Wrangler Dani

It feels like February today.  Today is President’s Day, a fact that I’d forgotten until Adam came home for lunch bearing a mini rose plant for me, declaring it his “President’s Day Present” to me. Silly fella, I know it’s not for American History’s sake, its ’cause he loves me.

I’m a little concerned, though, as to how I’m going to keep his amorous gesture alive.  (I mean the plant, not Adam’s love, come, come, now.) I’m not known for my green thumb, and the little plastic cheat sheet says that to keep it alive I have to find a “cool, sunny spot” for it, which sounds about as likely as a bad episode of LOST, a lousy sunset or Nancy Pelosi saying something intelligent.

So, it’s on the kitchen table and I’m hoping inspiration comes for its care and placement. Any talented mini-rose-plant growers out there with words of wisdom to bestow?

It’s raining today. Not in the drizzly, spitting, misting, foggy way that usually haunts SoCal, but in the actual big drops, “oh yeah that’s what gutters are for” way. I was foolish enough to do laundry this morning, and found my dryer’s effectiveness much reduced by the storm that I promptly carried freshly dried clothes through.  I do love rain though, despite the wet clothes and great shoe tracks on the carpet and the fact that California drivers don’t get that rain is not deadly car-wrecking poison falling from the sky.

I went to the grocery store today and smiled at the checker. Her response was, “You can leave the water in the cart” and a Rose-worthy stare. I guess it would be a bummer to be checking groceries on a rainy Presidents’ Day. I bought Coffee ice cream and baking soda and bananas, among other things. I’m always intrigued by what people buy at the store. If it’s a man in line, you know that he’s just itching to get home and eat whatever he’s buying: a pound of bacon, a dozen eggs, some OJ, a bag of Doritos and a six-pack of beer. Breakfast and lunch, in one stop.  If it’s a woman, especially a mom-type, it’s a bit more confusing. What on earth is she going to make with ground cinnamon, a bag of fresh carrots, a pound of butter, canned refried beans and some coffee creamer? I openly admit that I’m a mom-type and my carts never make sense. Except today, when I bought maple syrup and pancake mix. Validation.

Adam and I went hiking yesterday and found a waterfall. Well, we didn’t really find it. People know it’s there, and so did we, thanks to our sweet photocopied map from the Ranger station. But it was pretty, and Adam scrambled all over the boulders all around it and I tried to keep up and not break a bone, which is harder than it seems on wet granite.  We started breathing the fresh wilderness air and talking about camping and backpacking and we cannot wait to get out – except I’m a wuss and would really like it to not be raining when we go. So there’s that.

There’s also a baby shower for Asher of Zakaryan fame this weekend. I think he’s my nephew. Or cousin. Anyway, he’s an adorable little fella who I can’t wait to meet – in about 59 days, if the little pregnancy watcher widget is right.  I’m really excited about the present I got for him – in fact, I’m gonna go wrap it this very minute.