Author: iagardener55

I will tell you that this post will be explicit, and, definitely not for the faint of heart.

We were honored, and, grateful, to be given the opportunity to watch a pig being slaughtered for the celebration of a quinceañera, to be held tomorrow, all day.

The quinceañera, for those that are unfamiliar with the word, is the “coming out” party for fifteen year old girls, here in México, as well as in the States. It is much the same as the “sweet sixteen” parties up North.

Here, however, with a family as large as they are, a whole sow will be gone fairly quickly, I will wager. Here she is, after one, quick knock on the head with the flat side of a hatchet. She was killed quickly, and with many salutations from the people inside the house watching.

Neither of us have ever been witnesses to such an event, although there were several children who had seen a slaughter before. Not a single person turned away from the experience or expressed any sentiment other than thanksgiving. I was very impressed.

Being a very sheltered city girl, I grew up knowing almost nothing of the world outside my little life bubble; until I started dating my, now, husband. That was when my real education started.

Ok, here are some of the photos I took. If you do not wish to go further, please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones. For the rest of you, here goes.

This first photo is minutes after the sow was killed. Hence the saying, “bleeding like a stuck pig”. Really, though, she was unconscious when the farmer cut her throat.

The first thing they did was pour boiling water over her to soften the skin, and hair.

They spent at least fifteen minutes shaving off all of her hair around her body; even on her ears. Every inch, actually.

The next thing they did was take her feet.

After all of the hair was removed, the head removed, they opened the body, removed the internal organs, and proceeded to hang her up for a bit.

That was the last photo I took because we left after this. I will not be able to describe the smell, however. Blood has such a distinct odor; it is more than just sulfur. It is memorable, however.

That is a bit of what we were privileged to witness, and will let you know the end results tomorrow.

For those of you that wanted to know where your bacon comes from, besides the plastic cryo bag from the store, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

Again.

Someone is still overwatering our plants. I have someone in mind who I believe to be a suspect, but I am not going to accuse anyone outright. Now, it is the airplane plant.

I got up this morning, checked the plants, and found that the airplane plant looked a bit peaked. Being the good gardener that I am, I gave it a bit of water, before using the water meter to check it.

There. I said it. I watered the plant. Ok? I did it. I confess.

Now, since then, I have removed the plant from the dunk tank, and repotted it into three different planters. It, as it has turned out, is actually three plants. I had forgotten. That will give them at least a thirty percent chance of survival. I hope.

There were three plants in the pot, so I have said, so I placed each into its own planter, and given each only a quarter cup of water. That is all; no more for the next few days. I am hopeful I acted quickly enough to save them from the wicked waterer.

Until I catch the bugger, please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

As far as I can tell, the starter still lives.;

As do the plants. Well, and, for the last time, the schefflera is gone. Gone, but, obviously not forgotten.

It is a trauma, to be sure, however, not the first, nor the last. And, I will forget it, once the new cuttings get going.

Back to the starter; it is behaving just as a new starter should. It bubbles after being fed, inflates for a few hours, then deflates; waiting to be fed, once again.

It smells like paste, the kind one makes for homeschooled children. It smells like flour. Yuck. That is one of the things I miss about the mature starter; that lack of acidity to the smell. No difference when making a roux; if you do not cook it long enough, it, too, smells, and tastes like “just flour”. Yuck.

Time, and patience, is what this newest starter needs. I happen to have, as far as I can tell, a bit of both at present. I do believe the Lord is trying to teach me about patience; showing me that watering my plants too often, wanting them to grow before my eyes, is just a form of impatience.

I have listened, and have adjusted my practice; I no longer water all of the plants every morning. Duh!!! I have the philodendrons, the peace lily, and the airplane plants, all in the spare bedroom, as far away from me as they can be. Now that they are looking quite lovely, and healthy, and, now that I have stopped drowning them, I can take pride in knowing that they live. I have not killed them, and they are happy(ier).

