ed Pre-K is May 23rd, I think I can stick it out. At about 6 weeks left and 5 shit diapers a day, I think I can make it out alive. I wear latex gloves, but it's the darn puke, you never know when a kid's gonna hurl. For all reasons, my mother suggests wearing a surgical mask, for this, maybe I'll take her up on it. But I still refuse wearing one to the Company C Hair Cuttery. She could pull off the hat and cape, but not I.
Talking about the red lights in Tuckahoe, I have to agree with Alane. Two Novembers ago, I visited, and we were on a mission to take John Paul and Joseph to the YWCA, where they attended classes. (John & Steve, stop singing Morrisey) We were running late as it was, but then John Paul tipped his sippy-cup full of a red hued juice all over his shirt. Instead of driving home to pick up a fresh shirt, we ran into a Gap in White Plains and actually bought him a new one. Just not to deal with the lights.
I loathe Orlando traffic at Christmas time. Let's not discuss.
PS- When I was on the Downtown Disney website looking up Pleasure Island there was a small asterisk that said: "Pleasure Island is named after Merriwether Pleasure". I don't know much history, but that name sounds a little drag queenish if you ask me.

Not to burst John's bubble and it has been some time since I looked at the New York driver's manual--but I believe that in residential area in New York the speed limit is suppose to be 25 which is routinely ignored. We also lived close to several parkways which upped the speed when driven.

The other day my folks took Mojo to church with them during the week for a mass for my brother Joe. I warned my mother that this would not go well and she would be better off attending church with lucifier, but they took him. Mind you my folks insist on sitting at the very front of the church--another no-no when with Mojo. First Mojo develo-ped over active bladder disease and insisted he had to go to the bathroom three times during mass. When he went the second time, he had trouble going (and probably knowing the trouble he would be in for a failed attempt) and my mom told me she heard him say to his ochinchi, I know you have to go. Then through the entire mass and mind you this is a week day mass so it is like 30 minutes, he kept asking, Is it over? Finally the mass ended and they were walking out, the priest says to Mojo, Yes it's over. Which made me wonder how loud he was inquring about the mass length. Unlike Bazooka Joe, I know longer have to wonder what my kids are thinking. Mojo also told the chimney guy, "you should shut the dorr when you come in."

I do remember however one time specifically pondering what the heck they were thinking. They were probably 3 and 2 and I went into the kitchen to put laundry in. I had left them some marshmallows to eat in the living room. Instead of eating them, they chewed them and spit them out on the table--then began dancing in it in their bare feet...

Cookie has ended his rein as the star kindergartener, don't tell Grandpa Vito but he said his favorite team was the New York Mets and this was posted on the star kindergartener bulletin board. He also had to cut out photos of things he liked. He cut out what appeared to be Mt. St. Helen's erupting explaining to me he liked battles and this was the smoke of battle. He cut out some lumberjack climbing a tree with one of those special tools--explaining he liked to climb to high places. His final picture was like a porch lamp--this he said was for his new house which he like alot. I'm hoping he didnt give the battle explanation to the teacher, but I'm certain he did.

One point of frustration in the Berea area is the prevailing local speed limit -- a pokey 35 mph on the main roads and a super-slow-mo 25 mph on the local streets. Since driving is the only way to get around, I suppose I'll be spending a fair amount of time crawling along at thay pokey pace.

It may or may not be more frustrating than driving in and around Tuckahoe. I don't drive very much any more in New York -- I haven't worked in Westchester since 1993. That means I've been taking the train every workday for some 13 years (and I can tell many more tales of frustration). This weekend I did a lot of driving, taking care of several little errands that I'd been neglecting.

Talk about frustrating: every traffic light in Tuckahoe seemed to be synchronized to change to red as I approached. It was utterly infuriating. Main Street in Tuckahoe has traffic lights that I swear are set by sadists. I kept hearing Alane's voice mocking me, repeating back to me what I would always mutter as we drove around:

It's all red lights in this town.

And indeed it is.

Friday, representatives from three different moving companies will come to our Tuckahoe apartment to size up our belongings and prepare price estimates. Once I get their quotes, I'll know how big a bonfire I need to have.

Quick! While it's still April Fool's Day! Enjoy some of the pranks out there

I've been in training for the last three days except when I was interrupted by a weak tornado. Never a dull moment I guess.

No words needed (too bad you can't see the gesture I'm making now).

I've never seen that much brocolli rabe.

It's great to see you blogging again Marlena. I laughed out loud. Bread soda? It made me think of the strangest soda I ever bought. It was a Jamaican Ginger Beer that they must not make anymore (or hawk on the Internets). It contained no alcohol but had a wonderful ginger 'bite.' Speaking of bites Ellie and I are fans of the Pink Pussycat Botique and the Erotic Bakery. Thanks for that stroll down 'Amnesia Lane.'

For the record I have never seen that much broccoli rabe. . .actually, I have never seen any broccoli rabe nor tasted it. . . .The cuisine of the day is Mexican. . .with tamales, enchiladas, queso dip and quacamole.