Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are.
~ Alfred Austin

A few years ago, I turned over to Eric first our backyard, then our frontyard garden spaces. More accurately, I let them go.

I had always hoped to garden together, share the process. But, Eric derives enjoyment from creating alone, whether gardening or cooking.

Thinning my substantial caregiving activities required releasing many that were enjoyable, acknowledging the limitation of 24 hours in each day.

To my pleasant surprise, as soon as I let go, Eric ran with it. My method is to dig a hole and put a plant in it. Sometimes it makes it, more often not.

Eric observes the cycles and seasons. He knows the parts of our yards in shade or sun at a given time of year. Thus, he selects and decides the placement of plants based on their light requirements. While it all sounds simple, logical, basic, I don't have the energy to give it. I'm glad I'm married to someone who does.

Eric brings his same light, non-violent touch to everything he does. And, the plants respond. Neither of us knows the names of most of the plants. Eric chooses them based on what he likes. This year, the newest—my favorite—is the Catbush (pictured below).

The tour begins where our property meets the street, moves through the front then back yards, and ends out front again, with a view of our birch trees beyond the arbor.

Tucked in the garden space out front

Flowers at the edge of our birch grove

Approaching the front gate

A potted plant near the arbor

Looking over the gate; that's my office window

A striking flower

A myrtle tree in our front yard (it blooms lavendar)

Bleeding Hearts

More Bleeding Hearts

Marigolds and myrtle tree shadows on the house

Marigolds

The fern behind the planter

A Hydrangea about to flower; bees like it

Deeper into the yard, an area with cacti

Bamboo over the kitty fountain (the fountain is a leftover from when I gardened)

Fountain close-up. It's poignant that my oldest kitty, Bethany, took the same pose next to the statue as she took a drink, shortly before her death in the autumn of 2006. Her fur was light gray/white.

A happy Bamboo plant...

...getting pretty tall

Morning routine; until we're seated on deck, Marcus sits where he can see both of us

The planter outside our dining room

Eric planted primroses in the planter this year

Our surprise Valencia orange tree (that had been purchased as a dwarf mandarin orange)

Morning coffee, newspaper, and e-mail; surrounding greenbelt

Geraniums hang on the fence

Our newest plant, the Catbush

It started out as a Chia Pet

A relaxed sentry, and George

Our five mature birch trees beyond the arbor

For all you uninitiated folk ... it's about the fall of a good, kind hearted man who had the best of intentions and stars a tall, dark, handsome, thoughtful, loving, utterly clueless husband and father who shall remain nameless, except that I'll call him Nate.

A couple of days before Christmas 2006, our youngest daughter, then six, happened to see a Chia Pet commercial on television. Because it did not resemble the 2,732 toys currently strewn about her room, she wanted one. And because it did not resemble a Polly Pocket, I considered it.

It's not as if she longed for a Chia Pet. In fact, Helena would most likely have forgotten all about it by the next day, much like her promises to pick up her underwear and stop burping in public. But if we did get one, another ten dollars was not going to break our Christmas budget. A budget that was immortalized in all its glory by the very anal, bordering-on-obsessive-compulsive, brightly colored two page Excel spreadsheet I had created. That thing rocked.

As Nate was already going out, I mentioned that if he happened to run across a Chia Pet, to pick it up for Helena but no biggie if he didn't. And because Nate is Nate, he heard me say DO WHATEVER YOU HAVE TO DO, SELL YOUR SOUL TO THE DEVIL IF NEED BE, BUT GET THIS POOR, DEPRIVED CHILD A CHIA PET, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. PICK UP SOME MILK WHILE YOU'RE AT IT.

A few days later, I remembered the Chia Pet and asked Nate whether he had found one so I could update my very anal, bordering-on-obsessive-compulsive, brightly colored two page Excel spreadsheet. And he said to me "Oh yeah, that. I ordered two but I don't know if they'll get here by Christmas."

Ordered? Two?

Upon further questioning, I learned that Nate wanted no part of the bloody, gut wrenching, cutthroat slaughter that is holiday shopping so he decided to order it online. And he got one for Zoe as well.

I wasn't surprised that Nate had bought them online because if it came right down to it and it was available on the Internet, Nate would buy the air we breathe online. Who cares that we live within a five mile vicinity of at least ten major retail chains that stock Chia Pets? Online shopping saves time and gas and there's no hassle dealing with real live people. Online shopping is nirvana.

