Lettuce? no thanks

Not cool.
In late spring I planted lettuce in a small windowbox. Within days, little, delicate green sprouts emerged from the soil. A few more days went by, the growth continued, and I woke to find my porch strewn with dirt. Someone—or something—had decided to dig around in my lettuce windowbox, but not actually do anything to the lettuce plants. Just dig in the dirt and throw it all over the place. The lettuce was still OK. Another week went by and the plants continued to grow, truly beginning to look like lettuce. Visions of wonderful salads danced in my head.

Not for long though. I woke up one morning and once again, something had decided to dig around in my lettuce box. This time digging up the lettuce plants. Whatever it was didn’t eat or even nibble the plants. Instead the plants were in their entirety—roots and all—lying lamely on the cement amidst dirt.

One morning, sitting at my kitchen table drinking coffee, I saw the culprit. A squirrel. “Why, you little...” I jumped up and ran out the front door, yelling at the thing like it was a two-year-old. “What do you think you’re doing? No! Keep your hands off!” I did feel a little better knowing what was eating my future salads. A squirrel. Not a rabbit and not my neighbor.

So, I planted some more lettuce seeds and moved the windowbox. Put it up on the deck. Up on a chair...It hasn’t worked. I got home last night and my second batch of lettuce was all over my patio. Roots, lettuce leaves and all. Dirt everywhere. So, the worst part is that the thing isn’t even enjoying my lettuce. I mean, at least eat it if you’re going to ruin it! Need some salad dressing?!

I was recently talking to a married friend and relating a “funny” dating story. Don’t you love how all sucky dating stories somehow turn “funny.” Some take a little longer to turn funny, but... She was saying that she didn’t envy me—dating does not sound fun. And no, it’s really not, at least in my opinion. I’d like to find someone without the hassle of going through other someones. But I chuckled to myself as I swept up my lettuce and dirt last night. It’s like dating! You start seeing someone. As the squirrel, you dig around, getting to know the person, asking them questions, finding things out. You go out again, dig a little deeper. But then something happens, externally or internally, big or small, and it can’t go any further. So the squirrel’s just gotta pull the whole thing out, sometimes roots and all. One person leaves the other person lying lamely on the cement with bits and pieces of conversations and dates and songs strewn about. One person just decides that they want a different kind of lettuce.

And I know the squirrel isn’t out to get me personally, but it doesn’t matter. I’m still mad at the thing! No salads for me! An eensy-teensy bit of me takes it personally, especially because it’s not even enjoying the actual lettuce! In dating, sometimes I’m the squirrel, sometimes I’m the lettuce. And I don’t want to be the squirrel or the damn lettuce!

Good thing though. The squirrel hasn’t touched my zucchini or green peppers or basil. There’s hope, my single friends! I will have wonderful grilled zucchini, nummy green peppers in my salad (made with store-bought lettuce), and some amazing homemade pesto.