Y'all, I just got my first jury duty summons. On the one hand, I'm flattered that the government thinks of me as a competent adult, and on the other hand, I'm rather annoyed. And a bit frightened. But that's beside the point.
Anyway, my grandmother watches a game show called Chain Reaction. You start with a word (say "knee") and there's a few blank spaces, and then another word ("allergies") and you have to link them using other words. You decide to guess which word comes after "knee" and you get the letter H. You guess "high." You're right. Knee high. You keep going to get high water, water fall, fall allergies.
I'm going to do the same thing, but in story form. I'm going to start with the topic of "onions" and end up talking about "power drills accidents."
I live in Texas, and in Texas, you plant onions in January or February--in other words, right about now. I decided to plant onions. Walmart had a bundle of sprouts for three bucks. Then, I decided to look around for a planter to put them in, since Dad's a stickler for landscaping and he doesn't want me to plant stuff in the actual ground.
Planters are expensive, y'all.
After talking with Dad, I finally decided to go to Lowe's and buy a storage bin. Two of them, actually, because you have to space onions pretty far apart. Anyway, Dad ended up paying for the bins. After all, he'll be the one eating the onions I grow, assuming my precious plants survive the ridiculous cold snap we're going through. I think it's about twenty degrees out right now. We're supposed to have a high of ten degrees on Monday. But back to my chain reaction--and this is where the power drill comes in.
The thing about actual planters is that they have holes in the bottom so that excess water can drain out. Storage bins tend not to have these same holes. So Dad got out his power drill (he's got basically every tool imaginable, including a label maker purchased in April of 2000 that he still has the receipt for). And then he places the power drill in my scrawny little hands and says, "Drill through both the containers at once. I'm going inside."
I drilled a hole through my gardening glove. I almost drilled a hole through my own hand, but luckily, I didn't even lose any blood. I did make sure to tell Dad. He shrugged.
"I'm always bleeding," he said, going back to work organizing the garage. "I don't even notice anymore. Paper towels and electrical tape make the best bandage, anyway."
Considering that this man still doesn't trust me with a box knife, I'm a little surprised he was so nonchalant about the whole thing. But I did it. I managed to link onions to power drill accidents in one coherent (true) story.
And now I have to go write a letter for my business writing class. I genuinely wish I could drop this class because the instructor is very disorganized. Fortunately, it's only a seven week class, and we're almost done with Week 5. I can imagine, if not actually see, the light at the end of the tunnel.
Do you have any tips for growing onions or working with power drills? If so, let me know in the comments below! God bless you, dear readers, and don't forget to Like us on Facebook!
M. J. Piazza is a Jesus-loving, dog-walking country girl who just so happens to write books.