A Cactus in A Woman's Body, or My Botanical Counterpart

Reflecting on all my old flames, one particular special friend came to mind . . . the humble cactus plant. From even my youngest youth, I've always kept three or four small cacti in the windowsill. Meditating on this fact, and noticing how few children I know that keep cacti in their room, I pondered just what it is about the hardy cactus that has always drawn me. I now believe that I am part cactus. I believe it all began with my grandpa calling me "Juniper" from my infancy on. I have come more and more to notice how very defensive I am, always making sure that my right arm is unencumbered and free to give anyone a good right hook at any time . . . just like a cactus. I am also not so dainty or frilly as any tended flower. I am as God made me.
Several cacti have come and gone in my life and in my yard. I have had small cactus plants with bright red "hats", I have had (and still have) a small cactus in a cookie jar that has yellow "cotton balls", and I have one favorite cactus in my front yard, the only cactus I have named. Stumpy is a very unique cactus, more of a vertical green blob than anything else. Stumpy has no flowers, no thorns. He resembles a lump of inanimate clay.
Maybe it has to do with being a native Californian. Maybe it has to do with a love for Mexico and all things deserty. Maybe it has to do with being called Juniper. I just love cacti. I love the desert. It is in my blood . . . quite literally after having accidentally fallen on a thorny cactus. I like the utilitarian plants, hardy and thriving through frosts and unrelenting sun, weathering all of life's storms and coming out on top, a fine example of how I want to live my life.
I have been reading The punctured Thumb, a book all about cacti and succulents, and what your life will be like if you have an uncanny love for them. Today I went to a local nursery and bought (I couldn't help it--a small cactus), and a book on Southwestern gardening. Very fun. I plan to learn all the things about soil and climate that I didn't pay attention to in high school. It wasn't my high school teachers that tried to teach me about soil and climate; it was my mom. It all makes perfect sense why I love the desert scene with rocky land and hardy plants . . . my mom loved that scene, too. That very scene dominated the area where I grew up, and we drove through that desert land daily. If I hadn't been so busy listening to The Cure and Tears For Fears in high school, I wouldn't be having to read these books. But I am glad I have to read those books, and to learn something new. It is a good opportunity for me to practice disciplining my mind, and getting to know the facts about the land I live on.
I said I bought a book about gardening in the southwest. It is a Sunset book, THE name in gardening. I felt before like I had no right to speak of having a garden, like I was an imposter, a fake, a con-man, when I didn't even OWN a Sunset book. Now that I have the book, I have the POTENTIAL. I still don't have a garden, but I have the potential for a garden, and that's what really matters.

My life as a flame-thrower.

So I don't really throw flames. That was just an attention-grabber. I throw parties. Small, intimate parties, with small, intimate friends. There has been a lot of talk of late of the important role friendships play in our enjoyment of life, our mental well-being, and even our physical health. Any psychologist will corroborate that, but the Inventor of our psyches, the Great Physician Himself, tells us in Ecclesiastes that "two are better than one." As much as I enjoy theories, I especially enjoy putting them into practice. That means throwing parties. Yes, parties in my small home, parties with delivered pizza and ice cream. We've had large New Year's parties, and we've had small parties to welcome home the new Corvette, or to show off the new rug. Over the years, I've learned that hospitality is much more a matter of the heart than a matter of the house. What better way to solidify lifetime friendships than to share and celebrate even the small moments in life.

Gardening

Yes, it's as simple as it sounds. I have a small patch of earth that I've been trying to ignore for the last 6 years, and I can ignore it no more. I put down strips of paper years ago in an effort to keep the wildness from growing. I anchored the paper with bags and bags of wood chips. It wasn't long before new soil somehow materialized on top of the paper, and weeds grew in that shallow soil. So, I am now in the process of rolling up the weeds. I have one tree I like (a Chinese crabapple), but that is the only life I'd like to see back there. My idea is, and always has been, no maintenance. We had grass for years, and that was easy enough to maintain, but I wanted a desert scene, and the yard just spiraled downhill from there. With so many things going on in my life that are out of my control, I thought it a good time to take a little control over my little patch of earth.

Night of a Thousand Disappointments

Are you SERIOUS?? I mean, "IS THIS A JOKE!??!" Those were the astonished words rolling off my tongue as I lifted my jaw off the floor and tried to put it back in my face before the Grammys were over. "Did that whiny little lady REALLY just win a slot next to the legendary Tony Bennett and Natalie Cole for singing about not wanting to go to rehab!?!" The man who has performed for 80 years and written a tribute to my favorite little city by the bay, and a beautiful woman who digitally sang a hauntingly beautiful duet with her deceased father that still makes me cry. And now add to the list someone who probably won't even be around next year. What a cryin' shame! Also on the roll of undeserving winners was a man who appeared to think he, at his maturity of, maybe 20?, ran the show. The best two moments (besides the performance of my girl, the only reason to watch "The Nanny Diaries"), came when two other performers verbally recognized the outstanding arrogance of Kanye West. That made me smile. The kid DOES NOT run the Grammys! The Grammys are probably as old as his grandparents.
This may be the dumbing down of America right in our living rooms. How can a multiple award winning group show up on stage to accept their reward AND perform wearing jeans and t-shirts, when the presenters, and people just sitting in the audience are wearing nice dresses and suits? I know this is not Heaven, and the Grammys aren't the pinnacle of Hollywood . . . oh, wait, they ARE. Still, they are not Heaven. I look forward to a righteous and merciful judgement in Heaven.

Ecclesiology according to the tiredest dog in the world.

I am Rufus. After living on the computer, my mistress has finally stepped out, allowing me to give voice to my thoughts. I am taught Christian values in this home, and the value of the church. I have gotten word that a certain rambunctious family will be coming to visit. We all agree that we couldn't love this family more. However, I can only guess at the amount of fatigue I will be feeling this evening, after having had lemons, balls, and bones thrown at me, plush toys thrust into my little body, and having been walked, run, and dragged around the park. However unappealing this may sound, it is a great blessing to us all, especially to my mistress, as these dear friends from church are coming, not only to visit me, but also to visit with her, and to share intellectual chit-chat, and encourage each other. My mistress has been struggling through some tough times of late, so this visit will be like a glass of cold water . . . or better yet, a tall, iced, decaf, café mocha with no whipped cream. (A real treat, if you catch my drift.) This particular visit from this particular family is just one example of the Christian community encircling my mistress with love. If she were writing this, I know she wouldn't be able to express the love, comfort, and gratitude she feels for her amazing friends who have truly comforted her with the comfort God has given to them. All the amazing friends have been tangible gifts of love and comfort from God above.

False Accusations

J: "Do you want to come over for dinner?"
M: "No, I don't want a chocolate bar for dinner."
J: "I've never had a chocolate bar for dinner."
M: "What do you mean??? That's all you have in your cupboards!"
J: "I've never had a chocolate bar for dinner."
M: "I don't believe that."
J: "It's true. Never for dinner. Never."

PAUSE

J: "Maybe for lunch . . . "