Unwillingly Left Handed

So remember when I told you about learning to eat left handed? About that…


Two weeks ago, I fell during an ice skating lesson and broke my wrist. It’s a nice, clean radial fracture, but you cannot imagine the pain. Worst in my entire life, I kid you not.

Since that fateful Saturday, I’ve been stuck in a Short Arm Fracture Brace, Open Thumb. Which is actually a modern, removable hard cast that you can get wet. ┬áRegardless of those amazing features, I still can’t actually use my right hand. My dominate hand.

So, I’ve been eating (and everything-else-ing) left-handed.

I’m totally over it.

But not really because I have to spend at least 3 more weeks in the brace. Doctor’s orders and all that crap.

Jennifer Knighton, Orchid Slayer

We bought this house from a man whose hobby was growing and propagating orchids. His greenhouse (now mine, obviously) contained over a hundred of these lovely plants, about a quarter of which were in bloom, along with a handful of bromeliads, ferns, and plumeria.

Part of the agreement in the sale of the house was that he would leave a selection of orchids for me to learn The Art of Orchid Keeping for myself. On the day we took possession of the house, I was pleased to discover nearly 20 specimens waiting for me in the greenhouse. I. Was. So. Excited.

And…I have been a miserable failure.

In my own defense, it should be noted that I actually have a bit of a green thumb. The kitchen of our last house was practically a jungle. I’ve had the same ivies, ficus trees, ferns, etcetera for nearly fifteen years. They’re all thriving and happy and loving the new place.

And yet…the orchids.

Between my incompetence and the severe drought and heat of the Summer of 2011, I managed to kill all but one of his prized orchids. And even that one looked pathetic – wrinkled and wilting.

Also, in my own defense, I’m a boss with bromeliads (he left me half a dozen.) They are flourishing and blooming and beautiful. I couldn’t be more pleased with them.

But the orchid. (Singular. Sadly.)

I had given up hope, though I continued to water it. Avoiding the leaves lest they turn yellow and fall off, as all the others had. I kept it in the same spot, on the same shelf, in the bright filtered light of the greenhouse. I bought a swamp cooler and a wireless heat & humidity monitor, so I could cool down that poorly constructed outbuilding during the often brutal Texas heat.

And what do you know, but the damn thing is about to bloom. Exhibit A:

There is hope for me yet.

And Then One Day I Just Got Tired of Talking

Actually, that happens every day. I’m a salesman; I talk all day long, five (or more) days a week.

But it’s not like I don’t have anything to say. I actually have a lot to say – I’ve just been keeping most of it in my little head. Anyway…

Since I last wrote on this little page:

I have kicked some serious ass in my work – until the past month when closing the business has been more difficult than I expected. I’ve also been to Atlanta, Miami, Los Angeles, Houston, and DC. All in the past month.

Oh, AND I went to New Orleans with my friends Pam, Ellie, and Sarah. And April and Rachel. And new friends Helen Jane and Mir and Christine. And was photographed by Karen.

We decided to buy a new house, and we’ll be moving in this Saturday. We are very excited. And also nervous. And excited.

Also, OH MY GOD, everything always happens all at once!

I’ll be very happy to see May 1st.

The Winds of Change

Life has been slightly turbulent for the past month here at Chez Knighton, and it looks to continue for another three weeks or so. Mainly because I’ve resigned my position at my current fruit-flavored employer and will transition to another company on August 9th.

To add to the adventure of changing jobs, I’ll be traveling to New York next week for BlogHer. Then taking the train from NYC to Boston to meet a new colleague and attend a few meetings, and later in the week flying home to entertain my parents for a few days, just before flying out to Virginia for an entire week of training at the headquarters. August is booked solid.

And while this looks like a lot, and actually is a lot, I’m more excited about work and this new adventure than I’ve been in a long time. I can hardly wait to get started.

But first, I must plan my wardrobe and shoes!

You Will Never See These People Again (Part 2)

Last weekend, Husband and I went on a drive through a couple new neighborhoods. We do this from time to time, peaking in on new construction, visiting open houses, and generally dreaming.

Anyway, we stopped at this one place where the builder’s cleaning crew was putting the final touches on a brand new house, so we asked if we could look around and they said that would be fine. So, we helped ourselves to a tour of a really lovely place that we could imagine living in.

But, just about the minute I fell in love with the master bathroom, we heard voices in the other part of the house. We walked into the living room to discover another couple there, and we assumed* they were also getting a tour.

Not quite so fast.

Turns out, they’re the new owners, having just had this lovely house built and soon to move in. And, as it also turns out, we were officially trespassing. But what really got the lady-of-the-house’s goat was the fact that we had parked in her new driveway. She was totally hung up on the fact that “not even they drove in the driveway.”

Let’s just pause here and consider that statement. Um, isn’t the purpose of a driveway to handle parked cars? No? It’s just me, then?

So, we made our apologies and got the heck out of her new house, making a new line of tire tracks on her no-longer-virginal driveway. And leaving them with a story to tell for the rest of their lives.

*We all know the definition of assume.

You Will Never See These People Again

Remember that episode of Seinfeld, where Jerry, Elaine, and George are waiting for a table at the chinese restaurant? Remember how Jerry dares Elaine to eat something from the plate of a stranger. “Don’t say anything. Just pick up the egg roll, eat it, and walk away.” Remember that?

*Pause. It’s kinda sad that I’m taking life lessons from a TV show, but there it is.

Anyway, Jerry tells Elaine that these people will never see you again and that she’d be giving them a story they can tell for the rest of their lives. So, I’m trying to do a little bit of that. To be more daring, to take a few risks. To stop caring so much what total strangers will think of me.

Which is why I walked up to a stranger at a concert a couple weeks ago and rubbed my hands along his extra-tall, super-spiky, purple-died mohawk. Twice. On two separate occasions, in different sections of the arena.

Because I wanted to know what that felt like. And that super polite young man? He’ll have a story to tell for the rest of his life.

*Note: at the same concert, we photo-bombed a group shot, and later yelled “Shazam” at a guy in a Shazam t-shirt. He had no idea what the lightning bolt on his red T meant! Kids these days. But, at least we gave them a couple stories.