My Peace Lilies and Other Nonsense

We received some lovely wedding gifts on the occasion of our marriage: December 26, 1998. One of the most unique ones was a large vase filled with crumbled one-dollar bills. But I would have to say that my favorite is the gift of a petite peace lily from an acquaintance named Elaine.

When Elaine presented us with the plant, she explained that it needed moderate light (surely not direct sunlight) and that when it wanted water its leaves would droop noticeably (and she demonstrated with some drama) but after it received water it would perk back up speedily (and she demonstrated with yet more drama).

I never realized the possible lifespan of a houseplant. I still have the peace lily from Elaine. It has traveled with us to four different houses, survived small children and neglect, and bloomed only when it wanted to. Upon the purchase of our second house, the mortgage agent gave us another peace lily. That one, too, has lasted to the time of this posting. A few days after my mother died, I noticed one of the peace lilies working on a single white blossom. I like to believe that it was a symbol of my mother's entry into eternal life.

By the way, is it lily or lilly? I can't remember. Mom had an aunt named Aunt Tilly. She lived to be about 95.

We went shopping this evening at the new appliance place that occupies about half the space that used to be Fleet Farm. They have an absolute boatload of appliances there. I've never seen so many refrigerators in one place in my life, everything from little bitty dorm fridges to colossal commercial ones of stainless steel. The staff said they're planning a grand opening in February or so and that the prices will be even more shockingly low for the celebration.

Our chair arrived from HOM furniture today. Never in my life have I seen such lousy customer service. That would be another blog post in itself.

And finally, Evan was in one of his warm and loving moods this evening. He came down about 9:30 and asked if I was playing piano. I said no, I hadn't been, and he asked if maybe I would play for a while while he was going to sleep, but "nothing too jumpy, if you know what I mean."

I must have the most erudite 8-year-old in the county.