Green Thumb Versus Black and Blue Thumb

If you came to our parsonage, you would discover all over our property, plants and flowers. Just don't ask me to identify what they are. I can tell a plant from a flower, but that's as far as it goes with me. That is not true with the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage. She gets all the credit for all the plants and flowers on our property. She knows them all by name. But, of course, I'm not sure if she's making up those names because I couldn't tell one plant from another plant. Walking up to our house, you will see right next to the door a pineapple plant. I never knew exactly what it was, but my wife kept telling me it was a pineapple. Then this year, the pineapple actually developed. It took several years for it to get to this stage. It has grown quite a bit during this year. Looking at it, you would think you were in Hawaii. When she first planted it she asked me, "Did you see my new plant out front?" I did not, but I did not want to tell her that I did not. I try to keep things on the even as much as possible. So I just said, "Yes, I saw it, and it looks wonderful." I smiled a very gregarious smile at her. I thought I was off the hook with that, but guess what? I was not off the hook, because then she said, "What kind of a plant is it?" If I would've had all day and a thousand guesses, I could not have guessed what kind of plant it was. For me, one plant is the same as another. It makes no difference to me. "For your information," she said somewhat sarcastically, "it is a pineapple plant." I only thought they grew pineapples in Hawaii. Then, of course, there was the proposition that she was fooling with me. Why in the world would anybody want to grow a pineapple plant? "Oh," I said as humbly as I possibly could, "I didn't recognize it because I've never seen a pineapple plant before." Then she said, "Why don't you go out front and look at it?" When you're in as much trouble as I am, you do what you are invited to do. So, I went out, and she followed me to the front to look at the pineapple plant. It was a very profitable session. First, she gave me a very detailed lecture on the pineapple plant, planting it and watering it through the year. Then she told me how long it takes a pineapple to grow to the point of harvesting. Then, the other night she brought in from the backyard an armful of yellow dandelions. So, it seems that she has planted dandelions, and they have grown and produced these beautiful yellow flowers. As far as I'm concerned, a flower is a flower. But with the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage, every flower has its own story. I had the story of the pineapple plant, and now I was privileged to hear the story of the dandelion flowers. Again, whether it's true or not is above my pay scale. I think she is the Martha Stewart of all things growing outside in our backyard. Walking around our house outside, you would notice all kinds of plants and flowers of different colors. They all look healthy and are very beautiful. I once walked around trying to identify the plants and the flowers, and I failed miserably. Someone in our home has a green thumb, and someone has a black and blue thumb. No need to explain any further. The one secret to her plants and flowers is that she talks to them. I didn't know plants and flowers could hear, but obviously, they do. Last week it hadn't rained for days, and I heard her out on the porch saying, "Don't worry, it will rain very soon. Be ready for it and be patient." Not knowing what she was talking about or who she was talking to, I just responded by saying, "Thanks, I was wondering about when it would rain." Evidently, talking to the plants and flowers is very much appreciated by those plants and flowers. I've been tempted to go out and talk to them myself, but I was fearful that they would shrink in fear. Then guess who would be in trouble? It's pretty evident that I could not take care of plants and flowers as she does. Probably none of them would survive. Those plants and flowers ought to be quite thankful that I am not the one taking care of them. They ought to be thankful for the expert with a wonderful green thumb and not the one with the black and blue thumb.

I Can Never Have Too Much Ice Cream

It was one of those hectic weeks that flew by, and I didn't know it until the end of the week. Friday night at supper time, it was one of those sneaky crashes. But, unfortunately, all the energy during the week had been pushing both of us forward, and we had no options but to keep plowing ahead. I don't know about other people, but I don't know I'm being pushed until the push is over. And Friday is the time for that push accounting. It was a quiet dinner because both of us had pushed the limits of exhaustion. Then, during the week, something happened and put us behind just when we thought we had caught up. Getting behind sometimes is not a choice and has a way of sneaking up on you and catching you off guard. I had come to the point where I had enough. Enough is enough; let's get on with life. You can't get enough of some things in life, and then there are other things that you can have too much. If only we could choose one at our discretion. That evening supper was quite good, and I had, like always, stuffed myself. I don't blame my over-eating on myself, rather on the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage. If she were not such an excellent cook, I wouldn't eat so much. All the blame rests upon her. She insinuates that I should be a little more disciplined in my eating habits. Ha, disciplined in my eating habits? Whoever heard of such a crazy thing. I don't tell her that it's crazy because she might assume I think she is crazy. I do, but I don't want her to know about it. The marvelous supper was behind us, and we had just settled down to watch something on television. I like watching those mysteries, but I have a difficult time watching them with my wife. She knows the outcome before the first scene has completed itself. Where in the world is the mystery to that? About halfway into the mystery movie, there was a commercial time, and my wife got up and said, "Would you have any room for ice cream?" Would I have any room for ice cream? I can never have too much and I am never too full for one more bowl of IC. A lot of things I have too much of, but it certainly is not IC. Someone once asked what my favorite I was, and I replied, "My favorite is the one I'm eating at the time." I have never yet had a bowl of ice cream that I didn't like. So, when my wife asked me if I would like some ice cream, I didn't even say, "What kind of ice cream do you have?" I don't have to say something like that. What I do say is, "I'll have as much ice cream as you can stuff into that bowl." We always have a good supply in the freezer. My wife is always looking for the Buy One Get One deal, so we usually are well stocked with ice cream. Not long ago, it was such a long weary day, and I was thinking about the ice cream I would reward myself with at the end of the day. Nothing calms me down better than a nice bowl of ice cream. Supper was over; I settled down into my easy chair and then asked, "Honey, I really could use some ice cream tonight. It's been such a long weary day." I didn't hear anything from her, so I said, "Can I have some ice cream?" Then I heard from the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage. "I'm sorry, my dear," she said as disparagingly as possible, "we've run out of ice cream." Those words are the worst words ever uttered in our parsonage. To be out of ice cream is the most stressful time of the week. How is it possible to run out of ice cream? She explained by telling me that Publix did not have their usual Buy One Get One sale this week. So she was waiting for the sale to go on. I sat there thinking how in the world can I survive any day without ending it with a bowl of ice cream? There's a lot of things in this world that I can do without. Number one on that list is broccoli. I don't even like the sight of that so-called vegetable. I don't even think it's a real vegetable, contrary to the thoughts of my wife. I have a long list of what I can do without, and nowhere on that list is ice cream. How I would get through the night without my ice cream is a mystery that only the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage can solve. They only know what you like and what's important to you when it's not available. Then you begin to appreciate the value of that item.