Along with the question theme (see the short post down the page from this one), relating my misadventures in navigation will likely continue to pop up in my blog now and again. I think almost every driving fail story I have is on here at this point. If not, I'll add the rest in the future. I'm sure new adventures will show up as long as I drive new places.
The adventure I will relate today takes us to the land of Price Hill. It is a rather peculiar story for the fact that it is not my fault that we got lost. Nonetheless, we were lost, and I was one of the drivers. The tale begins at Finneytown High School where several of us young female types met to ride down to Imago Nature Reserve in Price Hill for an afternoon of helping children with art. The minivan filled up with Beth as its driver and five freshmen and sophomores (my sister was among them) as passengers, and Marcy filled up with the three '09 girls who had been to Imago dozens of times. Contrary to reason, the minivan led the way. Beth had printed directions, so we assumed we'd be fine following her. To be safe, Courtney, my level-headed navigator got out Janet the GPS and we had Janet map the way in case we got lost.
In an effort to avoid highways as much as possible, we took a route we were less familiar with. Before the real craziness began, we had already turned around once and gone under a super creepy bridge. I made sure the windows were rolled up and the doors locked before anything got weird. Just when I recognized where we were and was sure of how to complete the journey, Beth switched out of the left turn lane and went straight. Not wanting a van full of high school girls to be lost alone in Price Hill and hoping that Beth just had a new set of directions, we switched lanes and followed them. I would like to note that due to the low levels of traffic, this was done without danger of collision.
Anna, my communications coordinator, borrowed my phone to call Raqchell and set up a connection between the two vehicles. It was determined that Beth did not know where we were. Neither did anyone in my car. All we knew was that this wasn't the most pleasant part of town. After much talking (far too much talking, in my opinion), Beth finally turned down a relatively innocuous side street. We took the lead with Courtney navigating via Janet. We learned Beth's phone also had GPS capabilities, so even if we were to lose them they would be able to get directions. It was well that this was the case.
Almost immediately upon returning to the main road, things got confuzzled once more. Beth was not directly behind me. I tried switching lanes to let the irritated driver behind me pass, but evidently he had already switched lanes to pass me. I narrowly avoided collision. Once he had passed me, I switched lanes. This time I checked for other cars rather thoroughly. Unfortunately, the lane I switched to doubled as parking. I signaled to get back into the other lane, but Beth accidentally passed me. Anna immediately got Raqchell back on the phone. We decided both cars would follow their navigation devices and that we would meet up at Imago.
Janet told Courtney to tell me to turn right on White Street. I did just that. As I turned the corner, I was confronted by the steepest road I had ever seen. Bogota roads had nothing on this hill. Considering the fact that Bogota roads climb up mountains, you can get an idea of how steep of a downhill grade greeted us on White Street. Courtney gasped, I shouted "oh dear" (or something like that), and profanities began to stream from Anna's mouth. To make matters more terrifying, all that I could see at the bottom of the hill when I turned was a huge abandoned building that had clearly been a grandiose school back in the day. I am not ashamed to admit that I was scared. I am not often scared, but I was definitely frightened turning onto White Street. Fortunately the hill was short. A little bit of street looped around in front of the former school, so I pulled onto that to collect myself. A more thorough look at my surroundings revealed that White Street was a residential street. Once you managed to pass the uber creepy super massive building I was stopped in front of. My calm restored, I mentally prayed, determined that my best bet was to follow Janet's directions, and continued down White Street. It was a very hilly street, but it never got nearly as bad as it had been where I turned off of the main road.
The next few turns took us into increasingly unpleasant parts of Price Hill, but that didn't last long. A turn or two brought us into the slightly better parts of Price Hill that we recognized as the route to Imago. Anna's memory eventually disagreed with Janet. After a moment of deliberation I circled the block and trusted Anna. She got us there just fine.
