Archives: October 2008

Org. Post: Thursday, October 09, 2008

Say Hello to 1500 (Give or Take) of My Closest Friends

After sitting on my sofa, playing air drums for a good 5 minutes I've decided to finally bite the bullet + tell the most memorable (if not best known story) of my summer.

The summer of 2008 will forever be remembered as "the summer of the ladybugs" or to be more specific: "the summer I bought 1500+ ladybugs …willingly". Actually, it was what I purposefully sought out to do on that hazy Saturday, in late June.

Two things you need to know beforehand:

1. I moved into my current apartment at the start of July, 2007. Anyone who has ever moved knows how consuming such a task can be both pre + post move. My new apartment brought about a decklet ripe for all the plants I so dearly wished for in my non-decklet/former apartment (it also brought about my common usage of the non-word "decklet"). With all of the aches + (growing) pains of moving, my plant aspirations would have to wait until the following summer. Enter 2008. Lisa + I made it a bi-weekly to-do to visit our nearest greenhouse. There we would enable one another to purchase new plants that would be added to our rotations ("Lisa, that blueberry bush wants to go home with you, c'mon!"). This summer, my decklet would play host to a handful of foliage. Aloe, various cacti + succulents (a personal favorite), a beloved (and sorely short-lived) Star of Bethlehem, coleus, a hospice tomato plant, an orange dalia, various sedum, oregano, cilantro, chocolate mint, flax, a dwarf sunflower (another personal favorite) …and a chili pepper plant. None too shabby for someone raised in a household of plastic green décor.

2. Aphids. According to Merriam-Webster, aphids are defined as: white, mealy worm-type pests.

Out of all my plants (the Star of Bethlehem + sunflower aside) my most prized was my chili pepper plant. I was determined to see a pepper by summer's end.

One sunny afternoon, Lisa + I were sitting out on my decklet, when I pointed to some white specks I'd noticed underneath the leaves of my seemingly stunted chili pepper plant. "Oo no! You have aphids!," Lisa exclaimed, "Yep. Those are definitely aphids."

After a little bit of research (something I'm prone to do …obsessively), it was true. Aphids. After further (obsessive) research, I discovered that all was not lost. A natural predator of such plant killing pests were none other than ladybugs. They seemed the least harmful to my edible (dream a little dream) plant. I knew they were sold at my trusty greenhouse …Though, I wasn't sure on the specifics (…yet).

Saturday rolled around, the pitch perfect summery day (and take it from me, I hate summer). It was also my neighborhood's annual Midsummer Fest. All of the businesses up + down N. Clark had a display, live music, free food + scantly clad, neckless leather daddies. I waded through the festivities with one goal in mind: ladybugs.

When I got to the greenhouse, I quickly found an employee + inquired as to where the ladybugs were.

Employee: "Aphids?"

Me: "You bet."

The guy pointed towards the outdoor checkout.

I walked over to the check-out, thinking "I'll just buy a few …Maybe 10." As I rounded the corner, I saw bowling ball sized bags made of plastic netting. Inside I could see a ball of hay + red flecks crawling all over.

Me: "I'd like to buy some ladybugs, please."

Check-out Guy: "Sure!"

(he grabbed one of the bowling ball bags behind him)

Me: "Um, how many are there?"

Check-out Guy: "About 1500 give or take."

Me: "Great …."

[I would later read the bag's description. Flown from California, they actually bag 1800 but estimate 1500 make the trip or for "mortality losses".]

My new 1500 aphid killers in hand, I started back down N. Clark towards home. As I made it through the festival goers, it occurred to me that I was out of my breakfast go-tos, green apples …I figured a quick stop at Edgewater Produce wouldn't do my new friends any harm seeing as they had traveled across the country.

Ladybugs in hand, I picked out a handful of apples + went to the check-out. The cashier gave me a sideways glance as I set my bag of ladybugs on the counter in order to pull out my pocketbook. In Spanish, my cashier spoke across the lane to the neighboring cashier. I couldn't pick up all that they were saying (I learned some German from a Swedish woman when I was a child. You'd be amazed at how little that has helped me in life) but I noticed they were staring at my ladybugs + then at me. I stood there with my cash in hand for my apples when I heard my cashier say "loco" …"Hey! I know what that means!," I blurted. They laughed. I grabbed my apples + my bugs.

Given all that Andersonville's Midsummer's fest entails, you'd think there would be plenty of things to oogle at aside from a girl with a bag of ladybugs. People made no secret of eyeing me as I continued, chin up, towards home.

"Hey, what's in the bag?"

"Whoa, are those ladybugs?"

"Whatcha got there?"

"Can I look at your ladybugs?"

"Is that your real hair?"

I nonchalantly tried to explain that my chili pepper plant has aphids but it fell on (leather-clad) deaf ears.

I finally made it home, unloaded my apples + changed into my summer home loungewear of choice: a strapless/sleeveless sundress (I assure you this description is key to the story). I had taken off my handkerchief + decided since it was my day off why not open a bottle of Old Rasputin (when drinking Old Rasputin you do not call it beer) before heading to my decklet to unleash my little black + red aphid terrorists. As I walked outside barefoot, I made sure to grab my camera + my fly swatter, which is in the shape of a ladybug + says "GOTCHA!" when it hits something (a gift from James after I told him about my plans to buy ladybugs).

