A snail's pace

A snail's pace at the house. Literally. One has to wonder if there is something very wrong if I'm thrilled when groups of strangers invade my house and touch things. And I get sad when I realize nobody has invaded my privacy while I was at work. The world is all wonky. I live in my own personal Twilight Zone.


I was wrong. It wasn't a battering ram that Santa brought me last week. It was a fifteen foot long chocolate bar. The giant cardboard wrapper will become mulch next weekend.


Wood trim hiding the old ceiling height. We gained two inches of head room in this area of the house. I'm hoping to grow another two inches myself to compensate.


Window trim upstairs. Getting there. Slowly. Slowly. Cue Twilight Zone music now...


One of the tomato plants is full of tiny little marble sized tomatos. There's got to be thirty little ones developing on this vine. And it's not even done growing. I think I overdid the tomatos. I'm not going to be able to eat all of the tomatos from this single plant, let alone eight others. I will have to invent a word for tomato overdose. Moremato? Toe-more-toe? I can't imagine how many tomatos the seven feet tall vines will produce by years end. With all this lycopene, I better not be getting prostate cancer in 30 years.


Baby plants. I have completely forgotten what I planted. My memory is bad. Wasn't smart enough to label them, but I'm hoping I'm smart enough to figure it out once they've grown. And yes, one of these plants will grow up to be another tomato. I seem to have a track record of taking new interests to the point of obsession. I'd like to think that I'm just passionate about my interests.