Slap Pigs

Of all the plants on my patio, this is today's favorite:

From Wikipedia

Salpiglossis sinuata, Painted Tongue, Scalloped Tube Tongue, or Velvet Trumpet Flower, is a flowering plant in the family Solanaceae, native to southern Chile.  It is as annual, or short lived perennial herbaceous plant growing to 60 centimeters tall, the leaves are 4 - 10 cm long, elliptic to lanceolate, with a wavy, lobed, or toothed margin.

The flowers have a five-lobed funnel-shaped corolla, up to 7 cm (2.5 in) long and 5.5 cm (2 in) diameter, each lobe with a notched apex, velvety in texture, either violet or orange, and have contrasting darker stripes along each petal.

They're gorgeous. 

I noticed them at the nursery a few weeks ago.  There were two, coyly peeking their flowered heads out from behind the counter at me while a nursery employee totalled up the herbs I was buying.  As I handed the woman my debit card I pointed at them.  "What kind of flowers are those?"

She turned briefly, then pulled her attention back to the register.  "Salpiglossis," she said offhandedly.  "I call 'em slap pigs."

I took a moment to process that.  "They're beautiful.  Are they an annual?"

"Yeah," she answered.  "I ordered a hundred of them, and sold 98 to one customer."  She paused.  "Landscaper."  She started fishing around in the drawer beside her, the conversation apparently over.

"Well can I buy those two?"

"Nope," she said, with her back to me.  "Some one else paid for 'em this morning.  Picking 'em up tonight."

"Oh," I sighed, slightly crestfallen."  "Oh, well thank you anyway."  I gathered my herbs, and tried to wash away my disappointment with the fragrance of lemonbalm and lavender.  I started towards the parking lot. 

After a few steps the woman called after me.  "I've got some more coming next week," she hollered.  "You could try back."

I turned with a smile.  "I will," I said, hope rising.  "Definitely.  Thank you!"

I went back the next Thursday, and left with two packs of half priced, bedraggled marigolds and assurances that the truck would be coming in the following morning, salpiglossis amongst its contents. 

I arrived at 8:30, and pulled into a parking lot dominated by a large box truck, nursery employees hopping in and out of it, retreaving paper wrapped pots and spreading them throughout the nursery.  I watched the activity from my car, sharply eyeing each employees burden, looking for the slap pigs' lovely blossoms.

Finally the truck was empty.  The hatch was closed, and the driver strapped himself behind the wheel before driving away.  I left my car and walked purposefully into the nursery, expecting to see them among the annuals that made up a front and center display.  But there were none to be found as I searched the petunias and geraniums, and I reached out to grab a young man's arm as he walked by. 

"Excuse me," I said, a little bit of panic starting to bubble in my abdomen.  "Did you get any slap pigs in this morning?"

"Yeah," he answered.  "Around back."  He gestured vaguely and I released him, striding in the direction he'd indicated.  I came around a corner and there they were, twenty of the lovely little dears, multicolored and brilliant.  The woman I'd spoken with the week before was there, hovering over them possessively.

"These are all spoken for," she said, forestalling the question she could sense coming.  "The wholesaler sent all he had; it was just these twenty, and I've got a waiting list."  I must have looked really disappointed, because after gazing at me a few moments while I fought down this sick, horrible feeling that was spreading through my stomach, her face softened.  "How many did you want," she asked finally.

""Two," I said wistfully.  I really wanted five or six, but I knew I was being offered an opportunity.  I wasn't going to spoil it by being greedy.

"Oh go on then," she said, turning away and dismissing me once again.  "Take 'em."

I thanked her excitedly, which she acknowledged with a wave of her hand.  I picked the two nearest me, and happily made my way to the register.

I put them into 3 gallon smart pots, and planted them with a mix of nutrient rich soil and light planting mix.  I fed them with worm casting tea, and have been murmuring loving sentiments every time I walk by them.  One's here to greet me at home, the other sits in the greenhouse at work, brightening up the greens and veggies around it.

They'll stop flowering when it gets a little colder, but I think they'll make it through the winter, and bloom again in spring.  I'll enjoy them in the meantime.

Vonnegut, if you continue to insist on shedding like this, would you kindly go all the way bald and just get it over with?

On the Menu

I was a little greedy at the greenhouse this afternoon.  But the greens we have growing are too delicious to let languish in the sunshine.  So tonight's dinner was bok choy and and kale with goat cheese and walnuts, and a cheese quesadilla with arugula. 



The bok choy and kale I sauteed briefly.  They were hot and barely wilted, and lightly coated with melted goat cheese.  The arugula I just piled on top of the quesadilla as I pulled it out of the oven*, and the heat from the hot tortilla released an amazing peppery aroma from the sharp little leaves.  That aroma rose to mouthwatering levels when I sliced the quesadilla in half, and the queso and salsa started oozing over the edges.

