Thank God I have a computer that's smarter than me, so that when I glance down at the bottom of the screen absently wondering if it's 9:00 yet, it can tell me that no, it is in fact almost 8:00. It can also tell me that in good conscience, I should let Chris sleep another hour and not wake him up early just because I was too absent-minded to realize I could've slept another hour as well. And it can lecture me on why the hell is it exactly I carry around a calendar in my purse if I don't write stuff like this in it. It can draw up an example of what my calendar should look like:
Saturday, Oct. 29:
Angel Food pick-up day
Zombie Parade
Daylight Savings begins tomorrow
Sunday, Oct. 30:
Jaimie & Jimmy coming over for Vampire Bats
Daylight Savings begins
Monday, Oct. 31:
Halloween!
Party @ Catoes
Daylight Savings started yesterday
Sunday, Nov. 6:
Play at Morgan Road Vineyard
Daylight Savings has been ongoing for a week so please reset the clocks in your house instead of doing the math in your head. This is what grown-ups do.
Thanks, Computer! Guys, I know HP gets a lot of flack, but it really has come a long way. Bit of a smartass though.
10.30.2005
10.24.2005
Fall happens
Apparently, Mother Nature's Alabama delegate woke up this morning and realized it was October. I'll be reacquainting myself with my heating bill sometime very soon.
Jaimie's birthday was Friday. She's 28. Or 30 - 2, if your glass is half empty. We had yummy lasagna at her parents' house and she got a new black Jeep. I don't think she's told Red about that yet. But between you and me, the sooner the better. I mean, I like Red, but that relationship was going nowhere fast. Well, it was going nowhere at about 45 mph. Even on the interstate. (I love you Jaimie! No hitting.)
It got me thinking about my next birthday and how far away it is. That's fine, I'm not in any hurry. It's just that it seems like I've been 24 for a really long time. I've been 24 for years. What will happen when I turn 25? I don't know how to be anything but 24. Not to mention that the last time I had to deal with an age that was a squared number, I was 16. 16! That was so long ago. Will I remember how to act?
I must apologize for my silliness. That's what happens when I'm sleepy and bored and have nothing in particular to write about.
Laura brought it to my attention the other day that I never posted a link to my Flickr account, wherein are cute pictures of the kitty cats. So without further ado: http://www.flickr.com/photos/woodlayson
It's on my to-do list to give my Flickr account a little more content diversity, but we know how that can be. Oh yeah, if you want to see the kitten pix in chronological order, start at the bottom of page 2 and work backwards. I don't know why they posted like that and I haven't taken the time to figure out how to switch them up.
Jaimie's birthday was Friday. She's 28. Or 30 - 2, if your glass is half empty. We had yummy lasagna at her parents' house and she got a new black Jeep. I don't think she's told Red about that yet. But between you and me, the sooner the better. I mean, I like Red, but that relationship was going nowhere fast. Well, it was going nowhere at about 45 mph. Even on the interstate. (I love you Jaimie! No hitting.)
It got me thinking about my next birthday and how far away it is. That's fine, I'm not in any hurry. It's just that it seems like I've been 24 for a really long time. I've been 24 for years. What will happen when I turn 25? I don't know how to be anything but 24. Not to mention that the last time I had to deal with an age that was a squared number, I was 16. 16! That was so long ago. Will I remember how to act?
I must apologize for my silliness. That's what happens when I'm sleepy and bored and have nothing in particular to write about.
Laura brought it to my attention the other day that I never posted a link to my Flickr account, wherein are cute pictures of the kitty cats. So without further ado: http://www.flickr.com/photos/woodlayson
It's on my to-do list to give my Flickr account a little more content diversity, but we know how that can be. Oh yeah, if you want to see the kitten pix in chronological order, start at the bottom of page 2 and work backwards. I don't know why they posted like that and I haven't taken the time to figure out how to switch them up.
10.18.2005
They want you!
It's that time again. Pledge week on NPR! Woo-hoo!
www.wbhm.org
That's the Birmingham station. There's also an 800 number that I can't remember. It's one of the worthier causes I can think of and it's $10 a month I think to be a member. Not that you get anything for being a member (except I think maybe a coffee cup). But it's about helping to perpetuate an invaluable social service. And prestige, of course. Maybe they give you a shiny laminated card. I'm gonna ask for one. And if they don't give me one, I'll make my own. I want to be a CARD-CARRYING member.
