The grossest thing happened this a.m. as I was out talking to my tomatoes – they seem to do to better when I talk or sing to them. Of course, the activity confirms my neighbors’ suspicions that my elevator doesn’t make it to the top floor, but who cares.
I noticed this monster riding the highest branch of my prize Brandywine vine. He bears a remarkable resemblance the Loch Ness Monster, don’t you think? Brandywines are a particularly tasty and coveted heirloom tomato, so at least my monster had good taste. I say “had” because he (it?) is no longer stuffing himself on my tomato leaves. I left a urgent message for my son “Braddock” that I had a trespasser harassing me in my front yard.
He knows I rarely call him for help unless it’s truly life threatening, so he rushed right over and plucked that pesky varmit from the vine and smashed him right on my garden path.
Thank goodness for “B”. He has front row seats for all “Mom Meltdowns.” If anyone knows what this thing is called and how to run off all his friends, please let me know as soon as possible. “B” is going deep sea fishing for the next week and I’m on my own.