A kidnapping of sorts

I’ve never claimed to be terribly good at keeping plants alive.  To be very honest, I’m terribly good at killing them.

Over the past few years I’ve managed to increase the age-expectancy of any brave greenery that finds it’s way into my hands, though I wouldn’t go so far as to say they’re entirely safe with me just yet.

Ok, they’re not at all safe with me.  I’m working on it.

It seems Scott (my dear OCD neighbor) has taken it upon himself to help me in this dire matter, an endeavor I do not envy him for in the slightest.  It is not uncommon for me to find small, very symmetrical notes posted upon my front door, filled with helpful instructions on how to keep my Bougainvillea climbing up the post, warnings that I better water my sweet poppies lest they soon be dead poppies, and how I must eradicate the caterpillars eating the ground clover on my back porch.

And yes, how does he know this is even happening?  I ask myself the same question.

So this morning as I step outside to leave for work, I happen to notice one of the plants from my garden has vanished.

Um, what?

In it’s place sits a lovely little red fern-looking thing (I won’t even pretend to know what it’s called because I don’t have a clue) which now seems to have made itself quite at home in front of my door.

I stare at it for a few moments wondering if I’m going batty or if, perhaps, the former plant has somehow morphed overnight.

Kneeling down to look more closely, I squint at it long and hard. Long enough for a kind passerby to ask if I’m alright, informing me that a watched plant is about as likely to grow as a watched pot is to boil.

I am amused, but too fascinated and confused by my plant-abduction situation to become altogether distracted….. this is definitely a different plant.


Dun dun dun.

Something tells me Scott has something to do with this. I knock on his door, still staring circumspectly at the strange red plant in my garden.  The door opens.

“Yes dear?”

“Um, did you kidnap my plant and replace it with a different one?” 

“Oh yes, so I did! I’m so glad you’re pleased. Don’t you worry about your other one dear, I took it to my nursery for the remainder of the year, it won’t bloom again until spring anyway, so I’ll bring her back to you when she’s ready. I left you this other one to take care of for a while.”

“Ah…well, ah, thanks……much appreciated.”

Sometimes I wonder if Scott is a strange sort of kind-hearted gnome.  It’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

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Mud puddle

I’m sure I could come up with a million and one reasons why I haven’t been around much of late, but instead of boring you with excuses and random information you don’t need or desire, I shall simply say hello and forgo any futile attempts to explain or excuse myself.

There really is no excuse for me.

So hello.  I do hope you’ve been well.

I am writing this at the sole request of my dear Q, a friend who knows me well enough to know that I need to write, even if I have nothing important or even unimportant to say.

I fit into both of those categories rather nicely right now.

She says she misses reading my ‘rambling cheer’, which is a nice thing to say even if it is a blatant lie.

I love you Q.

Lets face it, any words I have at present (when I find them) really aren’t worth reading and certainly aren’t worth contemplating. They sort of look like this:

Or perhaps this is an even more accurate depiction:

Messy. Messy messy messy.  But that what I’ve got today, and it must go somewhere I suppose.  At least that’s what Q says, and she’s usually right.

Darn her.

Tell me my friend, what is with this weather?  I feel like I’m waiting for a monsoon or something. I cannot deny I find it somewhat appealing, rather mysterious and thought-provoking for July, and it makes me remember why I love storms so.  I could do without the Sticky-Hot though.

Sticky-hot is only good when it relates to warm cinnamon rolls on Saturday morning.

Mmmmm.

Though they may seem senseless and stupid on some level, sometimes we just need those little things in life, you know?  Things like cinnamon rolls or asiago cheese bagels, a good joke, or watching your dog do something stupid in the morning just to make you laugh.  When the world becomes a little dreary we find those tiny rays of sunshine to remind us to keep our chin up.  Like today, I pulled out my lucky charms, a little Bruce Springsteen (Surprise, Surprise) and a car freshener that smelled just like vanilla bean ice cream.

Oh, you didn’t think ice cream smelled so good, did you? Well, have you ever tried using your nose first?  I know, it’s so cold it doesn’t seem like you should for some reason. Why is that?

My air conditioner is broken.  While I can’t say I always find this convenient, the advantages are such that I’m beginning to wonder if I ought to ever get it fixed.  You see, when your AC is working properly and you’re trying to decide if you really need to turn it on, it’s likely that at some point or another you’ll decide you’ll die without it.  But, if you have no choice in the matter, you learn to do other things to survive and eventually discover you’re quite ok without it.   There is something freeing about that.

On the other hand, I may be whistling a different tune come August, in which case you may smile and chuckle and say I told you so from your cool air-conditioned home while I stand in front of an open freezer and suck on ice cubes.  I am quite aware I’m probably just being stubbornly optimistic and also just plain stubborn.

And just because it’s sort of ironic, I have to tell you that I often have a floor heater running in the dead of summer in my office because the AC is cranked SO high that I can no longer feel my toes.  I find this both amusing and slightly disturbing on some level.

Wouldn’t mud puddle be a darling name for a coffee shop?

Alright Q, that’s all the nonsense I can subject my poor readers to today.  I’m glad to have put words on a page, even if words are all they are.