Flourishing Flowers, Flourishing Plants

It's spring. Yeah, it's spring!

I went out and bought flowers and put them in vases all over my house. I don't know the names of the flowers I bought, but I liked them, so I bought them. I bought purple flowers, white flowers, yellow flowers and pink flowers.

I'm getting better at nurturing my plants too. In 2007, I received two plants when my husband passed away. I don't remember who sent the plants to me, but they were very thoughtful gifts. At the time, I went to Smith and Hawkens with a friend and fell in love with this gardening shop and the gardening shop's catalog.

Since I'm not very good at tending gardens, the saleswoman offered to pot my two plants, if I purchased the pots. I did buy two expensive pots, especially after she selected the perfect size pots to fit my multi-sized plants. (Wish I could find a saleswoman in a clothing store who would help me select clothes that would fit my multi-sized fiftysomething body like my multi-sized plants fit their pots.)

I was so proud of my two plants in their new pots. I put them in my family room right near the window, so they would get plenty of sunshine on sunny days.

I went back to Smith and Hawkens the following month and I decided to buy another pot. After all, if I was getting good at watering plants, I wanted to have more of them around me.

I bought a beautiful blue ceramic pot. "You should buy the watermelon plant to put in that pot," said the saleswoman. What a fun shop that Smith and Hawkens gardening shop is, they entice budding gardeners like me into their shop with beautiful plants, orchids, flower pots, gardening tools, and I succumb. Soooooooo, I bought the watermelon plant (it doesn't grow watermelons, the leaves just look like dark watermelon rinds). And, I'm so proud that my watermelon plant is still flourishing after more than a year.

Yes, for the past 18 months, I've been a better plant nurturer. I'm even getting good at taking care of flowering plants. My colleague at work gave me an African violet for my birthday. It was so sweet of her to give me such a nice present. I brought it home in January and thought for sure it was going to die under my tutelage. Despite my negativity with flowering plants, I set out to water my violets. I watered the violets twice a week. I made sure not to give them too little water or too much. I put the violets in a prime spot on the windowsill in my dining room right next to my watermelon plant.

And you know what? You know what? You know what? On Friday, this past Friday, on the first day of spring, when I went to water my little African violet plant, I noticed that there were two, two, two...not one, but two, two, two little pink violet flowers on the plant. Wow, I was so excited. I am getting soooooo good at taking care of my plants. (I was having an especially sad day because it was snowing outside on the first day of spring. But, these two little pink violets just perked me right up.)

So, yesterday I purchased two more flowering plants. It is spring, I thought to myself, and I am becoming such a good plant nurturer in my 50+ years. I didn't visit Smith and Hawkens yet. Next weekend, if all goes well, I will take my two cyclamens for their pot fittings. I do hope that the nice saleswoman will be so kind and agree to pot my two flowering plants. I may be a good plant waterer and plant nurturer, but I am not good with dirt yet.

It's spring. Yeah, it's spring. My flowers are flourishing and so are my plants. I even noticed that my ailing red maple tree is coming back to life.

As Ruth Stout, the gardening gadfly, said long ago, "I love spring anywhere, but if I could choose I would always greet it in a garden." I agree, Ruth, so would I. And, maybe one day, one day in my 50+ years I will be a good enough gardener to greet spring in my own outdoor garden.

Judi

Sleepless in the City

I just arrived back from my weekend visit in NYC with my daughter A. What a lovely visit it was. What memories it brought back from my own wild and crazy single days in the city. (Let's see that was how many years ago? Too many to count.)

Getting There Is Half The Fun: I left for the city on the 3:40 pm train from NJ arriving in Manhattan just in time for rush hour. I had my little red suitcase(luckily it had wheels) in tow and filled with two boxes - one Post Honey Bunches of Oats and one Capt'n Crunch cereal, three cans of Campbell's soup and a bag of Pepperidge Farm cookies, plus a few clothes I had brought for the weekend.

I promised my daughter A that I would bring her boxes of cereal, since food is so expensive in the city. (What a good mother I am.) Battling the bustling traffic, the crowds of people moving in opposite directions, and the flights of stairs up and down the train station, I was truly windblown by the time I arrived at Sixth Avenue and 52nd Street where A was waiting for me.

During the course of my 20 minute walk, I had managed to run over a woman's foot (I wondered why it was so tough to get those little red suitcase wheels off the curb when the light turned green. The nice young woman had her iPod pods in her ears and was bopping along. Then I heard her scream in a very angry and loud tone "what the f--k," as I appologized and turned my walk into a fast-paced jog. Whew, that was close. I didn't want any black-eye for the weekend.) and then I almost ran over a pigeon too. I never realized how dangerous it could be to walk in NYC with a little red suitcase.

