Wimpy Plants Need Not Apply

Before we get to today's subject, a quick update for you: Right after I published yesterday's post, I attempted to watch Glee. My DVR had recorded it... but the mother of all hail storms interfered with our satellite and the last 15 minutes of the show were blacked out. I chose to laugh instead of cry.

And I did end up taking a Lunesta in order to ensure some shut-eye, so thankfully I'm in a much better mood today (despite the fact that it's still ridiculously depressing outside).

OK, moving on...

The idea for today's post came from an email I received this morning from CM, who I used to work with at Chase (aka The Man). She sent me this present-day picture of a bamboo plant I'd given her nearly five years ago when I left to start my job at the Chicago Board of Trade.



When I saw how the little bugger had thrived (thriven? throve? too lazy to figure it out -- give me points for realizing I could be wrong) over the years, I almost died laughing. Why? Because when I gave CM the plant above, I kept a second bamboo plant for myself -- its brother, if you will. I still have it, too:



No, your eyes are not playing tricks on you. That's just a picture of a beautiful little pot with a bunch of stones in it. Alas, my bamboo plant went to the great forest in the sky shortly after I switched offices in 2006.

I've learned over the years that I am sorely lacking a green thumb. That's why I felt really bad not too long ago when my upstairs neighbor gave me one of his lush arrangements once he realized it was dangerous to have around his cat. This thing was gorgeous and thick and green and flowering. Now thanks to my lack of skillz most of it has died off... but dammit if a few sprouts aren't sticking with me:


It gets worse. Below is one of two rose plants I bought accidentally (long story) from Peapod (grocery delivery service) a mere month ago. It withered within a week, despite my best efforts. Don't ask me why I still have it, because I'm not sure. Keeping hope alive, perhaps?



My grandma and Aunt Sue are really good with plants -- as in, they can bring dead ones back to life and stuff. It's true! But I didn't inherit that gene. Not all hope is lost, though. It appears that really really really tough plants can survive under my care. You longtime readers might remember a post from nearly three years ago (here it is, if you need a refresher) where I wrote about all the greenery my husband and I bought to decorate our deck. The big surprise is that the four big potted plants we purchased in May 2008 are still with us. It's a true miracle. Here's what one of them looks like today:


But the craziest thing is that of the four plants we dragged back from Home Depot that day, one of them has gone absolutely wild. It's about to touch our ceiling, no lie.

I mean, would you look at this bad boy? He cannot be stopped! (And yes, those are the two dead rose plants from Peapod in front of The Green Monster.)


I know that he (it's a he, I'm sure of it) probably needs a bigger planter, but I'm totally afraid I'll kill him in the move. Now that he's survived this long on my watch I'll be extra sad if I lose him! What should I do?

- e