M woke late this morning, popped up like a hobbit, and hurriedly slapped a sweatshirt on as he ran out the door to Chinese school. He just texted me that today was picture day and his teacher is in a suit. Oh life, you crack me up.
While M is choking down his humiliation by hanging out with 6 year-olds, I made myself some blackberry oatmeal. Just some frozen blackberries, chia seeds and oats simmered with soy milk and a dash of salt. I poured a little more soy into my bowl and drizzled everything with honey and a sprinkle of ground flax. My breakfast smelled like summery jam.
Kindly ignore my fanatical sports mug. All the other tea mugs were dirty so I had to use M’s.
Properly fueled, I swept around the apartment like a tornado, cleaning and tidying and neatening things up. I was hunkered down in the kitchen sorting out the cans in the pantry when I found a little present I had totally forgotten about. M went to Arizona back in May, and brought me back a few presents – socks, a disgusting lollipop with a dead scorpion in the middle, and a little cactus-planting set. I guess I finally got around to planting that cactus.
First of all, why was there so much dirt provided? The little planter thing is itty-bitty and way too tiny to fit even half of the dirt. The seeds look like mini raccoon poops and if Mumsies knew I was using her Japanese china bowl to plant a cactus, she’d kill me.
Suffice it to say, the entire process was suspect. Just put seeds in dirt that came to me in a plastic bag seven months ago and a cactus is supposed to come out? Really? Yea, right. But that’s what the directions say.
I wouldn’t necessarily call the windowsill a “warm area,” but it’s the best I can do. Let’s just say I’m more than a little skeptical of this cactus-growing business. We shall see. The “3-21 days” countdown begins! Germinate cactus, germinate!