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Tuesday, April 26, 2011


I was at my Spring/Summer part-time job last Friday morning (watering my pots and plants all around our house—believe me, during a Texas Summer, it could be a full-time job—especially long about July or August), when Hubby saw me ignoring a pot on our back patio. He walked up to me and said, “Hey, why didn’t you water that plant?” “Because,” I answered, with my always sweet patience, “it’s plastic.” “What?” he said, with a confused look on his cute face. “It’s not real?” “Nope,” I replied, trying desperately not to LOL.

We had new carpet put in our bedrooms in February. In TLC’s old room, now our guest room (unless she’s the “guest”—then it’s still HER room), I’d been using a basket with a fake grass-type plant to cover a bad spot in the carpet—under a nightstand. As we moved things out for the installers, I handed it to Hubby one day and said, “Put this out in that pot on the patio—for now.” Who knew he’d been watering it ever since? Bless his heart.

As he walked away, I smiled, remembering another time when it was me that made a big donkey fool of myself.

We have two tanks (some of y’all might call them “ponds”) on our place. One is only full about four months out of the year—if we’ve had some rain. (Most of Texas is currently in a horrid drought. I’m sure y’all have seen the devastation of the wildfires. They’ve been as close as twenty miles to our place. It’s scary.) The other tank is not wide, but is pretty deep (it does get really low, however—as it is currently) and is full of catfish. Many are now giants (ten pounders or more)—since they’ve been in there for ten years.

During our third year living out here in the country, Hubby decided he wanted to attract migrating ducks to the bigger tank. He bought three duck decoys and placed them around the tank one weekend. I watched him do it.

A few months later, as we were heading to town one afternoon, we were driving by the tank when I shrieked: “WOW! Look!!! We have ducks on the tank!!! STOP! LOOK!!!” I was beyond excited—jumping around like a kid who’s just been told she’s going to Disney World. Then I became perplexed. Because as I hooted and hollered, I realized Hubby was not sharing in my uber ecstacy.

“What is the matter with you? Have you already seen them? Did you forget to tell me they were here?” He was looking at me with those Sean Connery eyes. “Are you kidding me?” he asked. Kidding? About three ducks on our tank? Well, that made me downright mad. Why, oh why, would I kid about that? As I worked on trying not to hiss my sassy retort, he (quietly, yet somewhat condescendingly) said: “Those are the decoys. You must have forgotten they were there.”

Yes. Yes, I had forgotten. Apparently the wind had blown them to different areas of the tank and that changed the picture for me—confounded my brain. Sheesh.

We have lots of fake things in our own individual worlds, don’t we? Things that look amazingly real. I guess it’s good. It speaks volumes for those incredibly creative people who can make stuff—even stuff on and in us!—realistic to the point of amazement and unbelievableness. (Is that a word?) And, yes, occasionally, to the point of embarrassment.

Add to the mix those of us (way) over 50 whose eyes, ears and bodies are rebelling on an hourly basis, and you end up with people who water plastic plants and applaud plastic ducks.

Patience and humor are the keys, right, TLC? You’ll be there. Watch it.

Gotta scoot . . . gotta go water some real plants . . .

Dame Lovee Darling
(This is the fake name I gave myself three years ago. Yep, I did. If Beyonce can do it, so can I.)

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