New horror in the hood: My potatoes are swamped with potato bugs. Why do all garden pests have to be so dang gross? Why must they all be so seemingly ripe and squishy and on the verge of oozing/ splitting through their gross bug skin? And I know Mort would be quick to point out that bugs don't have skin, but I don't care. Gross by any other name is what I'd say to that. And supposedly, save for a flame thrower, the best way to be rid of these little beasts is to hand pick them off and then squish them. That is not going to happen. (On a side note, I have a friend who has chickens and she said even the chickens won't touch them. that is how nasty these things are.) The World Wide Web claims that dusting them with wheat bran will cause them to explode when they eat it and then swell. I know it sounds like an Internet hoax, but I'm desperate. I have also been advised to litter the garden with ladybugs because they will eat them. I don't know what would keep the ladybugs from flying away and I can't imagine a ladybug taking down one of these suckers, but it's worth a try.

I can't even weed int hat area because they make me sick. How can I be an organic gardener and be so squeamish with the pests that go hand-in-hand with it?

In other garden news, I noticed the remains of a rabbit scattered amongst the corn. Either a very large cat jumped the fence with said rabbit , or perhaps a hawk? Owl? We have a lot of all of those. But dead bunny parts is not nearly as bad as bugs.

Also, I seem to have developed laryngitis. Day three. And I awoke at 4am. Good times.

I'm a wee bit obsessed with this Sookie Sackhouse series. Much more involved and out there than even True Blood. I'm averaging two books a day. Soon I will have devoured them all and will be forced to wait for the author to write more. Which, she at least is willing to do. (Yes, Stephenie Meyer, I'm looking at you.)

Although quite frankly, I re-read Eclipse to be on track for the movie's release, and I kind of hated Bella. I think it's because the actor who plays her has the contractual obligation to promote the movie and so I keep having the misfortune of seeing her twitching around with her extreme social disorder. She acts like an ass. C'mon now toots; you are an actor. At least act like giving interviews and waving to fans doesn't make you want to rip off your skin in horror. As far as jobs go, yours doesn't come across as one that would make the top 1000 of Worst Jobs in the World. Suck it up. You are getting paid for this, y'know. You aren't on Oprah out of the kindness of your stingy heart. Get a grip.

I had to get rid of the borage. It did its job well in that I haven't seen any tomato horn worms since I began planting it with the tomatoes, but this year it got a wee bit too big for its britches and it's not like I can eat it. Actually, maybe I can but I don't know how. It's listed as a herb, but it's very spiky. Hmm. Anyway, it was growing all over the place and crowding out the tomatoes and strawberries and cilantro and a pepper plant I couldn't identify because I couldn't see it. So, now I've dismissed the garden bodyguard. I feel like the tomato hornworms are Victoria from Twilight, just circling and waiting until there is a break int he defense so that they can strike.

I do realize that if you aren't a Twihard, that analogy will make little to no sense.

And speaking of Twilight...I have a bit of a bone to pick with Stephenie Meyer. I've been reading the Sookie Stackhouse series and although Stephanie claims all her ideas came to her in a dream, it's amazing how many of her ideas were written in books published four years prior to Twilight. Quite frankly, I can't believe Charlaine Harris hasn't sued. For instance, human female Sookie can read people's minds. Except for her boyfriend, Vampire Bill. Well, hey now, in Stephanie's dream, the vampire Edward can read minds, all except for his human girlfriend Bella's.

Additionally, Sookie is the object of desire and protection of both a werewolf and a vampire. Hey, now, so is Bella! The werewolves in Harris's tales run hotter in temperature than a human and throw off tons 'o heat. Um, yeah, Stephenie's dream had that too. Harris' vamps have a glowy sheen to their skin that identifies them as Not Human. And we've all seen how the skin of Meyer's vamps sparkle. And yes, there's more "coincidences," but I have a cold and I'm only 1/2 a cup of coffee into my day, so you'll have to read the books and figure out the rip-offs on your own.

