Cross-pollination and such

I was at a birthday party for a 6-year-old.  (Ah, the countless stories that have so begun.)  Direct sunlight and the steam bath of humidity beckoned me to take shelter on the covered porch.   It was there I struck up a conversation with the guest of honor's mom.

We began to discuss our children's separate schools.  (What?  They're just different.  But equal!  I promise.  We've almost completely eliminated blatant segregation in Alabama...  Now it's more understated.)

Another mom sitting on the porch chimed in about her daughter.  Now I only knew one other kid at this party, a girl named Morgan.  She's been over to the house a few times and I've spoken with her mother here and there.  And I thought -- emphasis on thought -- that this newcomer to the conversation was Morgan's mom.  So this is what I said to her:

"Does your daughter go to their school, as well?"
"Yes."
"Man, we sure do miss her."

Now, it is here that she should have said something to the effect of, "She misses Luke and Harper, too" or "I know, we'll have to get them together sometime soon."

Instead, she did not respond verbally at all, but rather a look.  Half uncertainty/confusion, and half stay-far-far-away-from-my-daughter-you-weirdo-freak.  OK, maybe two-thirds the latter.  Then for some reason, she began looking around as if she were frantically trying to locate her daughter and make sure she was safe.

Flipping curse word!  This is not Morgan's mom.

So right on cue, I casually meandered off the porch.  Checked my watch.  Oh good, just ninety more minutes of awkwardness.  So I spent the rest of the party fanning my arm pits and trying to avoid this stranger, who thinks some possible child abductor misses her young daughter, who he's never met.

And this is why I never socialize.

The remainder of the weekend was much less awkward.  I got the garden planted on Saturday with a little help from the kids.  We are trying tomatoes, yellow squash, lettuce, cucumbers, okra, and a couple of different peppers this year.

Then came the hard part--the cat-proofing.  Now I don't know for certain, but I would be willing to bet that anytime I have planted a garden in her lifetime, Sunshine thinks I have created the world's largest litter box, all for her.

Why do I think this?  Because upon first seeing the freshly planted bed each year, she proceeds to immediately treat it as such.  Pretty sure this had something to do with our poor okra production last year and why the carrots never came up.

Anyway I've got some fencing around it, which she can completely jump over, by the way, as I found out last year.  So I've covered it completely with some netting that I have staked into the ground.  

If you have any tips for something I can put out to keep cats out of a garden, without harming the cat, my produce would appreciate it.  (I'm looking at you, Ed and Sage. Aka: my two readers.)

And if you encounter a dad at a kid's birthday party who says something awkward about your child, I mean, it could be a predator.  But more likely, it's just a dad, who doesn't really pay attention to much, doesn't even want to be there in the first place, and is making an extraordinarily minimal effort to converse.

So relax.  Your daughter's fine.  I was just talking to her, right over there.

The real Morgan's mom did come over later and introduce herself.  As she approached I noted to myself how she really did not look much like the other lady at all.

"Hey, I'm Morgan's mom."

I reach up to offer a handshake.

"Of course! I remember you."