Into the ground we go

As my Facebook friends learned yesterday, I finally got some compost for my garden.

Brian convinced me not to buy a dozen more plants while we were at the store, and we hauled the two bags (plus another bag of potting mix) into the backyard. My shoulders were, and still kind of are, hurting from Sunday's push ups, but I managed to turn the existing dirt, dump in the bags of compost, and mix them in with a hoe. I was extremely pleased to find a really fat earthworm in the dirt as I mixed it up. As the dirt in the box came from a store, I had taken to pulling worms out of weed roots when I pulled them from the yard and throwing them into the box. Most of them were pitiful, skinny things, but the one I found yesterday was a hoss. Something in that dirt is doing the worms right.

However, in mixing the dirt I did realize just how shady my little garden is in the afternoon. I am questioning how happy my mostly-full-sun-wanting plant choices will be there, so I first moved my five remaining bell pepper seedlings to the brick wall side of the garden. Their roots are not yet showing through the peat pots, but I figured this would be a good opportunity to see whether they will thrive or die in the partial shade of the area before I commit to putting them in the dirt.

Don't mind us, we are just taking in the view.

I was all ready to start putting actual plants into the dirt when I realized I couldn't even list everything I had to plant yet. So... I went to my notebook to make a list and draw a plan.

Believe it or not, I do have a rather organized way of approaching projects.

Brian helped with the planning, suggesting putting the pumpkins on the side so the vines could grow over the edge of the garden instead of just blatantly taking up space in the middle.

All I managed to do yesterday was put the five shallots into the bottom left hand square foot, park my long pot of garlic to the right side of the box and sprinkle the questionable-vitality spinach seeds into the top left hand square foot. I bought the seeds last year, if I remember right, and never planted them. Because I never throw anything away, I still had them and figured "what's it going to hurt?" to throw them into a corner of dirt. If they grow, cool. If not, no loss.

The first thing I did this morning was put some pumpkin seeds in a bag to germinate. This should have been done weeks ago, but with the stalling on getting the garden ready, timing was hard to get right.

 When we grow up, we're going to make pies!

With the pumpkin seeds on the windowsill, I set out with the radish tape. I smoothed out a portion of dirt and dug two trenches with my hands and lay the radish seeds in them.

 

I also put a single pumpkin seed in the top right hand corner of the box. Kind of to see which grows faster or stronger: separately germinated or in-ground germinated.

 A brave seed goes where its brethren ventured not.

I marked its spot with a rock, then put some water on everything.

 Apparently the early morning sun is stronger than I thought. At least when photographed.

So thus far, I have five sprouted shallots, one packet of possibly expired spinach seeds, two strips of radish seed tape and a pumpkin seed in the garden. The bell peppers are still parked on a wall, deciding if they like the environment (if they end up not thriving, I intend to put them in pots with the potting mix I bought and placing them in a sunnier position in the yard).

In less-thrilling garden news, I also bought a crutch for one of the plants I've been taking care of since I found it on the porch last year.

A friend told me it has "bat wing" in its name, but I can't remember the rest and Google shows 

weird things that don't look like this.

I also was excited to find on Sunday the mystery bulb I threw into some dirt on a whim is sprouting!

 

Yet another mystery plant. Anyone who knows anything about bulbs is

welcome to weigh in on this.

People think gardening is a "girly" activity, or that it's boring because of the patience required or it's a hippie choice because of the green/homesteading trend going around now. For the most part, I'm not as interested in flowers as I am in utilitarian plants (though I obviously have a soft spot for some pretty blooms). I find excitement in the progression of plant growth, not just in the end results. And I don't do it to try and provide food for myself -- while it's not an idea I'm against, I am just not good enough to rely on it yet, though homesteading projects like gardening and chicken raising do appeal to me. I garden because I like to see what I can help to create by providing dirt, water and food to a little seed or small plant. I like to watch something small grow into something self-sufficient. I like tending to an ongoing project.

Pushing up!

Huzzah! Progress on the push up front!

Wednesday night Brian and I performed the exhaustion test that concludes the second week (or in our case, month) of the program.

I, who managed 11 measley push ups in the initial test on March 1, eeked out a whole 26 before the muscles in my arms started to burn so bad I couldn't push up any more. In mathy words, that's approximately a 136 percent increase in push up ability (according to a calculator I found online).

Brian performed 21 push ups in our initial test and managed to do 40 on Wednesday's exhaustion test. (That's a 90 percent increase in push ups performed.)

It's crazy. We have gone from this:

 Brian: already a .38, at least. Audrey: Wimpy wimpy, water pistol. (March 3)

To...:

 Huzzah!

