Redwood Update 3

This is a photo of my tree from a few days ago, back when he had far fewer leaves and was a mere 11 and a a half inches tall. He's up to twelve now at his tippy-top branch! 

I keep him by this window because it's so bright upstairs (an artist once tried to buy my house simply because of the bright sunlight that this room gets) and because he can look outside at those trees that he'll someday be able to stomp on. It's motivation. 

As you can see, I keep a glass of water nearby, and a ruler. This enables me to encourage, and measure, his growth on a regular basis. I wish it were a sunnier day when this photo was taken because this one makes it look like I live in a dark and scary place. I promise, I don't. Mr. Tree has a great home. 

YFB

Today Lis and I were having a conversation about tonight (that sentence was really lame). Here comes the (very poorly remembered) script. 

Me: Where will you be tonight?

Lis: Blahblahblah (I forget where she said), but we'll be moving around. 

Me: Ugh, I'm still trying to figure out what to do, because I am broke and have work - but not until 1030!

Lis: I am poor, too, AND have work at 815. 

And this is the moment I realized, and so told Lis, that Susie Orman is right, after all: We ARE young, fabulous, and broke. 

Disclaimer: I actually can't stand Susie Orman. In this situation, though, I cannot deny her rightness. So, instead of actually BUYING her book for the YFB, I suggest that you get a mom-like friend (Lisbeth V. Fagan) and borrow hers. 

Weekend.

This past weekend was like wearing your mom's pearls or slapping on heels for no reason: Keith and I spent it downtown, playing grown up. 

After a Friday night of shopping (I, Kristin N. Rotondo, visited Urban and only bought two pairs of sandals!), we woke up Saturday and hopped on the train, checked in to floor number 25 of the Sheraton, and got dressed up all fancy-like for dinner at Ruth's Chris. We ate too much and were asleep before eleven (told you we played grown-up). He'll probably write a much more detailed account of the weekend. It all seems like one fancily-clad blur to me.

And now I've got to go find a green shirt. 

Moving?

A while back, my mom had a realtor come look at our house, "just to price it," she said, "you know, just for fun." She'd also said, "I won't sell for less than $400,000." Naturally, what does the realtor price our house at? $400,000.

We're putting a sign in the ground.

I do not want to move. Not even a little bit. I'm twenty-two years old and I feel like a third-grader refusing to switch schools in the middle of the year.

Redwood Update 2

Mr. Tree (I'm about as name-creative right now as a three-year-old who can't let go of "blankie.") is 11.75 inches tall!!! He's growing!!! I know this is what trees do, but I was still surprised and excited that this thing that relies on me for growth is actually growing!!! PLUS! he's sprouting leaves! Again, something trees tend to do, but still thrilling.

Redwood Update

Tree Alert: My tree is 11.5 inches tall. I considered using centimeters as it is generally deemed more scientific because that's what real scientists use, but I opted out for two reasons: 1) I am not a scientist and 2) more people who may read this can relate to inches.

As for an update, you should all know I made a crucial mistake (GASP!) in my last post: our redwoods need not to be MM, but simply M!!! I think that I have remedied the situation, watering the little guy aplenty last night, but I will worry for him until he grows nice and tall (appromately 50 years).

Godzilla is smaller than our trees (will be).

This weekend was several things: packed, Lis-and-Keith-oriented, expensive, and incredibly (insert intelligent-sounding synonym of "fun" here).

I will chronicle it now.

Saturday started with McDonald's breakfast. Anyone who knows me knows, too, that I adore the occasional (weekly) McDonald's breakfast. Sausage, egg, and cheese on a bagel. A hashbrown and some orange juice if I'm feeling extra breakfasty. Deeeelicious. I only eat about half of my sandwich with the egg, and then I remove it and feed it to whichever boy is nearest me. It's bizarre, I know. Ask me how I eat a Reese's cup or a soft pretzel. Post-McDonald's breakfast should have been Shamrock Shuttle. This should have been a 22-year-old's dream come true: a ten dollar refillable cup and a bus to take you wherever you may want to go? Perhaps sad but true, Keith and I skipped it and opted instead for sandal-shopping and attempting to find Washington's Crossing State Park (which I'm still not sure we ever did). Some things that, embarrassingly, happened there: 1. I was scared of the woods, and 2. of a bridge. 3. We saw a field and couldn't stop commenting on how gigantic it was. 4. We justified this excitement to ourselves by saying it was because the grass was yellow. 5. We walked into a steamroller-looking yellow truck. A successful park trip, I'd say (and we're experts). Afterwards was Victor's birthday celebration and another embarrassing series of events for some persons. It was at a karaoke bar: enough said.

Sunday. Flower Show day!!! First IHOP, then Flower Show. Possibly the coolest place on earth. After finding Lis (NOT under an archway), I bought too much, avoided a four-dollar-and-seventy-five-cents hot dog even though my hunger was overwhelming (opting instead for two pairs of earrings I most certainly don't need and four bookmarks), and giggled at Keith's humongousness next to tiny furniture. Oh, and we bought trees. And by trees, I don't mean any silly bonsais (though they told us we could turn them into bonsais. Pish, pash!), but instead a pair of 150-foot Redwoods. We started out by looking at plants. Then Keith said, "Hey! Look over there! They're bigger!" So, we looked and quickly purchased. I have included a drawing by the wonderful Keith Maynard to give some scale to just what 150 feet translates to (for Tim: the picture is of a VERY tall tree. Next to it are Godzilla, who is about three-quarters of the size of the tree, and very, very, very small and on the other side of the tree, Keith and I, dancing. Above the tree is a rocket ship ("because it is 2084") and an anti-Godzilla missile. The photo is captioned: "In the year 2084."). These suckers live up to 1200 years and can grow to be twenty-five feet wide. All they need is to be MM and to remain in S (that means moderately moist and in full sun). I will post at least weekly about the current height and perhaps width of my tree. I believe Keith will do the same (the copier (just kidding (sort of))). His is the tall one (obviously), mine has an extra branch. They're best friends. I am not home to take the beginning measurement, but I will be sure to do so as soon as I arrive home. Perhaps next time I'll include a photo as well. After the Flower Show, Lis, Keith, and I went to Field House, which is a Kristin-and-Lis favorite (I am really on a roll with the hyphens in this blog, huh? (And, come to think of it, parentheses, too)). Chesapeake fries and cocktails and burgers, oh my! Post-THAT, Keith and I said ta-ta to Lis, and made an impromptu visit to Rittenhouse because Keith refused to leave the city. So, in my shorts in March, off we went to sit on a bench and watch art students and toddlers and puppies. A fabulous end to a wonderful weekend. Siiigh.