Thursday

It's Thursday. I like Thursday. Definitely a good, hopeful day. And it's beautiful outside. Cold, but looks lovely through the windows, all springy. So, it's either write my blog or scrub the tubs. Hard choice, I know.

My wonderful husband, Ronald, is a gardener. He is also 100% Dutch, hence tulips. I love to look out my kitchen window and see the tulips. I have been poking my nose into the different kinds and there is a pink and white variety that smells just like conversation hearts! Probably the nicest thing my husband ever said to me was that he planted all these flower gardens for me. I can live on that forever, just about.

I remember once when I was a kid walking home from school with a couple other little girls. One was named Gobi. I don't remember who else but that was a name I never forgot. I still think of her whenever I see anything about a desert. Anyway, as we were walking we saw some tulips growing along the alley in someone's back yard. The girls began picking them to take to their moms. I didn't pick any. Don't recall why, like if I thought it would be wrong or anything.

To our surprise, a lady came storming out of the house straight at us. She was absolutely furious about having her tulips picked and she definitely let us know. She was explaining, angrily, about how she had planted bulbs and how they only came up once a year, blah blah blah--I didn't understand what she was talking about. I think I was in first or second grade. Then, she marched us up to her house and made us all call our mothers. I really thought she was crazy. My mom wasn't home. But I told her about it when I got there, and she didn't seem to care. I hadn't picked any tulips anyway.

I don't know why I always remember that incident. The tulip lady was an enigma to me. My parents were always so laid back about things. I mean things like material objects. I never remember getting yelled at for breaking anything, or walking in the house with dirty shoes (and we wore our shoes in the house). We had a dog who chewed things up, barfed on things...and I'm sure as kids we must have caused plenty of damage. Like the time I talked my brother into taking a bath in his toybox and the water came pouring down through the ceiling. But I don't think I even got in trouble for that. My parents just didn't seem to care about "stuff" so much.

I mean that in a good way. A very good way. I don't know how I got to be so opposite. I am constantly fretting about my furniture getting wrecked, or the kids tracking in mud. And I do not even consider getting a pet because of the sure damage that would be incurred. Where did I get this attitude towards "stuff" that really isn't important? I mean, yeah, it costs money to replace things, and I guess that's the root of the problem--that old 'love of money' thing.

But I mean, we were taught as kids not to put our feet up on furniture, or to run around in the house, or to touch things that weren't ours. We were taught to behave. We were taught to respect other peoples' property, which was probably why I didn't pick the tulips. My parents did give us good guidelines, which I am very thankful for. I try to teach my kids these same things, and am well pleased when other people teach them to their kids (especially when they're in my house).

So, now I guess I'm the crazy tulip lady, only not so much anymore. I am improving (thanks to God). I am starting to see how much I love these kids in our neighborhood, even when they tromp through the flowers, or break our stuff. Don't get me wrong--I will still definitely say something to them when they're stepping out of line. I try to get them to respect others' (our) property, and I try to explain it in a not-so-crazy way. But you know people are all different. And it's those little things that you sometimes remember forever. Like, "Hey!! These are MY flowers!!!" or, "I planted all these flowers just for you."