After a quick subway ride, and four more flights of stairs (two in the subway and two in A's walk-up apartment building) I finally arrived in her new NYC crib. She had fixed it up nice. I was impressed and told her so, as I headed straight for the bed to lie down after my hectic trip. (Who needs to lift weights at a gym when you have a little red suitcase in NYC?)

Off to Dinner and Off To Sleep: Off to Vinyl restaurant we went to have chicken burgers (we are just two health-conscious cool chicks) and fries (okay, we're not that health-conscious, especially during a mother daughter weekend) and then back to her room for a good night's rest...or so I thought. (That's right, I forgot that's why they call NYC 'the city that never sleeps.' How true, how true.) Since my daughter's bedroom is on top of a corner bar and faces a very popular street, it is very, very, very, very, very noisy. (Did I say HOW NOISY IT IS? VERY, VERY, especially on FRIDAY AND SATURDAY NIGHTS.)

"You need to use earplugs," said A. "I always use earplugs."

"Okay, I'll put in some earplugs," I said, as I pushed a plug into each ear and settled into bed. Unfortunately, during the night, my left earplug fell out a few times and I awoke at 4:00 am to the sounds of sirens, honking taxis, and some jolly chaps sounding off outside the bar like it was still 7:00 pm the night before. I tried to push the left earplug back in my left ear, but it was a futile attempt, so I just rested until it was time to go for breakfast at the bagel store.

A Gi-Normous Breakfast: "They have great fat-free corn muffins at the bagel store," said A, "and they are gi-normous." "Fat-free and gi-normous? Count me in," I said. (Oh, we are just two health-conscious cool city chicks) The muffin was so gi-normous, I only ate the gi-normous muffin top, but it was very dry so I had to add a pat of butter (there goes the fat-free diet. Oh well, it was our mother daughter weekend). (Did I mention that while we were sitting outside with my gi-normous muffin and A's bagel with a gi-normous amount of low-fat vegetable cream cheese on it, that a pigeon pooped on the guy sitting next to us? Lucky we did not sit at that table, another close call - first an almost black-eye from the day before, no sleep, and now pigeon poop. I love NYC.)

Two Shopaholics in the City: After our breakfast, we headed off across Central Park to the westside for our big shopping trip to Loehmann's. It brought back such memories of when my mom used to take me to the original Loehmann's up in the Bronx, where I grew up. We would shop until we dropped. We would wait in line to get into the crowded open dressing rooms where you could see what everyone else was trying on and critique each others outfits and bodies. There's nothing like a mother daughter afternoon at Loehmann's, only this time I was the mother and A was MY daughter and we were in Manhattan, not the Bronx.

We did our share, as editor-in-chief Anna Wintour said in the March issue of Vogue, to support the economy. "When people stop shopping," said Anna, "other people lose their jobs. So there is no moral high ground to be abstaining from felicity. That said, shopping differently is a wise response to the current landscape." How true Anna, that's exactly why A and I went to shop at Loehmann's.

And what bargains we found. Theory cropped beige linen slacks, I had to have them. Theory bermuda linen light beige and dark beige shorts, A had to have two. Theory short shorts, a perfect fit for A, and a steal at $10. (Yes, I said $10. A was smiling all the way home across Central Park. Of course, the amount of material on the shorts was about a quarter of a yard of material, so they should not have cost more than $10. But they were Theory shorts after all.)

Our next target was the lower floor, to try on more clothes. A little buttercup yellow cashmere cardigan (oh, so cute for spring). A little floral cardigan too. (I had to have the little floral cardigan too, especially since I had just read in InStyle magazine that florals are part of their Clothes We Love and sure to brighten up my spring. I do want to have brightness in my life this spring.)

A petite-sized Adrienne Vittadini jacket in buttercup yellow was a steal on the hanger in front of me and I knew it would look perfect on my petite body. On my arm and off to the dressing room with me it went, along with a brown and black print bathing suit and matching brown and black sarong (these type of Safari style prints also are on InStyle magazine's trend watch for spring - hope this trend carries over to summer bathing suits because I bought the suit and the sarong too).

Two more bathing suits for A and a pair of earrings for me, and our shopping expedition was done for the day. We were wiped out and ready for refueling with dinner in Little Italy.

Another Sleepless Night in the City: Pasta and a nice soft pillow to lie my tired head on were all I needed to drift off to la, la land. Or so I thought. No sleeping for me. Did I tell you that SATURDAY NIGHT IN NYC on the upper eastside is VERY, VERY, VERY NOISY? I tossed, I turned, I put the earplugs in both ears and again the one earplug kept falling out of my left ear. Finally, around 2:00 or 3:00 am in the morning (I stopped looking at my watch) I fell asleep. No rest for the weary in NYC.