We called Raqchell to see how the van was faring and discovered that they were safely into recognized territory. The following hour of crafts on the forest trails provided much-needed relief from the tension of the drive. I got back to Finneytown without incident. I knew the way, but I kept Janet out just to be safe. It was not until several hours later that I fully calmed down. I considered asking for a big hug when I reached the church. I probably should have, but I was afraid I might have a meltdown. I think what really unnerved me on this misadventure was the fact that I was also trying to keep a van full of dearly beloved high school girls safe in addition to getting myself to the destination. The terrifying turn onto White Street didn't help any, but that alone would not have been enough to leave me shaken for hours after the fact.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Questions
I am just a tad bit inquisitive. I have questions about everything, and every time one question is answered that answer inspires several more questions. I'm going to try an experiment. I will come up with at least one question each day. I will then seek the answer to this question. Whenever possible, I will ask someone in person to answer my question.
Why? Well, I'm often bursting at the seams with curiosity anyway, so why not do something about it? Another reason is that it will help me interact with people, especially since I will ask someone directly whenever possible. I'm not known for my stellar social skills, and hopefully this will help me get to know people better and learn to break the barriers of awkward that I often find between me and other people.
What kind of questions will I ask? All kinds. Why are stickers sticky? How closely related are rhododendrons and magnolias? How are amino acids named? Why do people have color preferences? What's your favorite color? Where did you get that scar from? What was the highlight of your day? The list could go on and on.
What will I do with these answers? Lots of things. I'll build relationships, satisfy curiosity, answer questions that other people have, discover new interests, who knows? When I discover something that I deem sufficiently interesting, I will post it here. I'll try to give at least one post per week. From time to time I will probably still post random lists, musings, and papers, but for the most part this question business will become the main focus of my blog.
Why? Well, I'm often bursting at the seams with curiosity anyway, so why not do something about it? Another reason is that it will help me interact with people, especially since I will ask someone directly whenever possible. I'm not known for my stellar social skills, and hopefully this will help me get to know people better and learn to break the barriers of awkward that I often find between me and other people.
What kind of questions will I ask? All kinds. Why are stickers sticky? How closely related are rhododendrons and magnolias? How are amino acids named? Why do people have color preferences? What's your favorite color? Where did you get that scar from? What was the highlight of your day? The list could go on and on.
What will I do with these answers? Lots of things. I'll build relationships, satisfy curiosity, answer questions that other people have, discover new interests, who knows? When I discover something that I deem sufficiently interesting, I will post it here. I'll try to give at least one post per week. From time to time I will probably still post random lists, musings, and papers, but for the most part this question business will become the main focus of my blog.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
A Few of My Favorite Things
And by "a few" I mean eleventy-one. There are more, I just thought I'd limit myself. I think I did one of these a while ago. It's just going to be a list of a large number of my favorite things. Things that make me laugh, smile, or, in a few rare cases, cry in a happy sort of way.
2. bare feet
3. bees
4. birches
5. birds
6. blowing bubbles
7. california poppies
8. campfires
9. celery
10. cello
11. Celtic music
12. chai tea lattes
13. chalk pastels
14. charcoal
15. cherry cordial ice cream
16. chlorophyll
17. cinnamon
18. climbing trees
19. clover crowns
20. columbine flowers
21. cornflower
22. crocuses
23. dandelions
24. dragonflies
25. eskimo kisses
26. family
27. fingerpainting
28. fire
29. fireflies
30. fog
31. friendship
32. frost
33. fuchsia
34. galoshes
35. God
36. grass
37. green, blue, and orange together
38. guitar
39. hearty sandwiches
40. hearty soups
41. hugs
42. ice fog
43. Jesus
44. juice
45. ladybugs
46. lakes
47. languages
48. lily-of-the-valley
49. lists
50. long, flowing skirts
51. maples
52. microtubules
53. millipedes
54. mint chocolate chip ice cream
55. mountains
56. mud
57. musicals
58. my plant friends
59. names
60. oaks
61. ocarina
62. old hymns
63. orange gerbera daisies
64. origami
65. otters
66. parsing Latin names
67. painting
