My garden might never ever look good, but the indoor plants are going gangbusters. One of my orchids is in bloom, another has a new flower stem developing, and all of the African violets have bloomed. Even the broad-leafed (angelsomethingorother) plant has a new leaf since I moved it to a sunnier place.
The last thing I planted outside in my shade garden isn’t as successful. I plan where I’m going to put something so carefully and then, after I plant it, find that I put it in so that the prettiest side is facing away from where people will be seeing it.
We have to take a plane trip this year. I dread it, because for me there is nothing more uncomfortable. I think the world is made for tall people because I know if short people were ever considered, the seats on airplanes would not have those high backs that curve in toward the passenger. They hit me at the back of my head and force my face downward with my neck cramped in an awkward position. By the time I get where ever I’m going, I can hardly lift my head.
While I’m on about airplanes, what ever happened to all the pretty girls? Our last stewardess was almost as old as I am. It’s a wonder she could lift the trays. And what about leaving the plane? Why don’t they do it by rows so it would be more orderly? Don’t you hate it when someone is looming over you trying to lift the biggest baggage allowed out of the overhead bin?
Maybe I’ll skip my grandson’s wedding.
PS: If flying is so safe why do they call the airport a terminal?
I swear, manufacturers must think the buying public is a bunch or morons. I bought a 12-pack of toilet paper that claimed to have extra large rolls. Well, guess what? Yes, they were larger around, but that meant that they rubbed the wall when mounted and the paper wouldn’t unroll; so it takes two or three days before you can put it on the rod. And to add insult to injury, the toilet rolls themselves are at least half-an-inch narrower than they used to be. Now I’ll have to go around reading the size on the packages when I shop. Wonder if all the suppliers are doing the same thing?
While I’m griping — I swear I’ll never again buy a refrigerator with an in-the-door ice dispenser. What a nuisance! You stand there, waiting for the glass to fill, twice as long as it would take to scoop the cubes up and into the blender. All the while I’m impatiently waiting for enough ice cubes to make my margarita. A person could die of thirst.
The Grumpy Gardener is a new column you will find in The Rim Review once a month.