Quite frankly, I like both series of books in different ways for different reasons, but give credit where credit is due. At the very least, Stepheine Meyer should be saying she was "inspired" by Charlaine Harris's series. Because she claim she's never read a vampire book until the cows come home, but unless she can touch a book and absorb its words without opening it, she read the Sookie Stackhouse series.

So by the grace of Mort's grandparents(thanks Mom!!!), Duke and I were able to see not one, but two movies in the theater this weekend. May not sound like a wild weekend to you, but wait until you have kids and then you will recognize the exquisite thrill of going to see a movie that does not contain talking animals and/or fart jokes.

Prior to one of the movies, there was a trailer of some sort for a movie(?) video journey (?) just plain 'ol bad idea. A seemingly teenager (I've reached a point where a certain demographic has become the "I dunno, I think s/he's somewhere between 15 and 25?" age group.) has over 800 friends on facebook. Which, yes, I recognize is not a lot anymore. I think most of my somewhere between 15-25 year old cousins have at least double that amount. But this girl is making going to film herself flying around the country meeting these people to see if they can be friends in real life. Some immediate questions that arise may be: What the hell kind of allowance does this kid have that she can afford all these plane tickets? Why in the world would you waste money and time meeting people you don't know when you could spend that money and time visiting the people you know and love? Or perhaps the one that dominates my thoughts: So, is she hoping to get killed on film? Because I can't imagine this is going to end well.

First of all, I don't think it's very smart to be friends with people online that you don't know in real life. If you wouldn't go up to the creepiest person you can conjure up, yes, you know, the one who looks like a stereotypical serial killer, and invite them to spend the night in your home (just the two of you!), then don't allow people you don't know to have access to you online. Be paranoid. It's much, much smarter. Have the rule that if it's not someone you would be happy to see and interact with in real life, it's not someone you need to be friends with online. And even amongst those people, be very judicious in what kind of information you're allowing them to have access to. Just because you both know how to use a computer doesn't mean you are friends.

Which I gather is the whole point of her "movie." She's ambushing these virtual friends/strangers and seeing if they can be friends in real life. I can only hope that this will be a huge cautionary tale to all the 15-25 year olds out there and not a story of insrpiration. ("Dude! We should totally do that this summer!") And I also hope that off camera this girl is traveling with some armed guards. And men with white jackets and big nets. Because this sounds like a truly terrible idea. And if it weren't so worrisome, I would be very eager to throw around words like "heartbreaking" and "pathetic" and "Where the f*%# are this girl's parents?"

The other day Mort and I were eating lunch in a restaurant. I idly watched an elderly couple exiting, the shuffling husband opening the door for his wife before offering her the crook of his elbow, into which she slipped her knobby hand , looking for all the world to see like a dainty bride on her wedding day. They very slowly made their way to their waiting car in the parking lot, where the husband opened his wife's car door on the passenger side, ensuring she was settled before gently closing it and getting himself in the driver's side.

It was such a lovely scene because they weren't yet so incapacitated by their body's betrayals that they had to lean on each other for support, nor were they loudly making an obnoxious show with their actions, hoping those around them would notice their display of love. Instead it was quiet and real and small, obviously everyday practices of kindness toward one another. Sure, it was possible that they had only recently found one another in their 80s and so still were in the first heady rush of love. But it seemed more likely that they had been together for well over half their lifetimes, that they had defied all the odds and still held fast to their love for one another, that even though to the world at large his wife may appear interchangeable with any elderly woman with cotton floss hair, to him she would always be the beauty he had married.

Perhaps it is a bit of sad commentary on our society that I was so moved by a couple's kindness toward one another, but it was a beautiful sight to see. We should all be so lucky to be so loved and cherished. I only wish I had seen their quiet acts of affection toward one another prior to their leaving. I would have liked to have anonymously paid their lunch bill to celebrate them for holding true where so many fail.

