The Great Garlic Experiment

It was a traumatic day in the Ottawacker household.

Arising before the sun to watch your beloved get mugged by an inept and incompetent referee/VAR official is not my idea of fun. When we got donked 7-2 a couple of weeks ago, I could shrug it off. We'd been crap. This time, however, we wuz robbed.

Ottawacker Jr had it particularly hard. Already guessing the mood his father was in, he headed out to where the action was at on this sunny Saturday morning.

For we are leaving the rat race and going off the grid. It is the Good Life for us: Jerry and Margo won't know what has hit them. 

Alright, that might be a slight exaggeration. We've turned over a patch of lawn (one metre by one metre) to try and grow some garlic. We absolutely loved the stuff we bought from Mayo Hill Farms (Renée is a good friend, but I wouldn't promote it if it were shite) - and so decided we'd get our hands full of sheep shit and plant our own. (Translation for those who know me: I would supervise, Mrs Ottawacker would do the work, ably assisted by a still-pouting Ottawacker Jr.)

Well. We even watered it. And if it can survive the miseries of an Ottawa winter, I am sure it will infuse us with life-sustaining properties for years to come.

Still gutted.