I'm sure NPR news isn't perfect, but it's the most unbiased, trustworthy source of information out there. That, to me, is worth the price of admission. Had to share.
www.wbhm.org
That's the Birmingham station. There's also an 800 number that I can't remember. It's one of the worthier causes I can think of and it's $10 a month I think to be a member. Not that you get anything for being a member (except I think maybe a coffee cup). But it's about helping to perpetuate an invaluable social service. And prestige, of course. Maybe they give you a shiny laminated card. I'm gonna ask for one. And if they don't give me one, I'll make my own. I want to be a CARD-CARRYING member.
I'm sure NPR news isn't perfect, but it's the most unbiased, trustworthy source of information out there. That, to me, is worth the price of admission. Had to share.
10.17.2005
The Old Man
Have I mentioned that Chris's back has been suffering from The Pinched Nerve of Everlasting Torture? He's been walking around like an 80-year-old man for days. (See Jaimie? I totally bucked the temptation to use the word "octogenarian".) It was sometime last week that he came home from school with a backache and woke up the next day unable to even lift his arms. He went to my chiropractor, who predictably gave him the same doomsday speech she gave me. Only he must be worse off, because she gave him a bunch of cool stuff. He got some little electrode thingies to stick on his back and a neck pillow device that I don't know how to describe other than the fact that it looks like an S&M toy.
He'd been getting better, but when he woke up yesterday morning, the whole thing had started all over. It's like a leg cramp that starts to subside and then you move it the wrong way and that wave of pain rolls back over you again. Only this is taking longer. When I said school was killing him, I wasn't intending to be literal.
Jimmy and Jaimie came over last night and brought us Chinese food, and that was a cheerer-upper. We watched a silly movie on TBS and read our fortune cookie predictions aloud adding the phrase "in bed" at the end, which made us laugh that 12-year-old laugh that's reserved for jokes about bodily functions and unseemly anatomy. It was good times.
He'd been getting better, but when he woke up yesterday morning, the whole thing had started all over. It's like a leg cramp that starts to subside and then you move it the wrong way and that wave of pain rolls back over you again. Only this is taking longer. When I said school was killing him, I wasn't intending to be literal.
Jimmy and Jaimie came over last night and brought us Chinese food, and that was a cheerer-upper. We watched a silly movie on TBS and read our fortune cookie predictions aloud adding the phrase "in bed" at the end, which made us laugh that 12-year-old laugh that's reserved for jokes about bodily functions and unseemly anatomy. It was good times.
10.12.2005
Catching the bug
This is my 100th post. Visualize confetti.
By "the bug", I am not referring to the Icky Throat-itch Cough of Doom you've been hearing so much about, although I indeed still have it. I do, however, have to comment that it will be interesting to see how I'm going to pull off leading worship not once, but twice this Sunday. That's like walking a tightrope with vertigo.
No, the bug I'm referring to is far more insidious, with consequences that could last for decades and affect everyone around us. Chris and I have both felt its icy hand on our shoulders and I fear it's too late to escape its evil thrall.
We're looking at real estate.
Everyone is buying houses. Jaimie. Brad and Cindy. Zach and Kristie. Nathan and Alex (well, if they could find a decent realtor and a homeowner who isn't in a coma). It might as well be the flu. And now Chris and I find ourselves asking each other questions we have no right even thinking at this point.
"Buy or build?"
"Urban or rural?"
"Where's the best school system?"
I mean, hold the brakes. School system? SCHOOL SYSTEM?!? I know this is a legitimate concern, but it annoys the piss out of me that these nonexistent children of ours that I don't even want yet are already butting in on our decisions. Shut up, eye-glimmer! You don't get an opinion until you're 20.
I wasn't really concerned that this would go anywhere until we started talking about our credit histories and interest rates and the housing bubble. These are all topics that make my head hurt because they are beyond my comprehension, so to voluntarily discuss these things has got to be a sign that we're not going to walk away from this alive. So far, we haven't made any phone calls. I'll hold off for as long as I can.
By "the bug", I am not referring to the Icky Throat-itch Cough of Doom you've been hearing so much about, although I indeed still have it. I do, however, have to comment that it will be interesting to see how I'm going to pull off leading worship not once, but twice this Sunday. That's like walking a tightrope with vertigo.
