The plant I was talking about named Child on it’s Mother’s Lap, is actually called the Piggy Back Plant. Here is some information on it:
Common names:
Piggyback Plant, Pick-a-Back, Youth-On-Age, Thousand Mothers, Mother of Thousands
Scientific name: Tolmiea Menziesii
Explanation of scientific name:
Tolmiea – Named for Dr. William Fraser Tolmie (1830-1886), a Scottish physician and botanist who worked for the Hudson Bay Company at Fort Vancouver.
Menziesii – Named for Dr. Archibald Menzies (1754-1842), a naval surgeon and botanist who collected plants in western North America.
Many indoor gardeners know the Piggyback Plant as a durable houseplant that can tolerate conditions that would prove fatal to many other plants. It is especially tolerant of low light conditions. What comes as a surprise to many people is that Piggybacks are fully hardy in our area, and are reliable perennials that will do well in a shady location.
Native to western North America from northern California into Alaska, the Piggyback’s natural habitat is an area with cool, moist soil that is protected from bright sunlight. They commonly grow under the canopy of tall trees. While each plant is under a foot in height, it can slowly spread forming a large colony. When cultivated indoors Piggybacks make dense, full potted plants and nice hanging baskets. When grown outdoors they make a great groundcover.
So, another mystery solved. I looked the plant up in my Sunset Western Garden Book and while looking through it I suddenly remembered the name Piggy Back. That Sunset Western Garden Book used to be my bible when I gardened in California. I learned everything about gardening from it. Most places in California have tough soil, so you really need all the help you can get when it comes to soil conditions and how to improve them and what to plant where. Some things I grew easily and some things just wouldn’t take at all; it was a real trial and error process. It wasn’t like it is in the Netherlands, where you just stick something in the soil and watch it grow. In California you really had to cultivate things and water them every day.
Well, I weigh 87 kilos again, so that is good. I was a little bit hesitant about getting on the scales fearing that it would be a lot worse, but this isn’t bad at all. I know, people have said that I shouldn’t weigh myself every day, because it may be disheartening to do so, but I am compelled to and I am always afraid that if I don’t weigh myself, things will get away from me and I will gain weight without realizing it. So the scales are there in the bathroom and I have a piddle and then I am compelled to weigh myself early in the morning; I can’t help it.
Eduard and I are going to paint the dresser that the TV sits on black on Wednesday. He is going to work for just an hour or two in the morning and then he is coming home to help me paint. I asked him to, because I didn’t like to face the whole thing by myself. It really needs two people to do it, as it is quite a large piece of furniture.
All the drawers need to be emptied and it will be a chance to sort out the stuff that is in them and throw some things away as well. Some of those things belong to Eduard, so he needs to be here and tell me what can go. It’s going to be so much nicer to paint with two people. Just think, it will mean half the work and half the frustration. Unless we get into painting arguments! I’ll make sure and take an Oxazepam before we start.
Yesterday was a totally dull day here at the ranch. Nothing of importance happened. I didn’t really need to clean the apartment as I had done that really well on Saturday and I had only one load of laundry to do. Actually, I was kind of bored and this caused me to feel hungry and tired. I slept all morning on the sofa with the dog beside me and we didn’t get up until 11 am. I walked him then and did the dishes from Sunday. Eduard came home while I was doing them, because he had to work late that evening. I was generally pooped and kept feeling like hanging out on the sofa watching the cats sleep on the new chair. I wasn’t even interested in reading all the advertising booklets that came in the mail in the afternoon. I just didn’t care.
I am sure today will be a whole other day, as it is now in the wee hours of the night and I have already had lots of sleep. I am bright eyed and bushy tailed, as the saying goes. I will never have a normal sleep schedule at this rate, although I did sleep in my bed this time and not on the sofa, even though I find that the most comfortable place to sleep.
Yesterday I ate an orange and I didn’t chew it well enough, causing a blockage in my gastric band with all the consequences that come with it. After much suffering I was able to upchuck it and that was a great relief. I must not eat oranges anymore, because they are too hard to chew into small pieces. Better to stick to the yogurt and the Cup a Soup. And the bread with very lean chicken. I am sort of relieved that we have decided to eat chicken and fish, I was worried about us getting enough proteins, especially Eduard, and I must say that chicken is a meat that works well in a number of dishes. My conscious is not bothering me too much about the chickens, although I suppose it ought to. I am undecided about it. I don’t feel as badly about it as the pigs. I am truly horrified about them.
