In Spike

I don't know why it is, but I really enjoy that when an orchid is getting ready to shoot out a stalk which will eventually get flowers on it, you can say that it is "spiking" or "in spike." As if there is something active, tumultuous, possibly almost violent, happening - which will eventually result in beauty.

Okay, so I'm not a botanist, or an orchid-ologist, or anything like that. Before I met Christopher I'd only had one other friend who had orchids. Otherwise, all the orchids I'd ever seen were in corsages. 

So I may be totally off on the actual terminology. 

But that is what, somewhere along the line, I seem to remember it being called. So that's what I call it. 

But that's all beside the point. 

My point is that when an orchid is getting ready to bloom, it first starts with this really innocuous looking little stalk. Sometimes it looks like just a twig. Sometimes it looks like it could be a weirdly-place root. But, eventually, it becomes a flower spike, and - if all goes well - in a few weeks (or so) there will be a flower. Hopefully, there will actually be multiple flowers at that point. 

We have an orchid which is sitting in a kitchen window and has just the very slightest little nub coming out from between two leaves. While the rest of our yard is still half covered in snow - and while we're not expecting anything green or flowery for a while - we've got the promise of something blooming in the kitchen. 

Yes, it's going to take weeks for it to bloom - by which time the yard might actually green up, and trees might leaf, and early flowers might break out - but for now it is the only growing thing we have. So you can bet that every morning I'll be looking at it, checking to see how much the spike has grown. 

Hopefully, by the time it flowers, the whole out-of-doors will be in spike, too. 

When the Ads are Full of Minuses

Is it just me, or are most of the TV ads this year really kind of wonky?

I keep seeing all these ads talking about getting out and enjoying the spring weather. While it's snowing.

I'm seeing ads for swimsuits, when the only water outside is frozen.

And now there are all sorts of gardening ads, when I still can't even get into the backyard because there is still a two-foot mound of snow between the back door and the planting beds.

Yes, I know that the ads are set out nationally, so they may apply in some places.

And, yes, I know that in some cases we're supposed to be planning ahead for the spring and summer (as in "start planning your garden now" or "plant your starter seeds now" or "buy the swimsuit and start losing weight so you can fit into it now").

But there are days when it kind of feels like the advertisers are mocking us all, complete with thumb to nose and tongue out.

I have heard a couple of ads, though, where reference is made to winter never leaving, and spring being late. And, you know, those are the companies I plan to shop at - at least for the next couple of weeks until the weather catches up to the rest of the ads.

Dream a Little Dream

I wish that, when I went to bed at night, I could be guaranteed that I could dream a little dream.

Which is not to say that I don't dream. In fact, it's kind of the opposite of that.

You see, when I'm sleeping, assuming that I have any memorable dreams at all, I tend to dream BIG dreams.

Whenever I tell people that, they always assume that I mean that I'm having nightmares. But I don't remember the last time I had an actual nightmare. I mean... I have some dreams where I'm in a strange situation and things are weird in unexpected ways, and I guess some people would probably say those are nightmares, but most of the time I just kind of wake up from those and they fade away and life is good.

Instead, though, I tend to have dreams that seem to go on for hours. They start out as one thing, then morph into something else, and end hours later with me waking up exhausted.

About three nights ago, I woke up with the memory of coloring coloring books and - once they were colored in - the lines were able to be used for a toy train set to drive along.

Seriously. That's what I woke up after. I mean... It was happy, and I woke up happy about it, but that was only the end of the dream and I know that there was a lot that came before it, and I was just pooped when I woke up and wanted a nap.

Two nights ago, there was a whole series of dreams about things like moving into a dorm and having to find the right place to put my clothes and - at some point - I think John Barrowman showed up, actually - there was a great big song and dance event. Not a staged number, but also not a party. Just a big, choreographed - yet totally spontaneous - dance number. With about 20 people. In the dormroom. You know. Like you do.

At which point my alarm went off. And then Christopher (who is almost always up before me during the week) asked me how I was feeling, and I said "exhausted," and he asked if I'd slept okay, and I said "I was having massive dreams again," and he just kind of looked at me and shook his head and I could tell the wheels were spinning debating whether or not to ask me about them. Because, you see, I've been having massive dreams forever, and over time he's gotten kind of used to me saying that.

And I'm not going to lie - I tend to enjoy most of them at this point.

I just sorta wish that I could have a couple of nights where I dreamt that I was having a good night's sleep.

...Or Not

Remember how, on Saturday, I commented that the cold temps weren't so bad, because it has been so sunny?

Today was not sunny.

In fact, when I took the pup out for her walk this morning, there were these amazing huge snowflakes, just kind of "one over here"... "one over there." It was kind of "Hollywood pretty" as a friend called it.

And it continued all the way to work. Then it snowed off and on all day.

