Miraculously, the internet brought us a new bucket hat. Not identical to the one lost, but close enough to make us happy. Plus it’s bigger than the old one, and with his 75th percentile head, that’s a good thing.
Thank you, ML!
This post was meant to include photos, but if I wait until I pull that off, I’ll never blog again. Picture fetching photo of boy in white bucket hat here.
* * *
This photo I can get off the internet:
This item was a gift from my mother-in-law at Christmas. Go ahead and click on the photo to read what they say on Amazon about the Miracle Balls. I agree with what they say. These little rubber wonders are helping me save money on chiropractic bills.
Thank you MIL!
* * *
This next photo shows the miracle tree.
Once upon a time, I had a dear massage therapist who was moving to Europe for several months and she gifted me her ficus tree in a blue ceramic pot. The kind with a braided trunk.
Fast forward a few reasonably uneventful tree life years to new relationship, new house, second cat with tremendous leaping capabilities.
Ficus falls, pot shatters. We buy new, bigger, better, bionic (no, not bionic) blue ceramic pot, with unflattering addition of chicken wire because one of the cats (surely must have been his cat, not mine) was using the pot as potty.
Life went downhill from there for the ficus. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t placed in a sunny enough spot. A misty-moldy veneer settled over its paltry collection of remaining leaves, the same color as the chicken wire, and then, the only person who remembered to water it was one of the cleaning ladies of the pair we fired before Jonah was born, and after they were replaced, the house was cleaner, but the plants suffered. Smaller plants died.
Plantmageddon.
We needed to set up the Pak ‘n Play in the corner being occupied by the poor ficus. Tree so close to death it looked like a Japanese ink painting was moved to the spot between couch and TV. Next to… a window.
In the sun, a few more leaves appeared. And then those leaves fell off. In a pile around the base of the braided trunk.
The boy started scooching, so the chicken wire was removed.
Last week, I don’t know what got into me. I watered the ficus.
Bright green tips at ends of spindly branches unfurling into leaves. And more leaves. And more leaves.
Miracle. Tree.
* * *
Oh, those miracle balls look like they would really help my back… I think I’m going to add them to my Christmas list.
I am a runner and it always takes a toll on my lower back muscles.
Also – I am very impressed by your miracle tree story… I have a small African Violet that was given to me about six years ago as a ‘thank you.’ Well – there was a slight potting catastrophe and now there are only about six leaves left and one tiny root. Hang in there violet….
Becky
How wonderful! My miracle for yesterday was my son falling asleep without a 60-minute production. Bliss.
mayberry’s last blog post..Well, it IS a series of tubes …
Plantmageddon made me laugh coffee out of my nose.
Ficuses cannot be killed. Like the roaches they will survive nuclear holocaust to spit on our graves.
What’s the Miracle Ball? Will it help upper back stuff?
Laura’s last blog post..And in the beginning was the word