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.

See? Told Ya.

Smallest plane ever:

That was Monday afternoon. Today I rode back to Denver in what was probably the exact same plane, with a pilot who can’t be two years out of high school, through non-stop turbulence. I kept my eyes closed the whole flight. It was almost enough to give a girl a phobia.

Because I have no real fear of flying. But when sitting in a little tin can like this, flying through the air a few miles above the surface of the planet, you realize that there is really nothing at all between you and a smear on the ground but a thin sheet of metal being pummeled by violent winds. Disturbing.