The very small Sansevierias are all showing new offshoots, so they are all doing well, too. The palms are both upright, so, a good note there, as well. I have ordered six African violets, but will be receiving nine, as the order was delayed from Colima, six hours East of here. They asked if, by not cancelling my original order for six, would I accept having them send nine plants. Well, heck yes, I accept. I can find plenty of space for violets.

I wish you could have seen the violet I left up North. It was gorgeous. Once I learned to water it from the bottom, sitting in a saucer of water for fifteen minutes, weekly, it took off like wild fire. It was healthy, deep purple, with leaves that looked like velvet.

This company is sending a mix of colors; pink, purple, white, and yellow, I believe. I have never seen, personally, any other color than purple, so we shall see. I just hope they get here before we go to LA again. I would have for them to sit in a box for four days and nights.

When we get back, I will let you know how that all transpired. I am taking one of the Sansevierias for Jesús’ mom in exchange for the airplane plants she gave me. This way she will not have to worry about watering it very often. She is too busy a woman to have another mouth to feed.

That said, please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

While over at our cousin’s house the other day, I asked if I could take a few cuttings from one of the plants in their garden.

Hah! It is a schefflera!! This one is all green, though, the one I drowned was variegated. I have put them, there are three, (making their chances of survival that much greater), in a couple of inches of water. Hopefully, they will take root, and let me make up for killing their cousin. We shall see.

I, also, cut the top of the rubber tree off, and am going to try to root it in water. If that does not work, I will buy another one, larger, and, take better care of it. As gentle as I was with the repotting, it was too traumatized to survive.

I will be right back; I have forgotten to feed my starter.

There. Job well done. Where was I? Oh, right; the true confessions of a serial plant killer. How could I forget?

The photo, just above, shows that, after about two weeks, it has successfully, established roots on the cut end of a Sansevieria trifasciata, or, more commonly known as, a mother in laws tongue. They grow prolifically, here; outside, they can even grow into a low growing fence. I, however, am only looking for symmetry.

The plant we have is/was quite tall, about four and a half feet tall. I have since cut off most of the “tongues”, and am rooting them, like the one in the photo. When they have all gotten roots, I will plant them, in plastic containers, and place them in the outer sections of the window box; several on each side. I think it will be fairly dramatic. I will show you when we get there.

As we wait, patiently, of course, please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

Whenever we go to Los Altos, one of the first things we notice is ….

Well, first there are all of the cerros; I would call them large hills, or, maybe, small mountains. I do not know what the most accurate translation is, sorry, but, they are just that, small mountains. And, they are everywhere one looks.

Another thing is the open expanse of land. There are miles from the highway to the cerros, that are dotted with cacti, shrubs, small buildings, and the like. Many times we see small hovels that once housed a family, or, maybe, an abandoned business; still standing, but unused, at present.

Along the road, families have set up lean to’s, selling pecans, sometimes prepared food, and, even, corn on the cob, or off the cob. The thing I notice, maybe more than our traveling companions, is that those people, selling their wares, all seem to be smiling; as if they do not have a care in the world.

Sometimes, the folks have masks on, though that is not the norm. The air, there, is fresh, and, breezey; clean of pollutants, and CoVid19. Taking in a deep breath of clean, sweet smelling air, there, is, well, memorable.

It is as if we take a small trip back in time, just a bit; it is more primitive, if you will, than here, in the city. Well worth the time getting there.

Noise; there is none. Well, perhaps, not none, as there are the sounds of people moving along the streets, cars tooting a friendly “hello/hola” to everyone. Because it is a small town of about five hundred inhabitants, most people know each other. How special! But, it really cannot be considered as noise.

There is not the constant droning of machinery, equipment, construction, the Metro, the loud mufflers of the buses, cars honking, dogs barking, like here, in the city. It is peaceful, tranquil, and, quiet.

