Over the years, my husband and I have tried more than a few times to grow our own tomatoes. Frankly, I haven't had a decent tomato since New Jersey, and when I have the right tomatoes, I make the best tomato salad on earth. Seriously. I do. Ask anyone in my family and they'll tell ya!
Anyway, every attempt we've ever made towards an actual garden has been thwarted one way or another. One year, I confess, it was simply my participation in the process. I swear, I can just look at a thriving plant and kill the sucker. Our last attempt, however, was beyond my control...hungry animals.
One day when my husband came home to find that lone almost yellowish tomato of a decent size half chewed, he blew a mini gasket. "What the hell happened to my tomatoeS" Note he used the possessive and the plural over one very lonely tomato. I had no choice but to explain. In my defense, the squirrel was adorable and clearly undernourished, so I didn't even try to scare it off.
But hope springs eternal. And yesterday, my husband showed hope once again. As I was doing some online research, Ray comes downstairs all showered and dressed and he picked up the shopping list and proceeded to ask me if I wanted to go to Walmart with him or if I wanted anything from there. He knows damn well I won't go into Walmart without protective gear...you know, helmet, knee pads, shin guards...
Perplexed, I asked what the hell he was going THERE for. "Gardening stuff." He responded with a little glint in his eye. "Gardening stuff?!" I responded in horror! He then showed me his little mock-up of his imaginary garden -- tomatoes here, lettuce there, radishes over here, maybe some watermelon and cantaloupe.
Knowing my husband as I do, I sent him off with a smile and good wishes as I chuckled under my breath. Almost as soon as he left, I texted my daughter (who is well aware of our gardening fiascos) and told her that Dad was on his way to Walmart for gardening stuff. Her response had me in stitches: "Why?" Okay, that's not really an outrageous question, actually it's a perfectly obvious one, but it just sent me into peals of laughter. But how do you answer that question when you know all you're up against? Here's how: "Well, he felt like wearing overalls and wants to be called Farmer Ray!" How did our loving daughter respond? "...Really"
That was it! Really? I damn near wet myself laughing over all the possible answers I could give her and all I get is a "Really"?