I’m still here, really really!
I’m just doing uncomputer-y things lately. We had a wonderful trip to Tennessee, visiting people and places without internet connection, and I am too cheap to carry a smart phone or figure out the “air card” thing I’ve heard about.
It even snowed. Snowed! In the three days we inhabited the mountains of Tennessee, we “Floridians” got to enjoy a winter wonderland. Serious you guys:

We were so enamoured by this east-Tennessee town’s beauty, quiet, and supermajority-ness that a survey of real estate within our price range became necessary. (Note to property buyers: “rustic and unique” is not as good as it sounds.) Next, we traveled west, taking the same old I-40 of our youth and visiting loved ones along the way.
At one particularly delicious catfish restaurant in rural Dickson County, the boys began an immediate friendship in the way that only children can. The only source of entertainment was a claw crane, and those kids wheedled enough coins from us grown-ups to garner a blue monkey, an orange monkey, an orca, and some kind of creepy pig-dog critter.
The arrival of deep-fried goodness interrupted their creature collecting. Then, handwritten notes started passing from table to table. When our out-of-town status was revealed, phone numbers were exchanged. I didn’t put much thought into that exchange. My boys are mostly monosyllabic on the rare occasion that they are forced into telephone conversation.
Well, they were mostly monosyllabic. Now, our older son has become most decidedly polysyllabic, chattering on the phone every other night, often until we tell him to hang up.
Have you figured it out yet? That new friend is a girl.
Yep.
Child-raising is a humbling hobby. The minute you’ve got ‘em pegged, they enter a new phase. A new and scary phase.
Now we are home, but still I stray from the computer. Mostly because I had to get it fixed because it was overheating and the fan sounded like a commercial airliner preparing for take off. Also because of the homeschooling. Also because of my garden.
I am not a gardener; I am a mad scientist. Or a mad gardener. Anyway, the mealy bugs and tobacco worms (or things that resemble the worm my mother-in-law once authoritatively labelled a tobacco worm) did a fair bit of damage, and also my impatience has caused problems.
If I had been patient enough to read up before planting, then I would have known that drainage concerns dictate the plot should be on the highest point, or at least raised several inches from the ground around it.
Makes sense when you think about it. Florida is dang swampy.
So, impulsive me has been forced to continually add dirt, after each thunderstorm washes wide gullies through my plot. The pepper plants have languished as a result. They sit, dwarfed and sad, feeding a single pepper and threatening to just give up and die.
The strawberry plants weather it all with good cheer, but every time the cheer results in a reddening berry, bam. Something swoops in and consumes it.
Sigh. The biggest successes are the unplanned additions: yams and red potatoes that sprouted whilst being neglected in my pantry. The farming book says don’t use grocery-bought potatoes for seeding.
Uh-huh. My new potatoes beg to differ.
I hope everyone had a wonderful Easter. I’ll be waxing politically again eventually.
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