A Very Odd Thing

A Bloomin' Puzzle

I have a Christmas Cactus.  There is nothing unusual in this as many people own the same type of plant. It began life as a tiny single shoot intended as a gift, but never given out. Instead, it sat on a living room end table for several seasons before it decided to flower. As the name implies, it is supposed to bloom around the Christmas season, and mine did just that for the past two years.  The rest of the time, it remained a simple green flat leaf plant sitting in the sun hoping for an occasional drop of water or two to keep it going.

Well, last year mine chose Thanksgiving to burst forth with blooms of vibrant magenta – lots of them.  I figured that for some weird reason, the plant had simply gotten out of synch with reality and was trying desperately to survive as best it could given my track record with greenery (not good). So it came as somewhat of a surprise that it bloomed again at Christmas, just as fully and vibrantly as it had before.  But apparently the plant wasn’t finished yet, because just a few days ago, I noticed blooms on it again, right in time for Easter.  My Christmas Cactus is, it seems, is turning into a holiday cactus.

I’m really not sure why.  For several years, it has sat in the same spot on the same table by the same window and been given the same lack of care and inattention as always, and yet it has bloomed on all the major holidays so far.  Maybe this is its cry for help; maybe it is starved for affection and a really good fertilizer.  But that puts me in a real predicament – do I go on doing what I have been doing and let it bloom to death crying for some ignored need, or do I pamper it more and perhaps never see another blossom?

I’m going to have to think about that one.  In the meantime, I’ll just enjoy the show and wait for the next major holiday to see what happens.  I wonder what it will do on Memorial Day, or should I expect something for Mother’s Day?  (I do expect something – though not necessarily from a plant…)

A Little of This, a Smattering of That

Life lately has been rather uncomplicated and boring with only an occasional moment of interest.  And so I have pondered the meaning of events, small events, tiny ones, minutiae even, and of course I just have to share them with you...

Does my neighbor across the street own any long pants?  Ever since he and his family moved in two years ago, I have never seen him in anything other than shorts.  He even wears them in the dead of winter while snow-blowing his driveway with temperatures in the low 20's.  I've been tempted to ask about this, but I'm afraid of the answer.

While driving to South Bend, Indiana to visit my daughter, last weekend we counted 44 hawks along the way - 31 driving west and 13 heading east on the way home.  Why do hawks like one side of the Indiana Turnpike better than the other? It's not like the scenery changes any, it's long flat field after field after field the entire drive.

Why is my dog so picky about where she does her "business"?  We go for a walk every morning and every morning it's the same routine: sniff, circle, squat, change her mind, sniff some more, squat, more mind changing, walk a few feet, sniff, listen to me holler "Come on, already!", squat and voila!  Success!  I mean, geez, isn't one freakin' spot in acres upon acres of grass just like any other?  But then again, I'm not a dog.

Why is DragonQuest VIII - Journey of the Cursed King the most addicting game I've ever played? I'm no Sony PlayStation or X-Box fanatic, but put a controller in my hands with a Dragon Quest game playing, and the rest of the world will have to go on without me for a while.  How bad is it?  Well, my husband will ask if there is any clean underwear to be found, and I'll point him in the direction of the washing machine.  He knows better than to ask about dinner.

We have a small dry erase board on our refrigerator door that we use as a message station for those communication necessities in our lives, and, it may be just me, but have you noticed that with the dry erase markers, only the black marker retains a crisp, sharp point?  Seriously, green, red, blue, they all fade out in color, and the marker tip spreads out with use - but not the black one!  I don't care which brand I buy, they all behave the same.

Yeah, I know, I have way too much time on my hands...

Tuesday

Tuesday morning began with the funeral of a friend; a wonderful man who would have turned sixty-three today.  It was a very aggressive form of liver cancer that took him;diagnosed in September, he was given two to three months to live-he got five.

He was a gentle, kind unassuming man who held a PhD in Mechanical Engineering, worked many years for NASA, and received numerous awards for his efforts, yet you would never know that from knowing him.  He was generous to a fault, always there to lend a hand, offer support, or,with his sparkling dry wit, offer comic relief when necessary.

Several years after his first wife died, he married another friend of mine in 2004, and they had just celebrated their second anniversary.  It was her first marriage, and she truly waited for the love of her life.  His grown children readily welcomed her into the family and took comfort in knowing that their father was well loved and cared for through the end. That's a great comfort when distance separates families.  It's also a great testament to love.