68. pennywhistles
69. peonies
70. piano
71. pines
72. planaria
73. polarity
74. puddles
75. rabbits
76. rain
77. rapier fighting
78. reading
79. Rick Astley
80. scented candles
81. scylla
82. silence
83. singing
84. skype
85. slugs
86. smoothies
87. snails
88. snow
89. snowdrops
90. spring beauties
91. spruces
92. stars
93. storms
94. streams
95. sunrise
96. sunset
97. swings
98. the moon
99. the smell of old books
100. the sun
101. the trololololo man
102. the word "picaresque"
103. the word "turtle"
104. the word "whimsical"
105. twilight (the time of day, not the silly book)
106. umbrellas
107. viola
108. water striders
109. wildflower bouquets
110. wind
111. worms
2. bare feet
3. bees
4. birches
5. birds
6. blowing bubbles
7. california poppies
8. campfires
9. celery
10. cello
11. Celtic music
12. chai tea lattes
13. chalk pastels
14. charcoal
15. cherry cordial ice cream
16. chlorophyll
17. cinnamon
18. climbing trees
19. clover crowns
20. columbine flowers
21. cornflower
22. crocuses
23. dandelions
24. dragonflies
25. eskimo kisses
26. family
27. fingerpainting
28. fire
29. fireflies
30. fog
31. friendship
32. frost
33. fuchsia
34. galoshes
35. God
36. grass
37. green, blue, and orange together
38. guitar
39. hearty sandwiches
40. hearty soups
41. hugs
42. ice fog
43. Jesus
44. juice
45. ladybugs
46. lakes
47. languages
48. lily-of-the-valley
49. lists
50. long, flowing skirts
51. maples
52. microtubules
53. millipedes
54. mint chocolate chip ice cream
55. mountains
56. mud
57. musicals
58. my plant friends
59. names
60. oaks
61. ocarina
62. old hymns
63. orange gerbera daisies
64. origami
65. otters
66. parsing Latin names
67. painting
68. pennywhistles
69. peonies
70. piano
71. pines
72. planaria
73. polarity
74. puddles
75. rabbits
76. rain
77. rapier fighting
78. reading
79. Rick Astley
80. scented candles
81. scylla
82. silence
83. singing
84. skype
85. slugs
86. smoothies
87. snails
88. snow
89. snowdrops
90. spring beauties
91. spruces
92. stars
93. storms
94. streams
95. sunrise
96. sunset
97. swings
98. the moon
99. the smell of old books
100. the sun
101. the trololololo man
102. the word "picaresque"
103. the word "turtle"
104. the word "whimsical"
105. twilight (the time of day, not the silly book)
106. umbrellas
107. viola
108. water striders
109. wildflower bouquets
110. wind
111. worms
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
The Modern Family (from a Chestertonian point of view)
I come from a family of seven biologically related children born to a happily married, fiercely Christian wage-earning father and house-wiving mother. Schedules are juggled daily to ensure that we eat dinner as a family. The entire family attends almost every baseball game, dance recital, and chorus concert. We say the Lord's Prayer together every night and attend church together. My parents are respected and (as a rule) obeyed, yet warm and approachable. We children quarrel from time to time, as one would expect, yet we get along remarkably well for the most part and band together in defense of one another at the first sign of trouble. In short, I come from a functional, old-fashioned family in a time when functional families have fallen out of fashion.
What is it that makes my family and its “old-fashioned” fellows so successful while the rest of the world's families fall into decay? I suggest that the modern family is missing one vital trait: a Christian foundation. Without this starting point the only basis for a functional family is a utilitarian one. But this falls short. Knowing that life is better when you get along is far outweighed by the persnickety nature of mankind. Bobby knows that he should be nice to Suzy so that Daddy will be happy and he will be happy, but when Suzy breaks his toy, this frail excuse for a foundation buckles. A Christian foundation, however, provides far superior motivation for a functional family along with providing the necessary values. We desperately need functional families. We desperately need a Christian foundation.
What do we get from a Christian foundation? First and foremost, we get the principle of love. Love is the prevailing theme of Christianity. People are created by a loving God so that God and man may love one another. God saves man from his justice and redeems him because he loves him. Man is called to obey and imitate God out of love. Men are to serve and build up one another out of love. By love, I do not refer to pleasant feelings toward another person. Love is an active choice and lifestyle, and it isn’t always easy, especially at the start. As G.K. Chesterton says, “a thing must be loved before it is lovable.” Deep, will-driven love allows family members to choose to honor and value one another despite disagreements, bad moods, or irritating habits. And once they begin to love one another, they will find it easier and easier to do so as time goes on. Without love, we have bickering, back-biting families raising kids who can’t wait to get out of the house.