No, the bug I'm referring to is far more insidious, with consequences that could last for decades and affect everyone around us. Chris and I have both felt its icy hand on our shoulders and I fear it's too late to escape its evil thrall.
We're looking at real estate.
Everyone is buying houses. Jaimie. Brad and Cindy. Zach and Kristie. Nathan and Alex (well, if they could find a decent realtor and a homeowner who isn't in a coma). It might as well be the flu. And now Chris and I find ourselves asking each other questions we have no right even thinking at this point.
"Buy or build?"
"Urban or rural?"
"Where's the best school system?"
I mean, hold the brakes. School system? SCHOOL SYSTEM?!? I know this is a legitimate concern, but it annoys the piss out of me that these nonexistent children of ours that I don't even want yet are already butting in on our decisions. Shut up, eye-glimmer! You don't get an opinion until you're 20.
I wasn't really concerned that this would go anywhere until we started talking about our credit histories and interest rates and the housing bubble. These are all topics that make my head hurt because they are beyond my comprehension, so to voluntarily discuss these things has got to be a sign that we're not going to walk away from this alive. So far, we haven't made any phone calls. I'll hold off for as long as I can.
10.10.2005
While I should've been resting
This weekend, when the smart thing to do would've been to lay in bed doped up on Robitussin and Goldenseal, I instead decided to do a bunch of useful, productive things. I know. Stupid. Chris and I have been in Project Mode for the last couple of weeks, but that was not my plan for this weekend. Just some simple cleaning up, starting with the bedroom.
My first order of business was to get rid of unnecessary clutter, like the luggage bags that were still out from our anniversary trip. Right, to the closet with you. If you've ever seen our bedroom closet, you'd be eyeing these bags trying to mentally sum up whether or not they would fit in there. But I knew they would, because that's where they were before we used them. Apparently, Chris had a system for getting them in and out that I was unaware of, because when I tried to shove them in there on a low shelf, something snapped. In the literal, not the figurative. I didn't know what it was until the rod that all our nice clothing hung on (we keep our hundred-dollar suits in there) fell.
Let me try to describe to you how our closet worked. There was this metal rod spanning the width of the closet. On one side of the closet, a foot or so inside the door, was a wooden plank that had been fixed to the wall with dozens of bent, skewed nails. It ran the depth of the closet. On the other side was a similar plank. The metal rod rested balanced on top of these two planks with nothing much to hold it in place, so it just sort of rolled around in there. With clothes on it, it didn't move around much because from shoulder to shoulder, our hangers took up the entire depth of the closet.
We could've fixed it up in a way similar to how it had been jerry-rigged the first time, but I saw in this tragedy an opportunity. We could buy new shelves and a new rod and have a truly functional closet here. So, when Chris got home, we went to Lowe's.
I don't know why we keep going to Lowe's. There has to be some other place that sells shelves and closet bars. But we weren't really sure what we were looking for exactly and we wanted options. We settled on some 20" deep wire shelves, so we buzzed for somebody to come and cut them for us. And this guy...he was a salesman. By the time we checked out, he'd hooked us up with $200 worth of stuff we would absolutely need to outfit THE TINIEST CLOSET YOU'LL EVER SEE IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE. How? How did he do that?
By the time we got back from the emotionally draining experience that Lowe's always is, we'd decided to take half of the stuff we just bought back, which was too late to do since it was Sunday and they close early. So even though technically we didn't make two trips, it still doesn't count as a win because of the inevitability that we will. When we got home, we realized the cordless drill wasn't charged, so we didn't even get to start on the closet rod. Last night, we slept on the couch because clothes, luggage, and various other homeless sundries were piled on top of the bed.
I remember a time when cleaning one's room was a simple thing with simple objectives and few real obstacles. However, I think that in the future it would behoove me to remember that it is not that way anymore.
My first order of business was to get rid of unnecessary clutter, like the luggage bags that were still out from our anniversary trip. Right, to the closet with you. If you've ever seen our bedroom closet, you'd be eyeing these bags trying to mentally sum up whether or not they would fit in there. But I knew they would, because that's where they were before we used them. Apparently, Chris had a system for getting them in and out that I was unaware of, because when I tried to shove them in there on a low shelf, something snapped. In the literal, not the figurative. I didn't know what it was until the rod that all our nice clothing hung on (we keep our hundred-dollar suits in there) fell.
