Incoherent Scribblings

The Death of the Johnny Jump-ups

As my regular readers know, I have been trying to grow Johnny Jump-ups for the last 2 1/2 months. Overall, they have done very well and I am proud to say that I have not killed them.

However…

I noticed about a week ago that one of the four plants was shorter than the other three and upon closer investigation found that the leaves were getting scraggly and beginning to yellow. A little sad at the thought I was losing one of my plants, I went out and did a little research. I learned that Johnny Jump-ups are cool weather flowers. This means when the weather heats up, the flowers naturally begin to wilt and by July they have finished their growing season.

Being that is June, I guess it is natural that they should begin to fade away. However, according to my mother, who is a real gardener, even if they finish blooming now they may come back in the fall.

In general, I’m very pleased with the success I have had with my Johnny Jump-ups this spring. Plus, my geraniums are starting to look really good. I may not yet have a green thumb, but perhaps it is not as black as I had thought…

Marriage Quarks

What is it about a marriage that suddenly makes one partner helpless in the eyes of the other when they aren’t together?

Both A. and I were single long before we became a couple, and we were both able to successfully care for ourselves. In other words, A. fed himself, did his own laundry, etc., etc. long before I entered the picture and for me it was the same. However for some reason, we now both have the idea that this is something that was impossible before we met each other.

Last night, A. told me that he had to go on a little last-minute business trip today and most likely wouldn’t be home for supper, so I was going to have to eat alone and probably order a pizza. Now, I don’t have anything against ordering a pizza, but politely reminded him that I can fend for myself and that could mean ordering a pizza or perhaps eating a liter of ice cream for dinner… either way, I would not starve.

However, I’m not any better. When I know I won’t be home for dinner I always make sure that he has leftovers to eat and that I tell him where the dishes are, which ones go in the microwave, which ones don’t, and how long he should warm up said food.

Is it that we have become so dependent on each other that we have forgotten how to function alone? Or is it that we care so deeply about one another that we want to believe that without the other we can not function? I guess it is just one of those mysterious quarks of marriage…

Dirty Thoughts

Spring is my favorite time of the year and after living away from Iowa for about 10 years, the time that I notice I miss home the most. Today, when I looked out my bedroom window and the saw the rocky field with brown dirt behind our apartment building, I suddenly became very nostalgic for a freshly plowed black corn field.

I spent about half of my childhood (from 12-18) growing up on an acreage. I come from “Big Farm County” where farms of thousands of acres are not unheard of. My grandpa was a farmer until he retired. But farmers never really retire. During his retirement, he bought 10 acres of land with an old farmhouse and while my family lived in the farmhouse, my grandpa planted corn, soybeans, alfalfa, or raised about 10 cattle on those 10 acres until he died as his “retirement hobby.” Today my dad, who is a police officer, still lives on that plot of land and grows alfalfa and makes hay as his hobby.

Even though I may miss it now, I was never a farm girl. I hated it when we moved from “town” (ca. 1800 people) eight miles south of town to the “country.” Even so, coming from Iowa, I can’t help but know a little bit about farming and the state which produces the most corn in the United States also has some of the most fertile top soil in the world.

Growing up, I never thought too much about the dirt in Iowa. It wasn’t until I had lived in Mississippi and experienced the red clay that may grow exquisite cotton, but stains your clothes like you wouldn’t believe that I truly began to appreciate Iowa dirt. In case you have never visited the Midwest or think all dirt is the same, let me tell you Iowa dirt is something special. It is black, loose, and stone-free. If you look into a bag of potting soil, you can get a good idea of what Iowa soil looks and smells like. It smells best after a spring rain and when I was a little girl it made the best mud-pies. It is the kind of dirt that you like to run your fingers through and when it is mud, the kind you like to squish your toes in.

My mom used to work in a “dime store” and according to family legend once some visitors from the South came into the store and wanted to know where they could buy some Iowa dirt to take home as a souvenir, only to be told that she would be happy to dig a bag of dirt out of the backyard and give them their souvenir for free!

Unfortunately, much Iowa top soil is washed down the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers every year and while farming is the life-blood of the land, it also abuses the land. However, today many Iowa farmers are conscientious of this and go to great effort to preserve the land for following generations.

For me, Iowa dirt is, and will always be, the only dirt in the world that can make me feel free and clean.

Burger King Embarrassment

Picture it: Friday, 11:30 a.m., Munich Hauptbahnhof, Burger King

I was scheduled to meet someone outside Burger King at 11:30 a.m., but was a few minutes early so I decided to pop into the fast food joint and grab a Coke.

After nervously standing in line (I was afraid I might miss the person I was meeting) for what seemed like an Eternity, but in actuality was probably only a couple of minutes, I reached the counter and placed my order: a small Coke with ice - total 99 cents. As the Burger King chick sat my Coke in front of me and told me the price, I looked in my wallet and lo and behold I only had a 20 cent Euro coin and a couple of 5, 2, and 1 cent coins. In total, about 38 cents. I checked the cash pocket and it was empty. Suddenly I remembered that I had put my cash in my coat pocket (but not the one I was wearing) the day before.

My reaction was, spoken aloud and in English, “Shit! I don’t have any money.” Then remembering I was in Germany, “Tut mir Leid, ich habe kein Geld.” (Sorry, I have no money.) Without so much as a second glance a my Coke with ice, I high-tailed it outta there.

Thirty-something

Well, it is finally the evening of the 30th birthday, and even though the day started out kind of shitty, things have gotten better. And though I won’t be getting my present until Monday, (it seems like a new computer is in the works for yours truly… it’s not the diamond earrings I requested, but I guess it’ll do…) dinner at my favorite Indian restaurant was enough for me to say that I have had a decent birthday, even if it wasn’t exactly what I had hoped for.

Secretly, I had always hoped that on my 30th birthday someone would throw me a surprise party. But now since my family lives thousands of miles away and my husband and I still don’t know that many people I guess my dreams of a surprise party will have to be put on hold until my 35th or something…

Luckily though, I haven’t been depressed at that thought of turning 30 and overall, I don’t feel old. I look at myself in the mirror and know that no one will mistake me for 21 anymore, but that is OK since I wouldn’t want to be 21 again and also because I know that few people would guess that I am actually 30.

Anyway, tomorrow I officially enter the fourth decade of my life and from now on I can say that I am thirty-something. I wonder what surprises it has in store for me…