I received the following email from Aunt Daisy a little while ago:
Hi Sylvia, honey!
The weather has been real good down here in Florida for growin’ late summer flowers and berries for my jams and jellies. My dog and sidekick Monty is keepin’ an eye on me like I was the sheriff and he was the deputy. It’s grand bein’ outdoors with him in the garden on sunny days – like takin’ a drink outta a crystal stream.
Only thing botherin’ me was the tickle in my throat and the sneezin’ in my nose when I hoed my garden. I thought I must be comin’ down with a cold. The best thing an old lady like me can do when I start feelin’ feverish, is to rest.
My dog and sidekick Monty is keepin’ an eye on me like I was the sheriff and he was the deputy.
I went into the house, hung up my wide brimmed straw hat, pulled off my leather gloves, made me a pot o’ tea with honey and sat down to my computer with Monty at my side. My online advice column “Shootin’ from the Hip” was due and I thought that chore would take my mind off my miseries.
The first question for me to answer popped up on the screen:
Dear Aunt Daisy,
I just graduated from high school. I will start a new job as a secretary next week but until then, my girlfriends from school and I plan to hang out. This might be the last time we can play at the swimming hole together and I’m sad about that.
My problem is there are eight girls I’ve been friends with since grade school. Some are getting jobs like me and four are going off to college. The girls going to college are starting to act kinda superior to the girls staying at home. I am hurt. I want us all to go on just as we have been. How do I get the college girls to change their attitude because, frankly, it pains the rest of us?
Hurt by My Girlfriends
Friends are like flowers and weeds. Which do you tend? Who leaves you feelin’ good and who leaves you feelin’ bad? Water the flowers. The college girls will find their own friends and you will make many more friends in your lifetime. Just make sure you know which are weeds and which are flowers.
Sometimes, the trail we’re ridin’ splits and you have to know where you’re goin’.
Sending best wishes to you at your new job,
Dear Aunt Daisy,
I live in a city apartment with views of brick walls out all my windows. Even though there’s a park nearby and I go there whenever I can, I miss seeing the sight of growing things. I bought a plant once but I have a brown thumb and it died. Maybe it was because I didn’t put it in front of a window and I kept my blinds down and didn’t water it. What can a forgetful gardener like me do to lift my spirits?
Dear Brown Thumb,
If you can’t have a view of the open range, than think green but smaller like a windowsill garden. Pull the blinds up off the sills during the day and put a few shade lovin’ plants that don’t mind neglect on your sill garden. Good choices are the ZZ plant, the snake plant, ivy and be sure to get a lucky bamboo. They will thrive and give you more pleasure than you give them attention and they are purifyin’ the air in your apartment at the same time. They will just be happy to be in your home. It’s a win / win situation.
I find it’s important for me tendin’ a garden to keep a good attitude about life.
Well, Sylvia Honey, that was all the advice I could give ‘cause by then, I was sneezin’ like I was caught up in a duststorm. Monty looked up at me with those soulful brown eyes like he was real worried about me.
I made an appointment with the doctor.
When Monty and I walked into his office, he sat me down and examined me and came to the conclusion that I did not have a cold but that I had a real bad allergy. I told him about my garden but he didn’t think that was it.
Then he looked at Monty and pointed. “Daisy,” he said, “I think he might be the problem. You’re allergic to dog hair. Best to give him up.”
Well, that got my dander up! I wasn’t givin’ up my dog! I didn’t care what that old coot said and I left fumin’. In the pick-up, I said to Monty, “You’re stayin’, pal!” And I hugged him real hard, dog hair and all. I drove to the drugstore and bought myself a twelve pack of tissues and nasal spray.
I already gave up ridin’ broncos, bulls, and men. I’d give up my garden. But I’m not givin’ up my dog. No siree bub!
Good girl, Aunt Daisy!
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