Monday, March 31, 2014


Small wildflowers, often thought of as weeds, are sprouting and blooming in Texas lawns.  I've always been fond of them... having never particilarly cared for a lawn that looks like a golf course, I find 
these free flowers charming.

First,  blue eyed grass... a small native member of the iris family.

Sisyrinchium ensierum

Then, the windflower, Anemone heterophylla, white most common... occasionally lavender...

The wild verbenA is just starting its bloom, and givem the oporunity will continue all summer.

Verbena bipinnatifida

And this crow poison or false garlic, which looks much like miniature

Northscordum bivalve

Saturday, March 22, 2014

A plant post!

Not much of one... but I'm sure you were sick of cotton candy by now.  Personally, I am.   If I never see cotton candy again... fine by me...

The pear tree in the back yard is blooming... these are eating pears, not those ornamental things that I find annoying... anyway... they're pretty, no?

Wednesday, March 19, 2014


Well dang.  It was inevitable I guess... after about 6 weeks of work without a day off, I got sick.  I've probably just worn out my system, and my immune system is week. 

Basically... if you don't take time off,  your body does for you. 

I'll be ok... I'm just grumpy and achey.  

Sitting and crocheting... getting some stuff done... sold out of tje patches and bottles at tje flea so I'll make some bottle hangers.

Saturday, March 15, 2014

I've been a bad, bad blogger....

Yep... I haven't written a word in over two weeks. And I haven't checked out anyone else's blog either, which I have every intention of doing soon. 

Thus new job is kicking my pants. 

First... standing at a machine for 8 hours a day is on nobodies list of top ten thrills... couple that with breathing airborne sugar which does hideous things to your blood sugar levels... not to mention your sinus cavities, it's just not a good thing.

Of course, standing at a machine performing repetitious actions does mean that I have time to think a lot... and several things occur to me to write for the blog... but then I get off work with a case of sugar jitters,  soon followed by a sugar crash,  and nothing really ever gets written down, and by the time I do go to write something down,  I don't seem to have much memory of what I was gonna write, or, if I do, I don't remember why I found it interesting. 

Of course, you eventually get acclimatized to most conditions, and the crashes aren't as harsh as they once were... although for about a week there I was having some rather interesting foggy states.  I can only describe it as what I would imagine sleep walking to feel like... I was evidently up, walking, talking etc... but I don't remember much of it. 

Anyway, that's passed and now I'm evidently acclimated to it. 

I buy a case of twelve bags of cotton candy to take to the flea every week, and I sell out every weekend.   Interesting thing about that is that I don't sell it to kids... I sell it to adults.  If a child sees it, parents say " definitely not," and drag them away spouting off about the evils of sugar.  I think the youngest person who's actually purchased a bag was about 16. 

One lady said she was going to use it to make a cake.  Evidently, she makes thin sheet cake and after it's baked, spreads a layer of cotton candy over it, then rolls it like you would a jelly roll. 

Another lady mixes it into homemade ice cream. 

Having basically O.D.'d on cotton candy on a daily basis, neither of these concepts sound particularly appealing to me, but y'all might be intrigued so I put it out there

The most intriguing thing I've run across is one lady with a rather colorful past who's been buying two bags a week.  I remarked that she seriously seemed to enjoy her cotton candy as she replied, "oh, it's ok I guess... But I've been using it to make hooch..." and she wandered off before it really registered on me. 

Now, for those of you who don't know exactly what hooch (also spelled hootch)  is, it was usually made in prisons or other institutions, by appropriating a 1 gallon can of fruit (peaches or fruit cocktail were popular but any fruit would do) adding a bit of yeast filched from the kitchen, then waiting for the inevitable fermentation.  The un-distilled liquid crime these cans, usually hidden under a bed, packed quite a punch.  It is also probably very close to the original alcohol produced by our ancient ancestors. 

A little research also tells me that a quantity of cannabis may be added into the mix for an extra boost... which is illegal, of course, but the kind of people who make hooch on a regular basis don't seem particularly concerned with such things.

Now... I'm dying of curiosity.  You can't just announce that you're making hooch out of cotton candy without at least giving me a hint of the recipe. 

I'm not saying that I'm gonna make any.   I'm pretty sure it would be pretty toxic... I just wanna know how it's possible.  I have an enquiring mind.  Maybe I'm writing a novel, and such details are important to provide authenticity. 