Okay, I know that it may not be very impressive, but my arms are getting stronger from doing this. I just have to stay on top of it. When we started Week 2 of the program, I was doing okay. Then we managed to not move on again for a week. Re-doing the same day was torture, so we did Week 2 Day 1 maybe four times until I was competent again.

Even Brian started to have a hard time with the workouts in Week 2, but we are both continuing to move on at our slow little pace.

Kitchen territorialism

It's been a long time coming, but I finally admit to being territorial over my kitchen.

I reflect on this now as my roommate and his girlfriend prepare dinner tonight. I've jumped up multiple times to make sure they were using the right utensils, not using metal on my nonstick pots, not throwing recyclables in the garbage, etc. Mostly, I'm glad they got started while I was at work.

I cringe at the thought of other people using my utensils and ingredients, but I don't know why. My mother never worried about us kids in the kitchen. My party-hosting friend in college never cared if us dorm-dwellers got our cooking fix in her kitchen. But ever since I moved out on my own, I get kind of wiggy about people using my kitchen.

An accurate depiction, as little as I'd like to admit it.

To be fair, I didn't have an issue with my college roommate. Maybe because I felt the duplex we shared was more "hers" because she found it originally and asked me to room with her that year. We shared stocking and cleaning duties, so I guess I just didn't mind when she wanted to use it because it was quite literally half hers.

Living in my own apartment, however, I guess one would become possessive over things. The kitchen was full of food, tools, utensils and decor that I purchased. Some items, like the microwave, were gifts and loaners, but whenever someone would try to prepare something I had a habit of hovering and critiquing.

Brian learned this the hard way. When we started living together, I would ask him to help me make dinner sometimes, but I always had a problem with how he did things, or I'd get annoyed that he didn't know where basic things, like towels or cutting boards, were stored. I guess I can't really blame him for leaving the food prep to me now.

Maybe it's because I've lived with people inactive in the kitchen for so long now that I became territorial because I feel I'm the only one who uses it. I know where everything is, how much of each ingredient remains, what needs replacing soon, what substitutes I can create for different ingredients, and I think I resent having to tell other people. Part of me thinks they should know, but the other part knows why they don't.

Anyway, dinner is being served. I am doing my best to appreciate not having to prepare it tonight and not think about going in to figure out what's misplaced or depleted or improperly used or cleaned...

Reflecting on my 20s thus far

Not long ago I read this Buzzfeed article titled "17 Things Twentysomethings Need to Chill Out About." If you've read any number of posts in this blog not related to my plants, you know that the last couple of years I have struggled in the job realm. Those difficulties and the secondary ones that stem from joblessness and job searching and wondering what in the heck I want to do with my life made this listicle hit really close to home. I wanted to reflect on some items in the list today.

1. You didn’t study the right thing at university.

Is it bad that I was wondering if I was on the right path by my sophomore year of college? I remember starting my very first newswriting class and having a hell of a time getting interested in it. I struggled with the vague directions and made-up news assignments. But by Newswriting II, I kind of enjoyed it. The class required us to pick a campus beat and find stories from it to turn in. This made it interesting, as I chose the College of Fine Arts (where my next choice of major probably would have fallen, had I decided to change).

I think now about returning to school to start over, but I'm not sure what to study. Design and hospitality cross my mind a lot, but I fear getting burnt out in these industries as easily as I did the reporting one. 

2. Your uni[versity] experience wasn’t as fun as everyone else’s.

I do regret not taking some of the chances I was offered in college. Traveling, studying random subjects, getting involved with different groups, even going to more parties. I was actually to a happy point of being able to stay up late and hold my liquor fairly well before I graduated. Two months into the working world and my habit of staying up past midnight every night was gone. I drink far less now, so my tolerance is also significantly lower. It's all to be expected, I'm aware, but I do miss being the age where it was expected to make terrible decisions (and share the resulting stories).

3. You have absolutely no idea what you want to do with your life. and 4. You don't have your dream job.

This is a topic I've blogged about before. I am 26. I was a reporter in the "real world" for about two and a half years (maybe a little longer if you count my internship), and the impression of experiences were not always enjoyable. I did like parts of it, and I got to meet a lot of really awesome people and learn really cool stuff about a whole variety of topics, but the eternal stress of deadlines apparently isn't the way I work. Yes I need a deadline to really get going, but maybe I was just too young to discipline myself into meeting them all.

Then again, maybe I was too young for the professional world in general. Looking back, I can see all the mistakes I made. If I went back to it, I might be able to do better. But for now, I'm still washing out the bitter taste the reporting industry has left in my mouth.

