Ms. Rachow dedicates this column to all my new friends on Facebook and all my old friends in the real world.
Some things in this life take forever. Waiting for that check that’s in the mail. Waiting for your kids to realize you did know a thing or two about life. Waiting for your spouse to say, “Honey, you’re absolutely right. What was I thinking?”
However, there’s nothing that takes as long as waiting for the first little green tomatoes to appear after your plants start blooming. If you’ve never grown tomatoes, and never plan to, keep reading anyway, because I’ll give tips on what to do while you wait for anything.
Tip # 1. While you wait, celebrate somebody’s birthday.
I was lucky enough that my friend Sally’s birthday, complete with chocolate cake and plenty of champagne, arrived on the day of the first tomato blossoms.
While I looked longingly at all the lovely red balloons around the party room, I recalled a certain twenty-first birthday when I thought being legal drinking age meant that I could handle an entire bottle of champagne. No matter what they tell you, hanging one foot over the edge of the bed doesn’t help. You will wait forever for the room to stop spinning.
At home after Sally’s party, I took my flashlight out to the garden to check on the plants. For all I knew, those little tomatoes might be sneaking out at night, like the toys in the nursery. But nada.
Tip # 2. While you wait, ask advice, and, if you’ve been invited to another party, go to it.
Seeking wise counsel, I emailed the tomato expert Jim Alexander. His plants already had lots of little tomatoes. “How long must I wait?”
“Three days,” he replied. “It is written.”
Jeez, I could write a doctoral thesis in the time it was going to take for those tomatoes to appear. That reminded me that my friend Nicole was having her “I Finally Got My PhD” party. Great timing. More celebrating while I waited.
I spent a few pleasant hours at that party. When asked to offer advice on life after a PhD, I told Nicole, “My grandmother always told me if life gives you cucumbers, make pickles.” At least cucumber plants don’t make you wait forever before the baby cukes appear.
Tip #3. While you wait, if you run out of parties to go to, kill more time by joining Facebook.
In the past when someone mentioned Facebook, I’ve always said, “Huh?” Normally I prefer real friends who throw actual parties with great food and conversation. But, suddenly, getting lost on-line seemed like a marvelous idea. I could have endless cyber friends with just a few clicks. So I signed up.
Ah…the wonderful feeling of being 100 percent anesthetized and more where that came from. I followed the very easy instructions (if I could do it, anyone can), and before you knew it, I was a part of the Facebook community. It seemed that everyone I knew was already there, having a grand ol’ party on-line without me.
So I asked someone to be my “friend” and got an instant yes. I asked another and another, and I keep asking, and the replies kept coming in. I checked every few minutes. If I didn’t have more friends yet, I invited others to be my friends. I was the belle of the Facebook ball.
The dogs wanted to go for a walk. “You guys have to wait,” I told them. “I’m checking to see if I have more friends yet.”
“Where are my clean socks?” my husband asked.
“I’ll check on the laundry as soon as I check the messages on my wall.”
Then there were photos to post, groups to join, and things to become a fan of.
After about eleven hours straight, I got poked. Back in the real world, I knew what that meant, but on Facebook I had to ask.
“Just meant I was thinking about you,” my new “friend” Lucy explained.
By then I had 45 new friends, but some of them already had hundreds of friends and I couldn’t rest until I caught up.
Suddenly the room was spinning like I’d had a whole bottle of champagne. I heard a voice somewhere out there in the real world. It sounded like my husband.
“Aren’t you going to water your tomatoes today?”
“Oh my God, I forgot.” I pushed away from my desk and headed outside.
And there it was…the first, little, precious, green tomato.
How long did I wait?
Exactly three days. It is written.
First published in the Montecito Journal June 18, 2009
