We’ll get to the title shortly, But first: (I tried 16 times to get it to print the Russian first, ‘Туннель любви’ followed by “Tunnel of Love/Lubia” before giving up. A Xanga bug?
Note: It may be time in the rotation to publish an actual factual post. (The previous TMI saga was fiction, except for me riding out the ongoing nuclear crisis at home down-wind and down-stream. Sorry, nothing gross happened in fact. I was simply re-asserting ownership of the acronym TMI for its rightful owners by writing a purposely icky story.
My pattern, without willing it so, seems to be Parody, Spoof, Fabrication, Fake expose, and then Truth, sorta. I do apologize to readers who are never sure what’s real and what’s whole-cloth here. It’s become a sort of inside joke. Humorous, maybe, but a dis-service to trusting first-time readers.
Still, the pleasure of reading a confabulation and knowing it is such is itself a small gift I enjoy giving. Especially since I can’t write much about my job, (and I can’t even tell you why not,) Ok, on
with the Lubia Truth.
Lubia is a long string-bean, associated, here in Israel at least, with Iraqis. Eaten year round but especially on Rosh Hashanah. When the price goes way up. Yippie, I’ll be rich!
Maybe. Planting it for the first time, and in near-commercial quantity, I carefully Googled the
damn weed’s name, all the better to avoid mistakes.No luck. ‘Google Images’ returns mostly pix of Russian whores. Why? I suspected a virus, until it dawned on me that the Russian root word for ‘Love’ is… Lubya.
And try entering ‘Lubia growing’ instead and you get ‘Little Lubia is growing up fast; click here to see her tits.’ I passed on that.
Now Lubia, in a perfect world, wants to spread out flat on the ground in about 12 directions, with runners that get to 16 feet within a couple weeks. Hmm… I planted it a foot spacing, 3 feet between rows. Naive twas I. I had an impossible jungle already after two weeks.
Sooo… after nights of tormented doom-scenaria, I consulted with locals who grew the stuff, and got a variety of battle plans, each of which I am trying separately. The one I most like is pictured here, my Tunnel of Love ” (Russian: Туннель любви“. The plants are supposed to crawl up over the trellis, across its ‘ceiling’, and then down the other side, where they can fight with the Lubias coming in the opposite direction. I love a good vegetable war. Serves ’em right. Only problem so far is that my hands are aching from constantly tying the vines to strings. Must be my Arthuritus, or maybe corporal-tunnel syndrome.
Yes, of course I have a back-up plan; glad you asked. I can rent out the acreage for Russian
weddings. They’ll enter one end single and emerge married at the far exit. Magic. Anything for a buck.