And that's the way it was . . .

My daughter says she's going to start a blog so that every time I post and tell, she can post and tell (what really happened.)

YAWN!

"No one would read it," I told her. "No one cares what really happened. And anyways, I live by Marianne Moore's philosophy that a poet should present for inspection 'Imaginary gardens, with real toads in them.'"

Oh, who am I kidding? I ain't no poet! My gardens are real, and my toads are real! It's all real. That's why God gave me such a strange life, because I have no imagination. Everything that comes out of my mouth is cold, hard, fact. I'm just like a news anchor or reporter--I call it like I see it.

Like yesterday I saw my daughter rubbing her fingers after work at the flower shop. She proceeded to tell me what Shakespeare has been telling me for years. Roses have wicked thorns. But then she told me something Shakespeare never did--red roses aren't that bad, it's the colored roses that will kick your trash. Even their leaves have little pokies all over them.

Whatduyaknow! My daughter knows something Shakespeare didn't. BEWARE the pink and yellow rose, lest you fall prey to it's seductive beauty and smite yourself.

(I added them words of warning, btw. Since Shakespeare was unable to be here himself to say it. And since my daughter wouldn'ta thought to pass it along.)

(You're welcome.)

After my daughter finished rubbing her sore fingers, she picked up a few stalks of celery and observed them. She held them up, and out, and turned them this way, and that.

"This celery reminds me of a flower arrangement," she said. "These leaves, the way they bend . . . it reminds me of the greenery. . . and the stalk . . . it reminds me of the stem of a daffodil."

Hmmmm m m m m m . . . not. seeing. it.

But I am quoting it word for word. Without a single embellishment. (Although I did add a few ellipsis.)

It's official, my daughter not only smells like flowers, she also thinks like flowers.

And that's the way it was!

Tune in tomorrow for the cold, hard, facts about how my dad once ticked off a couple of evil spirits. Until then, you can visit The Magic Quilt post today in honor of baby Ella.

G'night everybody!