Monthly Archives: February 2012
Me? If they are meaningful, I try to fix them or replace them. If they are not, I toss them.
I have/had an ornament of a cruise ship. Can’t remember where I got it or why I have it, so this year when it fell off the tree and the back half of it shattered I was going to trash it.
Here’s what Farmer Ted did with it…
|Hangs it from a lamp like the Titanic going down.|
This is of course in the lair. Sorry for the multiple pictures, but I couldn’t decide which one best conveyed the moment.
It’s the blog’s birthday. What a crazy year.
In GrowDammit News: We haven’t started any sprouts yet. On tap for this weekend are a couple of artichoke and brussel sprout seed starts. And, we’ll pull out Atilla to till up our new garden spot because soon we can sow our lettuces and peas.
We have learned from our mistakes, which isn’t to say we won’t make more. But, we will be blogging them.
We tried to get the Keeper of the Garden to pose cheerfully, or at least menacingly, in celebration…
|Can barely contain his excitement over it all…|
At GrowDammit HQ. I’ll spare you the gory details of the toe incident, and skip to the fact that I have to tape my toenail down to my bruised toe so I can put it into a shoe. And to add insult to injury,
|I have hard boiled egg yolk stuck to my ceiling.|
I was in my bedroom futzing around on the computer with the Dragon snoring on his bed and waiting for Ted to get home from work, when I heard a loud popping noise from downstairs. It sounded like something had fallen and broken, and the Dragon flew down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he started barking and snarling in the general direction of the Family Room…so, I ran and grabbed the Convincer because I was convinced someone was trying to break in through a window and had knocked something over. The Convincer is the axe handle Ted keeps beside the bed, you know, to convince somebody who has broken in that they made a poor choice. Like Hurricane looters. Anyway, the dog gets quiet and all of the sudden more loud noise scared me into locking myself in the bathroom. I knew Ted was on his way home, so I called him 1st. And 2nd, and 3rd until he finally answered. I told him I thought someone *might* be in the house, and the next thing I know he’s in the Kitchen with an axe yelling “What the fuck is this shit?”
|Why Michele is never allowed to boil anything unsupervised again.|
I had put on a pot of eggs, and totally forgotten about them and they exploded. All over the place. There was bits of egg and shell all over the counters, everything on the counters, the cabinets – floor to ceiling – the ceiling, the ceiling fan, the floor halfway across the Kitchen. The house smelled like burned rotten egg farts.
On the plus side, Chef Ted made me Shrimp Etouffee for supper. And it was yummy.
My Aunt Aileen passed away this morning. She wasn’t my aunt by blood. Her husband, my Uncle Jack who is also my Godfather, and my father have been best friends ever since they met in Kindergarden. She didn’t die from liver cancer, rather she was in remission from it. What her body ultimately could not take was all of the aggressive treatments to combat the cancer, and her organs began failing her. As Ted often says, “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the poison from the cure.”
I don’t post this to find a barrage of people being sorry for my loss. And while I am very sad, I’m brokenhearted for my Uncle and I’d rather you hold him in your hearts and prayers. What I am going to do is send him a bouquet of Shasta Daisies. While some might think that sending him a bouquet of my favorite flowers would be silly and a bit selfish because he has wished all condolences and such be sent in the form of donations to the American Cancer Society, I want to hopefully give him what my Aunt once gave me. Strength.
The earliest remembrance I have of death and grief was when my Grandmother Marie passed away. I can’t remember exactly how old she was, or how young I was, but I do remember how terrible it was for me, my family and my Grandfather. I also remember that in the midst of all the condolences and cards and flowers sent to the family, my Aunt sent me a separate, small bouquet of sunny daisies with a note that simply said “A bright spot for a sad time…” That one simple, beautiful gesture has stayed with me all of this time, and I suspect it is why they are my favorite flower.
I don’t know if I ever told my Aunt and Uncle how thoughtful and significant that gesture was, but I am going to print out this blog post and send it to him as well. I think it’s important to be reminded in a time of sadness the beauty the person we mourn brought to the lives of others.