Dumb and Dumberest! Share your stupidest garden endeavor.

AND WEAR TIGHT PANTS!!!!!!!!!!!

I am soooo cheap, can't throw away and old PJ... This one I had since before I had my son. That's probabely why they won't stay UP!!!

Too funny!

I just planted some 9 packs yesterday of lettuce and spinach, plus some 4" pots of herbs. TODAY the weather forecast says that in 7-8 days it will be down into the 20's again. Was that dumb of me, or what?

Thanks, Mrscolla, for your hilarious tale! You provided a better morning perk-me-up than the strong Turkish coffee I'm swilling down, trying to wake up for work.

Keep the stories coming, all!

Jeremy

Darius - I think they call it spring-fever!!! Can you set up a row cover? you might squeak by

Mrs_colla - too funny. LOL

Think this is the worst thing that ever happened to me. I use those wooden pallets to put my plants up on. Mangaged to get all the pallets and then wanted those heavy cement bricks to use as legs to raise the pallets up.

Now the HD charges almost two bucks for them. Too cheap to spend that kind of money for something I see layign all around town at various place.

Found me this store that had about 10 of them sitting back by their dumpster and they said I could have them. Great! I was happy as a peach.

I drove my little Geo Metro around the back flipped the font seats forward and stacked the bricks on the floor on both sides of the passenger seats. By the time I got done the bricks was almost as high as the back of the front seat and I had a bit of trouble trying to get the front seats to go back into place.

Down the road I go, all excited and plannning in my head how I can maybe try and balance two pallets on one brick and get more plant space. Now it about a 40 mile drive home. I enjoying the day and the trip when all of a sudden some fool decides to run his stop sign in front of me. I slam on the brakes. While that accident was avoided an another problem was created.

By havign to hit the brake s so fast the sudden stopping caused the bricks to shift. Instead of shifting on to the back seat they shifted forward and caused the front seats to unhignge and move into the forward position.

My body is now pinned to the sterring wheel and my nose stuck to the windshield. I was pinned , my arms were pinned and there was no way I could move the bricks. I tried pushing backwards with my body with no luck. Those bricks jammed themselve s in there in such a way that they was not going to move. I couldn't get my door opened to try and even crawl out.

By this time am sort of a mild panic. No choice but to try and drive home and get somebody to help get me out. I drove like a turtle down the roads and home. By now my body is starting to ach from being cramped in such a position. My arms are still stuck in the two to ten position and can barely steer. The worst was tryign to turn the corners. Havign to barely creep along and turn the whell a tiny little bit at a time because of limited reach with my arms and hands.

The worst was having to drive with my head stuck over the steerign wheel with my nose to the windshield. What was worse was the sudden stopping and movement of bricks caused my glasses to go flying to the floor of the front passenger seat. Now I am near-sighted. I had no seeign a great view of my dashboard , but could barely see beyond the hood of my car. My eyelids was workign faster than a butteflies wing while I trying to see what was in front of me and where the road was.

I creep all the way home, know the few folks I passed probably thought I I was drunk or something. One person decided to lay on their horn as they passed around me.

Now normally somebody in the neighborhood would be home. I drove around to everybody's house and figures, everybody is out and about doing their own thing. By now my body is really hurting, there is no air conditioner in the car, the sun is up full and it getting hotter than a fire in the car and I can't mov e my arms to roll the window down. My neck is aching from hangin my head bent forward for so long and after 6 cups of coffee that morning I now need to go potty. By this time I ready to cry.

Not having enough gas to keep driving around I finally just pulle d into one of the neighbors yards. two hours late r they came all came home. Everybody pile s out of their van and comes to hang around my car. They got a good look at me and immediately started laughing. After about ten minute s of good nature d jokes as to what I looked like and was I trying out to be a contorstionist they finally freed me. Which was no easy task. I will never have a vechile again with just two doors.

I have never lived that time down. When they se e me moving bricks around the yard, they still can't resist throwing jokes and comments down. I still going around collecting cement bricks, still to cheap to buy them when I can find free ones, but now I got me a vechicle with four doors and some big trunk space. Now I make sure that nothing is piled close to the back seat.

Wow! Starlight. What a saga! I'm glad it had a somewhat happy ending, though I imagine after being pinned so uncomfortably to the steering wheel for so long that nothing seemed happy about the mishap! It definitely sounds like the sort of debacle in which I would easily find myself from my crazy stunts. I'm currently riding around in my old van with "wedding cake" tiers of 4 x8 sheets of plywood stacked on top of cement blocks of various heights in order to haul all the bargain plants I get from a Lowe's on a weekly basis. The stacking is not very architecturally sound and I sometimes pick up so many plants that I have to stack them on top of one another on the shelves from floor to ceiling in the van. Invariably, it seems, some fool will cut in front of me or a traffic light will suddenly change and I have to slam on the brakes as you did in your Geo, resulting in a cascading avalanche of potted plants flying from the back of the van to the front all around me. Each time this happens, I imagine how my death certificate will read: "Cause of Death: flying petunias." LOL

Jeremy

Oh thank you... that really gave my abs a great workout this morning. I can hardly
catch my breath. Oh dear.... I'm sure it was no fun but OMG its funny.