It's a very humbling experience, however, to know that you're qualified to work in an office or professional environment, earning a very livable wage and holding nice vacation and health benefits, but sending all of your job applications to gas stations and retail and customer service positions. I don't know how many coworkers I've come across in my last few jobs who were surprised when I told them I'd been to (and graduated from) college. "What are you doing working here?" they ask.

The truth is it's a combination of fear and desperation. I'm afraid to get back into a professional job again because what if I fail at it like I did the last time? What if I get fired just a few months in and have to go back to looking for another job? It's overwhelming. So I take low-pay, low-hours, entry-level jobs when I can get them just so I have some money coming in and do not have a long employment gap in my resume.

The jobs are easy. They have low expectations. I don't bring the stress of them home with me in the evening. Once that drawer is pulled and the money is counted and till is balanced, I go home and don't worry about it anymore. As some kind of professional, the stress follows you well beyond your eight hours per day. Your back is tight from sitting all day and worrying if what you turned in will be good enough, if your supervisor has some hidden agenda against you, if you may be walking a razors-edge line and not even know it.

But I know this isn't the kind of work I want to do for the rest of my life. Yes, I want something more. I just don't know what it is specifically yet.

8. You’re not able to afford to buy your own place.

I've actually been quite lucky in this area. From the time I started my first reporting job until now, I have managed to keep up with rent, even while job hunting. A very strange turn of events led me to living in a house as I am now, which is much preferable to having been forced to move back home (number 5 on the original list). However, I have felt stuck in Central Texas since about the second month of living here in 2011. I find myself dreaming most days of moving back to the eastern part of the state, under the pine trees, but the whole not having a great job and trying to help the fiancee settle the estate means we could be here a while.

But why shouldn't we? This house is paid for. We would only have to pay property taxes on it once per year. It's kind of hard to maintain (having never tried to keep more than a one bedroom apartment moderately clean before), but we have a roommate for now paying rent, a small yard for my plants and both of us are working. Neither are great jobs or hours or pay, but there is income. Moving would mean finding new jobs, new places to live, etc. I honestly think I'm okay staying here for a little while while we try to save our money back up.

12. You feel like your time is running out.

I've had an itch to travel the country or even to another part of the world for years now. I was actually planning to go somewhere in 2013, as I'd worked over a year at the paper I was at and would have actual vacation time to use. Then my position was cut, and I had to start a new job and try to rebuild vacation time from scratch there.

Obviously the time and money situations haven't improved. I'm still dying to visit other states and cities and even countries. I feel like the older I get the harder it will become to do these things (especially if I don't get in good with some company). Brian and I took the Amtrak to Fort Worth last weekend and picked up several brochures and a magazine of the routes the train takes. I'm enamored with the routes that go to Nashville and New Orleans and Memphis. I want to traverse other cities, try new foods, listen to local music and just escape the annoyances of my life for a little while.

As it becomes less likely looking that I can really travel abroad, I shift my focus. I've wanted to go to Louisiana for months now. It's just a state over. I've actually visited Shreveport before, but I want to visit the French Quarter. Try a bakery, visit a jazz club, take a ghost tour. Be a freaking tourist, you know? I guess someday, but damn I wish it was sooner.

17. You’re getting old.

I know for a fact I'm not the only "twentysomething" worried about this. I found my first gray hair a week before my 23rd birthday, and it's far from the only one there now. My forehead and corners of my eyes are already showing signs of where the wrinkles will be.

These combined with the item discussed above really make me feel like time has gotten away from me in this decade of my life. But I look at the other people I know in my life, the people who have survived their twenties and still seem happy, and I have hope.

Some of them struggled working multiple part-time jobs well into their 40s before they found a well-paying full-time position (regardless of whether they enjoy it or not) and make time for activities they enjoy outside of work hours. Some branched out to do their own thing a few years before turning 30 and now travel and do everything they wanted to and seem thrilled with how things are going (but no one really broadcasts all their insecurities).

On the flipside, there are a few items on the list I seem to have conquered. I have not yet had to move back home (#5), I'm not a flippant spender (#6. You're rubbish with your finances) and I am a decent cook (#7. You're a terrible cook). I am engaged (#10. Everyone around you is getting hitched), though planning a wedding has taken a backseat to everything else going on. I've dated around and know the relationships that ended did so for a reason (#11. You're hung up on someone). I know that my friends are struggling with the same assortment of things I am (#13. You're not as cool as your friends) and the changes in my body seem to be for the positive (#15. Your body is changing).

I guess I'm saying I know that there is still time to grow and improve myself when the first digit of my age is no longer a 2. I'm just hoping that everything I want to accomplish is still doable by then.