The houseplants

July 28, 2009 – 00:44

Now that the edible and showy plants are covered, here’s a quick intro to the others. Meet “ZZ” and “Alias Epilanthus”.

zz

 This one’s ZZ, also known as Zamioculcas zamiifolia, and apparently a very popular plant for city living. It’s gorgeous, jade green and lush, with very thick leaves that somehow also seem feathery. But possibly the best thing about this plant is that is puts up with almost every kind of abuse. No light, low water, it’s got no known pestilence issues, it’s shiny and lovely-looking with pretty much no maintenance.

My front hallway is a little Frank Lloyd Wright in execution: a weirdly dark, long tunnel that then opens into living space that subsequently feels airy and bright. And now to try and brighten up that entryway I’ve stashed ZZ, where there is absolutely no light and no hope and no anything, really. It’s staunchly guarding the timer outlet. We’ll see how it holds up.

mystery plant

 This, on the other hand, is Alias Epilanthus. It’s high-light, high-maintenance and very likely going to die on me, and if I were a wise woman I’d've put it back on the shelf and moved on to something less killable, but dammit it’s pretty. It reminds me of snakes and Medusa, and once I finish my massive potting endeavor I’ll be putting it on my table where it can soak up all the light it wants.

It’s got weirdly twisty, corkscrew stems and acid-wash leaves, and I had every intention of coming home and reading up on its care, but when I Googled the name on the side of the pot (”EPILANTHUS”) I came up with absolutely nothing. So that’s pretty confusing. If anyone knows what the name of the plant is, or even what the hell Epilanthus might indicate, I’d be appreciative. Either way I’ll email the nursery and update.
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Broke in the ‘Boken

July 26, 2009 – 19:23
herb box
front sill
fire escape

“What’s that restaurant like?”

“How about that place, is it good for brunch?”

“Maybe we should go there for drinks, have you been there?”

The answer is no, people.  No, no, emphatically no.  Not because I don’t like going out — I do, very much.  But we’re at the moths-flying-out-of-wallet stage when looking at an entertainment budget, and so all answers are going to be along those lines.  If it costs money, I don’t know anything about it.

I started more optimistically.  When my contract ended last year, I thought The Hobo Kitchen would be a cute little way to figure out how to cook economically.  But as time’s gone on, it’s morphed from a kitschy concept to a genuine way to keep myself solvent and fed.  And that’s why anyone reading this is going to be subjected to a whole new level of “why is she so weird?”.

Namely, I have started a pretty industrious go at container gardening.

The available space: three sunny windowsills, one shaded windowsill, and a fire escape with a pressed metal sign on it where the words “$10 fine for obstruction” are barely legible under layers of weatherproof paint.  I believe this sign to be approximately 100 years old, but will be taking that posted fine as gospel if anyone comes knocking at the door.

Vegetables beans, carrots, lettuce mix
Herbs oregano, chives, parsley, basil, lemon basil, thyme, sage, mint, rosemary
Flowers black-eyed susans

susansThe garden’s prospects: dubious, at best

But here’s the thing.  Anyone who’s been jobhunting for more than a few months knows that it can develop into a soul-sucking, monotonous slog.  You wake up every day, you drink your coffee, you check your inbox, you search sites all day while worrying about bills and deadlines and timelines and rent, and then you go to bed.  When you’re in a 600 sq foot apartment, that can do funky things to your mental health.

So when I bought a $1 black eyed susan kit at a discount store, I didn’t really anticipate how bloody cheering it is to actually have SOMETHING in your life progressing on a daily, visible basis.  Also, it is a lot cheaper than therapy or alcohol.

You’ve been warned, here we go.  Part container gardening odyssey, part the stuff I manage to cook that doesn’t break the damn bank.  Bon appetit.

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