Edited to say I posted at the same time as Jeremy - my comments were for Starlight.
Jeremy - lets hope the petunias don't kill ya :-)

This message was edited Mar 10, 2007 7:29 AM

starlight,

Have you been offered a Movie "Deal" yet?! Mwahahahaha!!
The visuals are just priceless, but I AM truly thankful you recovered from this adventure!
Sure made for a good read, tho, and I can read on, as soon as I clean the coffee off my LCD screen!

Sasha

Oh Jeremy... I am chocking on my coffee and having to find paper towel to clean my monitor. You shouldn't make people laugh when they taking a drink. : ) read your so called obituary and lost it.

Got to thinking since this thread is about what not to do here some tips on not to do for getting rid of grasshoppers.

Til a couple of years ago I never had these green chewing, plant spitting, plant destructor critters. I have no idea where they came from, but come they did. Now I went googling through pages and pages to try and find a way to combat these guys. I found all kinds of aticles that suggested some chemicals, but since I was trying to build up my population of beneficals and other good insects I decided to try a natural way. read where a good method is in either the fall or the early spring to til the ground and by laying it bear open birds would come to eat the hopper larvae in the soil.

Now knowing that me and tillers do not get along cuz I want them to go in one direction and they wanna go in another , plus the fact that alot of hard work and I have to many tre e roots, I passed on that idea.

One web site I found suggested the use of molassas and water. Cool, I'm thinking. I can do molassas. No chem's in it. My frogs and lizards would be protected. Off to the grocery store I go, Look out Log Cabin syrup here I come. I buy oodles of bottles of this stuff. I get home and the directions said to dig a shallow hole, put the syrup and water in the trays and place in the groudn and the hoppers are sure to come and will drown because the syrup keeps them pinned there.

Thought and thought what could I use for trays. Had a large area to try and cover . AH -ha. Brillant idea. Go down to the cornr store and ask the meat department man if I cna buy some of them shallow trays that they package meat on. Sure he says he will sell me some, 10 cent a piece. I buy a hundred of them. Only color he could spare was black. He needed the nice bright yellow ones.

I get home and start to gather my materials up. Now the reciepe said to mix water with the syrup. I started opening bottles of the syrup up and poured them into a bucket. Now Log Cabin was too expensive, so I got this nice thick really dark brown looking stuff. It said molassas on the label so I said, what the heck. I'll use it.

I start to add water and saw that the water just laid on the top, got me a mixing spoon and stired the heck out of it. well it did mix up for a bit but then it started seperating again. Too much trouble to keep mixing, I wante d to get this stuf f in the garden. Decided to just pour the stuf f straight from the bottle into the pan.

I get to the end of one bed, watchign hoppers fly about as I walkign through the yard. I got me a big smile on my face cuz I just know I gonna fix their high jumping hind legs from destroying my plants.

Got down on my hands and knees and started digging shallow troughs to place my black trays in. I grab a bottle of syrup and start to pour. Now I haven't used molassas since I was a kid makign cookies with my mom. I forgot how long it take s for that stuff to come out. Sheash. Hours later I now have 100 nicely placed , perfectly dug and leveled trays filled with molasses all over my yard. I decided not only to place them every few feet aroudn the beds, but also randomly aroudn the yard to catch the strays . I was so proud of myself and so happy I was gonan finally get rid of these pests. Into the hous e I go for a much needed rest and well deserved cup of coffee. Too a nice nap dreamign of coming out the next day and finding all thos e trays filled with hooper parts. How stuipd was I.

Went out the next day and checked some trays, no hoppers, not a one. Found some ants though. Oodles and oodles of ants. Ants marching too, and ants marchign from. Great I thinking, just what I needed, but I know I can deal with the ants later with grits, I wanted the hoppers and really bad by now cuz my foliage looks like a these guys had a party and ha d envited a few more friends to the free smorgasbor in my yard.

Thre e days later nothing. The ants are still marchign two by two in neat lines. A week later and still nothing. By this time, I feed up with the trays and the hoppers.

Now have you ever done something and know it is there, but you so frustrated at the time, you forget about it. I saw hoppers having a field day on my most prized Daylily foliage. There was thre e of these now huge critters hanging there munching away with not a care in the world. I saw red. My first reaction wa s to get them off it.

I didn't think, I didn't watch where I was going, I just made a beeline for my Daylilies. In the process I stepped in tray after tray of gooey molasass. I got trays stuck to my feet, molassas all over my shoes and socks and pant legs. I felt liek I was in that movie Mouse Trap. I'm yelping my head off at these nastiests I flipped oen tray up and my foot twiste d in the hole, down I went. Down into more molassas trays I go with my hands and elbows and knees as I try to catch myself.

I get to my babie s just to have the hoppers fly off. By now I am mad. I am not only covered in syrup, but I never knew how sticky that stuf f really is. I now look like I been tared and feathered only I am covered in leaf mulch, pine mulch, dirt and other gross ickies from the yard and my newly washe d hair, well it looked like a dirty dish rag.