Let me try to describe to you how our closet worked. There was this metal rod spanning the width of the closet. On one side of the closet, a foot or so inside the door, was a wooden plank that had been fixed to the wall with dozens of bent, skewed nails. It ran the depth of the closet. On the other side was a similar plank. The metal rod rested balanced on top of these two planks with nothing much to hold it in place, so it just sort of rolled around in there. With clothes on it, it didn't move around much because from shoulder to shoulder, our hangers took up the entire depth of the closet.
We could've fixed it up in a way similar to how it had been jerry-rigged the first time, but I saw in this tragedy an opportunity. We could buy new shelves and a new rod and have a truly functional closet here. So, when Chris got home, we went to Lowe's.
I don't know why we keep going to Lowe's. There has to be some other place that sells shelves and closet bars. But we weren't really sure what we were looking for exactly and we wanted options. We settled on some 20" deep wire shelves, so we buzzed for somebody to come and cut them for us. And this guy...he was a salesman. By the time we checked out, he'd hooked us up with $200 worth of stuff we would absolutely need to outfit THE TINIEST CLOSET YOU'LL EVER SEE IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE. How? How did he do that?
By the time we got back from the emotionally draining experience that Lowe's always is, we'd decided to take half of the stuff we just bought back, which was too late to do since it was Sunday and they close early. So even though technically we didn't make two trips, it still doesn't count as a win because of the inevitability that we will. When we got home, we realized the cordless drill wasn't charged, so we didn't even get to start on the closet rod. Last night, we slept on the couch because clothes, luggage, and various other homeless sundries were piled on top of the bed.
I remember a time when cleaning one's room was a simple thing with simple objectives and few real obstacles. However, I think that in the future it would behoove me to remember that it is not that way anymore.
10.09.2005
3:36 a.m.
May I bitch? Because, not that this is of interest to anyone but me at the moment, but I am awake. Wide awake.
My throat hurts.
Well it doesn't hurt so much as it has that scratchy feeling that I can't really ignore because it makes me want to swallow a lot. How this rendered me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the middle of the damn night I don't know. I just know that I'm waiting patiently for 5 a.m. Nothing will put you to sleep faster than 5 a.m.
I went and bought Pills today (technically yesterday). They went up by $3 from last month. It's gotten to where they go up by a few cents every other damn month, but $3? Now they cost me over $40 a month, and I'm wondering if, in the long run, it wouldn't be cheaper just to have a damn kid. Anyway, I'm wondering what's up with the price hike and when I open the bag, I get my answer.
The box looks different.
For the love, they changed the stupid-ass design and charged me $3 for it. I liked the old box just fine. Can I buy one of those for the old price?
I was on the phone with Jaimie today (technically yesterday) and shared my frustration. She theorized that the right-wing conservative radicals were hiking the price of birth control to prevent people from buying it and thus denying their unborn children the fertilization they deserve. I theorized that the left-wing commie liberals improved the box design to entice more teenagers to enjoy consequence-free premarital sex. Then, we laughed.
I'm going back to bed. Wish me luck.
My throat hurts.
Well it doesn't hurt so much as it has that scratchy feeling that I can't really ignore because it makes me want to swallow a lot. How this rendered me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the middle of the damn night I don't know. I just know that I'm waiting patiently for 5 a.m. Nothing will put you to sleep faster than 5 a.m.
I went and bought Pills today (technically yesterday). They went up by $3 from last month. It's gotten to where they go up by a few cents every other damn month, but $3? Now they cost me over $40 a month, and I'm wondering if, in the long run, it wouldn't be cheaper just to have a damn kid. Anyway, I'm wondering what's up with the price hike and when I open the bag, I get my answer.
The box looks different.
For the love, they changed the stupid-ass design and charged me $3 for it. I liked the old box just fine. Can I buy one of those for the old price?
I was on the phone with Jaimie today (technically yesterday) and shared my frustration. She theorized that the right-wing conservative radicals were hiking the price of birth control to prevent people from buying it and thus denying their unborn children the fertilization they deserve. I theorized that the left-wing commie liberals improved the box design to entice more teenagers to enjoy consequence-free premarital sex. Then, we laughed.
I'm going back to bed. Wish me luck.