We go back as often as we can, when Jesús gets a vacation day, that is. We stay at J’s parents home, and are thankful for it. They feed us, and put us up for however many days, and nights, we can stay. Coming up, soon, we will be staying four nights ,and three days; plenty of time to decompress. It is a wonderful, relaxing time, shared with our new family, and friends. It is also the quinceñera of one of J’s cousins. Should be fun.

Please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

This is the first time we have been out of the apartment in three weeks.

Unfortunately, however, we are at the bank; Ivan is inside, taking out money from our account. It takes forever, as I have told you ad nauseum. (That is Latin, meaning it should be making you sick, all of the times I have mentioned it; though, I am not sure if that is a literal translation). He has been inside at least fifteen minutes; are they printing the money for him? Argh.

It is so nice, to be outside, though, in the fresh air; even with CDMX pollution. And to be in the sunshine; Heavenly.

That did not last long enough. We got done with our shopping quickly, though we did go to Copacabana, (not the song, people), and had lunch. We have not been out for lunch for an age, it seems.

The restaurant is situated on a corner looking onto a main street, and a side street which flows into the main. There is a lot of traffic, and a few pedestrians, but the activity is, actually, quite relaxing, truth told. As much as I do not like noise, this noise is, for whatever reason, comforting. Life moving on.

Unfortunately, before our lunch, I had the beginnings of another dizzy spell, in the grocery store; always in the grocery store. This one, however, I was unable to abort completely. Before I realized what was happening, it was getting close to full blown.

Being the diagnostican that I am, I have, I believe, Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo, BPPV. If I turn my head a certain way, or, too quickly, the world spins out of control, and trouble ensues. I become diaphoretic, (cold, clammy, sweaty), nauseous, and, feel as if I am going to lose control of my “bodily functions”, (read, have diarrhea), all at the same time. What is not to enjoy about all of that?

Frequently, it comes on almost gradually, though, not always. When it does, I can, sometimes, ward it off using a few techniques I have been taught. Yesterday, it came on so quickly, I was left defenseless. I mean, who wants to be sick in the middle of the grocery store? Oh, let me, let me. Please!

Not.

Where does one go when this happens? Wherever one can, to hide, and escape onlookers. Ivan leads me, me holding onto his arm, my eyes closed, like I am an invalid, or am drunk. I suppose, at those moments, I am an invalid. Anyway, it is/was horrible. It always is horrible, but, today is another day. If you know anyone with these symptoms, show a bit of sympathy for them. We would never wish this on anyone. Trust me on this.

It is springtime. Get outside, and enjoy whatever weather you are having. Please, though, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

The other day, before the day it rained, I got up, as I do every morning, went out to the kitchen, poured myself a cup of coffee, and noticed that the sourdough starter I had been using was flat; I mean dead flat.

I was aghast. Fortunately, for me, I had dehydrated a goodly amount of active starter, about six months ago, for just such an occasion. I have heard, and read, that most starters give their owners a fit of the vapors every now, and again. As I was thankful, every day, just to be able to have the beautiful, and robust starter that I had, I did not give this any thought, until then.

I cannot think of what I did to kill it, but, kill it I did. It had no bubbles, no nothing. I had not fed it for two days as I was busy baking with it. Normally, when I bake sourdough bread, I feed the starter, twice daily, for three days prior to the day I do the autolyse. This was no different. It was not due to be fed until that morning.

The only things I can think that might have upset it were as follows: 1) I have seen people on YT put their starters in shallow, sturdy, clear plastic containers, like ones you would get filled with gourmet olives, or pesto, from the store. I got a similar style container, (we ate the contents), cleaned it out, and replaced the original contents with the starter.

And, 2) we saw, on YT, a man say he could ripen an avocado over a twenty four hour period by covering it in flour. So, we bought a half dozen of the little buggers, and I put one in the container of bread flour, for the requisite twenty five hours.

Do not waste time with that notion. Nature has its own rules, and putting an avocado in flour to ripen it, is not one of them. I mention this because I am wondering, since I used the BF to feed the starter, (not thinking about contamination, duh), that maybe, even after washing the exterior of the fruit, if it still contaminated the flour, and therefore the starter.

