In my garden. And there is another on the way. I am also nursing along a single bell pepper, which is looking good but growing slowly. The tomatoes have been given up for dead; after the plant repeatedly struggled to grow any larger from the day I purchased it, it finally decided this whole corner-of-the-garden-bed thing was not working out and gave up the ghost. I generously watered and fertilized it, and there was no indication of insects or disease, so I can only conclude that the soil in my garden bed is death on tomatoes and plow in some peat moss for next year.
Tonight I did the shopping and cooking for dinner, and conquered fish. Spicy cornmeal breaded cod with a tortellini and broccoli salad in balsamic vinaigrette. The 500 degree oven was tough to endure in 90 degree weather, but since the fish only had to bake for 12 minutes, I toughed it out. It was worth it. Even my super picky eldest son gobbled down two pieces, although the salad was a pass after the shock of the vinegar. Odd that he can eat a whole bag of salt and vinegar chips and make his mouth numb, but the sweeter taste of balsamic made his face pucker up like a prune.
It's a small thing, but I love cooking and making good food, and growing food in my garden. I have done this. I have fed my family. I can.
This helps ease the upset of still not having a job after four months looking, pursuing, and interviewing. I can do anything I need to with skill and confidence.
And if I'm still in my house next spring, I WILL be growing tomatoes.
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