Foot Soldier for Graminoids

Allowing my eyes to slowly focus upward, I observed a sturdy green stem rising up from the soil. At its peak it firmly supported an oversized white puff, a magnificent geometric structure comprised of countless soft protrusions anchored to a central head, fanning out in all directions to create a sphere of evenly-spaced silver eyelashes.

My own eyelashes blinked, and I dismissed the romanticism. My gloved hand reached forward, dug at the soil around the base of the dandelion, and yanked the weed, roots and all, from its spot in the lawn. I tossed the uprooted plant into a paper bag and continued weeding.

It was vital that the infestation be removed before it could reproduce and overtake the lawn. It was my job, as resident human of the property, to ensure the survival of the grass species and the demise of most others. "Weeds," we called them: plants guilty of crimes against nature, such as overproduction, use of soil minerals, and thievery of sunlight.

Because the French Guy Had Frozen Pizza

This is a blog.

It's summer now, and, having no other time-intensive commitments, I actually have time to write a blog. So here goes. I've never done this before.

I was wondering a bit about what to title it, and eventually I came up with "Frozen Pizza." It was fitting; my blog, like slices of leftover pizza, carefully wrapped in Aluminum Foil and placed at the bottom of some hidden freezer which is neither organized nor cleaned out often enough for anyone to find the pizza again for many months, would consist of delicious, mouth-watering slices of interest and (I had hoped) clever writing, which, although temporarily frozen, could be unwrapped, placed into a microwave, allowed to spin around on the auto-defrost setting for a minute and a half, and, upon completion of being doused with hopefully-harmless radiation, be consumed, enjoyed, and appreciated. In other words, I would save my thoughts here and revisit them later. Note to self: avoid run-on sentences.