Kitchen Face Lift

Yesterday morning, my house, nearly as old as I am, had a wonderful kitchen stove and range that looked a little something like this:

Please don't mind Daddy-Q and Mama J.  They're just enjoying a lot of yummy food, a bit of alcohol and an amazing water balloon war we had in June 2010 for Li'l Sausage's second birthday party.

I wonder what she's giggling about.  Where are her feet?  Something's not right here.

No matter.  Check out the disgusting range hood.

No, no.  NOT the excessive pitchers and "Hand Grenade" drink cups from New Orleans.  And NO, please stop noticing the stack of dirty platters!  It was a party!  Sheesh!

Oh.

You mean you weren't looking at those?

*blush*

That's right.  You were wondering about Mama J's feet.  Sorry to have made an a** out of myself by assuming.

In any case, ugly range hood.  UGLY!  We thought about painting it black to match our $300 stove/oven.  Even bought the heat tolerant paint (or whatever it's called), but it never left the Wal-Mart bag.  It's in the garage.

I think.

*ponders*

Well, a few weeks ago, we purchased this:

It was a mega steal of a deal!  Then it sat pushed over into the corner for what seemed an eternity and dressed up the counter where Li'l Sausage gets his supervised time outs.

He's royally livid about this spot, by the way.  Mommy stands just out of reach, he screeches, hits the counter with his fists (as shown above) and hates that he only needs to have 1/4 of an inch longer arms to reach his Mommy.

I really wish I could stand there and sing, "Nana-nana-boo-boo!" repeatedly.

But I'm a grown up.

Then Li'l Sausage started opening and closing the microwave door in his rants, so once the hardware to install the microwave arrived in the mail, we got to see the cuter side of this little guy once again.

Yesterday he "helped" Bad Boy by fixing the back of the oven so it would be in tip-top shape when it got pushed back into place.

I just want to pinch his cheeks!!!!

After nearly a half day of tireless working and cleaning on Bad Boy's part (and several trips to Lowe's), we now have this:

O.M.G. IT'S GORGEOUS!

Now my wall looks bare.  *sigh*  More home improvement is a must.

We'll be done shortly after the house is paid for in full.

PS - Thank you Mama J for your assistance in picking out the new nickname for Daddy-Q as well as purchasing Li'l Sausage's amazing cute SpongeBob Squarepants shirt.  Without you, there wouldn't be pictures such as this one:

We love you, Mama J!

Woohoo For Growing Something I Can't Eat Raw!

Raw tomatoes are too acidic for me.  As well as grapes.  And oranges.  I wonder if it has something to do with my allergy to guava?  Who knows.  The body is weird.  It's reactions are even more bizarre.

Moving on...

I wanted to take a moment to show off the last remaining plants I have living in my raised bed seeing as how I've lost nearly everything else to my murderous black thumb.

Here's my raised bed July 2nd.

Everything was green and tiny.  Even the Pumpkin was still alive but puny.   The back left are Sun Gold tomatoes.  They were received as a gift already fairly large.  This was when it had about doubled in size.

In the center was the last Roma tomato plant that I grew from seed.  The right was a purchased New Mexico Green Chili plant.  

It's against all that's natural and good to not grow green chili when you live in New Mexico.  It is just plain wrong.

I think.

Here's the raised bed as of this morning from a similar angle.

Yep!  I CAN GROW STUFF!  WOOHOO!  I ROCK!  I AM AWESOME!  I DIDN'T KILL IT!

Oh... you're still here.

*nervous clearing of throat*

Check out all those little tomatoes!

See!  I can do it!  The Sun Golds are looking good.

Apparently they are rather haunted.

*shudders at the site of orbs*

Look out behind you, by the way.

Green chili's are starting to get little buds, too.

No orbs here.  It's just the sun golds.  What's up with that?  Maybe it had something to do with these guys that Deebo caught about two weeks ago.

See.

Here's another one in Deebo's little hand because Diva and I shared this reaction to the idea of picking them off the plant.

Yeah.  That's pretty much how I felt about it.  DISGUSTING little creatures!  Even though they are kinda' cool looking.  Still don't need to touch them though.  That's what children are for.  I have no idea how I'm going to slaughter a chicken someday.  I don't think the rugrats will handle that one on their own.  Just a thought.

Deebo pulled off six of these hornworms and managed to only injure one of them.  Of course, we thought torture was a better idea.  So we threw them in this Chinese soup take-out container, poked some holes in the top, threw in some leaves and let them bake on the kitchen window sill over my sink for a week.  We finally set them free on the brink of death out by a bush in my front yard (not the courtyard).