He was a man of great faith, as is his wife, and his funeral was one of the most joy-filled and faith-filled celebrations I have ever witnessed.  I know that sounds odd when speaking of death, but there was such an air of hopefulness, a feeling of peace, and an abundance of love that was shared by all.  There were three priests, two deacons and one bishop on the altar during Mass, and all of them his friends. 

There must have been over 200 people in attendance, and I would not have wanted to be in a car waiting at one of the intersections for the funeral procession to pass.  There must have been at least fifty cars in the line-perhaps more, and I'm sure that many people waiting were scratching their heads and wondering who died.

I can tell them.

A friend.

Rest in peace, Larry

A Bum Heart?

Just something to think about this Valentine's Day...

It's A Miracle

I spent the first part of Super Bowl Sunday at the Cleveland Home and Garden Show - which, incidentally, I found out is the largest show of it’s kind in the country – walking up and down the aisles listening to pitchmen (yes, and “pitchwomen” which sounds about as stupid as “pitchperson” for those among you who are PC) expounding the glories of their wares.  And they were pitching everything from live plants to revolutionary concepts in flooring to New Age magnetic clasp jewelry with curative and restorative powers.

But what I noticed the most about these items and the people behind the counters was that a lot of them promised to deliver one thing – a miracle!   

Now I’m from an old-school Catholic background, and I tend to associate miracles with God, the saints, heavenly music and glorious bursts of sunlight rather than sponge mops and sub-flooring.  But according to today’s ad-men (women, people – I’m really tired of all that crap) miracles are rather common and mundane things.

Now, to be fair, only one or two of the items I saw had the word “miracle” in their name, but that didn’t stop the sales reps from pulling it out a time or two while describing their products.  “Works like a miracle”…”It’s a miracle how it does that”…”New miracle ingredient”…”Miracle of modern technology”…well, you get the picture.

There are miracle creams for dry hands, miracle compounds for basement floors that make you feel like you’re walking on a cloud and not cold hard concrete, miracle jewelry cleaner – even safe for pearls (guys, go ask a girl about this, she’ll know what it means), miracle pet stain remover, miracle mulch – yes, mulch – that doesn’t fade from prolonged exposure to the sun, miracle glue - several of those, in fact – and miracle mops that get even crayon marks off the floor with water alone, and so on and so forth.

Now, I don’t worry about crayon marks on my floor the way I used to, but the mop intrigued me, as did the miracle dusting cloth and free replacement mop head that came with purchase, and purchase I did.

Now the only miracle will be if I ever use it. I won’t have to report back to let you know if it works though, for if you ever hear heavenly music and see a glorious burst of light, you’ll know.

Could You Be A Little More Specific?

Statement from a member of the State Highway Patrol reporting from the scene of an accident as broadcast on the morning news:   "The cars passed each other simultaneously at the same time."

Those Smokies are sticklers for details.

Burning a Hole In My Pocket

There's an old adage that likens having money to spend with a burning hole in ones pocket. Well, the thing that burns a hole in my pocket faster than anything is a Border's 20% off coupon.  I get my hands on one of those suckers, usually from the e-mail mailing list, and I feel compelled to go out and save money - twenty-percent to be exact.   The question is, just exactly how much iwill that  be?

A-choo

Things I've noticed while suffering with a cold.

- I pay more attention to my breathing.  It seems that the more congested I become, the more I count on being able to take that next breath.

` No matter what nighttime medicine I take, It always seems to wear off at four o'clock AM.

- Chicken soup really does make you feel better.

- I cannot master the fine art of sneezing quietly.

- The parrot has learned to imitate my sneezing, and does it every time I enter the room.  (He's not quiet, either).

- I have consumed so much Earl Grey tea that I can detect a slight British accent to my speech.

- Equal parts lemon juice, honey and vodka is my favorite cough medicine.

- Toilet paper does not make a good substitute for Kleenex.

I Know That...

Well, here it is, January 6,2006 and the two or three of you (is it really that many?) who read this blog may have noticed that this is the first post of the year - the first post in a long time, for that matter.  There is a reason for this - I just can't think of anything witty or urbane to say.

  My life is rather routine and ordinary, and I can't believe that it would be of any interest to you.  It's barely of interest to me.  Anyway, I was bemoaning that fact to my son, and he advised me to write about things that I know.  So here goes.  I'm not sure if this is what he meant, but I'll try anyway.

Next Year

Note to self:

Next year for Christmas, make reservations for a ten day stay at a resort hotel somewhere in Tahiti.

Don't tell family where.