Of f to the house I march. This is war. I get a fly swatter. Out I come with it. Back into the yard I stomp. I yelling at these hoppers. Now I neighbors lookign to see what my problem is. They are now having a grand ole time laughign at the me and new style of garden dress. They having a good time at me creatign the newest break dancing steps as I prancing and dancing around like crazy trying to hit as many of these hoppers as I can. Hint... Flyswatters don't work either. before ya get to them to step on the up and flying again.

I finally gave up and dragged my poor abused body and beaten ego bakc into the house and got cleaned up. A few days laters I was out watering and was too lazy to walk all the way to the end of the bed dragging the water hose, so I put my finger over the end of it and pressed as hard as I could and made a hard jet spray. I just happened to notice that a few grasshoppers when spraye like that hit the groudn and it stunne d them enough that I could step on them.

Oh ya, I was back to smiling. I got me the hose and as the hoppers would fly up I would spray them and run and squish. Now I going crazy. I on a mission. I squirtign and stepping and squirtign and stepping. I got so engrossed that I forgot what goe s up come s down . Time and tiem again, I would have one fly up infront of me and to make sure it didn't escape I would just spray. Do not spray a water hose directy above your head unless you want a shower.

I got soaked and still get soaked to day, but if ya got hoppers and wanna get rid of them the water hose, squish method does work.

Now you might think this is the end of the story and it should be except for one thing. Never randomly bury anythign in yoru yard that you don't put some sort of colorful marker by. All those random trays I placed aroudn the yard with syrup. Well we had had one good wind storm that blew all the leaf mulch every where's aroudn and through the yard. If ya hear somebody yeling and doing a one foot dance ya know it just me where I stepped in another tray forgoten and hidden.

ROFLLLLLLLLL Starlight!!! Great stories! Tamara

My day hasn't gotten off to a great start, so I reeeeally appreciate the bellylaughs with the grasshopper story.

However, I didn't laugh at the brick story because you could have been killed. Why didn't you stop somewhere--a gas station, shopping center, anywhere with people around--to get somebody to help you out? I can't imagine driving 40 miles in that predicament. Poor you!

Bivbiv.... Hope your day gets better. The reason I didn't stop somewhere is because I wish you could have really seen how foolish I looked and I was hoping to try and sneak home without to many people realizing what a dumb thing I had did. When ya live in litle bitty towns, everybody seems to know everybody. Figure d if the main local folks saw me I never really would have lived my situation down.

For some od d reason I one of them folks who generally always trie s to start my day out in a good way, but seems to be the one who usually end s up gettign themselves into some sort of strange predictiment. LOL

As the product of a small town.....I'm sorry to tell you that everyone will know about the bricks eventually. It's the blessing and the curse of a small town.

Someone linked us to this thread.
Starlight, are you bucking Shoe for story telling ? Those are some good ones. I can just see what is happening!
Have a Great Day !
Bernie

Starlight; you surely win the prize for 'poor-est' gardener!!!! Poor you, stuck and still hoppers!!!
I laughed soooooo hard, my neighbour knocked on my screen door; she thought I was crying!!!

Yeah, ya are gonna give Shoe a good run... LOL.

LOL... I love reading everybody's posts. There are several folks on the forums that have some great stories. I get such chuckles out of the other stories folks write. I often wonder is there really such a thing as the perfect garderner and the perfect garden? I know it sure ain't gonna be with me. I am just so glad that there are other folks who have times and troubles. I don't feel so lonely.

I tell ya what is that saying about bad luck for no good luck or such. I feel like that. Ya wanna know what alot of my days are like? Here is one I was sharign with some of my friends on another forum.

_______________

" Some days a gal just can't win for losing. Today is one of them days. Got up at about 2 am to finish my landscape drawing that was due today. Haven't figured out why I have that class yet, cuz while I can draw some neat precise lines on the paper, I have no sense of vision.

Well, 6am came and it was time to head to school. I racing around gathering every thing I would need up and lastly grabbed my coffee and roll of drawings. For some reason only known to my dog he decided to get up off the floor and under my feet at the same I was was coming through. Ya.. you can about guess what happened.

I tripped. It is not easy trying to fall over 90 lbs of dog with bookbag, papers, purse, coffee. My coffee ended up all over my face and hair and my nice brand new , pristine white T-shirt. My 10 hours of drawings. They kind went under me and the dog and with him tryign to get up and out of the way, his toenails ripped em. Between my hand and him they was all crinkled and scrunced up.

!5 minutes later, a quickie shower and change of clothes and I back out the door and on my way. Wondering the entire drive how am I gonna make the professor believe what really happened since my papers look like they been jammed in a paper machine and pulled out.

I get to school and to the parkign lot and realize that I need to find the post office and mail a couple of things. Asked the parking aattendant how to get there. A few rights, a curve a couple of lefts. Sounded easy enough. WRONG!!!!! I got lost, should zigged when I zagged. Finally made it to the post office and come out and find one of my brand new tires is about half flat.

