I’ve been on a serious gardening kick here lately. Of course, my husband goes along with it to
shut me up make me happy. We decided to put a fence up around
it because dogs run around our neighborhood like crazy, not to mention the wildlife
that would get into it. We went ahead and got poultry fencing so when he builds
my coop this summer (he loves me so) we will already have the materials. So
fast forward…the fence is up, we’ve been to an awesome place for seeds, we have
everything we need to get started. I’m using the “gardening-in-bag” technique
this year so Roman and I go out this morning to work up the bags and plant a
few things. Keep in mind he’s only 3 ½, so his “helping” is pretty limited. Of
course, he wanted to bring his shovel out there, so I let him with the very
strict instructions that the dirt stays in the bag! Yeah, ok. Tell that to a 3
year old little boy who is made of dirt and just last weekend was covered in it
from head to toe. He was a walking dirt cloud. So why would he possibly listen
today? I was bent over, facing him, and he has throws a huge pile of dirt into
the “air”. And by that I mean all over my face, in my shirt, and (I would later
learn) in my hair. He laughs and says, “Sorry, Mommy.” No more shovel time for
Fast forward to coming in to get cleaned up. While I was outside, I had dusted myself off from the dirt bomb, but didn’t think about my hair. When I came in, my head was itching some. I had assumed it was because I was a little sweaty and in need of a shower. When I took my hair out of its ponytail and ran my fingers through it, I felt huge, rough clods clinging to my scalp. After a brief panic in thinking they were bugs, I realized the only way to get them out without making a huge mess in my bathroom was the shower.
You know when you color your hair and rinse it out for the first time? That’s what it looked like. I have a lot of hair and apparently it holds a lot of dirt. Pretty gross. Then come the part where a pulled about a dime size chunk still clinging to the end of my hair, I brought it up to my face and it was one of those moments when you just HAVE to get a closer look…with another sense…so I smelled it. Something told me I needed to smell it and I’m glad I did because it reminded me of the main component of the “organic” fertilizer I had used. Chicken crap. After lather, rinse, repeat x3, I finally was convinced it was all out. This is the kind of luck I have.
You know, my husband always talks about how soft I am and how good I smell. Wonder what he’ll think later when he comes home after my invigorating “spa treatment”?