I feel so lucky that I was able to harvest and enjoy this amazing food that was grown with loving intention less than two miles from where I live.

 

*Tonight was my first experience with the oven in my little place.  I have to call my landlord tomorrow...

We all want to be pretty...

PostSecret

I don't know how much dogs really understand of our strange little lives, but they certainly don't judge.  Everyone can use a friend like that...

Fascinations

Every woman should have one.  Every woman.  Married or single, playing the field or celibate, straight, gay, bi - it doesn't matter.  They all should have one, or even two or three, depending on one's preferences.  Women who say they don't need one, that they're doing just fine with their fingers, the shower nozzle, or that back massager from Brookstone (come on, ladies, who do you think you're fooling;) they have no idea what they're missing.  And those women who say they don't need one period, that they don't engage in the activity the object in question is designed for?  Well, those women are lying, and probably need one more than the rest of us less repressed gals.

Vibrators.  They're very important.

And I had been without for a while.  I still had one, it was just 30 miles away at my ex's, and had been an item on my list of "things to pick up" for a while.  But amazingly enough, masturbation wasn't in the foreground of my thoughts during my bi-weekly trips to retrieve more of my possessions from my previous residence, and it was never until later, when I was home and idle that I remembered the little wand tucked away in a box underneath my ex-bed.

I decided I should just go buy a new one.  I deserve it, and there's some symbolism in buying new sex toys that I found appropriate and appealing.  So off to Fascinations I went.

Walking into Fascinations is exciting even if you're not there to buy yourself something fun.  There's a certain awkward flushedness that hums in the air, probably from all the people who walk through the aisles and blush at the presence of so many falices.  The employees are cheerful, and behave just as they're supposed to, as if there's nothing the least bit out of the ordinary in shopping for orgasms.

There were two of them (employees) that evening.  One was a young woman of about my own age, with falsely dark hair and a large bits of metal piercing her skin.  She had a big smile, and greeted me with a bright "Hello!" before turning back to her register.  The other was a slight, dark young man with glasses who grinned at me before making his way from behind the counter to my side.

"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, absently pushing his thick frames up his nose.  His voice was soft and sweet, and full of the gentleness people employ when dealing with someone who is clearly out of their element, and perhaps slightly uncomfortable. 

"No thank you," I said, a little too hastily.  There was a slight heat in my cheeks, and a embarrassed smile appeared on my lips as he nodded and walked away.

"Just let us know if you need anything," he called over his shoulder.

Fascinations isn't really very big, and it was only a couple of bemused steps before I turned a corner and came to a full and sudden stop.  I was rocked back to my heels by the display before me.  Bunny rabbits and butterflies, torpedoes and bullets, penises in every size and color...  There were g-spot hooks and clitoral simulators, dildos made from glass, ceramic, and stainless steel.  Some were brightly decorated with glitter or sparkles, and some lit up.

They all vibrated.

Many of them I dismissed immediately, allowing my eyes to flit past them as soon as I took in the labeling (the ones that lit up fall into this category.)  I similarly ignored any that appeared, by their size or shape, to be novelties.  I took a few moments to think about my personal (ahem) preferences before I selected a non-assuming toy of middling price and carried it with me to the register.

"Is this it for you?" The young woman smiled at me as she took the box from my hands and scanned it.

"That's it," I answered.  I was thoroughly entertained by the circumstances and I smiled back at her, laughing as I added "that's going to be plenty for tonight."  She giggled with me, and our sounds attracted the young man's attention.  His gaze found the pink box the she was handing back to me.

"Ooh!" he exclaimed, as he looked approvingly at me and nodded.  "That's one of my favorites!" 

The girl dissolved in a fresh fit of laughter, and I stared at the young man while I tried to figure out what to say in response.  I considered saying thank you (and I considered asking him to elaborate,) but finally just smiled back.  "Good to know, man."  I tucked the box into my backpack along with my receipt and wallet, and headed out the door.

On the Menu

We've got a system full of greens set up at the greenhouse right now.  It's bursting with kale and arugula (which we've been putting on pizza - oh my god, so delicious!) and one bright, gorgeous basket of swiss chard.  For the past two weeks, every time I walk by my eyes go straight to the tender new leaves unfurling from the middle of the plant, spring green against hot pink, and I think to myself (or say out loud to whomever is in the immediate vicinity,) "I really want to saute some of that with goat cheese and walnuts."


So today I did.  And it was amazing.

Swiss chard (hydro grown!) with walnuts and goat cheese