On Orchids and Mr. Darcy's New Place in My Life

So I'm feeling like pictures today. Everyone likes pictures, right?

In May 2012 when I had That Magical Day, my dear friend Carmen brought me a congratulatory present: a miniature Phalaenopsis orchid, with blooms already in place. I thought for sure I'd kill it within a month's time.

I DIDN'T.

It lived.

Here's proof:

Multiple new blooms!

Closer in.

These frames are taken with a macro lens -- to give you a perspective, these blossoms aren't much larger than your standard Oreo cookie. So sweet and tiny!

And here she is just the other day. Now TWO blossoms! I feel so green thumbish!

Now on to my latest obsession.

THIS is Mr. Darcy, known to his real-life family as Matthew Macfadyen, in director Joe Wright's 2005 cinematic presentation of Jane Austen's much-loved novel, Pride and Prejudice.

I loves him.

I have watched this film more times than is healthy in the last two months. Don't tell my therapist -- she might worry that I am developing an unhealthy attachment to individuals who do not exist in real life.

BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE TRUE.

Well, helloooooo, there, man of mist ...

"Your hands are cold."

KISS HER ALREADY, DAMMIT! (Keira Knightley has a great nose.)

Greetings, Mr. Darcy. My name is Jenn. You're pretty.

YESTERDAY (January 28) was the 200th anniversary of the publication of Pride and Prejudice, so my daughter Yaunna and I decided to do what ALL self-respecting P & P fans should have done.

BAKE A CAKE.

Oh, yes we did. And I even decorated it with frosting squeezed into a medicine syringe because we lost the tips to our frosting tube. Resourceful, I am -- especially when cake is on the line. (Save your comments about how the red dye in the frosting will likely kill me. So will the radiation from Fukushima and the chemicals in my Diet Coke or the fact that I live in an area where 95 percent of the population only have drivers' licenses because they paid off the examiners.)

So, I think this should be my next tattoo. It will go so nicely with the Shakespeare autograph on the right arm, and the Joan of Arc signature on the left. Yes?

If you don't follow me on Facebook, then you probably don't know that I have the Most Awesome Group of Friends ever in the whole of the world. My belated Christmas present (thanks to a glitch in shipping and by no means a reflection on my most well-meaning gifters), sent by darlings Angeline Kace and Heather Hildenbrand, included a box stuffed with ALL OF THESE GOODIES. And my hair has looked remarkably awesome as of late, thanks to that delightful flat iron. I feel like a real girl.

If you need a reminder: Yes, we have Oreos in Canada. However, they are DIFFERENT, and as an American, there are some things I cannot accept about my Great Northern lifestyle. Like Canadian Oreos. Oh, and Smarties. Canadian Smarties = American M&Ms. Only harder. And with a different type of chocolate inside. American Smarties? Those are called Rockets in Canader. I KNOW I'M CONFUSED TOO LET'S JUST EAT IT ALL AND SMILE INSTEAD.

(I do, however, think I shall switch from telling people of my Oreo obsession and instead tell them I like money just as much. Maybe I shall begin receiving boxes filled with cash instead. Better for my arteries, me thinks.)

And because I want you to know that living here is not all moose poop and beaver pelts, this was the view out of my living room a few sunsets ago. Too bad you cannot see how PINK this mountain range was at this very moment. This is called Golden Ears. No, I have not hiked its summit. That would require putting on pants and leaving the house, all in one day. Sheesh, what am I, Superman?

I am glad to be here behaving in an irreverent manner. The pneumonia did not get me. I LIVED. I know many of you are battling your own bugs out there -- this year's flu is TERRIBLE -- I have a kid home right now with some weird hybrid flu/stomach cramp thing. (He's only barfed twice since Saturday. THANK HEAVENS. Granted, the first barf was in the car on the way back from an out-of-town soccer game, and that was nasty as hell.)

OH! And speaking of out of town, Chilliwack, BC (small town many kilometers east of here) is home to a splendid used bookseller called The Book Man. I WENT THERE (pre-barfing episode, of course -- I'm not that mean of a mommy. "Here, kid, suck on these soda crackers and puke in this bag. Don't unlock the van doors no matter what."). I walked out with -- you guessed it -- five Jane Austen novels. Emma, Persuasion, Northanger Abbey, Mansfield Park, and Sense and Sensibility. I am currently 60 percent through P & P as I did have that one on my shelf, and am finding it fun to discern the differences between the book and the film mentioned above. Further, I do recognize that I am woefully late to this Austen game, and for that, I am ashamed. *hangs head* I do hope that finally righting this wrong will enrich my own future writing efforts, however. 

Fine. I'm reading it because it's romantic. STOP MAKING ME CONFESS STUFF. *crosses arms* Besides, romance is for sissies.  

One more before I go:

I might need an intervention.

Xs and Os ...