You know, just the other day I was saying to myself, “Self, perhaps the reason your garden is dying isn’t the unrelenting 95+ degree temperatures we’ve been having. Perhaps it’s because you don’t talk to your plants often enough.”
So, during the 5 brief pre-dawn minutes when the temperatures actually dipped below 90 degrees, I stood in my PJs watering my garden and telling my plants how lovely they were, how yummy were their vegetables, how I simply adore the way they look on the counter sitting next to the bag of potato chips that’s infinitely more convenient to eat.
Turns out, I needn’t have wasted the time — nor alarmed my neighbors — by talking to my vegetable garden. I should have been talking to my fat cells instead.
Chubby Mommy 
