Phil O. Dendron.
As I said before, Phil and I met the day we both got our new pink digs. He had been in a vase of water growing for quite some time and it was a huge step for him to put his roots down in some soil.
At first I wasn't sure what to make of Phil. He spent a lot of his evenings catting around with, well, um, the cats. I can't imagine that they were very fun to hang around with judging by the way he looked after he'd been with them, all chewed up and shredded. Eventually, though, he got wise or maybe the cats got sick of him, literally, and they left each other alone. Either way, he's looking healthier these days.
Once he settled down we got to spend some time getting to know each other. I'll be honest, I'm not sure Phil is the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with, however long that may be, with Thumbs that could be as soon as next week, but right now he's all the company I have so we may as well be friends. If something deeper develops, then we'll take it as it comes.
Ciao! Geri
Friday, August 24, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
In Which I Lament...
There is one plant that Thumbs is proficient at growing, peonies. I loosely give her credit for growing them because peonies are so hearty they really grow themselves. I've always thought peonies to be overly friendly and quite ostentatious! Really, they grow blooms so large and full that their stems can't even hold them upright! And the smell is so overpowering with its sickeningly sweet, spicy scent. It's enough to make one sneeze, which is what Thumbs usually does when she buries her face in those blooms to smell them!
If you think about it, peonies are rather plain creatures with the exception of their extravagant blooms. I think that's why they try so hard at being friendly, because once they are done blooming for the year they had better be your friend, otherwise you wouldn't give them the time of day. Mostly I ignore them, but I had a peony friend once. Her name was Razz. She was a good, loyal friend and boy, OH BOY, could she bloom! But I digress...
Thumbs has this disgusting habit of snipping off her peonies' blooms and putting them in a vase of water RIGHT NEXT TO ME on the table. I am forced to spend my days next to the sickeningly sweet, rotting, dead flowers of some poor nameless outdoor plant. Thumbs! Thumbs! A plant's blooms are her crowning glory! Oh, the atrocity of it. I don't even know these peonies outside, but I feel their pain. Even if they do go overboard on their blooms, no girl deserves to lose her blooms in her prime! And I certainly don't deserve to be subjected to having them in my living space. I know Thumbs has a heart, but she can be extremely insensitive about some things. Just imagine if she went to a dinner party where the centerpieces on the tables were the severed arms and legs of people of her community. Disgusting, right!? Yes, well, try recovering from a traumatic event in your life while living with that kind of tragedy right next to you.
I really do understand the human need to surround themselves with beauty, after all, I am a flower with a great sense of aesthetics! While I'm fortunate enough to live indoors and bloom multiple times a year so that my blooms are not lopped off for someone else's pleasure, it's hard to live with nonetheless. I am grateful that the outdoor flowers go dormant in the winter.
Thumbs, if you're reading this, please stop the uncivilized brutality of your outdoor plants! Or, at the very least, put the blooms where I don't have to see them!
Ciao! Geri
If you think about it, peonies are rather plain creatures with the exception of their extravagant blooms. I think that's why they try so hard at being friendly, because once they are done blooming for the year they had better be your friend, otherwise you wouldn't give them the time of day. Mostly I ignore them, but I had a peony friend once. Her name was Razz. She was a good, loyal friend and boy, OH BOY, could she bloom! But I digress...
Thumbs has this disgusting habit of snipping off her peonies' blooms and putting them in a vase of water RIGHT NEXT TO ME on the table. I am forced to spend my days next to the sickeningly sweet, rotting, dead flowers of some poor nameless outdoor plant. Thumbs! Thumbs! A plant's blooms are her crowning glory! Oh, the atrocity of it. I don't even know these peonies outside, but I feel their pain. Even if they do go overboard on their blooms, no girl deserves to lose her blooms in her prime! And I certainly don't deserve to be subjected to having them in my living space. I know Thumbs has a heart, but she can be extremely insensitive about some things. Just imagine if she went to a dinner party where the centerpieces on the tables were the severed arms and legs of people of her community. Disgusting, right!? Yes, well, try recovering from a traumatic event in your life while living with that kind of tragedy right next to you.
I really do understand the human need to surround themselves with beauty, after all, I am a flower with a great sense of aesthetics! While I'm fortunate enough to live indoors and bloom multiple times a year so that my blooms are not lopped off for someone else's pleasure, it's hard to live with nonetheless. I am grateful that the outdoor flowers go dormant in the winter.
Thumbs, if you're reading this, please stop the uncivilized brutality of your outdoor plants! Or, at the very least, put the blooms where I don't have to see them!
Ciao! Geri
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
In Which I Introduce Myself...
I greeted this morning with my best and decided to start a blog. I'm feeling rather down about my current circumstances and I want to catalog them, as I hope they change.
