Ravings of a Textual Deviant

It’s no secret that I have a black thumb, though I come by it honestly. I have one relative who killed a potted cactus by not watering it enough. I have personally failed to get mint to grow, let alone spread. Mostly, plants in my care go gently into that dark night…usually sooner, rather than later.

The one exception to this is weeds. I can grow weeds like nobody’s business. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to grow attractive weeds, and more’s the pity, as the ones I do grow get absolutely enormous.

This is mostly because I’m lazy, rather than any sort of sentimental attachment to my pitiful horticultural achievements. I don’t like to weed, mostly because I know I’m not going to have anything new to put in. And all that work, too, I admit it.

Today, however, was a very good day. Housemate showed me how to use the weed-whacker.

I’ve had the thing for a few years and never learned how to use it, mostly because there were so many other things that were more interesting, like clipping my toenails, or cleaning out the cats’ water dish.

If only I had known.

I came home from work in quite the mood, a good bit of which was hormonal, and some of the rest was just a large collection of minor, work-related annoyances, none of which individually was worth worrying about, but the collection itself was greater than the sum of its parts.

I was in a mood to crush, kill, and destroy. Hence, the weed-whacker.

Ladies and gentlemen, if plants made horror movies, I would be the Freddie Kruger of botanic cinema. The 16′ x 16′ garden plot has been utterly decimated. Baby trees are shattered wrecks in garbage bags. And as I sit here typing, I am covered in tiny flecks of green goo from toes to teeth. (Note to self; keep mouth shut when weed-whacking.) I couldn’t be happier. I have officially moved up from passively allowing plants to die to actively murdering them in their beds.

Housemate has a job interview at his first-choice organization next week!

Yesterday, I ran a 90-minute lessons-learned meeting for one of my coworkers. (For those of you who haven’t been through this exercise, the point is to talk about what went right, what didn’t, and how to avoid similar problems in the future.) I can’t speak for anyone else, but the most important lesson that I learned was to keep my high heels out of the outlets on the power strip on the floor.

Went to Stutz Artists’ Open House

Saw Falstaff at Indianapolis Opera

Saw a good friend of ours perform in Alfred Stieglitz Loves O’Keefe at the Alley Theater (runs through 5/19 - go see it!)

Had a great time at all of it!

For my birthday, my brother and his lovely and talented girlfriend got me something that not only did I not know I wanted, I didn’t even know existed. Brilliant!

And before you even think to ask, of course I’m going to play with it! I mean, really…wouldn’t you?

“There’s detail-oriented, and then there’s sucking the upholstery off furniture.”

Bar exam results are finally out, and I could not be happier to announce that Housemate never has to take the Indiana Bar again!

SQUEE!!!

Me: Did you ever get an answer to [question sent to X. last week]?

Him: No, I haven’t gotten the answer yet. I brought it up during the meeting, and X. said to get with her afterward to discuss it (she had dialed in). I planned on getting with her Friday morning, but she was out and I had to leave early anyway. I’ll follow up with her today (Monday).

Me: I’m curious about her answer, so if you could please pass it along when you find out, I’d appreciate it.

Him: No problemo! But I just found out from Y. that X. won’t be in today, either.

Me: The suspense is killing me.

Him: OK but at least TRY to contain your enthusiasm; you’re making the rest of us look bad.

Me: I tried to contain myself, but I escaped.

My first field assignment for the Dragon Liberation Front was in Brunei, of all places. One of the royal family was breeding Argentine Enfuegos on an industrial scale…for food. The rich are different, and it’s a very rich kingdom.

Countries with medieval political systems usually have the best twenty-second-century security, and this was no exception. Fortunately, a good, old-fashioned bribe did the trick. We freed dozen of hatchlings and eggs from appalling conditions.

Then, we needed to figure out what to do with over two hundred fire-breathing babies.

I never should’ve told them that I wanted to meet hot chicks.