The drive home was chilly, grey, and the wind was strong enough that there were huge swirls of snow coming off the new yards in the neighborhood.

Yes, when I drove to book club this evening, there was plenty of sun to make me have to put my visor down so I could see. But it didn't do anything for warmth - either in temperature or in spirit.

Tomorrow, it's not supposed to get out of the low 20s. (Average highs - upper 40s.)

I'm trying really hard to focus on the fact that the sun is supposed to be out tomorrow, and that will help. But... geez... I don't know how much more of this I can take.

Then There Was Light

It is not, as you may have heard, warm in Minneapolis this first weekend in spring. In fact, it's about 20 degrees colder than the averages indicate it "ought" to be.

Yet, the snow continues to melt - even on days when the high temperature is only in the mid-20s. Why? Because of the sunlight.

For the same reason, there are birds migrating north, and spring birds beginning to show up in the yard.

The trees have begun to swell. Not exactly budding, yet, but swelling, in anticipation of the warmer, brighter days.

I won't lie and say that the longer days are enough. I won't say that I can deal with the chill in the air just because the sun is higher in the sky.

And yet... Where there's light, there's hope.

And I'm ready to grab hold of that hope with both hands and hold on for dear life. Because after this winter, I think my life truly might depend on some warm, sunny days showing up soon.

I Should Be Reading

Aside from working a job where I read manuscripts all day, I'm also in a book club.

So, every 6 weeks or so I need to read a book outside of work. Usually, this is not a problem. Sometimes it is.

At the moment, I'm about halfway through the book that needs to be completed for book club on Monday night.

Which means that I need to get off the computer and go do some reading.

Oh. Right. To do that I need to actually... you know... get off the computer.

I'll be back soon - hopefully after I get my homework done.

If You Can't Say Something Nice...

A lot of news (or at least "Internet news") in the past few days has focused on the fact that Fred Phelps, the founder of the hatemongering Westboro Baptist Church may be dying.

There are basically two camps in the things I've seen.

There are the people who think that his funeral should be a place for joyful protest - lots of rainbows and glitter, and kind of a "nyah nyah, you're dead" party. (The irony of "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" being sung outside the funeral seems like a fun idea on some level, I'm sure.)

There are also the people who think that we should kind of forgive and forget and pray for his soul to find peace of some kind, since he was obviously a tormented person to say and do the things he's espoused.

Sure, there are some people with other views. I saw a comment, recently, that said that we should all simply find peace in knowing that a just God will put him in the level of hell he most deserves for what he has done to people. And while I'm kind of in favor of that view, I also realize that finding peace without taking action can be hard.

It seems that we all kind of want resolution. We want the final moment on the screen when the two lovers are reunited in one final kiss. We want the bad guy to get his comeuppance and end up on the wrong end of a light saber. We want the catharsis that comes with taking one last parting shot, and getting in the last word.

Maybe it's an American thing. I mean... European movies are much more frequently ambiguous at the end. The hero and the heroine walk out the wrong doors and miss each other at the train station in French films. The bad guy gets away. The last word is swept away by a gust of wind and no one hears it. The only movies that end without resolution in the States tend to be horror movies which are left open-ended for the sake of sequels - which doesn't exactly lend the audience a sense of peace.

So I understand how we all want the death of Fred Phelps to be something we can point to and say "See? It's over. Done. The end."

But he wasn't alone. He was the head of a church with a full congregation. When he was out being crazy and picketing military funerals, there were lines of people with him. Sure, he was the head of it all, but there was also an "it all" that he was head of. And so this story - just like the horror movies - will continue. Without it's speaker it might be quieter, but this will not be the sudden end of the story. So we'll deal with someone else tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And we'll just hope that the voices of hatred eventually fade away.

First, though, we have to address the matter at hand: What to do when he dies.

As with any obituary, if and when I see his, I'll probably look to see where he came from, who his family was, who he leaves behind. And I'll feel sorry for them in their loss. I won't rend my garments and wail. I won't throw confetti. But I also know that I don't have it in me to forgive that much hatred all at once. Forget, though... With some time, that might be possible.

And can you imagine how much it must piss someone like that off to know that he might be forgotten? To know that all of the energy he put out into the world just dissipates into nothingness? When the loudest person in the room finds out that the quiet voice wins... that's gotta just be annoying as all hell.

So, personally, when I hear that he has died, I plan to do what I do every day. I plan to annoy the hell out of him and the people who are like him by quietly (well, relatively quietly) living my life. By sharing a home with Christopher. By doing my best to care for the people with whom I share this world. And by not giving him the satisfaction of being talked about except as a cautionary tale or the footnote to some answer in a trivia game.

(For the record, I'm happy to say that I spelled "comeuppance" right, even though I know it looks really weird.)