This is a carrot.
This carrot was planted when mercury was in retrograde.
My son pulled it from the ground, yesterday. I told him that we needed some vegetables for soup. But we didn’t have any fresh ingredients so I couldn’t make any soup. Turns out, we had them all growing in the garden. I’ve got chives, celery, parsley and carrots growing out back. What more could you want? Hmm. I wonder if I can find a potato.
I hate gardening. I quit every summer. I just give up in July because I can’t keep up with all the watering that you have to do. There is so much work. All the kids are at home and there’s so much cleaning and I can’t clean the house and tend the garden too.
In my culture, it is forbidden to ask children to help clean the house. Housework is a shameful task. Performing housework is a duty meant for the lowest class of people. Requesting assistance in jobs such as shower washing, toilet scrubbing and weed pulling results in bloodshed. There is much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
It is for this reason that my yard is a mess. I decided that the yard might be easier to tend to if I had a low maintenance ground cover. Monkey grass (or mondo grass), looks great all the time and doesn’t need to be mowed frequently. However, a little plug like the one below in the picture costs $3. If I want to do a major landscaping job, it could take hundreds.
My husband doesn’t like it when I spend hundreds of dollars on things that I can get for free.
Last year, I drove to my grandmother in law’s house. She has a yard full of thick monkey grass (The grass on top, above the bay leaf plant). This woman has been telling me for years that I can dig up as much of this as I want. I finally made the drive and dug this stuff up for hours. She told me to dig up everything because she was moving out and nobody would take care of it.
Along with the monkey grass, I got 2 pomegranate trees, a garbage bag full of day lilies, 10 gallons of canna lily bulbs, and also huge bags filled with dark green low growing monkey grass for use in paths.
My husband’s grandmother is always full of advice. She always gives me tips on gardening and tells me about plants. She’s been doing this for years and it turns out she’s an expert at not knowing what she’s talking about. She told me that sweet potato vines have big orange flowers. It turns out they don’t. Personally, I find it very irritating to get advice that’s completely wrong. I think she just babbles on and makes stuff up. I don’t think that she has gained much wisdom with her age.
This grandmother by marriage, also has advice on how to handle the husband. She told me to ignore what my husband says and do whatever I want. That’s what she does. I keep in mind that she and her husband hate each other and have been divorced on many occasions. I ignore this advice because its the advice I get from other people who have bad marriages.
My husband’s grandmother is old and is going blind. She can no longer drive, and is being encouraged by her doctor to learn brail. To me, blindness is a metaphor. She’s going blind because she isn’t capable of seeing herself and how she’s messing up the lives of others.
This may seem like a strange thing to say, but I have to tell you, this idea was put in my head.
This is a picture of the canonization ceremony of St. John Maximovitch.
He was a Russian guy who went to China and bought kids from their mothers with bottles of Vodka. Then he took them to San Francisco and raised them in an orphanage because life was horrible for kids in China in the 1950s.
When I was 18, I went to visit this cathedral one day in November with some Russian Orthodox nuns. This is where it gets complicated. The people that run the cathedral of Blessed John Maximovitch are in a legitimate group called the Synod. The nuns that I was with, were living in a monestary ran by a guy named Father Herman.
Father Herman was kicked out of the Synod for some reason that was never explained to me. He just went on leading his followers like a charismatic guru. He would always say, “They’re persecuting me.” And the holy book says, “Blessed is the man who is persecuted,” right?”
Father Herman is going blind. He wears thick glasses, can barely see, and the monks are always trying home remedies to heal his blindness.
That being said, I was with a group of scandalous nuns, on tour at a very nice cathedral ran by people who did not like us. We went into the office of the dead saint. I sat in his chair, I prayed on his prayer rope. The nuns were scandalized that I would have the unmitigated audacity to touch such holy objects. Back then, I had no boundaries. I just wanted to get some good energy.
This is when some old priest comes into the office with us and asks if we’re part of Father Herman’s group. “Yes,” the nuns say. Then the guy tells us off. We’re part of a scandal, he tells us. He also tells us that the reason that Father Herman is going blind is because he is unwilling to see his own errors. It is for this reason that God has taken away his vision.
And now I know the real reason for macular degeneration. It’s not genetics and poor nutrition-it’s the curse of God. That’s right. Now that this crazy idea has been put in my head, I have all these judgmental thoughts about people who have it. Everyone who has macular degeneration that I know, does tend to have problems seeing the world the way it really is. They have their own ideas about reality. Since they aren’t using their vision to see clearly, God’s taking their sight away.
Near sighted people can only see themselves and nobody else. Far sighted people only see other people and not themselves. And me. What am I? I have twenty-twenty vision. That means that I see everything the way it really is.
But I’m only 38. People lose their good vision in their forties. Who knows what will happen to me. I always thought I would get wiser with age. I always thought that I grew older I would see things the way they really are, and more clearly. But I’ve been told, that after I forty, my vision will deteriorate. I will most likely have to wear glasses. This really freaks me out, because I went to live with the crazy ex-hippies in California and my mind is all screwed up with these metaphysical metaphors that explain health issues.
If I have 20/20 vision, then I see clearly right now. This is perfect vision. But if I think I’m perfect, that is a good indication that I’m being deluded by demons. However, my vision isn’t exactly perfect, now is it? I can barely see on a bright sunny day. My pupils don’t constrict or react to light. Even if I wear sunglasses while driving on a sunny day, I still have to cover the gap between my forehead and the top of my sunglasses because the light is so bright.
It turns out, I really do have ocular albinism. I don’t have the pigment necessary in my eyes to block out light, so they just decided to stop working. There is no treatment for this. I’m screwed. So now I’m baffled. What kind of metaphor is this? My eyes allow too much light to enter in? I don’t know.
I do know that carrots have vitamin A, and supposedly vitamin A will keep your eyes from degenerating. So, I’ll cross my fingers, try to see things straight, and eat whatever carrot I pull from the garden, no matter how screwed up it may be.
I’m going to go eat some rice now.