Saturday, July 16, 2011

Pesto and Vanilla Ice

One of the nice things about having a garden--aside from being forced to consult an attorney because you're being threatened with jail time by petty bureaucrats who are foolish enough to listen to your disgruntled neighbors--is that there is always something to make or do.

This afternoon, I spent an hour or so harvesting basil and making jars of pesto to freeze while listening to "Ice, Ice Baby."

Somehow it seemed appropriate.  "Anything less than the best is a felony."  It's good to keep that in mind when you're cooking.

If you've been asleep for the past week or so, you missed Julie Bass's apparently controversial decision to put raised garden beds in her front yard in Oak Park, Michigan.  Here are links to the story and some pictures of what her yard looks like.

Personally, I kinda think it would look better if there were grass or something between the beds, but I can't blame her for not wanting to go to the expense of re-sodding her entire yard.  I'm assuming they're working on getting some of the grass to grow again, but it takes time.

It is Michigan, after all.  They're probably predicting a frost tonight and snow showers tomorrow.

If a lawn isn't in the works, though, it isn't really anyone's business.  It's not like she's planting a yard full of pot and poppies and sitting on the swing brandishing a semi-automatic, for heaven's sake. 

If I were her, after this little city-ordinance-debacle, I'd make it a point to sit out with my friends every weekend, drinking just a little bit too much cabernet and loudly announcing that "certain sons-of-bitches around here ain't gonna be GETTIN' no goddamn TOMATOES!"

Actually, what I'd do is invest in some ancient sculpture.  Here's a lovely wind-chime, for instance:

If you look closely, the little man is being attacked by a phallus that is almost as big as he is.  Ancient civilizations certainly knew how to advocate for fertility.

In ancient Rome, the fascinus, or divine phallus, was thought to ward off bad luck.  So I'd definitely be angling this particular bas-relief in the direction of the neighbors who complained to the city:

Here, a phallus (with legs, no less) is ejaculating into the evil eye.

"Whadda YOU lookin' at?"

Good fences may make good neighbors, but an outsized brick-dick with legs should guarantee you a little privacy.

Finally, for the areas in between the beds, I'd go with something a little more straightforward, yet subtle. Something classy:

(I have no idea what he's holding in his hand.)  

Somehow, talking about making pesto now seems so very... uninteresting.

"If there's a problem, yo, I'll solve it
Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it."

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Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, "Life is short, but there is always time for courtesy."