Well, that just won't do, so I driving in unknown territory in morning rush hour traffic hunting for a gas station with air pump. Eurekaaaaaaa I find one. Manage to cross the busy traffic and wiggle my car in between a bunch of trucks and get to the pump. Got me a quarter out and moaned when I saw the price of air was 75 cent. Sheesh. My dog had gas bad for two nights in a row, he cheaper than that. No more change in pocket. That was one of them times ya wish they had them dollar bill slots on the machine even if it would keep the change.

No way was I gonna stand in the long line s in the gas station, while everybdy paid for their biscuits and grits to go. So into my car I start hunting. I just know there gotta be a couple of quarters somewhere. Checked the ash tray changey thing. Empty! Checked the glove box and under the seats. No luck. But .... what do my eyes see down in between the console and seats????? Glitter. Silver glitter. Oh Boy!!!! I jam my hand down there trying to get to the bottom to get the change. My arm didn't wanna fit, I twisiting it and turning it every which way , wiggling my fingers for all it was worth. Sucess! Got me some change and proudly strutting to the air tank with the required quarters only to find out somebody had one jammed in the slot and the machine wa s broke. SNIFFFFFF!

Get back in my car and limp back to the parking lot. Listening to the tire going blump..blump..blump. I running late now. I found some one with one of them portable small air tanks ya plug into the cigareete lighter. Oh Happy Day! Plug that baby up and hook it to my tire which is almost flat now. My engine running and the tire sloooooooooowly filling up. Next thing I know I hear sizzle..sizzle.. sizzle and see a cloud of smoke and green stuff pouring out under the car. Then it hit me, my radiator was either leaking or over heated. It was the second. I drop the air pump and race to turn my car off, but not before almost my whole radiator emptied itself all over the parking lot. As I watching my car beign engulfed by a cloud of white smoke, I thought, what else can go wrong today. Unfortunately lots.

Today we had, plant take up for Aboriculture. Today was Maples. Sugar, Red, Silver and a host of others. About halfway through the walk I suddendly felt pain. Now unlike most of my classmates who all run around wearing nothing but flip-flops, I had on shoes. But did that save me. NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! 30 students all gathered around a tree observing it and only me...... ( sigh) was lucky enough to unknownly be standing on an ant hill buried under the leaves. While I was busy taking notes and tryign to draw the leaf pattern these ants decided to do some hiking of their own.... up my pants legs. They just couldn't take a walk , say Hi! and then mosey back to their home. They had to let me know of their presence by proceeding to bite the snarff out of me.

Now it not always easy being the oldest in a class, but it even wors e when you have all these young people standing there ooggling at ya while your inventing new moves that would put break dancing to shame. There goes my clipboard and papers again flying while I try and get the little devils out of my pants and out of my shoes. I spent the rest of the day in utter misery from the itching that driving me crazy.

Now, PLEASE!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!! if ya manage d to read down this far. What can I do or put on all these ant blisters. I got about 30 to 40 of them and I tried calamine lotion and it hasn't stopped the itch. I am having to sit on my hands or keep them other wise occupied to try not to scratch. I have had ant bites before but not with such a magnitude of blisters or hitching or bites. I surely would appreciate any advice.

Some days..... I HATE BUGS!!!!!!!!

Part two...

Morning! At least that what my clock says. After posting this thread I decided to grab a cup of coffee and stretch out on the couch while I waited for advice. Guess my long study night caught up with me cuz I fell alseep. Don't remember falling a sleep, but I must have snored my head off laying in a weird position cuz my throat feels like somebody ran them scrtchy lemon drops all up and down it. It hurts even to drink coffee. ( don't scratch!)

I missed breakfast and lunch yesterday with all that wa s happening and zzzzzz'd out before I could get dinner. Now I gotta get some throat spray before I eat and stop my stomach from yelling louder than the tv. ( think bacon and eggs, but don't scratch!)

I sitting here looking at the clock hands slowly dragging so I can run to the corner store which doesn't open til about 7 cuz I checked and don't have anything listed in the house. No Benadryl, no burbon, no alcholol no baking soda, no nothing. UGGGGGGGGGG!

Now I do have flour and in my warped mind, I wondering if flour will work the same as baking soda. It will make a paste when mixed with water. I'd give it a try but with my luck, I would probably end up with it turning permanetely hard or gluing itself to my legs like cement. I better pass on that idea, but it sounds better and better, sure hope the store opens soon. gotta scratch.. don't scratch.. gott a scratch.. don't scratch)

Looke d at my legs and boy do they look cute. Bunches of nice itchy blisters with red rings around. Wonder what kinda picture I would end up with if I took an ink pen and tried to do a connect the dots with them. Definately realized it gonna be a bit before I try and shave. My razor would probably bust all them blisters and take half my hide with them. Plus I don't have that many band-aids in the house. I do have lots of extra rolls of toliet paper though to make dab squares with though!

Finally it almost time to head to the store and load up of medicinal supplies. I have to go there and to the mechancs to make sure the repairs I did yesterday are gonna hold. Didn't have any duck tape with me . I trust that stuff to hold better than my skills. Keep your fingers crossed for me that I get there and back. Right now I afraid to stick my nose and especially my toes out the door.

