Tag Archives: potted

Growing the Green

Financially speaking, as I mentioned yesterday, we are sort of in the red right now. Actually, not sort of. We are in the red. The burgundy, even. If we were a hamburger, we’d be extra rare. If we were skin we’d be sunburnt. If we were — well, you get the point. We need cash. So I have dedicated today to making extra money in whatever small ways I can.

My income-generating tactics so far:

  • Listed three items on ebay. (Here, here, and here, in case you’re shopping for rumpled, poorly photographed, used clothing).
  • Found a pawn shop to bring my old engagement ring to. Will go with Myra-Jean after nap. Is that weird? I don’t think so. They say you should expose kids to everything. Plus, maybe they have toys.
  • Found a “back up” jewelry store to bring ring to if the pawn shop is disappointing and/or creepy and/or filled with criminals fencing flatscreen TV’s.
  • Called Time Warner (for four-thousandth time) to work on resolving mistaken equipment charge that got sent to collections — even though we paid it! — and brought our credit rating down 100 points. Once this is cleared up we can refinance our house and save $60 per month. Which I will need for tranquilizers to cure me of the permanent stress injury my brain has incurred from dealing with another utterly and unforgivably asinine and Kafkaesque utility company.
  • Ironed one shirt, thereby saving $2.25.
  • Ate lunch at home.
  • Photographed ancient Volvo fender Mike has in garage. Will list it on Craigslist. Could be worth a lot, considering its rarity. Could belong in an automotive museum. Could be pawnable…? Could also be used as a planter if all else fails. This will save me a trip to Potted. More money saved.
  • Went to park. It’s free! We do this every day, but I needed to flesh out the list.

Too bad I don’t actually have that Time Warner equipment. I could sell it at the pawnshop while we’re there. Or at least throw it at anyone who looked unsavory.

A Start

A couple of days ago I went to Potted, a store in Atwater  Village I am now obsessed with. I was feeling despair at the enormity of my task, and, although I knew it wouldn’t buy me much, had a hundred dollar housewarming check from my in-laws that I wanted to spend. (They’re from Michigan, where that kind of money will basically buy you a new house.) I purchased the following, for $93.37:

One bag of cactus potting soil

Two large handmade clay pots (at 50% off)

One plastic runner from Mad Mats

With these I did this:

A Promising Entryway

I populated each pot with a clipping from our old home. It seemed fitting, to me, to start the garden with “something old and something new.” I suppose you could argue that there is something borrowed, too, as the agave pup was swiped from a field near our old residence. The Jade clipping came from our old patio — we left the plant itself behind. Because who gives a rat’s ass about jade plants, right?

Jade plant -- lame, but at least I know I can't kill it.

Agave. Or is it? I have no bloody idea.

(By the way, would one of you kind readers please tell me if I’m supposed to capitalize the names of plants? The grammar nazi in me is extremely disgusted at this ambiguity, and I’d rather hear it from you than look it up on line. Thanks.)

Anyway, it ain’t much, but it’s a start. As I walk up the steps and view my simple handiwork I can almost hear the paperwhites muttering “There’s a new sheriff in town. She’s clearly a hack.”

It’s true. There is. And I am. Sigh. As much as I want to be doing anything OTHER than being a fucking yard girl, though, this is what the deities have planned for me right now.

As long as I keep blogging about it maybe I’ll actually keep doing it. One terrace, one stump, one thorny bastard tree at a time.