Movies. Plants. Midas.

It has been so warm.

Two weeks ago, I was curled up in the fetal position under three blankets, wondering if I’d ever survive the day. I did. And I’m so glad because the past week has been wonderfully warm. My anxiety keeps popping up and whispering super sweet things like, “It is too early to be this warm, watch out… something awful is coming.”
Today I decided that little voice is right -something awful is coming. Something awful is ALWAYS coming, so why not get out in the sun and shovel some dirt around, amIright?

I came home from work, polished off some leftover salmon and then went to work moving dirt around. It feels good to do that. There’s something therapeutic about dirt. There’s wonderful scientists out there who have proven the content of natural anti-depressants in the soil. Gorgeous little fact. And I think there’s something really character-building about doing something methodical that will never stay done. It builds good folks. It builds the kind of folks who are fun to do dishes with, anyway.

Tonight, we planted some seeds for Family Home Evening. Danny read some scriptures and talked with the kids about the importance of “watering” our faith. As the kids asked questions about the seeds they were planting, Danny said, “Not all the seeds will grow. Sometimes you get a seed that is perfectly fine, and it just won’t grow.”
A light went on for me.
Gardening is that seed for me.
It is a perfectly good seed, but things just don’t grow for me. Gardening works wonderfully for other people, and thank goodness because I like plants and food and the whole idea of the whole process.
For dust thou art, and all that.

But like the the cursed twin of Midas, every plant I touch withers and turns into ashes.
My flower bed houses jump ropes and sun-bleached squirt guns and dead leaves. Nothing grows in it. Maybe it’s because it is covered by my porch’s overhang, and flowers don’t like full shade. BUT MAYBE it’s because I TOUCH IT.

The past few years (gosh, has it been that long?) I’ve been dealing with health stuff… gall bladder stuff. I’m still dealing with it, and it is really messing with my ability to upkeep my garden. I’m not up for bottling and harvesting like I used to be.
But this year, I really want to try. I know I don’t feel well, but I’m hoping the combination of natural anti-depressants and beautiful green foods will help out.

Being sick also means I watch more movies. And while my addiction to movies is well known, I will say that movies have always made me come alive. They are magic, my friends. I love story lines and characters and dialogue.
I hate wasting time on a bad movie, and I love becoming a better person because I watched a truly inspiring movie.

The other day, I stumbled on “The Wedding Date” and I remembered having seen it… years ago, when I was newly married. I couldn’t remember the plot (beyond “the awkward girl ends up with the pretty boy” because that’s the plot OF ALL THE MOVIES), so I turned it on.
In the beginning of the movie, Debra Messing is running around her apartment, getting ready to fly out of the country for a wedding. They make a big deal out of her quirkiness, and while that’s all well and good, I just have to point out that she puts her house plants in her sink.
It’s a simple thing, really.
But it struck me.
Like, “Hey. I should get some houseplants so that when I fly to England to attend my sister’s wedding with a hired male escort, I can leave them in my cutesy apartment sink too!”
To say I’m influenced by subtle advertising would be an understatement. But I make no apologies because God promises to make all things work together for good.
So even if I kill the plants, good will come of it.
Like maybe I’ll stop buying plants.
Or I’ll hire someone else to keep them alive and learn to accept myself AS I AM, not as I would have me.

Thanks to Debra Messing and a little “soul seed” that took root a few months ago, I finally bought a houseplant. Did you know they’re like $3 at Wal-Mart? Three dollars to change your lives, folks.
In the name of quirkiness, spend the cash!

I’ve missed greenery during the winter months, and I know a live plant will help clean the air in my home. Working in a mechanic shop means half the air I breathe is exactly the kind of air people are complaining about in Washington. I grew up around it, so to me it just smells like home.
It’s reminiscent of Judy Garland thrusting grease-paint into her uninterested fiance’s face during her final film, “Summer Stock.”
“Smell that…”
“What is it?”
“Grease paint!”
Not everyone understands the draw of the grease paint, the same way no one understands the draw of PLAIN GREASE when you’ve grown up smelling it.
But sometimes I sit tapping my toes on concrete under bright florescent lights, inhaling grease and occasionally some exhaust… and I think, ‘it wouldn’t hurt to have a little plant in here…’
Not to stay, right? Because it would surely die, right? But I could carry it around. I could be an entirely new breed of woman! Gone are the days of tans and platform shoes and giant sunglasses and puppy toting! IN ARE THE DAYS OF JEANS AND WOOL SOCKS AND GIANT MESSY BUNS AND PLANT TOTING!
It could be a revolution.

That’s what got me to buy the plant, you know. The idea that my three bucks were changing the world.
The kids named it Meeka.

Meeka is the name of the fictional Panda I made up. Why? Because when your niece asks you to play Pandas on a lazy Sunday evening, it becomes necessary to promote yourself to MOTHER PANDA and put all the little pandas down for a story and a nap.
It is easier to make up stories than crawl around on the floor, and so Meeka was born. Amen.

Now Meeka lives on in our little green plant. This green plant hails from the South Pacific which is perfect because South Pacific happens to be the name of another great musical. Here’s a song straight from my “Happy Tunes” playlist to your ears -compliments of South Pacific:

And since we’ve already had a little fling with “Summer Stock” let’s throw in this song -also on my “Happy Tunes” playlist. Cleaning the kitchen goes a lot quicker when you’ve got this beat:

Meeka doesn’t need much water and isn’t high maintenance about light either. It seems like it was planted with me in mind, that it sat on the shelf waiting for me to make the three dollar decision to change the world.

But the story doesn’t end there… for Valentine’s Day, Danny bought me a hanging plant. The good news is, I’m aware of it still. I have watered it once. I have moved it around so it gets lots of love and light. The good news also is that Danny buying a plant shows that he believes in change -that I can change, that I don’t have to stay black-thumbed. What better gift can you give on Valentine’s?
The bad news is I lost the little tab it came with and have no idea what kind of plant it is, where it came from or what it needs.

It’s the Midas Twin Curse.
Blackened Ashes.

Maybe I’ll name this one Ash?

If you could tell me what it is, I’ll be really grateful. I’ll even show it by never, ever touching your plants.

I’m hoping my houseplants will increase my level of cuteness like they did for Debra Messing. I’m also hoping they will give me the confidence to really garden this year. Heaven knows my health needs it.
And by heaven, I mean Gene Kelly.

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