Catch all later, time to go find some relief finally. If ya see somebody staggering down the road walking cockeyed and stopping every few minutes to strach one leg against the other , don't worry it probably just me. ((((((GOTTA SCRATCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!)))))))))))))) "

Now I ask... anbody wanna be me for a day??????? LOL

Well, this one just happened yesterday. I was babysitting my mom's American Eskimo dog for the weekend while she was away. Her dog seemed very depressed so I thought that a nice walk might do her some good. When I went outside, I decided to go in my neighbor's (across the street) yard so I could start to envision how I was going to help her turn this weed-infested mess into a serene and beautiful garden. There was an area that I was unable to get to this past summer because it was so overgrown, so I thought I'd go back there now and check it out. I remember looking at this one plant thinking that it was too bad that the Round Up had no effect on it (should've been a CLUE that it was evil!!!), but at least it had interesting seedheads. So we start walking through this mess when I feel something poking my leg. I look down and those seedheads are sticking to me like velcro--they had barbed ends!! And then, I look at my mom's dog and about died. This poor thing was totally covered. When I tried to gently pull them out, I come to the horrifying conclusion that I will have to cut them out. Now, this dog is my mom's BABY, and to have to chop off chunks of her long white fur was not going to go over well. I get home and my husband asks me why on earth would I walk through "dingleberries" and what kind of a gardener am I to not know what they are? In my defense, I am familiar with plants I LIKE, not ones that should guard the gates of hell! This is the same neighbor's house where I got that terribly PI rash last summer. I called her and told her that her yard was haunted by some anti-gardening evil spirits. ;-) Tamara

p.s. My mom was actually pretty cool about me giving Angel a "haircut". But she did tell me that when she goes to visit my sister in Arizona, she's putting the dog in a kennel. lol

p.s.s I'm pretty sure that "dingleberries" isn't the correct term. Anyone know what plant I'm talking about?

Thanks for bringing this thread back to life. I needed the laughs. Even read a couple of them to DH but he hates me reading to him.

Jeremy, you are a hoot and definitely have a way with words. I read the whole thing through and I am so glad you are writing a novel as I thought you have a talent that should not go to waste!

Starlight, you do get yourself into some pickles, don't ya girl?

Brenda

Meat Tenderizer works on bee stings. Make a paste and try it.
(and no thanks. Things seem to be going a bit smoother in my neck of the woods. LOL)
Tam

I know the 'dingle berries'; my brother had a handful that he put in my hair, rubbed real hard, two hours before my communion when I was 6.
Yes, I am 'who's that boy?' in all the pictures!

I use vinegar for ant and bee stings, rub it in.

Oh, Mrs Colla! I bet your mom gave him what for!!! Tamara

She shaved his head military style!!! He had it coming!

LOL..... Oh Tamara.... I don't know them wicked weeds as dingleberriers, but I do know of them and how bad they can be. Poor doggy. I laughign my head off thinking of the looks your Mom's dog was probaby giving you and while you were giving it a hair cut. I hope you didn't have to give it a poodlecut. ROFL

Oh Mrs. Colla... How terrible for you. I can just imagine the horrified look on your Mothers face while you explained what your brother did. As somebody who ha d thre e brothers who were always picking on me, I hope you got your own back at him at some point.

Thanks for all the bug relief tips. Have to go to store later and wil pick up vinegar and meat tenderizer both. I am sure I am gonna need ant relief again.

Thanks again, all, for your great stories! Starlight, I'm sure you and I together could destroy the world in a few moments if we ever got together our misadventures!

This is only a minor bobble in my footloose daily delirium of mishaps, but seems to fit within the context of these stories:

I just took a new part-time job at the Jacksonville Zoo & Gardens -- a wonderful opportunity for me in the horticulture department. I need to report to work by 7 AM and have been getting up at 5 AM in order to have time to pour down several mugs of very strong espresso coffee and have time to check E-Mail, D-mail, and new posts on DG. This past Thursday, I was all ready to go to work and was happy to note that I was going to be early enough for a relaxed drive for the short trip of 2.5 miles to the zoo job. As I was about to go out the door, I couldn't find my keys in my pocket. I was certain that my keys were in my hand only a few seconds earlier, but I often slip back and forth between alternate universes and am never quite sure in which reality I am living at any particular moment. I do a slap dance at all the pockets in my pants (which have extra sets of pockets to hold pruning shears and folded saws), but I don't feel the familiar clump of keys (a huge collection on a keyring which contains about a dozen keys for which I have no association as to what door they might fit, but I don't throw the unidentified keys away because I might end up at that mysterious door someday and then not have a key to open it). I went back inside the house and checked the usual spots where I am likely to drop my keys (amongst the piles of papers, unpaid bills, tossed off clothes, and other bits of clutter that occupy most flat surfaces in my house, much to Christina's dismay), but I had no luck in finding the keys in anyone of the several familiar drop points. Time is ticking away toward the appointed moment to show up for work on time, so I begin a more frantic search -- tossing things from the flat surfaces onto the floor and beginning to mutter and curse under my breath. When the keys fail to appear, I begin to curse and shout blasphemies out loud, enough to awaken Christina (she doesn't have to report to her job until 10 AM and so she generally gets to sleep in a few hours after I leave for work). By this time, I am convinced my keys have fallen into one of the cosmic Black Holes that seem to occupy much of the space in my existence, so I begin to search for my alternate van keys in a dresser drawer where I have a box of extra keys. Of course, at some point in the past, I have removed the box of keys and never replaced them and the alternate keys are also now buried somewhere amongst the clutter. I begin to curse much louder now and place my soul in eternal jeopardy for the foul epithets I am swearing against all things holy. I begin pulling drawers all the way out of my dressser and rifling through the collections of odd items that end up being deposited there, flinging the contents to all corners of the room, with my anger and frustration and yelling growing ever more intense. Christina is now fully awake and has joined me in the futile search (being very familiar with my disorganization, having lived with me for 4 years and knowing that I tend to drop things in a constant semi-coma of preoccupation with whatever whim is currently holding my awareness). Finally, as the minute hand draws ever nearer to 7 AM, I proclaim that she is just going to have to get dressed and drive me to work and I will walk home later when I get off at 1:30 PM. I phone in to let my supervisor know that I may be a fewl minutes late while Christina hurriedly throws on sufficient clothes to make the trip without fear of arrest for indecent exposure. She is none too happy about having to suddenly jump out of bed and drive me to work, but tries to maintain a good humor. We quickly leave the house in her Mustang. I mutter and curse and wail against my star-crossed life journey throughout the entire trip to the zoo, and note that there are a few rain drops falling and that I will probably have to walk home in the rain, which brings more cursing.

