Cigars, Cigarettes, Spider Plant Baskets?

Flirtatious, as in "flirting with disaster."

Real Mood? Threatened, paranoid, perniciously perceptive.

[Disclaimer. This BLOG entry was conceived and typed without the use of steroids or any plant-like or artificial stimulant. These are not the thoughts, feelings, or seemingly insane visions of AOL.]

Well my sister Theda reminds me that  Spider plants in her neighborhood, Southern California, can live outside, where in my opinon, they belong (outside I mean).   Well, at first report, I thought what a great way to avoid becoming a basket weaver. But apparently Spider plants get even more insidious when put outdoors and left to their own devices.

You need to understand that Theda lives on a lush hillside with an acre and a half of almost all garden. She picks the fruit for her morning cereal right off the tree, works in some fresh Avocado on Toast for lunch, and may top off the evening meal  with some home made Pomegranate Ice Cream. Well interpreting her late report, I'm having to surmise she is now making more trips to the grocery store than should be necessary. With some mild exaggeration it sounds as if she is in the middle of a horror film, "Revenge of The Spider Plants." 

In her own blood curdling words, "Holy Cow, they've become prolific, overbearing weeds. I am re-thinking their existence."

Was that a threat? I'm not sure you want to say something like that in public? Right now those evil plants are probably just choking the vegetable garden ( this speculating business inside a blog is a blast) and a few fruit tree seedlings.  But who knows what will happen when Theda's threat is translated into Flora.  I mean haven't we already established that plants have feelings too? You really need minds to have feelings? There is this song, " I talk to the trees," and I think they are watching us. I think ( if I were doing this for a living someone would say, "who cares what you think?") they've got little minicams attached to the ends of those freaky tentacles they send out.  Somewhere underground some super plant, Queen Flora lets call her,  is watching a giant monitor, making a list and checking it twice to see how many human existences it can disrupt. Many of you are too young to remember the movie, "Little Shop of Horrors." Rent it some day and you won't think I'm so far off base.

You know we all have these comfort zones where we talk about potential natural disasters that can't, in theory, happen where we are. They are someone else's problem. That's where I am at the moment.  I'm glad any Spider plant in this zone is going to be an annual at best. But can we really rest with that knowledge? Mighten a cute little female annual Spider plant seduce some hardy perennial, and then what happens when they reproduce?  We could be in for it.

So for once, let's start thinking ahead. Let's keep our Spider Plants indoors and weave them into baskets. Lets clip their fronds before they start fooling around. Let's make them believe they will be the handsomest and prettiest baskets around, and that's how they should abound. Green is out, beige is in. We'll quote Kermit the Frog on that, "It's not easy being green." We must take action now. I don't want to even think about the alternative.

So here's my rate card:

Spider Plant Frond Cutting:          $10 an hour. $50 minimum

Spider Plant Frond Weaving Lessons: $100 an hour $500 dollar minimum.

Finished Spider Plant Baskets with your materials $1,000 to $10,000.

I'm available for small group seminars and workshops with my minimum fee of $20,000 dollars.

My fees may seem a little steep, but as I said, consider the alternative. Spider plants everywhere choking to death every living thing we hold tasty and precious.  Well I guess some of us wouldn't miss the dandelions.

Sometimes I read these to Peggy and ask her how I should end them. I'll need to describe her response this time. Not many words involved. Maybe you can help me interpret. There is a very slow movement of the head horizontally rotating at the neck across 180 degrees. Her eyes are rolled up behind her eyelids so that I can only see the "whites" of those eyes. She rises from her perch and starts a slow walk away from me. At first I can only see the back of her head. Then there is a pause, a turn towards me. This time the full force of her pupils are boring in, peering as it seemed into my soul. Then she again began that 180 degree horizontal rotating arc of her head on her shoulders, finally uttering, "whoa!"

I'm getting the feeling she is in no mood to give me a hand tonight, applause or otherwise. So how do you think I should end it?