My brother in law doesn’t eat fish
or chicken, so he didn’t eat the salmon that I served on Sunday. He was good natured about it and it was his loss. I told him that Eduard and I only eat chicken and fish, whereas he only eats red meats such as sausages and steaks and meatballs. He says that he likes Bolognese sauce, so I suppose I will make it for him with the meat substitute and just not tell him that that is what it is. The next time they come.
My sister very often serves my nephew meat substitute , although he is a real meat eater, and then he claims that he absolutely loves it without knowing that it is. My niece is a complete vegetarian and refuses to eat anything that has meat in it. She has been for some years now and she is only fourteen. She is very strong minded.
When I was a child growing up, we didn’t make choices about food. We didn’t even think about it or know that we had a choice. We just ate everything that our mother fixed for us. We all had our favorite food, but we ate everything. It would have been impossible to refuse to eat anything that was put on the table. Of course, my parents lived through the war and the terrible hunger winter of 44-45 and they had a holy reference for food, any food. They had gone hungry, after all. I remember being about 4 or 5 years old and sitting behind a plate of Brussels sprouts and not being allowed to leave the table until I ate everyone of them. I now love Brussels sprouts, although maybe that was a cruel thing to do, I don’t know. I never did that to my kids and they ended up liking lots of food.
I have eaten a lot of different kinds of foods, but I have never eaten snails, or escargot as they are called. Somehow that just doesn’t seem appetizing to me. Nor have I ever eaten frog’s legs. I stay away from slimy things. I have never been challenged to eat an unusual food, such as guinea pig or snake or raw sea lion.. Thank goodness. Chances are that will never happen to me here in the Netherlands. We do eat raw herring and think nothing of that.
Today I am seeing my SPN and for the life of me, I can’t really remember what we talked about last week or what decision we came to about that. I was manic then and I have bad recall. I do know that she asked me to write down my experience of my shopping trip to Ikea with Eduard on Tuesday and I have done that. Of course, on Tuesday afternoon I had taken 25 mg of Oxazepam, and I was as tame as a lamb, as they say here. Nothing spectacular happened that afternoon. But I can’t remember the other things we talked about and I know there were other things. I am experiencing blankness. It is a black void mostly. I hope she will help me remember and that it will dawn on me.
She is turning out to be such a good counselor and such a smart and well informed person. She has managed to get my complete trust. She knows how to have a meaningful conversation with me and how to answer my questions. I can be totally honest with her and I don’t have to hide anything. For as young as she is, she has a lot of wisdom already, more than I do, which is as it should be.
I am thoroughly enjoying my cups of coffee and my cigarettes, Everything tastes very nice right now and I feel rather splendid. For as early as it is, I am quite wide awake and I could do all sorts of things now. It’s too bad that I can’t make any noise for fear of waking up Eduard. I would be cleaning out those dresser drawers now if I could. I bet there is a lot of stuff I could throw away myself without having to ask Eduard about it.
Eduard is a real hoarder, whereas I am a real tosser out. I always think, the less baggage, the better. Eduard has been known to toss out things that belonged to me that shouldn’t have been tossed out. I have been quite peeved about that. Such as a bag with totally nice shoes. Gggrrr…
We have a lot of tapes with music on them that we never play anymore. We want to replace the ones that we really like with CD’s. I am all for tossing out the tapes, because we haven’t listened to them in years. They are slowly disintegrating in one of the drawers. I also have lot’s of handy work that I have started and then abandoned, because I became bored with it. I suppose I should toss that out also or give it to the recycle store. Then there are all the little kid’s games that my niece and nephew used to play with. They are too old for them now. They can go.
There’s nothing better than having a good old toss out. It clears up the clutter in the apartment and it clears up your mind. Less mental baggage, less to keep track off. When we went to clean up my parent’s house, you wouldn’t have known that three girls used to live there. All evidence of us was gone, except for the photographs. It made cleaning up the house a very easy job and void of a lot of sentiment. It was all pretty straight forward and concerned furniture and clothes.
Part of me wants the night to last forever and to sit here and keep writing, but I know you’ll get bored after so many paragraphs, so I will stop dawdling and make an end to this epistle. I will go and read other blogs and drink lots of coffee and smoke many cigarettes while I wait for morning to come.
Have yourself a terrific day, or a wonderful night, whichever comes first. While you read this, think of me sitting here, thinking of you. Ciao…
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