Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Fear of commitment

On Saturday I bought a kentia palm for my home.  I know it's a kentia palm because I just looked at the label on the side of the pot.  I bought it because it is an indoor plant; because it fit my image of what should go in that spot; and because OSH has a plant guarantee, and since I kill plants I'm going to need that.

Owning this plant is freaking me out.  I don't own plants.  I buy kitty grass for Sophie, she chews it, it dies, and I throw it out.  I buy cut flowers.  I don't remember the last plant I owned.

A plant is a live thing I need to care for.  But it's not like having a cat.  Most people would think that it would be harder to take care of a mammal because the stakes are higher.  But it's easier when the thing interacts with you.  I have no problem feeding a cat regularly and keeping the litter box clean and taking her to the vet when necessary.  If I forget to feed Sophie, she sits on my lap and makes sure I don't do anything without thinking of her first.

It's not like having a person.  With dating and relationships, you know when date night is.  There's a routine.  And if needs aren't being met, you can talk about it and sort it out.  (Or not.  But at least you can interact.)

A plant just sits there.  It has fragility and needs to be maintained.  It needs to be kept alive, but it doesn't tell you what it needs.  How am I supposed to make this work?

I think I'm supposed to buy it a new pot.  Something pretty.  And I'm supposed to water it.  It gets sunlight -- I'm pretty sure it's grown since I brought it home.

It might help to name it.  I'm stuck on a name, though.  I don't want to gender the plant: do I want a male plant or a female plant?  I am not particularly enamored of having to water Bob.

And maybe I should have date night with it.  Meaning, on Saturday nights I make sure it is watered.

I look at it and think, "So pretty."  And then I think, "What am I supposed to do now?"

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Turning over a new leaf

I seem to be dealing with my breakup by eating a lot of pizza, toast, peanut butter, and ice cream.  So today I went to Berkeley Bowl determined to turn my eating habits around.  Here is the inventory:

  • Zucchini
  • Crookneck squash
  • Tofu
  • Tomatoes
  • Corn on the cob (midwestern comfort food -- just husking it makes me happy)
  • Bananas
  • Strawberries
  • Blueberries
  • Mango
  • Orange juice (for the screwdrivers)
I'm promising myself greens, salad fixings, and peaches in the future.

Not that I'm going to stop with the ice cream; I'll just have some healthy stuff in me first.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Chasing a buck

As I was walking up the hill behind the stadium to my car today, I saw some burly college boys by the side of the road.  Were they messing with my car?  No.  They'd noticed the deer that live on the steep hill above the road, and one of them was climbing the hill with a big pointy stick.  They were goading each other on.  I've seen a beautiful buck there (tried to take a picture, but with just an iPhone it's impossible -- they are camouflaged, you know?), and they'd seen it.

"That one has four points!" one said.  It was like watching them become cave men: stick, animal, grunt.

I felt protective of the deer, my special buck whom I'd watched for several minutes the other day in a moment of peacefulness.  Although at the same time I thought, "Steep hill, clumsy oafs -- that deer is going to vanish so fast they won't know what happened."

And yet the boys thought they could do this.  Stick, animal, grunt.

As I came up the hill toward them, I glared.  The presence of a woman?  The presence of a mother figure?  It was funny to watch them turn on each other now that the Other had arrived.  One of them picked up his bag, and as he drifted away from the others he said to them, "Man, you came all the way up here just to chase a deer?"

The other two put on their helmets and together hopped on a single teeny tiny scooter and rode away.

Boys and their toys.