Feed me, Seymour

Zucchini grows in the night. Or, to bastardize/paraphrase a John Lennon quote (may the man rest in peace), "Zucchini is what happens when you're busy doing other things."

I planted 5 seeds--one each--in those little net-wrapped peat plugs a few months back; all of them sprouted, but I selected the 3 hardiest plants to transfer to the ground. I've never grown zucchini before; pumpkins, yes. Once, as a kid, as a sort of summertime experiment. You know the story--stick a few seeds in the ground, water once in a while, long-assed vines begin to travel hither & yon, and--bam! A few big pumpkins, just in time for Halloween carving.

So that, really, was the extent of my veggie-growing experience. This year, however, my roommate expressed that he wanted to start a garden, so we did. I requested zucchini.

I was warned.

Run, is what they all said. Very fast. And far.

I scoffed. Good Lord, it's a plant, after all. How much damage can zucchini do? Besides, I adore zucchini. I eat it every summer until I truly cannot stand the thought of ingesting even ONE MORE freakin' squash. Until the next year rolls around, at which point the addictive cycle renews itself.

So. We currently have 3 enormous Audrey II-like zucchini plants securely rooted in their patch of organic soil, soaking up the full sun and every ounce of water they get. Each time I go 'round back to check them, they've produced more. Now, I make every attempt to extract the zucchini when it's still small and innocent and pluckable and artily-fartily teeny-weeny-gourmet and easy to cope with, but regrettably, I've neglected this for a few days and just this afternoon, was met with some seriously overlooked Monster Zucchinis that more or less resemble the Hindenburg.

They are not zucchinis, they are naturally-occurring dirigibles. Yes, I know. I was warned.

And I laughed at them all. They're zucchini, I said. Surely, you jest.

Ah, but no.

Clippers poised, I went in.

I wrestled the thick, viney stalks and clipped them off, all of those two-days-neglected monstrosities, and brought them in. They're draining now, rinsed, in the sink; I just sauteed a few, chopped, with a little olive oil, salt, pepper & garlic and had it for dinner. But I barely made a dent in this latest harvest.

So right now, I'm on the sofa, recovering. And, when I recover enough energy to do so, I'm gonna hunt down a recipe for zucchini bread.

Feed me, Seymour
Feed me all night long
'Cause if you feed me, Seymour
I can grow up big and strong...

So close, I can almost touch it.....

Time to post. Time to let y'all know what's been going on with this chick.

Time to reveal the Semi-Big Plan I have for a second blog. To wit:

I'm very nearly--nearly--finished with my Life Coach training. Next Sunday, August 10th, is the last day. And my cohort is gonna par-tay. And drink wine and reminisce and try not to worry about Next Steps, of which--speaking for myself--there will be many. Like a business name. And an eventual business niche, though I'm not especially concerned with that at the moment (I think it'll evolve organically, depending on who I coach and what they bring to me to explore). And marketing tactics, and more articles to write and books to read and groups to attend and deadlines for this and that and an occasional conference or two, now and again. Or maybe more often than that. Depending.

And part of me feels like I'm being pulled along for one hell of a wild fantastic remarkable meaningful life-changing door-opening ride, and I'm hanging on by my fingernails, but I'm enjoying the hell out of it. In fact, my life is nothing like it was a year ago. I cannot emphasize
that enough--nothing. And I love it. Not because my life before--in Minneapolis--was so horrid, because it wasn't. It meant a lot to me to be there, to discover what I discovered about myself and my dormant-and-then-reawakened abilities. But I was just constantly aware as I was living it that it wasn't what I wanted until I died, to be blunt. I didn't want to stay there for the rest of my life, get married there, buy a house there...put down roots there. I did what I needed to do there, and then I was done. And I moved myself back here, back to Portland, and revved up my life in a whole different way, in a way I never could've been ready for previously. And now I am.

And I must be sending that Readiness Vibe out into the universe, because some good shit is bouncing back to me and the thing is, I'm noticing it. And appreciating it. And savoring it and just letting it glow on me, and in me, and around me, cause it feels so wickedly awesome. It sounds like I'm in love....and I guess I am, with what it is I'm doing. It's the coaching thang: there are very few as meaningful ways to spend my waking hours than by facilitating someone else's innate ability to find their Own Best Answers. It's just so cool to be part of that.

And that's the locus of my Semi-Big Plan: I'm gonna start a dedicated Life Coaching blog. The Hen House will continue to be a reflection of my irreverent, stream-of-consciousness day-to-day ruminations, as it has right along (like, what is UP with all these emerging X-Files? The "Montauk Monster?" Flesh-eating dudes hacking heads off on bus rides across Canada? Monkey-faced pigs? The mind boggles. But I digress.....) and that one will be about my own process as a Life Coach.

My own process. That's important to point out, because the work I do with my clients is confidential. But my own impressions of my own Life Coach journey is something I'm willing to share.....and so I will.

But first, I gotta finish. And next time I post--here, or there--I'll have "CPC" after my name.

Certified Professional (Life) Coach.

Sounds nice, don't it?