Love leads to unity. When you love the person next to you in battle, it’s a whole lot easier to work with and protect them. And life is certainly a battle. In a world that encourages egocentrism and self-dependence, sacrificing your success to keep your family together seems irrational and relying on your family’s support outside of a crisis seems weak. Yet it is strength and reason that truly keep a family together. A unified family can better face challenges such as death and illness as well as better appreciating accomplishments and life’s simple joys. Without unity, we’re left with divided families – both literally as one considers the rising divorce rate and essentially when one considers the world’s uncommunicative, uncaring families.
A unified group will naturally develop respect and an authority system. It needs an absolute authority, someone who can be trusted to think through challenges to the team and make whatever decision is best. And for this decision to mean anything, the respect that arises naturally from love and unity must be given to this authority figure. I argue that in the family, this authority should be the father. This is a notion that we find many times in scripture, and it is based on more than the sexist tendencies of ancient cultures. I don’t have time to discuss at length the benefits of having a male as the authority in a family, but you can investigate them for yourself, if you like. Without this respect and authority, you get the sort of unmanageable families you see in ABC Family’s “Supernanny,” a reality show on parenting nightmares.
The family is the basic unit of a society. It is from our families that we learn how to live with ourselves and others. If the family itself can’t function, how can it teach its children to get along with the rest of the world? As the family degenerates, so does the individual, and so does the society. The family must be saved if our culture is to be saved, and the only thing with the power to save it is Christianity. No other worldview gives a strong enough pattern for love, unity, and authority combined. Note that I am not saying that a family can’t survive without the traditional housewife for a mother and a old-fashioned large number of children. Also, it is not merely church attendance that supports us. My family includes these and many other good characteristics, but what truly distinguishes and protects my family is the power of love, unity, and respect for authority bred by Christianity practiced as it should be. The modern family needs more than just a religion. It needs Christ.
What is it that makes my family and its “old-fashioned” fellows so successful while the rest of the world's families fall into decay? I suggest that the modern family is missing one vital trait: a Christian foundation. Without this starting point the only basis for a functional family is a utilitarian one. But this falls short. Knowing that life is better when you get along is far outweighed by the persnickety nature of mankind. Bobby knows that he should be nice to Suzy so that Daddy will be happy and he will be happy, but when Suzy breaks his toy, this frail excuse for a foundation buckles. A Christian foundation, however, provides far superior motivation for a functional family along with providing the necessary values. We desperately need functional families. We desperately need a Christian foundation.
What do we get from a Christian foundation? First and foremost, we get the principle of love. Love is the prevailing theme of Christianity. People are created by a loving God so that God and man may love one another. God saves man from his justice and redeems him because he loves him. Man is called to obey and imitate God out of love. Men are to serve and build up one another out of love. By love, I do not refer to pleasant feelings toward another person. Love is an active choice and lifestyle, and it isn’t always easy, especially at the start. As G.K. Chesterton says, “a thing must be loved before it is lovable.” Deep, will-driven love allows family members to choose to honor and value one another despite disagreements, bad moods, or irritating habits. And once they begin to love one another, they will find it easier and easier to do so as time goes on. Without love, we have bickering, back-biting families raising kids who can’t wait to get out of the house.
Love leads to unity. When you love the person next to you in battle, it’s a whole lot easier to work with and protect them. And life is certainly a battle. In a world that encourages egocentrism and self-dependence, sacrificing your success to keep your family together seems irrational and relying on your family’s support outside of a crisis seems weak. Yet it is strength and reason that truly keep a family together. A unified family can better face challenges such as death and illness as well as better appreciating accomplishments and life’s simple joys. Without unity, we’re left with divided families – both literally as one considers the rising divorce rate and essentially when one considers the world’s uncommunicative, uncaring families.
A unified group will naturally develop respect and an authority system. It needs an absolute authority, someone who can be trusted to think through challenges to the team and make whatever decision is best. And for this decision to mean anything, the respect that arises naturally from love and unity must be given to this authority figure. I argue that in the family, this authority should be the father. This is a notion that we find many times in scripture, and it is based on more than the sexist tendencies of ancient cultures. I don’t have time to discuss at length the benefits of having a male as the authority in a family, but you can investigate them for yourself, if you like. Without this respect and authority, you get the sort of unmanageable families you see in ABC Family’s “Supernanny,” a reality show on parenting nightmares.