10.06.2005
A Series of Recent Events --or-- Playing Catch-up
I'd hoped to post again before being berated for my blogstapation, but alas, I was a day late and a dollar short. I usually post in my office when work gets slow, and that just hasn't happened in a while. In fact, I haven't been in my office for a while. In fact, when I got back to my office, I found a squatter asleep under the desk. I woke him up and he yelled at me to get out of his house and stop stealing his shoes. Don't worry, I set him up in a phone booth. It's more spacious anyway.
Here's a recap on the last little while. Feel free to read it in several sittings and pretend these entries were written on different days.
Fast Times at Culinard High
Chris started his last semester of culinary school this week. It's the one where the students actually run the real live white-tablecloth restaurant that real live people go to eat a five-course meal. Anyway, the poor guy has to get up at 5:00 a.m. every morning to be there at 7:30. He's already been yelled at by some classically trained British fag who thinks he's Gordon Ramsay. And it looks like he'll have an average of two days a week out of the four he works in the kitchen that he'll have to come home, change clothes, and run to the job he actually gets paid to do to work until 2 a.m. This will go on for ten weeks of his life that he anticipates will knock about five years right off the top of his life expectancy. Pray for the dude.
Do-It-Yourself
This past weekend, I felt myself falling into a funk that I experience on many weekends, especially Saturdays, wherein I have nothing specific to do and am all alone in the wooden box I call home for hours on end. This time, I pledged to not let myself waste any more time on the destructive cycle of getting so bored that I don't feel like doing anything which makes me more bored, etc. I consider this a massive character flaw on my part (although my therapist assures me it's not) and last weekend I decided to challenge it to a duel. I pulled all the living room furniture into the middle of the room, laid down a dropcloth, made the two separate obligatory trips to Lowe's that occur whenever home improvement work is to be undertaken, and got to work painting trim and caulking corners. This is a little chore that was left half-done at the time we moved in and that, predictably, we neglected to finish once we were settled in. It has bugged me every day of my life since then. Why, I ask you, why live with that? So I painted, and I painted, and I painted. Then, when all the world was white with a glorious new coat of paint, I looked overhead and saw that it was not yet good.
No crown moulding.
Okay, I don't know how many of you out there have attempted to install crown moulding, but it's not an intuitive process. Not even for guys. Not even for guys who are very handy and industrious. It is a learned skill, and that's all there is to it. So watching me try to analytically break down the elements of the proper cut was...well, there should've been popcorn. Mom was there trying to help, and she brought Mario with her. For those of you who don't know Mario, he works with our company and he is the handiest guy ever. He's also the coolest. A lot more projects around the duplex would've been left undone had he not been there to help. So the three of us, three reasonably intelligent people, one of whom is a whiz at all things utilitary, none of whom are strangers to "projects", end up sitting there at the end of the day with splinters and shards of improperly cut pieces of $1 a foot pre-finished moulding. Now let me put this in perspective. We all work in a business in which our talents are often underrated, because it's the kind of service people often think they can perform themselves. This is a notion we fight against, because we believe that our talents should be recognized, that our skills should be seen for the societal necessity that they are. At that moment, we looked at each other and saw a room full of hypocrites.
Ultimately, it took four more days and the collaborative power of six individuals to essentially nail some boards to the wall. I will never again think little of a man who is good with a miter saw.
Cat Blog
Our little girl kitten, Peanut, has experienced a rite of passage. No, not like that. She got herself stuck on our roof for the first time. We don't even let them out much since they're not snipped yet, but sometimes when I'm sitting outside, I'll let them go with me and play in the yard. Last time I let them out, Peanut shimmied up the tree that grows right next to our front porch before I could stop her. Do cats just live in the "now" or do they lack any sense of foresight? This happened right before I was about to put them inside and go to class, where I had a test to take. And the only ladder nearby was locked up in the garage that my landlords, who were already gone to work, had the key to. Luckily, she found her way down before she made me late. She didn't stick the landing, but it was her first time.
Symbology
Chris and I got married in a field outside my grandparents' house. We cut down some young sweetgum trees and made a little gazebo type thing out of them. It was one of my favorite makeshift touches we added to the ceremony site. When the big day was over, we left them there and we never really got around to taking them down, mostly 'cause we liked it. Yesterday, I drove by the field on my way home from work and I noticed that one of the trees had started sprouting new growth. I'm not talking about vines growing on it or anything. I mean, there were little branches around the top of it with bright new leaves. I know there are some plants that you can cut off a stem and plant it and Voila! New plant. But a tree? With no root system? Maybe it's the last gasp of a fallen plant with a still semi-functional vascular system, but it was pretty and it made me smile.
