The Horror

As we were going to bed one night, Kyle and I walked into the bedroom to change into our PJs. As I entered I let out a gasp of horror.

Let me clarify, this is the type of gasp that you let out when you see a tarantula on your wall, when you realize that you were supposed to turn in that paper at 5:00 and it’s now 10:00. When you see a severed hand. It was that kind of horror.

Kyle went straight into fight mode. I could literally feel him tensing up behind me, wondering what horrendous event I had witnessed. He desperately asked me, “What?! What’s wrong?”

“My jammies! They’re in the dryer! They’re still wet!”

I then put on a different pair of PJs, went to bed, and slept peacefully all night.

Look, it was horrifying at the time.

Waiting for the Magic

I’m playing the procrastination game. You know.

Tonight’s version is the game where you are waiting for something to happen, but you’re not exactly sure when it’s going to happen. So you mull around on the internet, check your e-mail for the fourth time in twenty minutes (nobody loves you that much…though to be fair I’m pretty sure it’s easier to keep up with that way), maybe watch some YouTube videos. All things that you could quit quickly when the magic event you’re waiting for actually occurs.

So you wait, and wait and wait. And when the guilt of unfinished homework or business finally catches up to you and you start…your magic event occurs. Though it’s tempting to think, the magic event didn’t happen because you started working.

It happened because you procrastinated working so long that the magic event occurred on its own. It really wasn’t going to happen until later anyways, you were just wasting time.

Now just think how much you could have accomplished while waiting. Hmmm?

Well, it was a nice try. I’ll probably play this game again tomorrow.

Wow. I just procrastinated so long that TWO magic events happened.

Psalm of the Bell Pepper

Hooray! Paper three for this year is complete! Joy, rapture! After spending 5-ish hours writing it[1] and many moans of “why is writing so hard? Whimper whimper whimper,” I decided that it was mandatory that I do something I enjoy. Namely writing a blog post.

Yes, this makes sense.[2]

When considering what to write in this entry, I consulted Kyle. His response? “You should talk about how awesome I am.”

So I decided to write about my pepper plants.

When we moved into our lovely little home, I noticed that there were two sad, empty little flower beds outside, which needed love and care and a vegetable garden[3]. Naturally, I waited through the winter, and as soon as it got warmish, I began investigating gardening. I’m doing the poor man’s garden this year, which means I’m starting everything from seeds. Due to Utah’s late frosts, I had to start some things inside, specifically my bell pepper plants. I have a little seed starter kit, put dirt in, planted seeds, and promptly neglected it for a week.[4] After a week, I decided to give it some sun and water, and a week later, little pepper plants started to grow!

Hooray!

I have no idea how this keeps happening to me! I’m the worst gardener ever! But now I have six little bitty pepper plants poking out of their lovely little dirt homes. Every time I see a new one a scenario something like this occurs:

Me: Kyle! Come here and look!

Kyle, approaching: What?

Me: Look! There’s little bitty baby pepper plants here! Aren’t they adorable?! They’ll grow into big daddy pepper plants and we will eat them! Nom nom nom.

Kyle: Yes. There are six of them. I can practically hear your overuse of exclamation points.

Me, excited: Eeee!!!

Kyle: I bet the others are all dead[5]

Wow, sometimes I wonder why Kyle married me.


[1] Writing research papers takes longer than writing normal things. I keep having to go back and re-find all of my references. I think I spend as much time writing footnotes and bibliography as I do writing the actual paper.

[2] Read footnote one.

[3] Not flowers, veggies.

[4] This isn’t uncommon. Re: My tomato plant.

[5] This may or may not be a misrepresentation of the actual conversation.

I Hope this isn’t an Allegory for my Marriage*

Originally written 3/14/11.

In August, my dear friend Annalisse gave me a seedling  tomato plant in a plastic shot glass[1].  I promised to care for and love it like my own child[2]. I took it home, watered it, petted and loved on it and put it in the sun.

The next day I put the mail on top of it and forgot it for a week. It was the beginning of a long and rocky relationship.

Over the next few months, I would go weeks without watering it and when its leaves began to fall off I would profusely apologize and profess my undying love for it while watering it. It began to grow.  I moved it from a shot glass to a larger plastic cup[3], and it continued to grow.

Then, the wicked winter came and the sunlight stopped being so bright and cheery all the time. It snowed quite a bit and got cold by the window.  My beloved tomato plant began dying again, but I vowed that I would care for it to my dying breath[4] and purchased a plant light and moved it into our office space.  It began to grow once more, albeit it was always suspiciously greener on the top leaves than the bottom leaves[5], so I moved it once more into a legitimate planter.

In the weeks that I remembered to water it, it continued to grow and grow.  Now spring is arriving, and sunlight has once again began really streaming into our home, so I decided to place my beloved tomato plant outside so it, too, could appreciate the wonderful sunshine.  I thought it would love the real sunlight dancing on its leaves and bringing life and joy into its little plant cells.

Well, as it turns out that tomato plants are warm weather plants.  And “spring” in Utah means that it’s still high forties, low fifties on good days.[6]

Kyle walked into the house today, took one look at my tomato plant and said, “I think you’ve really killed it this time.  It’s going to die.”

Sob.

*The title of this blog is inspired by a story my sister once told me about a couple. The boy bought his girlfriend a potted plant, which she decided was an allegory for their relationship; if the plant died, it would doom their relationship. It died. (But they ended up working out after all.)

[1] Kyle wanted to keep the shot glass and do soda pop shots with it. I ended up forgetting that he wanted it and later smashed it.

[2] Ok so maybe I didn’t quite say that.

[3] This is when the shot glass got smashed.

[4] Or its dying breath, you know, whichever comes first.

[5] Which were yellow and dying…shhh…

[6] On bad days it snows.