The family is the basic unit of a society. It is from our families that we learn how to live with ourselves and others. If the family itself can’t function, how can it teach its children to get along with the rest of the world? As the family degenerates, so does the individual, and so does the society. The family must be saved if our culture is to be saved, and the only thing with the power to save it is Christianity. No other worldview gives a strong enough pattern for love, unity, and authority combined. Note that I am not saying that a family can’t survive without the traditional housewife for a mother and a old-fashioned large number of children. Also, it is not merely church attendance that supports us. My family includes these and many other good characteristics, but what truly distinguishes and protects my family is the power of love, unity, and respect for authority bred by Christianity practiced as it should be. The modern family needs more than just a religion. It needs Christ.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
My Inanimate College Friends
Several months ago, I described some new human friends from college. I will now take the time to describe some of my new inanimate friends along with a few I brought with me from home.
Arphaxad is no longer with us. He was a wandering Jew from last semester's horticulture class. I managed to kill him within a few weeks of bringing him back to my dorm. The soil he lived in retained water too well, so he succumbed to root rot.
Chester is my swedish ivy from last semester's horticulture class. He is neither swedish, nor ivy. His species is a coleus, a relative of mint, that hails from Australia. A month or so ago, he suffered from some sort of fungus that attacked his leaves, but that seems to be mostly cleared up. The encourage bushy growth, I recently removed the top few nodes from both of his branches and am currently attempting to root them in water. His clonal progeny will, at least for a time be referred to as Edith and Martha. Once they are potted with Chester, I will probably just refer to them all as Chester.
Drew is a little snow man who lives in a little snow globe. I got him from La Phoque Volant de Neige a few years ago, and I brought him along with me. He's a cheery little fellow.
Edith is one of Chester's clonal progeny. She is sickly. I had to cut off one of her leaves yesterday because it suffered from her father's fungal malady. She is also smaller than her sister, and has not recovered as well from the cold shock.
Felice is an angel ornament thing. I don't remember where she came from, but she originally belonged to Julia. She creeped Julia out, so now she hangs from one of Stephens branches and watches me work.
Gretchen is my goldfish plant. She is growing quite quickly, but would love some more sunlight. Unfortunately, I can't get that to her at the moment. When it gets warm again, I'll take her and all my other sun-loving friends out to the courtyard for a picnic.
Harold the sunfish pillow is my dear friend, and quite a gentleman. He escorted Julia and I to watch Star Trek on Slater Hill on the first weekend we were at Purdue. He has continued to be cordial and comforting over the past several months. He and Arthur Mahi are close chums, but they don't get to see each other nearly as often as they like. Fortunately, they can communicate telepathically.
Holly is a geranium. I wasn't trying to be clever or anything when I named her, that's just her name. Sometimes names are weird like that. When it gets warmer and sunnier, I hope to see her crimson blossoms return. She is also from my first semester horticulture class and will definitely be invited to the courtyard picnic.
Ivan is now living at the Gast manor in Cincinnati. He is a poinsettia of the red silverstar variety, and there is no way I could hope to keep him alive in my dorm room. Much to my surprise, he is still alive. My mom isn't well known for keeping potted plants alive, and poinsettias are rather easy to kill.
Janet is my GPS. She has an Irish accent and says "motorway" instead of "highway." She leads me from home to here and back, despite my efforts to defy her. She has never yet led me astray, except for when I ignore her directions. And that's really not her fault. I'm just mildly stubborn, even though I know I have no sense of direction. Whenever I will have to make multiple turns/entrances in rapid succession, she is always sure to tell me which lane I need to be in and what the next few steps will be. Her knowledge is invaluable, once I get to 65. I don't trust her in West Lafayette/Lafayette.
Liam is my and Julia's refrigerator. He politely houses all our perishable victuals and holds up our racks of non-perishable goods. I under-appreciate him sometimes. I really don't know where I'd be without him.
Maggie is dead. She was a maidenhair fern from the hort club call-out. I sort of forgot about her, so she died. Her remains are decomposing in the courtyard. I have little else to say about her. We did not know one another for a very long time.