I also wasn't surprised that he bought one for Zoe even though she is allergic to anything green or messy, because Nate is a very thoughtful father like that. He always thinks of both girls. Like when Helena was two and Zoe was eight and Nate bought them each a star for Christmas. An actual star in our solar system with coordinates and everything. But because it's against postal regulations to ship nuclear energy encased in a fiery ball of gas across state lines, the star company sent the girls official certificates instead. They could read about the stars they owned. How the company became the presumptive owner of all the stars in our universe in the first place was a little baffling but who cares? IT'S A STAR. WITH COORDINATES AND EVERYTHING. The certificates even came framed. All for $90. Each. Zoe wasn't sure what to do with a gift that lived a billion light years away but she was appreciative of her certificate. Helena clapped happily and drooled all over hers.

So I ask Nate what he paid for these Chia Pets that may not even arrive before Christmas. And he tells me $20. Each.

I try to curb the wave of panic that I can feel riding over me as I mentally try to reconcile this piece of information with my very anal, bordering-on-obsessive-compulsive, brightly colored two page Excel spreadsheet. In my head, I'm shuffling items from one column to another, changing colors and crossing certain items off the list entirely, such as Christmas dinner.

And then it hits me. I didn't ask the key question. Can you guess what it was?

Wait for it ... here it comes ...

.

.

How much was shipping?

To his credit, Nate did not lose his composure, fall to the ground and beg for mercy as I would have done. He did not stutter, he did not stammer, he did not plead temporary insanity. He just stood there and said clear as a bell: $20. Each.

Are you with me so far? Because that is a grand total of EIGHTY DOLLARS. For two stinking Chia Pets that may or may not arrive in time for Christmas for two little girls, one of whom would almost certainly say "ewwww" upon opening it and the other, having completely forgotten about seeing it on television, would ask why Daddy was giving her grass.

My very anal, bordering-on-obsessive-compulsive, brightly colored two page Excel spreadsheet went up in flames and I turned to Nate, resisted the compulsion to throttle him on the spot and demanded to know what, in the name of all that is holy, possessed him to cross so far over into the realm of lunacy that I barely recognized him? Nate who?

And do you know what that man said to me?

"Don't you think $80 is worth it if they enjoy it and it improves the quality of their lives?"

Nate, can I just confirm that we are talking about the same thing, specifically an inanimate object made out of terra cotta with foliage sprouting out of its freakish head? I just want to make sure we're on the same page, because I'm feeling like you called in sick, packed your swim shorts and bought a one way ticket to the dimension known as I HAVE LOST MY MIND, THE WATER'S FINE, COME ON IN and I have no idea how to get there. But as my feet are firmly planted in the dimension known as REALITY, I feel compelled to tell you that I read What To Expect When You're Expecting twice, Mr. Lunatic Fringe, and NOWHERE IS THERE A CHIA PET MENTIONED.

That eighty bucks grew exponentially as I did mental math and calculated in the cost of bail and the court-issued anger management therapy that I could guarantee was in my immediate future.

For those of you who have stayed with me until the bitter end ... no, they didn't arrive in time for Christmas.

There's something oddly comforting about this picture, even though the man looks like a Chia Pet on the wrong end of a bender.

My Chia Professor has male-pattern mullet syndrome. His Chinese Chia manufacturing parents must have mullets too. It's the only explanation. Stay posted - his hair transplantation surgery is scheduled for later today.

I walked into the office this morning expecting to toss my Chia Professor in the trash, but lo and behold, it sprouted hair!  It's not a full head of hair yet, but more of a mullet. Maybe he's a redneck professor.

He has "The Professor" & "Shaggy". He wants to get the rest of them now. I have the order form for more seeds, as the 'coat' only lasts a week or 2, at the most.

These naked heads are sitting on my desk, since it's in the warmest area of the house, & gets the most light. He may have to put plastic over them to create a warmer spot, so they will sprout out.

If the pen making fad cools, I think he's found something else he likes. Either that, or he really is regressing back into childhood.

Go with God!

After nearly a week Charles, my Chia Professor, still hasn't grown! I'm devastated. Has anyone had success with a Chia product before? I'll keep you posted on any developments but expect it to be in the bottom of my trash bin by the end of the week.

[Joe] Pedott began manufacturing, importing and advertising the Chia. Back in San Francisco, at an agency brainstorming session, someone pretended to stutter the name; Pedott knew a good thing when he heard it, and "Ch-ch-ch-Chia" entered the Valhalla of memorable advertising catchphrases. (His companies also produce and advertise another staple of the holiday marketing season, the Clapper, a device for turning lights, televisions and radios on and off.)

Thanks for the awesome commercials Joe Pedott!

These, among others, are the greatest presents I ever received as a young child:

Thumbelina (I adored this doll – the doll that had the thumb permanently in her mouth).  Doesn’t sound the greatest, however, she was the greatest doll to me.

