Flora

That could be a lovely name. I picture a busty Latina, big smile and flowered dress.

Anyway, what it means here is that all my balcony plants are sitting on my rug in my living room.

After the big fire last Feb, they are finally restoring the car port. All week there has been a team of men working on the construction. Now they are at the final stage: repainting the smoke stained walls.

I awoke this morning to a knocking sound. As I stumbled into the living room, there were two Mexicans standing on my balcony knocking on the window.

Mexicans don't scare this white boy, but early morning ones on my balcony gives you a bit of a jump.

I went out, and helped them move all my plants and chairs and shit inside. Jose and Melinqa (sp) are my painters. I offered them water. I tried to be helpful. I even made them laugh by offering Owen.

Necisitas estes pinche gato gordo? Do you need this fucking fat cat?

It is a good feeling to be funny in another language.

Either that, or they were laughing at the stupid white boy trying to speak spanish.

I sure do have a lot of plants. They are filling up my living room. Who knew the balcony was so large.

I wish I was better with the plants. I really feel like it is by sheer luck that they are alive. Yet, they are important to me.

My grandfather, when we lived with him, had a huge garden in his backyard. Rhubard and eggplant were always the ones I liked to watch grow.

My dad is and always was very particular about his lawn. He hated our front yard games. He even planted a tree smack dab in the middle of the front lawn so that it would thwart any games that would tear up his precious lawn.

He also is big on flowers. It is often very odd to call this tough man, this blue collared, dirt under the nails, salt of the earth type guy and hear him say his flowers are blooming and the yard looks so pretty.

He tried a garden. It didn't go so well. Mom had him remove it two years ago. Now it is a fire pit. Whatever that means, I haven't seen it.

My first apartment in Chicago had a balcony in the backyard, and a giant tree growing right behind it. I loved to sit out there and pretend I was in some tree house. I sometimes have that with this balcony. There is a rubber tree that grows right next to the building that occasionally overgrows and takes over the view, but hides our balcony in a wonerful fantasy land.

It is cut down right now. Not to a stump, but there are no leaves. Hell, no branches. This is the second time in eight years they cut it down, but it grows back. I can't wait.

Oh, a bit off the subject, but growing back made me think of it. BGR got back together with his boy friend. Saw him last night, and he had met with the guy on Wed night thinking he was returning possesions, but the guy said that breaking up was the biggest mistake he's made. He said he panicked.

Panic. Sheesh.

Anyway, giddy has moved back into the other bedroom.

I am really happy for him. Really. Happy. really. very, very happy.



I really don't want to go to work today.

I don't necessarily want to sit around here, but I just feel like leaving things behind.

I got to be careful. If I follow this train of thought right now, I might have to go sit in the car and punch the seat.

After teaching last night, I went to the theatre and caught the improv show my old troupe is doing.

I told myself I wasn't going to try and run into TO, but when I pulled into the garage, I recognized her car.

I sat down in the audience just as the lights were dimming, and I heard someone call my name. It was a fellow troupe member, so I joined him to watch the show.

After the lights were down, I scanned the audience. There she was, across the theatre.

I have a very distinctive laugh. Everyone in the shows always says after, I knew you were there. They hear my laugh.

I'm sure she knew I was there.

When the show ended, the guy I was sitting next to asked me if I was going to do this show, and I said no. In turning to have the conversation about why I wasn't going to do the show, I turned my back to the rest of the audience. When I finished my reason why, the theatre was empty.

She was gone. She wasn't in the lobby waiting to tell the actors good job.

I think she is avoiding me.

Oh well.

Maybe that is good. Maybe that is really, really awful.

We'll see tonight. She has to come over here to watch last week's tape, and then do a show with me.

Maybe she'll hide in the bushes in my living room.

That thought cracks me up. I'm almost tempted to leave the room like it is just to see if that little gag could possibly happen.