So, I have successfully made my own strawberry jam. And it's really, really good. I need to think of a vehicle worthy of it. Peanut butter would only dilute it. Bread seems too mushy. Maybe an outstanding cracker. Or Duke suggested ice cream... And now that I have the canning supplies and have tackled that project, I can't help but turn an inquisitive eye toward my garden. At some point we begin to burst at the seams with tomatoes and peppers. This year may be more plentiful then years past as I was concerned a late frost had killed off many plants and so I replanted my favorites...and everything is flourishing. We easily go through a jar of jalapenos a week...maybe I can can them and have our own supply on hand? And we certainly love salsa and I just came across a seemingly easy recipe in my canning booklet...slap a bonnet on my head and call me Ma Ingalls!

I'm thinking of starting a facebook group entitled : I remember when someone saying "You're so tan!" was a compliment, not an admonishment and/or I swear I wore SPF 70, a hat, some heavy duty-European sunblock that isn't even available in the States, and sat in the shade.

So, yes, a week later and I'm peeling. Big time. Like a snake shedding its skin. I would have said that was impossible considering all the precautions I took and the small fact that I didn't get burned, but I would do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant getting to have the vacation from which I've returned. Relax-o-rama and drinks served in coconuts.

And hey, what's a little more sun damage on someone who is already suffering the cosmetic decline of one who spent her youth frying in the sun? In for a penny, in for a pound. But truly, the irony of it all doesn't escape me as I know I ranted on this f

orum last year. Had I only

known the secret to a deep, dark, raging tan was sunblock reapplied every two hours, a hat and staying in the shade, just think of all the time I could have saved laying out...

I'd like to offer a big shout-out (is that still a relevant term? How about mad props? I'll have to check in with my significantly younger cousins who complain to me about how all the "old women" ruin the Twilight movies. I was able to reply with a straight face how those old women with their "Bite Me, Edward" t-shirts just ruin it for everyone. Thank goodness my friends and I don't do such silly things. None of us would ever take pictures of the Twilight dolls on our phones or have kids who point out Robert Pattison as "Mommy's boyfriend." Anyway! back to the shout-out) to Covergirl mascara for coming clean in their ads that the models WEAR FALSE EYELASHES.

Unless of course that whole truth in advertising thing caught up with them and they were somehow made to come clean. But seriously, to all the cosmetics companies, you have to knock that stuff off. I first noticed this trend several years ago and I was as outraged as a half-Italian girl with some of the most pitiful eyelashes in the world could be. Is it not bad enough that I fall prey to every claim of long, thick lashes and own about 724 mascaras? Is it not bad enough that for Christmas I asked Duke to buy me the Sephora mascaras sampler? And then you had to go ahead and put false eyelashes on women whose real eyelashes are like expensive sooty paintbrushes? It's not enough to make an undereyelashed girl drool over real eyelashes she'll never have?Have you no shame? So, yes, I just noticed that in their latest ad campaign, Covergirl copped to the fact that Drew Barrymore is wearing eyelash inserts. To which I say No duh. And thank-you for admitting that no, there is no way you the average woman can achieve this with our product. And please believe me when I say that your honesty will in no way stop me from trying every new mascara that hits the shelves.

So, my garden this year is really flourishing! Must be the mushroom mulch. I have big 'ol stalks of corn and jalapenos and green peppers and green tomatoes and oregano, basil, cilantro, lettuce, arugula, spent spinach,sugar snap peas, potatoes, more strawberries than we can eat, and I just replanted the edamame and added a peanut plant. Who knew you could grow peanuts? How awesome is that? Apparently in the fall I can dig that sucker up and its roots will be littered with peanuts! I am also venturing into crazy territory: I'm going to try my hand at making strawberry jam. Mort has eaten so many strawberries that he's fallen onto the "I hate them!" wagon and quite frankly, even I am getting a wee bit weary of them.I'm freezing some, but going for jam with the others. That's right, it's the big time around here.