About Limes, Turquoise Tables, and Tomato Plants

Some days, I just want to write a note to you. This is one of those days, apparently.

Let’s Talk About Limes

I feel a strange need to tell you about why I use limes instead of antiperspirant.

Yes, you read that correctly–I use limes. As in the citrus fruit. Why, you ask? How, you ask? Let me explain. I am all about sharing good things.

A number of years ago, I was at Whole Foods in Chicago looking for a natural antiperspirant. There were none to be had (I realize Pit Paste has been invented since then, but bear with me here). I had tried a number of all-natural deodorants, but none of them helped with wetness–and I greatly dislike wet armpits. I asked a salesgirl for help, and she turned out to be the right salesgirl. She imparted a wonderful secret to me: limes make great natural antiperspirant.

It turned out she’d been a missionary in the South American jungle, where there was no antiperspirant to be had, and she somehow learned that limes are a natural deodorant and antiperspirant because they apparently balance your pH. Who knew?

Here’s how it works: you buy a lime, slice off the very end, rub the exposed juicy flesh onto your freshly washed armpit area, then stick the lime in a baggie and put it in the fridge. The cut end will sort of dry up overnight. The next day you just cut off a fresh, thin slice, exposing the juicy flesh again, and repeat the process. One lime lasts about a week.

Note: you may notice that your body goes through a sort of detox period after the first day or two, and you smell a little worse for a few days, but once that passes, you will likely find you sweat much less and don’t stink unless you’ve just worked out. It’s pretty remarkable. I have frequently wondered why more people don’t have this handy info.

Let’s Talk About Turquoise Tables

Have you heard about the #frontyardpeople #turquoisetable movement? It first got my attention about a year ago, when I was pregnant and just beginning to understand that I was in for the hottest summer of my life. I honestly didn’t feel up to extending hospitality to anyone, much less strangers. I was still reeling from our relocation, still adjusting to a new subculture, still in survival mode. But over time, the yen for my own turquoise table has grown. So this weekend, we bought a table at Lowe’s. I’m not painting mine Nifty Turquoise, though. I’m painting it Blue Bicycle. (I’m just more of a blue turquoise person than a green turquoise person–and believe me, there is a shade of turquoise available for everyone).

Now, I admit I am not going to put my turquoise table in the front yard. That would be a bit overboard for my introverted gang. But considering the fact that we are socially challenged here in Memphis because I work from home and we don’t get out a whole lot as a result, I’m considering our turquoise table inspiration to extend hospitality beyond what we’ve done so far in Tennessee. Cookouts are coming, folks. Clean Out the Fridge parties. Pool parties. S’mores parties this fall. (That reminds me–we need a fire pit.)

We ate our inaugural al fresco meal at the new table on the patio last night, even though it isn’t painted yet. Sanding and painting will be next weekend’s project. Twinkle lights will come after that.

Let’s Talk About Tomato Plants

Confession: There is a gardener in me that wants out. The problems? Lack of time, space, and know-how. I have a hard time investing tons of effort in a garden when we’re renting and when there are CSAs and farmers markets around. But I secretly read the occasional gardening/homesteading book and hope the day will come when I’ll find myself putting raised beds in my own backyard, planting perennials and herbs and a few vegetables. Oh, and some fruit trees too.

This year, though, it occurred to me that it might be good for L to understand that things grow and produce in actuality rather than just in theory. So when I was at Lowe’s buying my picnic table, I bought a cherry tomato plant, some potting soil, and a sizeable pot–so, you know, the tomato can grow and thrive without me having to dig up any part of the yard. I brought it home, L and I potted it, and now she is anxiously counting down the supposed 65 days it will take for the thing to product little tomatoes, which I’m sure will never make it into the kitchen because she will eat them as fast as she can pick them. She waters her tomato with her little watering can every evening now.

Growing things is good, y’all. It’s life-giving to get your hands in the dirt. And it’s good for kiddos to know that growing things takes effort and patience. That their food doesn’t just magically appear in the fridge, on the shelf of a store, or at a farmers market stand. I like to show L that the world is bigger and smaller than us, and I need to remember it as well.