I'm Geraldine. And I am a geranium. Thumbs, that's what I call my caretaker, made a nearly fatal mistake last week by putting me outside for some sun. Now the problem wasn't that I was outside or that the sunshine wasn't a beautiful thought, the problem was that Thumbs forgot me and late in the afternoon the lovely, sun-shiny day turned into a hot, blustery day. It was the kind of day that like to have blown all my leaves right off if I hadn't held on tight, and that hot wind sucked all the moisture right out of my poor leaves and left me dry and withered. I am pretty sure I'll survive. After all I've survived a whole year with Thumbs.
I should probably explain about Thumbs and how I came to give her that name. Thumbs took me home from a garden party last year. She was pretty determined not to kill me, bless her poor ignorant heart. It didn't take me living with her long to realize that her thumbs are not green thumbs, but rather brown. She means well and she's a lovely creature, otherwise I'd have given up on her long ago. The fact is, she just doesn't have a clue how to raise a plant! I call her Thumbs because "Brown Thumbs" just seemed outright mean, and I don't have it in me to be mean. Besides, I think "Thumbs" leaves it open for her to become a green thumb, someday. I hope. Thumbs' idea of raising a plant is to put some water in it every few days and forget about it. Heavens! I'd have died of embarrassment if there had been any other plants around because she kept me in the grocery store pot with a sandwich bag and tissue paper tied around me with a ribbon forever! I think she just needed to know that I wasn't going to keel over on her after a week. It wasn't until just this spring that she finally found me a roomy, fashionable pink pot. I'm not sure pink is my best color when I'm in bloom, but at least we have graduated away from the nasty zip-lock and ratty tissue paper!
I remember the day I got my new digs. It was just after Phil arrived. Thumbs' husband brought home a start from work. He'd been growing in a vase of water for quite awhile at the office, but it was time for him to settle down and put his roots in some good ol' potting soil. I knew there was another plant in the house and I was mortified at the thought of meeting anyone in my old digs. That was when Thumbs bought the pink pots. And I knew she had a good heart because she wouldn't let us meet until we were both presentable! I know, a pink pot for a guy like Phil. But it is one of Thumbs' favorite colors and we DO look smashing in our pink digs on the table! I'd pick almost any color over pink, but it does match the rest of the room, and at least it shows that Thumbs has a heart.
It's been a rough couple of days and I need to rest. I'll post more about Phil later.
Ciao! Geri
I'm Geraldine. And I am a geranium. Thumbs, that's what I call my caretaker, made a nearly fatal mistake last week by putting me outside for some sun. Now the problem wasn't that I was outside or that the sunshine wasn't a beautiful thought, the problem was that Thumbs forgot me and late in the afternoon the lovely, sun-shiny day turned into a hot, blustery day. It was the kind of day that like to have blown all my leaves right off if I hadn't held on tight, and that hot wind sucked all the moisture right out of my poor leaves and left me dry and withered. I am pretty sure I'll survive. After all I've survived a whole year with Thumbs.
I should probably explain about Thumbs and how I came to give her that name. Thumbs took me home from a garden party last year. She was pretty determined not to kill me, bless her poor ignorant heart. It didn't take me living with her long to realize that her thumbs are not green thumbs, but rather brown. She means well and she's a lovely creature, otherwise I'd have given up on her long ago. The fact is, she just doesn't have a clue how to raise a plant! I call her Thumbs because "Brown Thumbs" just seemed outright mean, and I don't have it in me to be mean. Besides, I think "Thumbs" leaves it open for her to become a green thumb, someday. I hope. Thumbs' idea of raising a plant is to put some water in it every few days and forget about it. Heavens! I'd have died of embarrassment if there had been any other plants around because she kept me in the grocery store pot with a sandwich bag and tissue paper tied around me with a ribbon forever! I think she just needed to know that I wasn't going to keel over on her after a week. It wasn't until just this spring that she finally found me a roomy, fashionable pink pot. I'm not sure pink is my best color when I'm in bloom, but at least we have graduated away from the nasty zip-lock and ratty tissue paper!
I remember the day I got my new digs. It was just after Phil arrived. Thumbs' husband brought home a start from work. He'd been growing in a vase of water for quite awhile at the office, but it was time for him to settle down and put his roots in some good ol' potting soil. I knew there was another plant in the house and I was mortified at the thought of meeting anyone in my old digs. That was when Thumbs bought the pink pots. And I knew she had a good heart because she wouldn't let us meet until we were both presentable! I know, a pink pot for a guy like Phil. But it is one of Thumbs' favorite colors and we DO look smashing in our pink digs on the table! I'd pick almost any color over pink, but it does match the rest of the room, and at least it shows that Thumbs has a heart.
It's been a rough couple of days and I need to rest. I'll post more about Phil later.
Ciao! Geri
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