Anyway... I need to start some plants for the flea soon, so maybe this blog will get back on track eventually.

Saturday, March 01, 2014

Well howdy stranger!

Tomorrow is my first non working day in just over 3 weeks.  I intend to fully utilize it by doing... absolutely nothing.  Now, whether the universe will cooperate with this plan is another story...

Major drama at the factory.  Major drama at the flea market.  And its a bit intertwined... when I got the job at the factory, N, a dealer at the flea asked me if they were hiring, because her son was desperate for a job.  So I broke my own rule and got him an interview. 

He got hired. 

First day... he showed up late.

At lunch, he was late getting back. 

Next day, he showed up on time... barely, and then went to lunch and came back on time... and evidently started to get sick. 

Next day, he called in sick.  At lunch, I get a message from his mom N about the flea.  I ask if he's OK, since he called in sick.  Turns out he's not sick and had told his mom he wasn't scheduled to work.  

At this time... I start backpedaling.  I'm one of those people who will run and tell on people, but on the other hand... if someone asks me a direct question, I ain't gonna lie to cover their ass ...  so I go out of my way to avoid being asked, signs of I am asked I answer with, "yes,"  "No," or " I'm not going to answer that" 

So, I spent the rest of lunch on the break room with other coworkers, and also my afternoon break.  That way no bosses can ask me questions,  and co-workers and I talked about the weather and such between burying our noses in books. 
Now N is harder to deal with... Friday I was at the flea.

I got to the flea and walked to the back door of the concession stand to get my coffee just lick always... Miss M, who runs it, said, "GO TO THE FRONT" And I went.... "OK" And went to the front.  Miss M handed me the coffee, said " I'll explain later... all hell broke loose..."

So, I opened my booth, and went to the picnic table, (my booth is next door to the concession stand and a few of the 'front dealers' sit at the picnic table when we're waiting for business to start, And if there's no customers sitting there)  So I'm sitting there with my coffee, and Miss M comes and joins me and says... "I'm sorry baby, but last weekend someone lifted 100 dollars from my register and I'm not allowing anyone in that building anymore.  They're coming to change the locks too... someone was in there over the week..."

Now this is interesting... there are only 3 people who had a key to that building... I know this because it's next door to me, but I'm not saying anything... regardless...  miss M continued... "I didn't mean to snap at you, but I've been crying all morning... It's not the damn money, it's just when someone who you call your friend steals from you..."

"Well, lots of people were in there..."

"No, I saw something Sunday... I know who it was... but God damn it all to hell... Anyway... I'm not allowing anyone in there.  I'm not really worried about you, you never go more than 2 feet in the door..."

"Well I've worked registers, I don't go near them because no one went near mine..."

"Damn right... how's K (N's son) doing up there?"

I filled her in.

"What a jack ass!  He got fired yet?" 

"He's definitely on his third strike..." 

"I would have fired his ass on the first day... after everybody has gone too all that trouble and his steps lent him the car to get there.  The ungrateful little Shit..."

In case you haven't noticed, at the flea market we are obviously all involved in each other's lives.    this has disadvantages, but also definite advantages... miss M is a definite mother hen who will feed you when you're down on your luck, cussing you all the time, but taking care of you regardless.   And like many with that hard exterior,  is a big soft heart.  she is one of the most fiercely protective people of her friends I've ever seen.   To see her taken advantage of And stolen from by a person she has defended from an accusation in the past infuriates me. 

No,  I didn't ask which dealer did this.  I'd already pretty much figured it out in my head... but I can't do much about it either. 

After our conservation  ended, I was back in my booth, silently fuming, and thinking I would have been better off asking for Friday shift at the factory, which I would have gotten because they needed someone to make up for lost production when K didn't show up, than dealing with this drama at the flea, when I get a text from N.  Saying, direct quote... "that prick of a son of mine either got fired or he quit, he can't get his story straight."

It seems he showed up late, and whatever transpired, well, it transpired. 

And I was suddenly quite glad I wasn't at the factory...
Well... not only is said son, with a child and a pregnant wife, jobless again... but There's also a missing iPad and suddenly said jobless son has cash...

And I swear, I will never recommend someone for a job again. 

Just for the record... all that was the abbreviated and condensed version.  There's lots more details and I just don't have the energy to type them...