I am not a scientist; just little old me. I am very careful about making sure my hands are clean before manipulating the starter, as well as any utensils being used. I do not have hot tap water with which to rinse dishes, and heating water in the kettle every time I did dishes would be ludicrous. I make do with what we have.

I have, since, fed it twice daily, these past few days, and put it back in the glass pint Mason jar, where it had dwelt, prior to its demise. I am hopeful that I can nurse it through to health again. (It appears to be happier in the small glass jar, as it is rising quite nicely after each feeding. Yay!)

Between the plants, and the starter, I am definitely learning humility.

Have I mentioned the kombucha?

Such is life. Please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

It actually rained the other night; finally.

We were sitting on the seat, in the bedroom, watching different things on our computers, when I looked over at Ivan, and asked him if he smelled rain. (I love the smell of rain. Have I ever mentioned that?)

Sure enough, it was raining; and hard, by the sound of it. The drops sounded quite large; not small, delicate, normal sized rain drops. These sounded like they were the size of olives. I know how that looks, reading “the size of olives”, but, that is what crossed my mind, listening to them. It was not the light, soft sound of rain; it was rain. They were not rain drops, they were rain plops.

It only lasted fifteen minutes, however, the after affects, at least in this building, lasted quite a bit longer. The power went out three times, the last time being about eleven thirty, returning a few minutes after midnight.

When it was out, we had no lights, obviously, no fans, but, I also had no working CPAP machine! I was close to having a minor panic attack, (though I cannot remember ever actually having one). It felt as if I was suffocating. I opened the bedroom window, quite a ways, to let in the fresh, cold night air. We could hear the sounds of men, downstairs; it sounded as if they were trying to “fix” something.

When the power returned, for the second time, that is, it was not at full strength. We have never experienced “partial power” restoration before. This was something new, and interesting. Not fun, however.

The two fans we use, in the bedroom, were set on medium speed, but, both sounded, and, felt like they were on low. The lights, in the spare bedroom, when turned on, blinked on, and off, like emergency lights, though not synchronized; not a continuous glow. Only three of the four ceiling lights, in our bedroom, came on. And, not all of the outlets worked; not even in our surge protector, (which is where I had the CPAP machine plugged in). What the heck?

When I could not get my CPAP to work, we tried plugging it in to several different outlets in the room; nothing happened. I thought I had, somehow, wrecked it, or maybe a power surge had fried it. What was I going to do? (I have to use the machine when I sleep, because, as the results of a sleep study I had, years ago showed, I stopped breathing, multiple times every hour. Not conducive to good health, or, longevity.) Ivan had me plug it in to an extension cord that he uses to recharge his computer, and that worked. I could finally go to sleep.

Nope.

The power went out again, the third time, for thirty minutes. This time, however, when it came back on, it was at full force, again. The fans went back to their medium setting, with the full force of the medium speed; the lights all worked, and my CPAP machine was up, and, running. NOW we could go to sleep. Finally.

Then, the alarm started.

It was outside, somewhere downstairs, in the garage area. We thought it was, possibly, a car alarm, but, by the sound of it, and the volume level, it had to have been the emergency siren. And, it when on, and on, and on, and on. I got up, shut the windows, Ivan went to the bathroom, and we went back to bed. The alarm lasted ten minutes. Now we could go to sleep.

By then, however, it was after one o’clock in the morning; the bewitching hour for me. So, no, I did not go to sleep. I was restless, tossing, and turning; my legs became jumpy, so …

I got up, took two Ibuprofen, went out to the kitchen to reset the clocks, on the oven, and the coffee maker; walked through the apartment; stretched my back; applied lotion to my feet, then put on short socks; played thirty minutes of Wordscapes, at the table, in the living room, (did not want to disturb the sleeping el señor); got back up, and, walked through the apartment, again; walked around looking at all of the plants; went to the bathroom; then, walked a few more times around the apartment, waiting for the Ibuprofen to start working. By now, it was two thirty, so, I went back to bed. Ugh!

