It Never Gets Old

Apologies for this tardy posting of the NBC’s final 2021 glory.

The thing never fails to astonish.

God Love spectacles of nature such as the Night Blooming Cereus that cheer us in hard tymes.

The inner guts. Tantalizing!

Shaping Up Nicely

Never seen it with a dangler bloom like this. I’m impressed!

The question is: will it open by Saturday night? Because it’s moving Sunday morning. Remember, it’s the NIGHT Blooming Cereus.

No way it’ll make the drive on Sunday intact. A new component to the nailbiter. My guess is Saturday is the night. But you just never know with NBC.

The Angle of the Dangle

Alas, Night Blooming Cereus bud #2 shriveled and died.

The way this beauty is hanging bodes poorly, but we’ll see. There is a fragility in how the flowers are connected to the plant–they often fall off before blooming.

As usual, it’s a nail biter, folks.

But Wait, There’s More

So in this relatively young plant’s life (6 years?), it has had 2 buds at the same time only twice. Once, the 2nd got knocked off; the other time it croaked of its own accord.

This year we’ll see what happs. As a dear friend said, “Gardening is not for the faint of heart.”

Blossom, Blossom, Who’s Got The Blossom?

It’s a miracle, children. A Flag Day miracle.

Thing never blooms this early.

You have to look hard.

Stop Tracking Across All Apps

Apple vs. Facebook…tee hee…go, Team!

I can imagine few things that I’m less jazzed about than being “tracked.”

Who wants an IDFA (Identity for Advertisers)? Not me, campers!

You never know what you’ll find in the Wall Street Journal. Here’s the article. Or just do what is sloppily circled in red at left. But the article is v. interesting.

Authentic!

Not only did I receive by mail this commemorative print (avec chiens) totally unsolicited, they enclosed a Certificate of Authenticity so that I can be 100% certain it is neither uncertified nor inauthentic.

A friend regarded it with puzzlement. “Like, why wouldn’t it be real? Are people mailing out unsanctioned reproductions of original works of art depicting the White House? And if they were, couldn’t they throw in a dummy Certificate of Authenticity quite easily?”

Duly noted, but this simple certificate gives me a boost of confidence that I, for one, could use in uncertain tymes. As for the Limited Edition part, I’m not sure how very few of us were lucky enough to get one, but the limitedness of it and its sheer authenticity really kind of made my day.

Haven’t decided which part to frame, but either way: Thank you, nutters!

Cereously Tryna Break Out of Here

I can’t tell if my Night Blooming Cereus has COVID Cabin Fever or if he’s trying to find his son across the street, but look at this baby go!

A week ago, we see him trying to bore through the ceiling.

 

Then he heads southwest, sensing a better way to make a break for it.

 

My guess: he wants to see his son, waving from across the street. I’ll have to ask my neighbor who owns him to do a drive-by at the window. The son is more mobile.

Which is exactly what the bloom viewing will have to be this year — drive-by — if we don’t get rid of this damned COVID!

Or As Boston Puts It

Social distancing ain’t over.

Learn it. Know it. Live it. 
(Name the reference and win a prize.)
 

 

Prepare for Launch

Losses of all stripes occurred in the terrible, terrible year that was 2020. I won’t foist the Gratitude thing on you here, or brightside the pandemic. But we’re in an interesting phase now – of leaving a nasty past behind while imagining the future. To slash through this period of straddling two vastly different landscapes, coinciding with both post-holiday doldrums and the worst cabin fever since the dawn of man, I recommend frequent, sane-making laffs. Then: we prepare for take-off. Game?

Tips for the last of the Weird Dark Tymes:

  1. Go outside. Bracing! Vault into another mood. Woodland creatures intrigue.
  2. There is unused winter clothing in your house someone else needs.
  3. Know that people worldwide are cracking up. A colleague said, “We are all tired of being inside with the same people and we are losing our minds.” This was 6 months ago.
  4. Use your library. Apply the balm (or catalyst!) of books (on tape?), music, movies, poetry, art.
  5. Crinkle your eyes so passerbys get the smile behind your mask. Do the nod.
  6. Toss or give away one thing a day. Beats making a big chore out of it.
  7. Organize a drawer a day. Save the disaster drawer for last. Or just leave it.
  8. Create passwords that amuse you. I like ValuedCustomer, which is how robocallers address me. (“Is Valued Customer at home?” Noper!) Or Youhavewon$1million. Or CertifiedFinalist.
  9. Do something nice for someone without letting on who did it. 
  10. Remember 3 good things that happened in 2020, then smack it goodbye.
  11. Try Mo Rocca’s book, Mobituaries. Funny, informative. Thomas Paine, Sammy Davis Jr. and codpiece parts: A+.
  12. Or fiction: Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine. Laugh out loud, with dark mystery.
  13. Check out Z Dogg, a cool Bay Area doctor who talks Things Covid, including how mRNA vaccines work. Cheering!
  14. List what you’ll do once normalcy returns. Keep adding to list.

Other ideas: Most people now use digital calendars. Oldsters use paper. I have 20 years’ of small, heavily scribbled Hallmark calendars (Belmains had them, sniff sniff!) that I plan to peruse, then chuck. I’ll be proud (“I did all that?”), mystified (“Who’s Bob M.?”), while noting with detachment a lifetime of overscheduling. I’ll make a timeline of my life, because I never recall what happened in which year (easier for people with children, who do the reverse math). I’ll call this my Life Timeline. Lifetime Line. Time Lifeline. What?! Won’t you join me?

I’ll revisit my Happy Box, into which I throw things in that will make me happy later. A drawing from a child, a festival wristband, something found on the street, a thank you note from someone I don’t remember (Bob M.?) for something I did that the note does not explain — but so nicely worded, who cares? I rarely pull out the Happy Box, but when I do: solid gold. Stuff from people no longer on this plane … I’ll cry and go to bed early. I’ve moved this thing with me 15 times since 1989 for a reason. 

Resolve This: As I suggest yearly, rather than making a painful list of New Year’s resolutions, list instead what you did in 2020. Bonus this year: you get to include TV viewing. The point is to feel good, not bad. Were there things you meant to do but didn’t? That’s what 2021 is for, darling. If you resolve to live healthier (yawn), do extra bad stuff before the purge. You know, gas station meats. Ramen Pride. A can of Coke. Meisterbrau. 

I wish you all the luck in the world going forward, and send Dear Reader cosmic intergalactic vibrations drawn from the future when all of this crap is far, far behind us. There will be live concerts and comedy. Spectator sports. Working From Office. Broadway. Art openings. Camp. Travel. Movie theaters. State Fairs, New World Festival, Tunbridge World’s Fair, Wassail Parade. Weddings and funerals. Contradancing and chorus. Church and chimichangas. Everyone will go nuts. It will be a banner year. 

Limber up. Prepare for launch. It’s coming, eventually. Good day.

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