Damn, girl!

Here's a quick little bedtime post to suggest a project. A little background: yesterday, my elderly iris swapping pal from down the street, Garnet, had her husband stop the car on the way past our house. All 4 1/2 hunched-over feet of her toddled over to me while I was watering (and feeling thoroughly deflated after a day of parental challenges) and she gave me the old lady equivalent of the "damn, girl!"

She said, "Every time Bob and I drive past your garden I tell him how happy I am that you have taken the time to plant and maintain such a lovely garden. Sometime I would love it if you would walk down to our place and give me some ideas."

Holy shasta daisies! That's some kudos.

So, other than tooting my own horn, the purpose of this post is to suggest that every single one (and it may only be a single one) of my reader(s) take an opportunity to give a woman an unexpected and heartfelt compliment. I'm seeing a day filled with "damn girl, your bouffant is off the chizain!" or "wowza, mama, the way you dodged your kid's puke on the merry-go-round was downright balletic!" or how about, "You make those Crocs look good!" You do have to mean it, though.

I know, chipper, right? What's up with me? Maybe I'm just happy because my big ol' rhubarb plant havin' friend hooked me up today. If not that, then it could be the fact that K finally admitted that his 1000 calorie (no joke) bowl of granola each morning may be causing him to gain a little weight (never mind the bowl of ice cream as big as his head after dinner each night... baby steps...). It's hard to quantify the relative happiness factor of rhubarb vs. being right.

Not really. Not even close. The best rhubarb crumble pales in comparison to the sweet, sweet taste of 'told you so'. Love you darlin'! It's not your birthday yet.