by jphilo | Oct 7, 2013 | Daily Life
Hi, my name is Jolene Philo, and I’m a plant hoarder.
Yesterday, when the man of steel and I were repotting outdoor plants, preparing them to winter over in the house, I finally realized the extent of the problem.
When we ran out of pots, were almost out of dirt, but had plenty of geraniums waiting for winter rescue, my husband looked at the porch full of the fruits of our labors and said, “We have enough plants, right?”
I started to twitch.
I pleaded, “Just one more, please?”
I whined.
I begged.
But the man of steel stood firm.
Because even though I believed we needed more,
we had enough.
Enough to winter through the winter.
Enough to harvest plenty of slips for rerooting in the spring.
Enough to use all the rain water I’m hoarding I’ve wisely stored in the basement.
That’s what my rational brain whispered,
while my hoarder brain screamed,
“THERE IS NEVER ENOUGH!
YOU NEED MORE,
MORE,
MORE!”
And that’s when I knew I needed help.
That’s why I’m at this meeting.
In a dark church basement with only one window.
With one geranium sitting on the window sill.
Would you excuse me for a moment while I break off a slip for rerooting?
Just one.
I promise.
Just one.
by jphilo | Aug 9, 2013 | Daily Life
The ground shook along our gravel road today when two talented tree guys felled the giant sugar maple just north of our house. We suspected the limb hanging right above Anne’s old bedroom was hollow after another limb from that side of the tree fell in a windstorm some years back.
We were right.
The limb was hollow. Dangerously hollow. Hollow enough to assure me that the please-God-don’t-let-the-limb-fall-on-our house prayers when stiff winds blew from the north were warranted. Naturally, we thought the trunk would be hollow, too, like three other sugar maples we’ve had removed over our years on this gravel road.
We were wrong.
Other than the one bad limb over the house, every limb, every branch, and the 3 1/3 foot in diameter truck were solid through and through. So solid the man of steel could stand on the stump,
and walk the entire length of the trunk,
which was massive,
as is the amount of wood now laying in our yard.
If you need firewood, come and get it!
by jphilo | Jun 28, 2013 | Daily Life
Our shady neighborhood has been invaded by summertime’s unholy trinity: mosquitos, gnats, and deer flies. The invasion makes my morning walks a challenge and weeding the flowerbeds painful. If it wasn’t for a tip we learned when gnats crashed our daughter’s outdoor wedding reception 3 years ago, I would be a prisoner in my own home.
So what’s the tip? Absorbine Junior.
Skeptical? So was I at first. But a little Absorbine Junior dabbed behind the ears, across the forehead, under the chin and across the back of the neck kept the nasty, naughty, gnatty wedding crashers away for a couple hours.
Still skeptical? Check out this story about Absorbine Jr.
The stinky stuff may have started as a horse liniment that graduated to human liniment. But that’s only one of it’s charms. I apply it to face, legs and arms every morning, and I feel like Moses parting the Gnat Sea during my morning walks. It’s not quite as effective when standing knee deep in weeds in a flowerbed, even when you’ve dabbed your shirty silly with the stuff, but it helps.
Don’t ask how I know this.
As you can imagine, muscle aches are a thing of the past, too. Of course, my aroma these days is akin to senior citizens on parade. But who cares? I’m going to be a senior citizen in a few years, and this is good practice. With a little cultivation, Hiram may think Eau de Absorbine’s kinda sexy.
Absorbine Junior. Don’t leave home without it.
by jphilo | Jun 24, 2013 | Daily Life
Photo Source
Contrary to the lyrics of the Andy Williams song, I do not consider Christmas the most wonderful time of the year. For me, the most wonderful time of the year was last Saturday, when a new Day Runner calendar refill arrived in the mail.
I could hardly wait to open the package, tear off the shrink wrap, and riffle through the stack of perfectly cut paper. They were all there: 365 individual planner pages, the 2013–2016 at-a-glance calendar, and 12 two-page monthly tabbed calendars.
My hands held the promise of the ability to organize an entire year’s worth of endless possibilities into bite-sized, manageable pieces. Not that every possibility will come to fruition. But the presence of the Day Planner refill means that not all of them will be forgotten or brushed aside. Some of them will come to fruition.
The Day Planner also feeds my obsessive-compulsive tendencies, curbs irritability, and reduces twitchiness out in public. Which makes its arrival not only the most wonderful time of the year for me, but also for my husband. That makes it a bargain at any price.
But enough about my most wonderful time of the year. What makes you happy? Leave a comment.
by jphilo | Jun 14, 2013 | Daily Life
News flash!
The Philo School of Home Repair is proud to announce that the hall and stairway remodeling project which began in April of 2012 is finished.
Done.
Complete.
Looking good.
Ready for use.
A wonder to behold.
To be sure, the effort began with an initial spate of optimism and took 12 months longer than expected, ravished our bank account, and proved to be sexier than any home remodeling project in recorded history. These days, we call the finished product our personal stairway to heaven. (Cue Led Zeppelin music here.) It’s so heavenly, the man of steel has created his own mantra, which he repeats whenever he ascends or descend the stairway:
Oh, it feels so good on my toes.
Oh, it feels so good on my toes.
Oh, it feels so good on my toes.
He’s right. The carpet runner does feel good on the tootsies. And the hardwood floor in the upstairs hall is much cleaner and brighter than the blue-gray carpet it replaced. But, me–I’m just glad it’s finished and am ready for lavish compliments. In case our stairway to heaven as rendered you speechless, appropriate responses are listed below. Please choose one and leave it in the comment box:
A. That’s the best looking stairway I’ve ever seen.
B. If you ever think of selling your house, contact me first. I’ll pay double the asking price.
C. Send all future remodeling project bills to me.
D. All of the above
by jphilo | May 6, 2013 | Daily Life
The man of steel and I are no strangers to May snowstorms. They were more common than we liked during our years out west. One particularly vicious storm dumped 18 inches of snow on Harding County, South Dakota after Mother’s Day. But when we moved to central Iowa in 1985, we thought we’d left nasty May weather far, far behind.
And we had. At least until last week when the winter that will not end graced us with several inches of wet, heavy snow. During the storm that left the landscape looking more like early March than May, the man of steel and I said some things that made us look at one another and ask, “Did I just say that?”
Here are a few of the head-scratching comments heard around here:
- Hiram, it’s snowing really hard. You might want to leave for work a little early.
- Where’s the snow shovel?
- I wonder if school was called off.
- Have you ever seen a tulip shiver before?
- Maybe we should cover the plants on the porch.
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Now, it’s your turn. What did you say during last week’s snowstorm that made you scratch your head and ask, “Did I just say that?”
