I will begin by reposting something I had on my other short-lived attempt at blogging. I tried Vox for a while but it didn’t stick. Nothing wrong with it. Just wasn’t in the mood to keep it updated.
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The first time I managed to find myself in Golden Gate Park, I hit the Conservatory of Flowers. I didnt know what to expect, aside from flowers of course. It was humid. Very very humid. There were some pink things. And ooh, look, a pool. Where are the frogs, I wondered. No butterflies? How odd. Ha, that one looks like a penis!
Then I saw them. The orchids. The resplendent orchids, all dewy and inviting. I thought, ‘If that is what vaginas actually looked like, then let me at ‘em!’

Dont get me wrong. I am not going to sit here and tell you that every orchid is a beauty to behold. Some of them are downright nasty. Weird curly hairs and pustules… Yuck.

A few weeks later, I found myself walking up Fillmore in a martini haze. It was a Saturday afternoon and Lance and I wanted some Kiehls. We passed by a hole-in-the-wall flowery. Er, a flowerery. A flower place. There in the window was the most lovely pair of beautifully potted white phalaenopsiseseseseses. ‘Orchids’ to the lay person.
I had to have them. I thought, ‘OMG, LOL, they are so purty!!!
’
But they wanted nothing to do with me. Even as the cabbie with the horribly long nails was driving me and my three loves back to my apartment, they began to wilt. They lost their sheen. Maybe they didn’t want me to be their care-giver. Maybe they were just reacting to the sweaty cab driver, and seriously, his nails were like talons! Maybe they wanted nothing to do with Duboce Triangle and my fantastic city view.
Three weeks later, they were dead.
I tried to help them. Really I did. When their leaves began to yellow, Lance convinced me to go back to the flowerery and asked them what might be wrong. An employee with a harsh accent said, “Hmm, yellow leaves? That either means they don’t have enough water or they have too much water.”
Thanks for that, Mr. german flower guy. Huge help. What was I to do? Should I starve one of water and not the other to see which bounces back and which takes a turn for death? I couldn’t separate them. I just couldn’t. They were bought together so they should die together if that is to be their fate. I decided it was an abundance of water which was causing them stress so I cut back on the wetness.
I was wrong.

Here they are. Dead. Sure, one still has a wrinkled blossom clinging to it, but not submitting to gravity isn’t the same as being alive and happy.
I am not yet sure if I will attempt orchids again. They seem a bit too complicated and are difficult to keep healthy, which is pretty much my understanding of vaginas as well. Small world.
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But if you think my days of being a plant killer are long gone, much like the sublime white blossoms of my short lived affair with the orchid, think again. I decided to give it another go. Ficuses, I thought! If they can thrive under fluorescents in the windowless waiting room of my dentist, how could I go wrong!
But wrong I did go.

Here is the first to go. A simple ficus which was in its prime before it ended up back at Chez Hodgin. It was dead within 2 weeks. First the leaves lost their spunk, then they began to discolor, and eventually, they dropped to the ground leaving brittle branches that mock.
Following close behind is his cousin, the variegated ficus. I had really high hopes for him. He made it through the first 2 weeks! That is something! He did do a little drooping in the first few days but eventually began to thrive. I even did a little bonzai-style trimming to the branches to give him the proper shape. He loved it! He had a beautiful profile and spunky leaf patterning. He was my bestest plant friend.
Was. A week ago, he started to show the signs of impending doom. The leaves started to sag, the colors started to fade, and here he is… the bastard!

Not all is lost. My philodendron is still doing well. But as is my understanding, you cant really kill the philo. It is the cockroach of the plant work. Starve it, pee on it, tell it there is no God… it will still grow with an intense indifference to the ills of the world.

Hang in there philo. Dont leave me like the others did. I couldn’t bear it.

I am also a certified plant killer. Outside my house there are two potters, full of dead plants, to provide a warning for whatever plant may think that it will be able to survive in my house.
I have had luck with aloe however, probably because it is a cacti. It doesn’t really look like a cacti however, so that makes it nice to have around.