Because we are allowed an 8 minute "grace period" on the time clock for punching in for work, I actually arrive on time, which relieves some of my frustration. I settle into the day's routine of happily pruning back frost damage to plants at the zoo gardens and enjoy the day, but all the while knowing I have a 2.5 mile walk awaiting me after work, followed by a forced labor cleaning of the entire house in order to locate my keys (I begin to wonder if maybe Christina had deliberately hidden my keys so that I would finally be required to pick up some of the debris, power tools, hardware, and supplies I am constantly dropping when I go from one project to another without finishing any one of them.)

I begin my arduous trek after work at 1:30 PM. Fortunately, the rain has held off and it is a beautiful, sunny day. I am determined to just enjoy the walk and actually do find a moment of tranquility when I cross the bridge at the river just north of my house, and my interest is piqued by discovering that there is a commercial diving school located on the south side of the river bank (I make a "note to self" that I surely must contact the submersible trainers and take up commercial diving as yet another hobby or occupation, but I instantly realize that it will probably be sometime in the next millennium before that task would rise to priority on my list of "things to do.")

I am amazed that it takes me over an hour to walk 2.5 miles! I had somehow imagined that it would be only about 20 minutes at the most. I arrive home, somewhat fatigued from the journey, and look for the house key that I keep hidden outside. Of course, the key is not where I expect it to be, and all my calm and acceptance erupts again into rage and resentment. I fume about on the front porch for a while, wishing I could get inside for a cool beverage to quench the thirst I built up in the sojourn, but actually somewhat glad that being locked out of the house meant that I could spend the entire afternoon in the garden instead of having to clean the house to find my keys. I decide to check once again in the key hiding place and this time do find it pushed further back into the hidey-hole than is usual. Alas, I am resigned to go inside and begin to sort through the mounds of collected clutter so that I can locate my keys.

As I change out of my work clothes that are now somewhat sweaty from the 2.5 mile footfalls from work to home, I begin to empty my pockets. As I take out my wallet and sit down on the bed to remove my work boots, I feel an unfamiliar lump in my back pocket where my wallet usually resides alone. I stand and reach into the pocket and there, smirking at me, are the lost keys. I had somehow managed to drop them (for the first time, ever) into the rear pocket. In my manic haste to try to locate the keys in the morning rush, I had not felt them lodged alongside my wallet. I feel like a total fool! I call Christina at her job to let her know that the keys are safely back in my hand (temporarily, for the moment, until I lay them down in some exotic place, never to be seen again). But my feeling of idiocy is soon relieved because I realize that, by finding the keys so soon, I have, once again, gained a reprieve from the necessity of cleaning the house and I can, instead, go outside and dally away the afternoon with my beloved plants. In my delight with being able to enjoy the day outside, I do cut a sprig of Freesia flowers and place it on Christina's nightstand as an offering of gratitude for her putting up with me and for the patience and fortitude and near-deity status she displays by rising above the trash as if walking on water, and the resolve for our relationship she shows by continuing to wade through my oceans of hobbies and untidy habits. The sweet-smelling freesia branch seemed to do the trick because she took the time yesterday to shovel some of the household clutter into piles while I was gleefully attending a Spring plant seminar for Master Gardeners where I bought yet more plants I couldn't live without. Her efforts toward cleanliness relieved me, once again, from bringing some order to the chaos and entropy in which I choose to dwell.

