Picture Sunday

Hello to you all. It's Sunday night, and, well, you all know what that means. More pictures from me. Welcome to this week's "outside" edition of Picture Sunday.

My back hurts. Why does my back hurt? Well, probably because I'm dumb, and I don't know how to dig properly. See, I finally got down to the business of flower planting here at the Poderosa. Bought my flowers this afternoon on the way home from B'burg, brought my cases from the weekend inside, and immediately set about the task of home beautification.

The drill is the same as years past. Four pots on the steps leading to the front door, and then my little fenced in flower area, home of the horrid daffodils, home of lots of weeds. Let's start with the steps.



Yep, they're in there. They're just babies at this point so they're little. White Impatients.

Now let's go - behind the fence!



OK, that doesn't tell you much at all, does it. I've got two sets of purple Impatients, and two of something I've never tried before, Persian Violets. Now, I have no hope whatsoever for the lives of these poor immigrants, everyone says violets are hard to grow, and what do I know about Persia? Nothing, that's what. As you'll also see, the middle of my fenced-in area is filled with a large patch of nothing. I guess I'll either add something new, once the violets have died, or else just let the weeds go wild.

Of course, I had some help in my planting, from a fabulous gardener and very good boy.



He told me he mixed some of his "specially made" plant food in with the water.

Here's an odd thing. Guess what seems to be growing here and there in my yard this year? Most of them were in the fenced area, but some have spread out into my yard. Well, I can't tell you what for sure, but I swear, I've got some teeny tiny wild strawberries growing about. They're red, they've got seeds, they're shaped the right way. Check this out.



That's a strawberry, folks. May look like a raspberry from there, but it's a strawberry. I just don't have the nerve to put something from my yard into my mouth.

You know, I got right into the dirt and weeds and mud and sat on my wet steps and got generally very dirty indeed. It was fun. I also did the job sans shoes. Funny things can happen when you work around in your yard sans shoes.



And that's about as close to nature as I tend to get, folks. Oh, that's OPI's La-Paz-itively Hot on the toes, in case you're wondering.

And yes, even with all that, there's still a recipe du jour for you all tonight. Hey - ya like fish? If you don't, don't even continue. For tonight's recipe is for the fish lover. It comes from the "From the Sea!" file in cardland, and is the one and only Fish Muddle.



Yes, there it is, sailing into your kitchens on the SS Sherman with no less a penguin himself than Reno Penguin guiding the boat. Fish Muddle is a bit of a freezer cleaner. It basically consists of anything fishy you may have. In this case, how about a piece of Mahi-Mahi, a piece of tuna in sesame ginger sauce, two small cod fillets, a can of tuna, and two sardines all boiled up together in their own juices. Add in a chicken bullion cube and some cilantro. Dish into a bowl, top with tartar sauce and your one remaining sardine, and you have a dish fit for, well, for anyone who's been at sea for months with nothing to eat or drink.

Guys, I have to tell you something about this dish. Now, I know that I hadn't had anything to eat all day, and that I'm also probably in need of extensive psychiatric help, but had there not been sardines in this dish, I swear I would have tasted it. It just didn't seem that bad for some reason. Maybe I was hallucinating. The smell, however, was, um, fishy. As is the current smell of my kitchen. I'm expecting to hear the plaintive meows of cats under my kitchen window at any moment.

Happy week.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Seems I'm going to have a new Mowing Boy. Mowing Dad has been trying to weed out (hahaha) his clientele, due to another job and an aging mother, and told me if I could find anyone else who might want to mow for me, by all means to let them do it. Seems my own nephew Taytie is looking for some extra pocket money this summer, and he will be Mowing Boy 3. I told him he had big shoes to fill.