This is the Life That Is

The Wicked, Creepy Plant Must Die!

Some time ago, my boss brought a plant to work called a "Mother of Millions".  Perhaps you've seen one.  It bears "babies" on the edges of its jagged, succulent leaves, which fall off and start new plants.  Cute, as babies.  As adults, creepy as hell.  This week, I noticed that the darned things had grown to about 3' tall, had snaked in between the wire mesh shelves, and were leaving their spawn
in my other plants' pots.  Suddenly occurred to me that I didn't have to live with this...plants were not necessarily a LIFETIME COMMITMENT.  So I took a knife and cut them out of the shelves, hacked them up further out of spite and simmering loathing (and Amy, I suggest that you do the same, while you still can).  Note the aerial roots on
stem of this monster.  These plants are built to propagate.  I'm almost afraid to try and compost them.  Think KUDZU...

In Other News...got 6 inches of rain last Thursday night.  My garden is a rice paddy, the gourd vines have seriously grown at least 2 feet.  And why
is it that the squash you don't know what to do with, or can't identify, always seem too grow the
fastest?

Honey the Dog has a torn cruciate ligament in her right hind knee.  She is 11 years old and I'm not sure that her slightly decreased running speed is worth $1500 for surgery, or that she'd tolerate the "decreased activity level" to recover.

Larry the Bird has discovered the cursor on my
laptop screen, but to his credit, quickly grew bored trying to catch it.  He's
also learned to say "hello" when the phone rings.

Read about this guy in the Washington Post the other day.  Sad and desperate, but hopeful and has  a plan, anyway.

I decided that Chamele gets far too little exposure on my blog, so here she is, mid-cricket.

Last night I threw the house into darkness while installing ceramic tile in the kitchen.  Seems I nudged a light switch against its metal housing.  Luckily there is a PhD with multiple security clearances and a multi-meter in the house...

And a lawn mower in the garage.  So I'd best get busy.  I thought there was something interesting to report here, but darned if I can think of it...

Larry's Excellent Adventure Pt. 2

Today marks only a week since we took off from home--no--it must be two weeks--?

Larry finally got to fly, all the way to the Horace Somebody Airport in Chapel Hill!  What a neat little airport, with tiny airport charm.  And, just like where I work, it is continually threatened with closure.  Unlike where I work, there was no prom, no limos, just a $50/day KIA tiny little no-power-anything rental car.

Which is where a couple of people who have no reason to be as nice to us as they have been come in, AGAIN.  This time, in addition to the letting us stay in their home, while we talked with people about building a house, they let us borrow their character-abundant automobile.

And around about this time, Mz. Smlph informed me that she is having major dental work done via "Sedition Dentistry"in nearby Raleigh a few days after we had planned to return home.

And then our unexplainedly good friends offered to not only put her up, too, but to drive her to/from the dentist, since she is "not to be trusted", let alone drive, for 24 hours after the sedition.

Which is when I suddenly woke up and thought, wait a minute!  I should be doing this stuff!  After all, I AM Mz. Smlph' mama.

But MEANWHILE. Last Sunday we saw a poster for a theremin contest, to be held that night in campus town, at a place called "The Cave".  I will suffice by saying that it was without much doubt the weirdest way I have ever spent an evening.  Jason, the owner/founder of Thereminworld.com
was there, along with the emcee, an interesting man named "Hoppy", and a small coven of thereminists.  If you don't know what a theremin is, look it up, or be happy knowing that it is an electronic instrument that is played without physical contact and makes very strange, creepy noises.

I have chalked that experience up as one of those "this will become part of who I am" things.  I am so happy that we went, even if the place reeked of smoke.

Then there was the job interview that I arrived at frantic and sweaty, wearing pretty unprofessional clothes, with Larry in the back seat of the '85 Volvo...

And then the trip to Roc*ky Mou*nt, in the poor ol' Volvo, to join Mz. Smlph in her Habitat for Humanity effort.  Another character builder, when the wiper blade detatched itself in the driving rain and rode
back and forth for miles sideways on the windshield.  Arrived safe and sound, tho, and Larry got to meet Mz. Smlph's roommate,
TGRE.

The H for H experience was everything Ka*tie had said it would be, really nice father-figure southern guys AND the opportunity to learn how to hang vinyl siding.

I don't generally have premonitions, but I had a bad one about the car as I started it for the drive back to Raleigh and Chapel
The Triangle.  Windows down, not too hot, I turned around and noticed that Larry's feathers were being strongly ruffeled in the breeze.  Had also noticed that the windshield wipers, AND the radio, didn't work at all.

Pulled over at a "Kangaroo" Station (yup, that is really a place) in Nashville, NC, to roll up the windows, assess Larry's condition, and get a cup of coffee.  And that is when I became a blight upon our friends, if I wasn't already.  The Volvo wouldn't start (BUT the radio and windshield wipers did).  One of three kindly strangers assessed the situation quickly (starter burned out) but said it would take an electrical person to fix it.

Enter AAA and Hale's Towing.  The Volvo rode in style for over 70 miles, and I met a 37 year old one time farmer with 3 boys, the oldest of whom had just broken his collar bone in 3 places.  The driver had hardly slept for the past few days, staying up with his son, but maneuvered the gigantic flat-bed truck down narrow streets, backing it up between a fence and parked cars with inches to spare.        Larry went for his first tow-truck ride and then waited patiently for our beleagered
host to pick us up at the Volvo repair place in Durham.

Today dawned at 6 am, when Kat*ie (aka M.S.) and I drove to the land of no memories.

When I arrived 5 hours later at the dentist, to "fetch" her, poor Ka*tie was sitting, blank-faced and teetering, blood caked on her lips and teeth, on the dentist's chair.   6 hours later, I am re-re-repeating the story of what transpired in that place, as best as I can understand it.  It reminds me of when Kat*ie and A*my were little, and they wanted me to tell them over and OVER about something they had done...

I "carried" (NC speak) Mz. S home in her own car, after strapping her in, and called ahead for back-up from, you guessed it, one of the most gracious people I have ever met. He literally, almost, carried her down the steps of his home to a waiting bed.  A quart of blue jello later, the Tylenol PM has kicked in, she is happy, pain-free, and about to go back to sleep...

It's been a week.  I'm glad that I lived it.