Win Some, Lose Some

Did I forget to post anything over the last week? O my gosh, how embarrassing. It must be my life as a trannie secret agent pirate is so absorbing I just forgot.

R Man is doing much better with his silly old cancer. He had his last round of chemo yesterday and we should know in about four weeks how effective it all has been. I certainly hope it's been worth it. We had three fights in one day last week about his not eating; I pointed out, vigorously, swallowing Vicodin does not constitute eating. Am I right or am I right? Anyway, he's in better spirits and somewhat more energy than then. He has chemo-induced anemia and with it, no energy and no appetite, but starting on Tuesday, he's felt much better and eating much, much more. He still only weighs about the same as a plump 12 year old girl, but he had seconds on the split pea soup the other night, so yay.

It was rather delicious soup, I must say. I'd made a ham last weekend and saved the rind so I boiled the hell out of the rind in chicken stock to make a base for the soup, fished out the now icky residue and dumped in the split peas (yellow, because they're more dainty.) With chunks of left over ham diced into it, it was some tasty.

About a year ago I went looking for a Night Blooming Cereus. They have the most spectacular scent known to man: heady and sweet without being cloying. One of them blooming in a backyard can perfume a whole neighborhood. Plenty of people raise them outside in pots, bring them in when the flowers get ready to open and have a party for all their friends to smell it. Surely you've been invited over to smell somebody's cereus.

Anyway, the one I snagged was sturdy and I was thrilled when it swelled with two big ass blooms that opened this week. They're stunning, but a) they're pink, which I had never heard of in a cereus and b) they have NO SCENT. Motherfuckers. I'm trying to hide my disappointment from the blossoms, cause I don't want them to feel bad, but damn.

Flowers and macancheese

R Man's sister (the good one) came out to visit this last week and was wonderful. She helped out, took him to the doctor, made soup; in short, a real jewel.

Part of the visit was a lunch party with some old friends while she was here. I picked a bunch of flowers from the yard, which was gratifying.

I made a ham and the most fabulous macaroni and cheese. I would have saved you some, but I ate it all. Yummy

SF Sunday, Peenee Style

Thank you all so much for your responses about R Man's delicate condition. We don't know exactly what it is yet, but I'm sure it's delicate. Your thoughts, prayers, chants, snarks, are most appreciated. Truly. It's great to have friends who turn to so promptly, so yay for you guys.

In order to nurse the old thing along, we slept terribly late this morning (it was, as SecretAgentFred pointed out, "The second Saturday of the weekend.") and then repaired to Foreign Cinema for a late lunch. Deeeelish.

I wore my striped sockies for that Clown Foot effect because I am, you know, gay.

We had a tableful of cute guys next to us for conversational fodder. It's possible they were porn stars. If not, it certainly was a waste of good pussy.

And the backyard is in full, blasto bloom.

To reiterate: blue skies, shinin' above, etc., etc....

Mother peenee

R Man seems to be doing better, yay. No doubt it's because of my nursing skills. And in honor of Mother's Day, I went out in the yard and cut a bunch of flowers.


I forget what this charming blue flower is, it's one of the wildflowers I scattered in the fall. I know it's common name is Bachelor Button, so here's to all the bachelor's out there looking for a button.

Chipper: It Sounds so Gay

I’m just a simple girl; it takes so little to make me happy. Case in point - I spent Sunday whacking down the giant bushes that have taken over the back third of my yard (OK, OK so I planted them years ago. Who knew they would someday get so big they would scare small animals) and bemoaning the lack of chipper. A chipper is a device that chops up plant materiel into mulchy debris. Lust for one is a gardener thing, trust me. And now one pops up on Craigslist. Yay. I’m on my way over there tomorrow afternoon to seize it that I might cradle it to my bosom. Hopefully, by this time on Saturday, I’ll be ass deep in mulch.

I am seriously thrilled. And it took so very little. Yay.

Flowers in My Hair

I’m so proud of my garden because when we moved in ten years ago, the backyard was a disaster, a literally impenetrable mess of invasive brush called Scotch Broom, like a hedge 20 feet by 30 feet. I pulled those sons of bitches out for weeks and then, once I had destroyed my back, started over with steep patch of bare dirt. The fact that anything made it is much more a testament to San Francisco’s benign gardening ecosystem than my skill. Most of my results came strictly through going to Floocraft’s fabulous half-priced clearance section, hauling the poor, bedraggled specimens home and hoping they didn’t die.

A word about Floorcraft: they’re the greatest nursery here: low key, friendly staff, great stuff and they shove everything that doesn’t sell out into the back where it’s marked down 50 per cent. It’s a like a thrift store for flowers. The fact that they’ve recently changed their name to the more sensible Flowercraft is not something I hold against them, I understand the need to market yourself. I just always thought the non sequitur nature of calling a nursery Floorcraft was appealing in a wacky sort of way.

http://www.flowercraftgc.com/

I gotta go

See, It's Not Just Boy Booty Here

Brumansia datura, Angel's Trumpet, from my garden. Beautiful, heavenly scent, deadly poison. Just like this redhead I used to....Damn, am I back to Boy Booty already?