Margot is a silver-nerve fittonia. They're supposedly very picky tropical plants, but she seems to be very happy with me. She does have some curious mannerisms though. I under-watered her during her first few weeks in my room, and she stuck her leaves straight up in the air. When I watered her, they settled back down to normal within a few hours. She has no qualms about telling me exactly what she wants, and she recovers well after her little fits. She is also from my previous horticulture class.
Martha is Edith's twin sister and Chester's clonal daughter. She is not sickly like her sister. On the contrary, she seems to be quite robust. Like her sister, she is also sitting in a cup of water waiting to grow adventitious roots.
Millie Maude Mae is a darling little stuffed millipede made by Jenny's mom as a gift to me before I left for college. Jenny decided she would find or make me a stuffed millipede after CIY past summer when I explained to her, Ellen, and Samie how much I adore millipedes. She is the perfect size for cuddling while I use Harold as a pillow.
Nadine is also dead. She was Maggie's companion. She was also a fern from the hort club call-out, but I don't know what species she was. She now lies at peace in the courtyard with Maggie and Arphaxad.
Nigel is another dear old friend who I brought from home to college. He is a little foam pumpkin that sits in the hutch over my desk. We became friends when we were crewmates together on the Airship Brutus. Good times were (sometimes) had by all. He had to leave his best friend Bruce behind in order to come to college with me, but he's handling that well.
Seamus is back at home. He's a burro's tail succulent, and evidently those are persnickety to the nth degree. He was pouting here at school, so when I took him home with me over winter break I left him in the kitchen window sill of the Gast manor. There he basks in sunlight and consistent temperatures without being bothered by anything. He much happier back there than he was here.
Stephen is a fake ficus. We go way back to Ms. Althoff's survey of art class in my freshman year of high school. He always sat back in the corner with the other fake trees and collected a ridiculous amount of art dust. This past year I rescued him from certain doom and brought him to live with me at Purdue. He lives at the foot of my loft and greets me every morning as I climb out of my bed.
Wallace is dead, but I can't bear to part ways with him. He is a grass chia head that I made at the botany club call-out. With his different-sized eyes, unruly dessicated hair, and discolored scarf and glasses, I just can't let him go. He remains next to Nigel surveying the room.
William was an english ivy. He was english, and he was an ivy. He was also from my propagation lab in horticulture class last semester. He rooted well, but was unable to form an adventitious bud from his leaf. As I learned this semester, this is because his petiole cells are only pluripotent rather than totipotent.
I believe that's all for now. I hadn't realized I had so many inanimate friends with names. I still haven't named my laptop, viola, or coffee maker, and I'll be getting more and more plant friends as the semester goes on, so a second list may be necessary near the end of the semester.
Arphaxad is no longer with us. He was a wandering Jew from last semester's horticulture class. I managed to kill him within a few weeks of bringing him back to my dorm. The soil he lived in retained water too well, so he succumbed to root rot.
Chester is my swedish ivy from last semester's horticulture class. He is neither swedish, nor ivy. His species is a coleus, a relative of mint, that hails from Australia. A month or so ago, he suffered from some sort of fungus that attacked his leaves, but that seems to be mostly cleared up. The encourage bushy growth, I recently removed the top few nodes from both of his branches and am currently attempting to root them in water. His clonal progeny will, at least for a time be referred to as Edith and Martha. Once they are potted with Chester, I will probably just refer to them all as Chester.
Drew is a little snow man who lives in a little snow globe. I got him from La Phoque Volant de Neige a few years ago, and I brought him along with me. He's a cheery little fellow.
Edith is one of Chester's clonal progeny. She is sickly. I had to cut off one of her leaves yesterday because it suffered from her father's fungal malady. She is also smaller than her sister, and has not recovered as well from the cold shock.
Felice is an angel ornament thing. I don't remember where she came from, but she originally belonged to Julia. She creeped Julia out, so now she hangs from one of Stephens branches and watches me work.
Gretchen is my goldfish plant. She is growing quite quickly, but would love some more sunlight. Unfortunately, I can't get that to her at the moment. When it gets warm again, I'll take her and all my other sun-loving friends out to the courtyard for a picnic.
Harold the sunfish pillow is my dear friend, and quite a gentleman. He escorted Julia and I to watch Star Trek on Slater Hill on the first weekend we were at Purdue. He has continued to be cordial and comforting over the past several months. He and Arthur Mahi are close chums, but they don't get to see each other nearly as often as they like. Fortunately, they can communicate telepathically.