I have often explained to Christina, my mental health therapist that I see for monthly sessions, and my psychiatrist that I can be medically excused from picking up after myself because I have what I would describe as "creative psychosis" -- the ability to actually look past any degree of debris and see only the end result that may someday actualize and reveal itself when I finally do have a chance to bring all the displaced, disorderly, dispersed, and disparate parts into a new, shining wholeness of congruent design. From my viewpoint, there is nowhere in my existence any disorganization because I consciously live today in a distant future of free-flowing fruition where everything will, in the right moment, come together in perfect harmony. I stand ardently by this attitude of prognostic faith -- (but my psychosis sure makes finding my keys a difficult task!!)

Jeremy

Oh, Jeremy! Thank you for sharing. I had to lie down on the floor to laugh properly...does anyone else do this? Anyhow, I can relate to the lost key syndrome. Now, I am a very tidy person (some would say anal), the sort that diligently returns their shopping cart to the collection point and straightens the row of returned carts as well, so of course everything in my house is usually in its place. But one morning, I could not find my house keys. I looked everywhere, twice. Just as I was about to lose my mind, the doorbell rang. I saw the UPS truck in the driveway, and I went to the door to sign for a package. As he was turning to leave, the delivery guy says, "You might want to take your key out of the door." Yup, there was my key ring, which had been hanging on the front door all night.

Jeremy... You just have no idea how right you are. We'd never get anything done, or find anything.

So that's what I have is called. " Creative psychosis" LOL

Here my adventure for today. This is how not to go about gathering seed for a friend. I still got my feet soakign trying to get the mud out from under my toenails.

The story over here cuz it one of those members I was gathering seed for.

http://davesgarden.com/forums/t/700934/

I've enjoyed all your garden tales; esp. the concrete blocks because I've acquired some paving stones the same way. I'll remember to be more careful. It's taken me a while to think up a story that I could share.

I remember an attempt to rid my garden of slugs that backfired some years ago. The garden was fenced to keep my cocker spaniel, Louie, out. It worked until one night I decided to set slug traps with empty cat food cans filled with beer. Well, Louie was always trying to sneak the cats' food. I guess the temptation was too much for him when he saw all those catfood cans in the garden. And you guessed it.. he found a way into the garden and drank all the beer.

After that, I went back to walking through the garden after dark with a flashlight & getting them with a salt shaker.

I hope you don't mind me sharing a story from the librarian who helped me locate a gardening book. I laughed so that I hope her feelings weren't hurt. She noticed a neighbor thinning a flower bed and discarding the plants on the ground by the trash can. After the neighbor went inside, the librarian gathered the plants which appeared to be chrysanthemums. She dug up a flower bed along the fence line and transplanted the neighbors discards. Later, her adult son came home and went into the backyard. When he came back into the house, he wanted to know why she had planted ragweed. Well, she was so embarrassed.

Greenbrain.... LOL... I can just imagine your puppy runnign from can to can slurping up all that beer. Sure hope he didn't have to bad of a hangover the next day. Did he look at you with only one eye open asking you to whisper. : )

The second story is hilarious. Oh my!!! That is just to cute. Thanks for the chuckles!!!!!!!!!!

This didn't happen to me, but I knew someone who watered an artificial cactus for about a year before she realized it wasn't real.

Oh That is too good! Love it!!! I've enjoyed everyone's stories. Truly outloud laughing! Thanks

Janet

Such great stories and all so well told!

I am a seed collector and thought I was obsessive about it
but I think you top me on that front Starlight. I collect them and
put them on my dining room table to dry out. One day my long haired
cat decided that it'd be a nice place to stretch out for a nap. She
had seeds (and dried folliage and twigs) in her fur and all over my
house after that episode. The worst part was that I'd promised someone
at DG some of the seed. I had to pick them out of her fur to collect
enough to send.

Tam

Oh man.. oh man... I think that waterign the artifical catus has got to take the cake. That one is a real winner. I read that and look out the catus in my yard and start laughign all over again.

Hahahahah. Tam. At leats you were able to pick out the seeds. Can just imagien you having to try to explain to folks what the funny looking bits of hair is with their seeds. Mayeb you could have passe d em off as soem new extoic type. LOL

Thanks, all, for the great stories! I look forward to seeing additions to this thread each day.

I had a similar plastic cactus watering story -- I helped organize the raffle for a fund raiser here last year and the raffle prizes included the 4 table floral arrangements donated by our most renowned local florist. One of the raffle prizes went unclaimed and though I could have made a special effort to try to find out how to contact the winner, I decided that since the floral arrangement included a live phalenopsis orchid plant, and since I was uniquely qualified to provide the proper care for the orchid, my belief in "situation ethics" (i.e., finding moral justification for otherwise unholy acts) demanded that I keep the arrangement for myself. In addition to the live orchid plant, there were some other live ground cover type plants and a plant that had tiny leaves sparsely situated along spaghetti-thin, 2 foot tall, twisted and spiraling stems and branches. I thought that this was probably some exotic branch cut and added for accent, but when the branches and pinhead sized leaves continued to stay fresh and green over the several week period that the orchid remained in spike, I found myself becoming gradually astonished and amazed and very excited to have yet another wonderful plant to add to my botanical collection. "But what could the strange plant be?," I wondered. I had never seen anything resembling its bizarre, thin structure and wondered how it could support such a tall branching shape with such minimal leaves. Fortunately, I restrained myself from my decision to take a photo of the mysterious, convoluted plant and posting it on the DG Plant ID Forum, though that was my eventual intention.