Here's a recap on the last little while. Feel free to read it in several sittings and pretend these entries were written on different days.
Fast Times at Culinard High
Chris started his last semester of culinary school this week. It's the one where the students actually run the real live white-tablecloth restaurant that real live people go to eat a five-course meal. Anyway, the poor guy has to get up at 5:00 a.m. every morning to be there at 7:30. He's already been yelled at by some classically trained British fag who thinks he's Gordon Ramsay. And it looks like he'll have an average of two days a week out of the four he works in the kitchen that he'll have to come home, change clothes, and run to the job he actually gets paid to do to work until 2 a.m. This will go on for ten weeks of his life that he anticipates will knock about five years right off the top of his life expectancy. Pray for the dude.
Do-It-Yourself
This past weekend, I felt myself falling into a funk that I experience on many weekends, especially Saturdays, wherein I have nothing specific to do and am all alone in the wooden box I call home for hours on end. This time, I pledged to not let myself waste any more time on the destructive cycle of getting so bored that I don't feel like doing anything which makes me more bored, etc. I consider this a massive character flaw on my part (although my therapist assures me it's not) and last weekend I decided to challenge it to a duel. I pulled all the living room furniture into the middle of the room, laid down a dropcloth, made the two separate obligatory trips to Lowe's that occur whenever home improvement work is to be undertaken, and got to work painting trim and caulking corners. This is a little chore that was left half-done at the time we moved in and that, predictably, we neglected to finish once we were settled in. It has bugged me every day of my life since then. Why, I ask you, why live with that? So I painted, and I painted, and I painted. Then, when all the world was white with a glorious new coat of paint, I looked overhead and saw that it was not yet good.
No crown moulding.
Okay, I don't know how many of you out there have attempted to install crown moulding, but it's not an intuitive process. Not even for guys. Not even for guys who are very handy and industrious. It is a learned skill, and that's all there is to it. So watching me try to analytically break down the elements of the proper cut was...well, there should've been popcorn. Mom was there trying to help, and she brought Mario with her. For those of you who don't know Mario, he works with our company and he is the handiest guy ever. He's also the coolest. A lot more projects around the duplex would've been left undone had he not been there to help. So the three of us, three reasonably intelligent people, one of whom is a whiz at all things utilitary, none of whom are strangers to "projects", end up sitting there at the end of the day with splinters and shards of improperly cut pieces of $1 a foot pre-finished moulding. Now let me put this in perspective. We all work in a business in which our talents are often underrated, because it's the kind of service people often think they can perform themselves. This is a notion we fight against, because we believe that our talents should be recognized, that our skills should be seen for the societal necessity that they are. At that moment, we looked at each other and saw a room full of hypocrites.
Ultimately, it took four more days and the collaborative power of six individuals to essentially nail some boards to the wall. I will never again think little of a man who is good with a miter saw.
Cat Blog
Our little girl kitten, Peanut, has experienced a rite of passage. No, not like that. She got herself stuck on our roof for the first time. We don't even let them out much since they're not snipped yet, but sometimes when I'm sitting outside, I'll let them go with me and play in the yard. Last time I let them out, Peanut shimmied up the tree that grows right next to our front porch before I could stop her. Do cats just live in the "now" or do they lack any sense of foresight? This happened right before I was about to put them inside and go to class, where I had a test to take. And the only ladder nearby was locked up in the garage that my landlords, who were already gone to work, had the key to. Luckily, she found her way down before she made me late. She didn't stick the landing, but it was her first time.
Symbology
Chris and I got married in a field outside my grandparents' house. We cut down some young sweetgum trees and made a little gazebo type thing out of them. It was one of my favorite makeshift touches we added to the ceremony site. When the big day was over, we left them there and we never really got around to taking them down, mostly 'cause we liked it. Yesterday, I drove by the field on my way home from work and I noticed that one of the trees had started sprouting new growth. I'm not talking about vines growing on it or anything. I mean, there were little branches around the top of it with bright new leaves. I know there are some plants that you can cut off a stem and plant it and Voila! New plant. But a tree? With no root system? Maybe it's the last gasp of a fallen plant with a still semi-functional vascular system, but it was pretty and it made me smile.
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