Holly is a geranium. I wasn't trying to be clever or anything when I named her, that's just her name. Sometimes names are weird like that. When it gets warmer and sunnier, I hope to see her crimson blossoms return. She is also from my first semester horticulture class and will definitely be invited to the courtyard picnic.
Ivan is now living at the Gast manor in Cincinnati. He is a poinsettia of the red silverstar variety, and there is no way I could hope to keep him alive in my dorm room. Much to my surprise, he is still alive. My mom isn't well known for keeping potted plants alive, and poinsettias are rather easy to kill.
Janet is my GPS. She has an Irish accent and says "motorway" instead of "highway." She leads me from home to here and back, despite my efforts to defy her. She has never yet led me astray, except for when I ignore her directions. And that's really not her fault. I'm just mildly stubborn, even though I know I have no sense of direction. Whenever I will have to make multiple turns/entrances in rapid succession, she is always sure to tell me which lane I need to be in and what the next few steps will be. Her knowledge is invaluable, once I get to 65. I don't trust her in West Lafayette/Lafayette.
Liam is my and Julia's refrigerator. He politely houses all our perishable victuals and holds up our racks of non-perishable goods. I under-appreciate him sometimes. I really don't know where I'd be without him.
Maggie is dead. She was a maidenhair fern from the hort club call-out. I sort of forgot about her, so she died. Her remains are decomposing in the courtyard. I have little else to say about her. We did not know one another for a very long time.
Margot is a silver-nerve fittonia. They're supposedly very picky tropical plants, but she seems to be very happy with me. She does have some curious mannerisms though. I under-watered her during her first few weeks in my room, and she stuck her leaves straight up in the air. When I watered her, they settled back down to normal within a few hours. She has no qualms about telling me exactly what she wants, and she recovers well after her little fits. She is also from my previous horticulture class.
Martha is Edith's twin sister and Chester's clonal daughter. She is not sickly like her sister. On the contrary, she seems to be quite robust. Like her sister, she is also sitting in a cup of water waiting to grow adventitious roots.
Millie Maude Mae is a darling little stuffed millipede made by Jenny's mom as a gift to me before I left for college. Jenny decided she would find or make me a stuffed millipede after CIY past summer when I explained to her, Ellen, and Samie how much I adore millipedes. She is the perfect size for cuddling while I use Harold as a pillow.
Nadine is also dead. She was Maggie's companion. She was also a fern from the hort club call-out, but I don't know what species she was. She now lies at peace in the courtyard with Maggie and Arphaxad.
Nigel is another dear old friend who I brought from home to college. He is a little foam pumpkin that sits in the hutch over my desk. We became friends when we were crewmates together on the Airship Brutus. Good times were (sometimes) had by all. He had to leave his best friend Bruce behind in order to come to college with me, but he's handling that well.
Seamus is back at home. He's a burro's tail succulent, and evidently those are persnickety to the nth degree. He was pouting here at school, so when I took him home with me over winter break I left him in the kitchen window sill of the Gast manor. There he basks in sunlight and consistent temperatures without being bothered by anything. He much happier back there than he was here.
Stephen is a fake ficus. We go way back to Ms. Althoff's survey of art class in my freshman year of high school. He always sat back in the corner with the other fake trees and collected a ridiculous amount of art dust. This past year I rescued him from certain doom and brought him to live with me at Purdue. He lives at the foot of my loft and greets me every morning as I climb out of my bed.
Wallace is dead, but I can't bear to part ways with him. He is a grass chia head that I made at the botany club call-out. With his different-sized eyes, unruly dessicated hair, and discolored scarf and glasses, I just can't let him go. He remains next to Nigel surveying the room.
William was an english ivy. He was english, and he was an ivy. He was also from my propagation lab in horticulture class last semester. He rooted well, but was unable to form an adventitious bud from his leaf. As I learned this semester, this is because his petiole cells are only pluripotent rather than totipotent.
I believe that's all for now. I hadn't realized I had so many inanimate friends with names. I still haven't named my laptop, viola, or coffee maker, and I'll be getting more and more plant friends as the semester goes on, so a second list may be necessary near the end of the semester.
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