I continued to daily ponder the identification of this weird plant. During this period of prolonged bewilderment, I had, by accident, left a tuber of the obstinate and invasive Air Potato (Dioscorea bulbifera -- http://davesgarden.com/pf/go/32235/index.html), the Kudzu of the South, lying about on a log after being plucked from the soil. Some folks have found great fun and considerable profit in selling these child fist sized withered tubers on eBay to unsuspecting buyers under the common name of "Monkey Balls," though that is about as much positive use as might come from these smothering vines. In its time of resting on the log, the Air Potato tuber that I had neglected to destroy had sprouted without soil and had sent out a long, thin searching tendril, hoping to find some nearby plant that it might seize upon, grasp in its clutches, and strangle in defiance of its own death throes. Upon seeing the tenacious dessicated Air Potato vine that so much resembled the alien plant in the floral arrangement, I thought that, perhaps, the renowned local florist was botanically savvy enough to have discovered this amazing trait of the Air Potato and incorporated it into his orchid arrangement. However, the snaking Air Potato vine was limp and sprawling whereas the plant in the floral arrangement was stiff and stood erect without any external support, so I remained unconvinced that the new botanical species was an adroitly used Air Potato, and continued to marvel at the fantastic plant that had come my way along with the Phalenopsis Orchid, which now seemed common in comparison to the previously unbeknown beauty of the extraordinary lime green stem which provided such an exquisite counterpoint to the tall spire of the Phalenopsis spike in the floral arrangement. "Oh, my!" I smugly thought, "My DG friends will be so envious of this remarkable collectors' item plant and oh, how they will covet a cutting of it!"

After a month or so, when the orchid blossoms finally did begin to fade and I determined it was time to tear the floral arrangement apart to separate the orchid and other live plants into separate pots for optimum individual care, I set about to remove the lush covering of sphagnum moss that had kept the roots of the plants concealed in the decorative basket. I saved the stupefying green thin plant for last to be removed from the arrangement since I didn't know what sort of root structure it might have. When it came time to pluck it out, to my startled discovery, when I grasped it, I found that its outermost branches had the miraculous ability to bend and remain in the shape to which they were placed! I knew that certain plants, such as Obedient Plant (Physostegia virginiana -- http://davesgarden.com/pf/go/23/index.html) were possessed of this incredible trait of pliant compliance in the arrangement of their flowers along the stem, but couldn't imagine that a branch of any plant could be so flexible and adaptable that it could retain the shape it was required by human intervention to hold. When I finally did pull the curious, singular plant from its mooring in the sphagnum, I was completely shocked to find that it had no roots!! Now even more mystified by the unfathomable ability of this plant to remain fresh and alive over a several month period without a trace of roots, I began to examine it carefully. To my profound surprise, I saw at the core of this plant, not the anticipated fleshy green cambium layer of soft tissue, but a bright copper wire. It was only then that my stupefied awareness turned to a recognition of my abject stupidity when I realized that, for a period of several weeks, I had been nursing and nourishing a plastic sprig!

Rather than send the diabolical thing to the trash heap in order to rid myself of the evidence of my consummate foolishness, I now display it in a prominent place in my patio amongst some ginger plants. If someone should inquire as to the identification of this strange plant, I spout off casually the name of Plasticius ignoranimus and demonstrate its remarkable ability to retain whatever shape in which it is bent. If the gardening friend is as amazed by this plant as I had been prior to my discovering its true nature, I take out my wire cutters and dutifully and lovingly snip off a cutting of the P. ignoraniumus so that they may share in its power to keep all gardeners, no matter how adept they may think they are at recognizing botanical specimens, forever growing within the humbling awareness that there is always something new to learn and existing within the absolute truth that a sucker (both in terms of plant sprouts and in human foibles) is born every minute.

Jeremy

You never fail to crack me up, Jeremy! When you get around to writing that book, I'll be first in line to buy it! Tamara

Fake plants have come a long way from the plastic of the 60's. Sometimes touching them doesn't even help. This was too funny. The dog came in and put his head on my lap to soothe me through my fit of laughter.
I have a trail through our woods that many that visit here go for a walk on. I went to the dollar store and picked up realistic looking turtles, bunnies, frogs etc and put them in places where they look really natural. I thought the little kids of friends would like spotting them as they walk through the trails. The kids like it, but then learn quickly after a few embarassing times that they are fake, then they get surprized by the real ones. Just a way to humor myself.

LOL......this is all so funny! Here's just one of many stories from my life......

I had just bought a house with a fireplace. One night I decided to light the fire, using the logs that were already in the fireplace when I bought the house. It took me forever to get them to light.....but finally I got it started. About an hour later I kept hearing this "clinking" noise. It was coming from the fireplace and was nails that were dropping from the FAKE LOGS that I had lit! No wonder it took so long to get them lit......LOL!

Hahahahahahaha, too funny. I want you to start my next campfire. If you can get fake logs to burn, you would be a wizzard at real wood.
I once used wrapping paper as starter for the fireplace. That should work, except most wrapping paper is now fireproof.