Author: Rene

The concerts at the Botanic Gardens allow food and drink. Most people bring a little cooler with their supplies, a blanket upon which to reside, and take a minimal amount of space so as to allow others room to picnic.

This was our ”picnic.” No skimping here – gluten free Thai chicken wraps, individual servings of fruit and vegetables, Trader Joe’s entire snack selection of nuts and dried fruit, chocolate molten lava cake brownies and sugar cookies, breads, crackers, dip, popcorn and fizzy drinks. (Even pickled okra!) We had so much we offered the security guards food, as well as other people gawking at our spread. Only one person had the audacity to be choosy. When offered a wrap he queried, ”Do you possibly have shrimp?”

To be fair, we did look like we had it all.

I’m guessing very few people have gone to lunch with two geranium plants?

I relished the opportunity to walk into a restaurant carrying my friend’s plant this past weekend. We had just spent the morning at the Farmer’s Market, and quite frankly, it was too hot to leave the gorgeous purchases in the car. When asked if we wanted a booth, I could only say, ”We need a table for these plants.”

Once again, I think giving others fodder for conversation at dinner is probably a good thing. Mind you, it’s not my life’s goal, but it is something I consider when I am toting geraniums into a restaurant.

Live large and prosper.

…until the police show up. That’s what my friend said when I was asked to move my car – in my own neighborhood! ”Or until something is broken.” Apparently another party indicator.

I live on a road which dead ends where I parked. I queried others, ”Do they know I am the HOA President?” I moved it, sans driver’s license. (Because I only live ten houses away.) I really wanted to approach the neighbor in the adjacent neighborhood who was watching three us move with a gleam in his eye.

We were all at the dead-end to celebrate a birthday, and to visit a friend who is very ill. The dear police officer who had to respond felt bad being called. I probably could have stayed parked there, but I figured I’d better abide by the law. Who knew we had a ”No Parking” sign on our street?

Well, it was a party!

‘

My dermatologist had a seemingly VERY young attendant learning the ropes as I went in for the yearly screening. That was probably good, so he could hear what people actually do to themselves without the aid of medicine.

During the exam my doctor pointed out a skin tag I might like to have removed. I said, ”Oh, I just cut it off when it gets too annoying.” The doc glanced at his mentee, and I laughed. We all did. I’m sure the ensuing conversation was, ”Yeah, you’ll get some of those.”

I extended that logic to my daughter when the back of her earring was growing into her lobe. The young pediatrician couldn’t get it out and suggested the emergency room and that we allow it to grow shut again. Thanking him, we went home, I got the antiseptic, tweezers (properly sterilized, I’m sure) and did the duty in seconds. I cleaned the earring and stuck it back in with bandaids to keep it where it belonged.

Missed opportunity to go into medicine?

My allergy pills ran out three days ago and I haven’t made the time to refill them. Along with my daily drowning per the Neti Pot, I seem to have kept the sneezing at bay. My eyes itch like crazy though, so I am considering caving and going to the store tomorrow.

An apt bit of humor for all allergy sufferers provided by the APB.

White ceiling paint showed up on my purple Duluth Trading Post overalls. A nice big smear which I couldn’t remove for thirty minutes. Paint never comes out. This did!

I offer the little yellow bottle of Carbona, that of which I have no idea when or where it was purchased, though its promise of removing wine stains is a probable cause for the acquisition. I scrubbed out the paint with the tiny pellets and water, and voila!

It was a Martha moment.

This had me chuckling…because it speaks to my my dental check-ups or any medical appointment, with which I have riddled the month of June.

I’m not canceling though. It’s called, ”self care.” (Thank you, Palysun!)

Whilst watering plants and cleaning the birdbath yesterday, I ran into a horseshoe stake in the middle of the yard and gashed my leg. It hurts. I knew those stakes should have been pulled when I mowed last week, but I was too lazy to do that. Thus, I have paid the price, and I’m hoping I peaked in my stupidity.

Of course, I followed up the gash with some fun ceiling painting leaving my neck stiff and kinked. Perhaps I haven’t peaked yet?

When you get to have a mammogram, here is a jovial little game to play.

First, after the incredibly swift reception, when you are ushered to the ”spa-like” room while you wait for twenty minutes, make eye contact. Perhaps have jovial conversations, as all of the magazines have been removed in the past three years from waiting rooms, thus, keeping you in the dark on Hollywood’s machinations.

When the technician announces you from the farthest-most point in the area, stand up loudly and state, ”I won!”

If you don’t get smiles, at least you know you’ll be the conversation at dinner for somebody.