Distract Me

Here's something I've learned about myself: When life gets wonky, I default to certain things, mainly food. But also flowers.

When I have the most on my plate, the most emotional turmoil or baggage, when I'm at heart or head capacity, I run straight into the arms of Susan, Black-Eyed.

Call it a distraction. Compartmentalization.

All I know is, a wild-flower has never broken my heart, spilled cat-food down the stairs, talked on the land-line for 10 hours in one day, mooned his brother, complained about dinner, or given me a deadline.

These little beauties were on Sarah's windowsill when I was there last week for dinner.

I was immediately transfixed.
I experienced instantaneous Nutmeg coveting.

Aren't you more peaceful than you were 5 minutes ago?

You're welcome.

In a stunning twist, 2 days ago Silas was scrolling through Facebook (naturally) and came to a similar picture on Sarah's wall. "Aw! These are so new! I wish we could get some!"

So, duh, we did.

Sidenote: I'm not a photographer. At least 50% of the times I try to spot-meter, this sort of thing happens.

The bigger problem? I love it.

I'm the Charlie Daniels of the Canon.
The Andy Warhol of the spice rack.

The copy-cat of the windowsill psychotropics.

For what it's worth, see that blur of fabric over to the left of Sarah's flowers?

It's a napkin curtain. So we're even.

Lest anyone worry, things are going really well here under our roof. We're happy and adjusting and it just so happens that I inherited one very chatty 19 year old who spends his days with me and one very chatty 4 year old.

I could not possibly be luckier.

But still, with all the talking.

I'll have more to say about all of this, but for now, I shall leave you with this conversation, one I share with  Robert's permission:

R: Mom, have you heard about all this Miley Cyrus stuff?
Me: Yes, but I haven't watched it.
R: (shaking his head) She just needs people to stop judging her. (getting wound up) she had all those people tell her what to do her whole life! If she wanna be twerking, she should be twerking!
Me: But she's lost all her self-respect...
R: Well. She has changed a lot since her Hannah Montana days...
Me: She needs Jesus.
R: MOM.
Me: She needs Jesus!
R: Well, I wrote her. On facebook and twitter. I told her I love all her songs, all her movies, and all her shows and -
Me: (DYING laughing) Are you serious right now?
R: Yeah!!? I wanted to throw her some support. She don't be deserving all this judgment. She's grown!

Someone, quick! Pass me a flower!
I'll be your zinnia if you'll be my primrose.