Etch-A-Sketch – this to me was the invention of all inventions.  I drew lines on this flat screen for hours – it was amazing.

64 Crayola Crayons Set – a necessity for any child, and I absolutely adored mine.

Easy Bake Oven – I dislike cooking, even to this day, but I loved my Easy Bake just for the fact that I could create cookies that were never fully cooked, yet still tasted fantastic.

Memorable not so memorable gifts

Hot wax removal system thingy – this apparatus was absolute torture.  When I applied the wax to my legs and tore the strip off; I am positive you could hear me scream clear across the city!  This was painful stuff.  I forgot the product name, as it went into the dumpster the next day.  As for my legs, the hair was removed alright, as well as any possible hair follicles underneath and I didn’t have to shave for long after.  Thanks, Aunt Sandy.

“The Clapper” Clap-On Clap-Off – This gadget uses a sound-activated switch sensitive to hand clapping to turn on/off such things advertised as: lamps, radio etc. (up to two appliances that are plugged into it).  Too much clapping for me - felt like I was at a concert after awhile.  Thanks, but I forgot who gave this to me.

Chia Pet – Animal figurines where you plant live herbs which grow into fur/hair?  After the "fur" grew, I didn't know where to put it?  Kitchen table, dresser, bathroom, coffee table (too close to doggie) - I was baffled.   Who gave this to me anyways?

2 VHS Exercise Videos – One each Christmas from the same cousin.  Perhaps I should have told her I didn’t care for the first video, but then possibly she took note of my physique and noted I could use a second video.  These videos for me were a complete waste.  I exercised for a week, and then fell off the wagon.  Sorry, Cousin Sally – I know you tried.

A Treasured Memory

This was a few years back.  My husband and I had been living out West for seven years, spending every Christmas dining alone, and picking at our turkey dinner.  We decided to return to live back East again, and it was our first Christmas together with family and friends; a memory I will treasure always.  This will always be a treasured memory.

Mr. T Chia Pet. Funniest thing I've seen in a long while. Must add this to my wishlist.

PS. I wanted to add that you can not purchase this item from a retailer. It was a TV Land Promotional item for The A-Team. They are on ebay, though.

Mr.T Chia Pet

The Billy Chia Pet:

ht: CECWorship

And only $49.95!

only 49.95...get them right here or at mudpuppy's website..

Watch it grow...well worth slapping all that nasty goop on his head...the reward...little happy plants on Chia-chin

I just saw a preview for the new movie Vacancy. Kate Beckinsale is in it so of course I'll see it, when it comes to OnDemand. The trailer was interesting enough, mostly because Kate Beckinsale was in it, but I was most intrigued by a bit of text at the end of the trailer under the In Theaters...
The text gave a number: 1-888-VACANCY. So of course, being the marketing/tech geek that I am, I ran to my phone to give the number a call. 1-888-982-2262(9) for those who can't stand dialing by letter. The extra 9 is moot, but necessary to spell the title. First, the number flashed so fast that I thought it said 1-800.. I got the Alliance Data Help Desk. Obviously the wrong place. I rewound my DVR and saw that it was 1-888. I called. Nothing. I just got a ring then a disconnect. I tried several times with the same result.
I did try again the next night (just a few minutes ago) and finally got through. There is a very creepy message with a few options; 0 for operator, 1 to hear specials and 2 to make reservations. The operator was a bad voice mail, 1 talked about slashing prices and 2 asked me to leave a number and hit pound for them to get back to me.
So first things first. When you run a commercial with a phone number attached for more information, make sure the number works and the system can handle the estimated amount of calls you expect. Even the people who sell Chia Pet know that. Next, make it worth my while! If I, as a consumer, are willing to make the effort and take on the expense of chewing up my minutes to interact with your marketing, make sure I'm going to get something out of it. A chance to have dinner with Kate Beckinsale would be a nice start, but even a chance to sign up for advanced screenings or unlock special features on the web site.
This promotion reminds me of the one American Express ran with Lost. They gave a special URL to a landing page with esupposedly exclusive content. Wrong! To begin with, once you hit the site it said nothing would be available until the next day. Great way to lose 75% of your audience. Then, when the content was available, it wasn't exclusive, at least not to the show. It was merely clips from that episode. You could get that on ABC.com any time you wanted, or YouTube for that matter.
In all I think it's great that companies are trying to take advantage of new media and new strategies online. But, when they do run a promotion like this, the only way it is going to be effective is if something engaging is going to be offered and for promotions like this that have the potential to reach millions, make sure it works!
Oh yeah, make sure it includes Kate Beckinsale!