It's not true, until you blog it, dear BFF

Dear BFF,
Until you blog it...it didn't happen. So, your *so called garden* not happening.
**hugs**

Gotta get back on it....

Ok. As soon as I can I will. Unlike *some* people, my garden is actually sprouting. I'll get some pictures up. I started it and then I had that whole parent dieing thing happening. I didn't forget....just...had things I had to do. Stay tuned.

Really!?

Hail. It's hailing on my garden.

We knew you would....

Robin, you are sooo predictable. Just can't help yourself, can you? Since you're here...tell my BFF I said, "SUP." *make sure you do the nod with your head* **O and pucker your lips while you do it...it will make it look like you have street cred** ***On second thought, don't pucker, she'll see that as a threat*** ****You, know? Don't say anything. I'll talk to her later. I mean, who am I to think you're my messenger? The nerve of me. RUDE.****

Anywho. When Mr. C and Mr. J got home from school, I was hit with the  most important gardening question ever known to the short people...."when are we planting the watermelon seeds?". And when they say "we" that usually means, mom- you totally don't mind that I volunteered you to do this by yourself...k, thanks. To answer them I acted like I didn't hear them with my aggressive tilling style. Mamma's got goals to meet.

Surprisingly, they both started helping me flip the last of the boulders and pull out tree roots. Mr. J eventually wandered off when he realized the watermelon seeds were not going to happen *at this very moment.* Get off him, he's 8. He had a bunker to build.

So, it was up to me and Mr. C.
Mr. C being our token autistic kid, read every seed packet and measured for our row spacing. This was pretty neat to see him take part in something and I could use the help to make this whole process go by faster. Silly me. He's the very structured rule follower. Once I hoed (the BFF is right, I kinda giggle when I say that word) the rows, we started to put the seeds down. Mr. C with his measuring tape began to measure his seed space. JUMPING JESUS ON A FREAKING POGO STICK. It took forever. And the whole time he's telling me he may need to know how to do this later in life. For what!? The apocalypse? End world hunger? Mid day snack? All I know is, if you have a seed packet with 50 seeds in it, and a kid measuring said seeds out 3" apart with his measuring tape.....YOU WILL BE THERE ALL FLIPPIN DAY.

At the end of the day Mr. C and I had planted

• strawberries
• sweet peas
• cilantro
• parsley
• bell peppers
• mixed peppers
• lettuce
• brussel sprouts
• corn
• jalapenos
• cayenne pepper
• green beans
• garlic
• cucumbers

Not exactly in that order. We still have squash, watermelon, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, cantaloupe, onions, and more cucumbers to plant. Needless to say, I will be expanding our garden. All the boulders and weeds I piled, will have to pile elsewhere. Yeah. Me.

Just realized the BFF is going to hate the name.....

Clearing out the side yard is turning out to be work. That is not ok. And as I was trying to figure out
how I'm going to get the stupid "progress" photos posted, I realized the BFF is not going to be able to refrain from making comments on the title of the blog. She can't help it.
Just like I can't help being blog retarted.

Side yard....

So, to get this party started, Mr. Oakes started to tear up the crappy side yard. And when I say crappy, I mean, it looks like the ally you saved yourself to get raped in....crappy.

I was sure there was a body under one of those rocks.
I actually had to help with some of the work. The nerve...
While Mr. Oakes would hold one of the big rocks up I had to stick smaller rocks under it to get it to flip.









The best part is I told Mr. Oakes that I wanted to rip up the yard. I think he thought in some kind of "wife language" I was telling him to do it. I'm a freaking winner.