Mani and Pedi and Homeward Bound: After another round at the bagel store (this time I ordered a wholegrain bagel, no more gi-normous fat-free muffins for me), we both had bargain priced manicures and pedicures (only $20 total for a mani-and-pedi combo, what a bargain. Anna Wintour would be so proud of A and me. Not only are we keeping up our beauty regimen, but we are keeping this little mani-and- pedi salon in business during a very bad recession.) After three dry cycles on my hands and toes, it was back to the train station to board the train back home. (I hopped in a cab this time, I was too tired for any dangerous walks with my little red suitcase).

I thoroughly enjoyed my mother daughter weekend in the 'city that never sleeps.' But, when the train stopped in NJ and I drove home, I was so glad to see my long driveway and quiet ranch house in the suburbs. I emptied my little red suitcase and put it away in the closet. Ah yes, at this age, while I so still truly love the big city, I think I love peace and quiet a little bit more.

Judi

Our Twosome

As I sat alone at the dinner table last night, I thought about what it would be like if my late husband were still here to sit opposite me. We would have been a true twosome in an empty nest. Something we had been planning for once our son and daughter were officially out of the house. And now, I sat alone at the dinner table with my chopped chef salad and glass of wine. Yes, as I sipped my glass of Pino Grigio, I thought about what I would share with my late husband if he were still here to dine with me.

I would tell him about my week...about how March came in like a lion with a huge snowstorm. He always said that the weatherman exaggerated. I would tell him that I contemplated using his snowblower to clear the driveway of all the snow. I got out the manual and pulled out the key and started to read the directions, but I put it back. It was too much work. So, I took out the good old snow shovel and I shoveled the driveway just enough so I could get his car (which is now my Honda Accord) down the driveway. I wished he was here to use that snowblower. I missed him.

We would likely have talked about the economy at our empty nest dinner table...about how our bank statement keeps getting lower and lower each month. I'm glad he is not here to see all our retirement savings as it dwindles in this recessionary economy. He would not be happy about it. No, he would likely be very angry. I don't think he would be enjoying all the news shows he used to religiously watch like CNBC and MSNBC. Not now, not in this economy, not with the depressing stock market news each day.

I would tell him that I was so proud of myself this week. I was so proud because I finally learned how to download songs from iTunes to my new iPod Touch. I did it all by myself last night. I felt like an iPod Genius. Yes, I did. I downloaded Kelly Clarkson's new song, "My Life Would Suck Without You." (Okay, you see how I was feeling last night - a little sad, but I really do like Kelly's new song.)

I would tell him that I would have appreciated his help this week with parenting decisions. I needed his wise counsel with a money issue with our son who was low on cash and told me he planned to sell his Playstation game system so he could get his girlfriend a birthday present and have some money to tide him over until he gets a summer job. I didn't want him to sell his Playstation. He loves his Playstation. So, I gave in. I gave in and I gave him some money (don't worry, I didn't give him too much money, just a little so he could enjoy his day in NYC during his spring break this week). I know you would not have approved, but I'm a onesome now doing a twosome's job, so I gave in and gave him some money.

I would tell my dear late husband that we are springing the clocks ahead this weekend (earlier than usual). I would tell him that spring is coming, my second spring without him. Hopefully, we will have his memorial plaque in the ground by springtime. It is taking a little longer than planned. First, they spelled his name wrong on the original plaque. Then the second time around they left out the '1' from the '18' - the date of his death. At least, the third time around the memorial company finally got it right. Now we are just waiting for the ground to dry. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you. I will never forget you. You are in my thoughts every day. It is the memorial company that I want to forget.

Finally, I would tell him that I am getting ready to leave for a weekend stay at my condo on the corner at the Jersey shore. I know he never liked Atlantic City. My place is not too far from Atlantic City. I love to escape to my beach condo. We likely would never have bought this condo on the corner if our twosome were still intact. But, you know what? I bet as a twosome, we would have enjoyed the shore together and he would have really liked taking walks on the beach and sitting on the porch in the morning to drink his daily cup of tea...his tea that he would mix with Kellogg's All Bran. (I always thought that tea and bran made an awful combination, but I know he liked it and I bet he would like it even better with breezes from the ocean on a hot summer day.)

I'll never know how life would have been as a twosome again after almost 25 years of marriage. My nest is empty now, but I'm trying to fill it up again. And I do have a very full life - work, yoga, zumba, putting songs on my iPod, reading, writing my blog, shoveling snow, doing the shopping (that he used to do. And I'm getting better at. He would appreciate my efforts at hunting down bargains in the supermarket aisles during these recessionary times). Ah, yes, I'm also starting to hunt for another soulmate. Don't be jealous. These Jdate, Right Stuff and now Fitness Single men will never match up to you.

You know me, I'm still the eternal optimist. And, I'm feeling better. The healing process is moving along since he is gone. My sleep habits are better. Thanks to my new sleep rituals with my sleep music and my cup of Chamomile or Orange tea at night, I am sleeping better since he left me as a onesome in our king size bed meant for two. However, I would tell him, that he is always in my dreams and I will always raise my wine glass as I remember the memories we had together.

Judi