Somewhere, after three, I finally fell to sleep.

I woke up, punctual, as ever, at seven thirty(ish), got up, started the coffee maker, as it was set for eight o’clock; finished my morning ablutions; fed everything that required feeding, and sat down to write this post.

Having had my first cup of coffee, I will finish this up, so I can get it posted. Please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

I am going to go take a nap.

Woohoo! I got on the scale this morning, and, I am happy to report, I have lost sixteen pounds; seven kilos. (When losing weight, one should always weigh oneself in kilos, but, calculate the weight lost in pounds. Much more satisfactory that way/weigh! Hahaha.)

I am thinking it is the haircut! It has really given me….. something; an impetus, maybe, that helps me not eat at every opportunity. And, believe me, I have ample opportunities. Sitting in the living room, at my “office” everyday, the opportunities abound, about fifteen feet away; calling me; frequently.

The plants, and I, appear to still be in the “getting to know you” phase, and, we are both surviving, (schefflera excluded), in spite of my good intentions.

I repotted the rubber tree yesterday, and ended up removing all of the dirt surrounding the beauty. I am hoping I have not killed it. The dirt was so compacted in the vessel, I could not get the plant out; not without gentle surgical removal of the dirt, that is.

The roots, two of them, actually, are about a foot and a half long, with smaller offshoots from those two. They were so stuck in the dirt, there was no place for them to go. The pot had plenty of dirt, and space, but the dirt was like concrete. Not anymore.

I repotted it into a very pretty red fiberglass container, watered it gently, but this morning, when we got up, the beauty was drooping. As today is Monday, and Monday is watering day for all of the plants, I gave it a bit more water, but with a nip of coffee in it. Hopefully, it will perk up, here, in a bit. Fingers crossed. Here it is, as of this morning.

The two lighter green leaves are both new, since we got it, with a new leaf shoot growing straight up. Also, the top leaves are starting to regain a bit of umph, I believe. They do not look as sad as they were this morning.

So far, the Areca palms I repotted, and divided, are both doing alright; they appear so, anyway. The airplane plant, and the peace lily, in the bedroom, are both beautiful. In fact, I believe the airplane plant is developing an offshoot; let me show you.

That new portion was not there yesterday morning, but it was last night. I am anxious to see what it becomes. Of course I will show you; silly you.

Until then, please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones.

Riding my bike has become a chore. I have discovered that this foldable bike is vastly different than a standard sized bike.

I have hit curbs, run into bushes, fallen going up a driveway entrance. It is embarrassing. I have ridden bicycles since I was four years old; how can I have forgotten how they work?

I have not forgotten; as I said earlier, this foldable bike is completely different. I think it is the driver, actually, though I am not sure, at the moment. The driver of this bicycle is older than the she was the last time she rode a bike, and her equilibrium is off, especially with the deafness of her right ear. Excuses, excuses.

Practice. I keep thinking that I will go outside, every morning, and ride around the park; quietly, in no hurry, with no traffic to concern me. Then something always comes up, (thank the Lord) to keep me from said practice. I mean well, I just do not follow through.

Then, I end up riding my bike over to the cousin’s house, to deliver a loaf of bread, and end up falling into shrubs, or hitting a curb; all in traffic I am unsure of. Very embarrassing; not to mention scary, and painful.

It is as if I have developed a palsy when riding. Something happens to the handlebars, and they go back and forth without my control. Embarrassing. It is similar to driving a large vehicle for years, a Cadillac, say, and then driving a MiniCooper. Everything is different. The center of gravity, (Lord knows my center is off), is to short; there is no room for error. So, I run into things. Practice, practice, practice. Ha.

Eventually, I will ride the darned thing without fear of doing myself irreparable harm, but until then, you know what to do. Please, stay happy, stay healthy, stay safe. Wash your hands, cover your mouth, and protect your loved ones. We are doing the same. Well, except for the bike riding, that is.