Julia Childs and Martha Stewart Unite

Calling all men/women of the "cloth"! I need Priests, Rabbis, Televangelists, and Ministers. Bring on Shamans and witchdoctors; lotions and potions are welcome. Come one, come all and "bless my plants" before it's too late. The sun came out and my "black thumb" was restless and itching for flowers! Flowers! I need flowers. I want to plant, plant, plant! Show me the Impatients, Petunias, and Geraniums, I'm rearin' to dig. Big deal my indestructable ferns died. Or did they commit suicide? They were supposed to outlive me. What did I do wrong? I loved them so. They hated me. Were they Republicans? Maybe I wasn't "there" for them. Maybe we should have gone into counseling.

It didn't deter me however. I can be Martha Stewart... I know I can, I know I can. Armed with a trowel, gloves, and trays and trays of beautiful flowers I set forth. I was ready! With love in my heart and tears in my eyes I placed Begonia plants in what I've nicknamed the "flower bed of death".... "good luck little red guys, the Impatients didn't make it out alive last year but I know you can". Onward and with fingers crossed I carefully placed purple Petunias in pots with red Geraniums hoping they would "just get along". I was crazed, a veritable mad woman...pot after pot after pot; I was a planting machine. I could barely stand upright yet couldn't stop.

By 5:00 my work still wasn't done, but with a glass of crisp Sauvignon Blanc in hand I kept planting. I was apologizing to the Petunias and blessing the Begonias, I was drunk; I was the Julia Childs of gardening! Anyone know a Rabbi who makes house calls?