Peppers, Anyone?

Last spring the hubby decided that he wanted a vegetable garden. We pursued this idea with gusto, picking out tomato plants, banana peppers, jalapenos, all compact with promise in their little plastic square pots. I also made some selections of lavender, oregano, parsley, and lemon thyme, dreaming of making herb-infused soaps as well as unforgettable pasta sauces from the bounty of my section of the newly-dug plot of dirt.

Our illusions of daintily tending our garden were soon dispelled. However, in the spring of this year, all we could recall was the taste of homegrown tomatoes and the aroma of tilapia baked with lemon thyme. So we find ourselves, two idealistic amateur farmers, still grappling with the trials of the novice gardener in the second annual "what-were-we-thinking?" vegetable/herb garden.

On the plus side, we have enjoyed dishes embellished with fresh herbs and some delicious tomato soups. We have shared our harvests with neighbors and family, like a feature photo in Southern Living magazine. However, it ain't always such a pretty picture.

Weeds are evil. At least I can say that weeding one's garden in the Texas July heat is ample exercise and results in enough calorie loss through perspiration to ignore any needling of the conscience to pop in my Denise Austin Pilates DVD. Watering the garden is another chore. Perhaps I should hook up the soaker hoses I heisted from my dad earlier in the year (you know, back when I was still living the dream). But alas, they're buried in the withered brush of the gigantic tomato plants that have fallen all over themselves, I'm assuming, in sheer exhaustion. (Note: tomatoes are vine-producing plants. They ought to be trellised.)

Despite our neglect of the garden, those suckers of still bearing fruit! I had no idea one could be inundated with produce. As I walked by our kitchen table recently, I noticed the three bell peppers that had been sitting there, unused, for at least two weeks. Ew. They looked back at me pathetically--three little, wrinkled old ladies, complete with age spots.

In response to our clashes with the realities of gardening, we have resolved that in the spring of 2006, we'll purchase one or two tomato plants and a couple of pepper plants. However, I have the sneaking suspicion that we may find ourselves in line once again, our cart carrying a host of our next high-quantity producers. If you see us, just point us in the direction of the nearest farmer's market. Maybe we can get some money out of our irrepressible illusions of gardening grandeur, rather than just blood, sweat, and calluses.

Trial by Vomit

I believe it was my grandmother who said that if you want a baby, you should get a dog. Conversely, she said, if you want a dog, consider what it takes to care for an infant. When my husband and I meet a new person, after the usual introductions, we arrange our faces into polite smiles for the expected questions that follow.

"How long have you been married?" (Three years.)

"Do you have children?" (No.)

Typically, the interviewer then responds with a disappointed "oh," and makes some comment about how there will be plenty of time for children later and that we should just enjoy our time together. (Uh, thanks. That's our philosophy. Eye rolling inserted here.)

In the last year or two, several of my friends and acquaintances have entered the wild world of parenthood. I have learned quite a few things, particularly facts I wish I didn't know as a childless woman. However, I do have a dog. Now please don't think that I believe that a dog is just like a baby. Please, dogs poop in the yard, babies poop...well, you know--it's a big difference! And no, I don't think my dog is my child, and no, we don't dress him up. (Okay, once we tried to paint stripes on his back for a Halloween costume as a football. Let me just say that dogs don't like their humans to put face paint on their backs.)

But I agree with my grandmother's sage advice. Let me explain why doggie parenthood can be a small dress rehearsal for baby parenthood. I'll just focus on one topic: vomit. We have woken up on several occasions, usually around 4 AM, to the sound of our miniature dachshund's heaving. (Yes, he sleeps in our bed.) We've become experts at scooping him up at just the last moment before the eruption and depositing him on the hardwood floor outside our bedroom door so the carpet in our bedroom is saved from the canine upchuck. Then there's the subsequent stroking of the pup, telling him he's okay, the offer of a Milkbone so his breath doesn't reek, the swabbing of the puke puddle. Recently, I held the weiner in my arms as we stood in the garage as my husband climbed into the car to go to work. Without warning, the dog threw up. Part of it landed on my flip-flop clad foot. Ick. However, I shrugged with a sigh, knowing that this incident was just a reminder that, in some small ways, I too am a mom. And if and/or when I'm a mother of a sick infant, I'll tackle that situation with the confidence that I've already completed vomit training.

Toothbrush Troubles

Do you have a favorite type of toothbrush? I can't say that I have one specific favorite, but I do have my preferences (soft bristles, thin handle). My husband also is particular about his tooth-cleaning apparatus. (However, he's more the medium bristles type.) I'm not a stickler for dental maintenance (I should be, though, after five years of braces), but I do like to follow the monthly replacement guideline.

Given these facts I've shared about myself, please help me answer this question: why is it that I can never find the same brand and style of toothbrush twice? I frequent the same two grocery stores. I look for a new toothbrush roughly once a month. Are toothbrushes like computers--in need of an updated version within 48 hours? Is it possible that the second you drive off the lot with your brand-spankin' new Reach brush that it decreases in its value and/or availability?

As I picked up my Aquafresh (light blue trim, soft bristles, flexible head) after another fruitless search for my husband's latest preferred brush, I wondered...are there antique toothbrush collectors in the world? If I actually watched Antiques Roadshow (I just can't get into it), would some middle-aged man appear with his father's circa 1949 toothbrush? My thoughts drifted back to my dilemma. Are there rare finds of toothbrushes for sale on eBay?

If anyone can tell me where I can get an Equaline, medium-bristled toothbrush in a July 2005 model, I'd appreciate it! Happy brushing!