9 thoughts on ““Staghorn Surgery”

  1. Every while-in-a-once I try to juxtapose and in this case I saw too much remaining “blue water” transplant booster and had discovered the lanquishing – and next-to-dying staghorn “pups” in a disused hanging wire basket. Guilt. Shame. What motivates me to did the unwrong thing; I only play a curmudgeon on live theatre-of-the-world Monday-ta-Monday moon-to-moon with quiet breaks of unseen humanity which if found quickly are denied. Ruins my chant of never having a plant I could not eat. So, sue. But I do get weird looks when I stuff a fistful of ginger blossoms into the ol’e maw whilst patrolling the garden in view of gawkers and obvious aunty- and anti-gardeners.

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  2. You are so…three-kind in fact. I do admit to being mean inthenicestway of course. When as a child the youngest niece went “vegitarian” (but only if it included candy and chocolates) I said to her in front of a cringing mother: Emerson, you do know, don’t you that radishes cry when pulled and carrots cringe? The now-30ish lass will masticate bird and fish and I do supply her with good veg and vegan cookbooks I find languishing in buy-for-negative 10-cents bins. She shill does not eat raw radishes or carrots. I’ve since learned to reign-in my persuasive powers over little girls, whom I once said to one 10-year-old “go ahead and keep crying. Nothing makes me gladder than to make a little girl cry.”

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      • Our wee grandie was all dramatic this week. I think he is probably sickening for something you know. Anyway he chucked pooh bear at me in the car in fury, so I caught it and said, ‘ Oh thank you so much for giving me pooh bear.’ Then the wee soul burst into tears which I cannae BEAR and went ‘Neena took my pooh bear, you are not my friend.’ So I said, ‘Took your Pooh Bear, hell I would never take your Pooh Bear. I got enough doing wi your granda. I dinnae need a Pooh Bear to add to that.’

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      • What a wonderful story, Shehanne. When either of the Nieces-2-Pieces went on a pout with whines and tears I’d respond: Oh, Goodie! Made A Little Girl Cry. Extra points in heaven for that!. And, invariably, she’d quit caterwalling and ask: “really.” And I’d respond: “double if your mom or dad’s around to hear.”

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  3. Finally: the eldest Niece questioned the veracity of my “Like To Make Little Girls Cry” routine when we were recalling our many trips to cinema musicals – Little Shop of Horrors – Rick Morianis'(sp?) lead human version, Rumplestiltskin, et al., (with a good number of the cartoon-musical movies) which I cordially mostly detest in favor of sappy roman/comedy or outright mayhemic warish movies, I confessed it was but a ruse…to a partial degree. When parents are present and progeny pout, I always have the option of moving out, grabbing a book and a beer and entertaining myself, I said to her as she took a semi-giant quaff of her own adult “soda pop” with foam on top. Now, Uncle J, she chided: what if they weren’t there?” Hmm…wrist-attachment without the wrestling-maneuver which hurts and a quick-march up the aisle and out of the lobby…then ice cream for both while I explained behavior modification by Doctor Maslov(w?). The lass: Kaia En-Tzu, PhD (Voice-Opera from Indiana University’s Jacobs School of Music) serves example for her younger cousin in pursuing a post-grad degree which only will be practical in a world returned to “UnMad” and honest practical policies. Her mom’s parents witnessed The Fall of China to communism, as my mother’s family saw a similar takeover in Eastern Europe…but from afar: they got out early. What their degreed grand- and great-granddaughters choose for their political beliefs, one hopes, will continue to fill bellies with food and not ideologies.

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