By a bush where a bunch of rabbits live.

Now I have orbs around my Sun Gold tomatoes.

I get it.  I deserve it.

But WOOHOO for growing something I can't eat raw anyway!

*puzzled look*

I Wish...

That Tsunami's pumpkin plant didn't wither up and die for no apparent reason.  One day...

The next, such withered, brown devastatingly ugliness that I couldn't even bring myself to take a picture to show you.

I wish that my Clematis didn't go from this...

A plant clearly trying to grow to this...

One very dead plant.  *sigh*

So, I turned my luck around and wished for green.  Of course, wishing for green anything in New Mexico when it isn't a cacti, agave nor chili plant, you're in for a lot of work. A. LOT. OF. WORK.  A lot of work or not, I am determined to have a pretty little oasis within my courtyard, a relaxing environment in the backyard for entertaining, and an incredible place to play for my kiddos.  All while growing a lot of my own food.  And maybe collecting my own chicken eggs.  Someday.  We'll see.

In the meantime, I went to the big blue store that really isn't exactly a nursery to see what they had on sale in the middle of summer.  You know they needed to get rid of some stuff.  And I had lost enough plants throughout the beginning of the summer and had some that didn't bother to grow at all, that I was going to try it anyway.  Try what?

Plant in July.

In New Mexico.

When it's nearly 100 degrees outside everyday.

And drier than the Sahara Desert.

Okay, not really, but it feels that way.

I was pleasantly surprised by the finds I retrieved.  To replace my Clematis (my poor, sickly Clematis that I so desperately desired), I found the Trumpet Vine.

See that pretty orange flower?

I hate orange.  But for whatever reason, THIS orange is okay.

See that price?  Cut it in half and see what I got:

Yep.  Pretty darn well grown already.  Not one sick or beaten or battered branch nor leaf on the entire plant.

I dug a whole and turned my sickly looking Clematis corner into...

*drum roll*

So much better!  Eventually, this beautiful plant will grow and grow and grow and just keep growing until it's draping over my courtyard wall showing off it's pretty (ugly?) orange flowers.

*insert giddy happy dance here please*


Then there was this minor problem.

Ick.  I hate the brown.  I hate the cable wire coming straight down OFF CENTER between my bedroom windows.  I hate the sandy clay that won't grow anything right there.  And I'm dying to have those planter boxes stained and set level and filled with beautiful, rich soil.

I had had a Delphinium planted there.  It died.  Even though I buried it's healthy root system in really amazing soil and kept it watered appropriately.

Whatever.  The Horticulturist's Universe is out to batter me and leave me broken and bruised in my desert clay grave.  Yes, "The Horticulturist's Universe" exists and requires title capitalization... because I said so.

So there.

For this vomit-inducing section of my courtyard, on the front of my house, where everyone can see, I needed something that will grow quickly.  Something tall.  Something GREEN.  And something truly tougher than the desert it's fighting against.

This pretty flower had me sold.  I've seen it everywhere in our neck of the woods, as well, so I was feeling pretty confident that I wouldn't kill it.

I dug a huge hole.

I dug a bigger hole than recommended on the label.  A lot bigger!  It might have had something to do with my anger with Bad Boy that day.  Gardening is rather therapeutic for the frustrations ones spouse may cause.  As well as the stresses your spawn seem to constantly throw straight at your gut.  In the diaphragm.  The stresses that seemingly knock the wind out of your lungs so fast you barely have time to catch it before it explodes all over the room.

Shovels are awesome.  Just sayin'.

Side note:  why in the WORLD does "diaphragm" have a "g" in it?  Words like this baffle me.

See how much better it'll look already without it even having been put into the ground?  Eventually, it'll look like this:

That sucker can get to be about eight feet tall and can be pruned back like a shrub.

PERFECT!  I buried the beauty in excellent soil.  Watered it well.  Kept it watered.  Gave it a basin to drink out of and everything.

It almost died.  Almost.  The stubborn thing is still putting out new leaves and blooms daily though.  So I'm not worried.  I like stubborn plants.

In the raised planter bed outside my kitchen, the Sun Gold Tomatoes, Roma Tomatoes and New Mexican Green Chili plants are thriving! 

Yep.  There was my first orange Sun Gold right there.  Three weeks ago (when I INTENDED to blog about it).

I'll keep wishing for stubborn plants while these succulent beauties get obese.