I read the label for instructions.

"Dust off aphids before applying ladybugs."

This seemed silly since I wanted the ladybugs to EAT the aphids. They'd traveled a long way + had been living off of a few raisins. They deserved a real meal + my chili plant's aphid population promised to be full-course, OCB-style. I dusted off a few aphids but kept most of them attached.

"Open bag and sprinkle a few ladybugs onto plant. In a couple of days repeat process by re-applying more ladybugs."

Easy enough. I took a swig of Old Rasputin and tore the top of the bag open.

The label had said to "sprinkle a few" …The moment I tore the netting, there would be no sprinkling. My ladybugs were smart. They knew where out was + they knew how to get there. Within seconds, ladybugs were pouring everywhere …Including up my legs, between my toes, down my dress, in my hair (I was foolish to remove my handkerchief!). They were going up posts, down steps.

I did what I'd like to think anyone would do: I dropped the bag on my chili plant + started jumping, all the wile shouting "OH CRAP! OH CRAP!"

It was then that the wind decided to pick up + I realized just how touch sensitive my nearby ladybug fly swatter truly was.

"GOTCHA! GOTCHA! GOTCHA!," it started to shout.

"I KNOW! I KNOW!," I replied, while jumping up + down, left + right, arms flying.

"GOTCHA! GOTCHA!"

"I KNOW! OH CRAP! OH CRAP!"

And then, just like that, there was a calm. I caught my breath + tried to stifle my laughter. I stood there, watching as 1500 (give or take) ladybugs took over whole leaves on not only my chili plant but all of my other plants as well.

I shooed a few ladybugs off of my kitchen door's step + sat down. I couldn't stop laughing + was afraid that my neighbors would come out to our shared decklet.

I imagined having to break the news "Ah, Ana …Paul …Don't worry. I just unleashed 1500 …Give or take, mind you …ladybugs on our decklet. Everything is under control. I have aphids!" (Fly Swatter: "GOTCHA!")

The next morning, before work, I took a cup of coffee out to the decklet …I sat down and counted 1, 2, 3 ….7 ladybugs! 7!

As I sat there, sipping my coffee, I thought: "Well, thanks for sticking around guys."

The following days, the ladybugs would come back and within the week the aphids were gone. As the months rolled on, my chili pepper plant would become huge and offer one full-sized pepper.

The ladybugs would disappear entirely by summer's end …But I refused to see this as a loss. I'm sure that my neighborhood was the most pest-free neighborhood in all of Chicago.

Org. Post: Wednesday, October 22, 2008

A Tale of Two Siblings

[10/21/08, the eve of my brother Matthew's 22nd birthday]

Me: "I'm not wishing you a happy birthday yet. I'm not going to do it until it's official."

Matthew: "Don't do it, Manda."

Me: "I'm not going to and you can't make me!"

Matthew: "Don't!"

Me: "I won't!"

Matthew: "Good!"

Me: "Fine!"

_________________________________________________________

Me: [brother's voicemail] "Well, it's officially your birthday so I'm calling to wish you just that. Happy birthday! Twenty-two years ago I met you. I remember having to go to a friend's house after pre-school. Even though it was only October for some reason that day in school we had glued Honeycomb cereal into a snowflake pattern. As my friend's Mother drove me to their house, while Mom was in labor, I proceeded to eat the Honeycomb cereal off of the blue construction paper …glue and all. That's why I will forever correlate your birthday with the taste of glue. It's an acquired taste. Happy birthday! I miss you and like I said last night, enjoy your day, own it! I'll talk with you soon. "

___________________________________________________________

I've probably made mention of this before but I remember when my Mother first told me that she was expecting a child. I was three and a half years old.

Mom: "Mandy, honey, do you want a brother or a sister?"

Me: "I'd like a unicorn!"

Nine months later …

My best friend in preschool was a girl named Nicole. Best friends because we were close in age (she was a year older) and our Mothers had gone to high school together. The latter factor might also be the reason why I attended preschool at a Lutheran church (we had just moved back to my parent's native Michigan and my Mother was all for recommendations from close friends).

On one October day in 1986, Nicole's Mother picked us up from school …She quickly explained to me that my Mother was in labor and I'd be staying the night at their house. I hated staying over at Nicole's house. Her Mother made me eat things like salad and peanut butter/jelly sandwiches without the proper ratio of either.

_________________________________________________________

Years later, while making a pb+j in front of my childhood babysitter, Candy*:

Candy: "Hey, are you like making a designer sandwich or something?"

Me: [making sure the peanut butter + jelly evenly touched each corner of crust] "I guess so. Yes. Yes I am. How do you make yours?"

Candy: "Well, it doesn't take me forever!"

Later that evening, I successfully stayed hidden in the dirty clothes hamper during a game of hide + seek for two hours. Candy started to get upset, yelling my name throughout the house. I waited until she was near tears. No one makes fun of my sandwich making.

*Candy was my babysitter with dreams of being a "stewardess".

_________________________________________________________

Nicole and I sat in the backseat of her family's station wagon, as we drove to her house. You know, the station wagon where the seats actually face the opposite direction so that you can make faces at the driver behind you. A childhood rite of passage.

_________________________________________________________

Me: "Mom, I want a station wagon! They're so cool! Yesterday, Nicole and I were sitting in the backseat, pretending to choke each other and the guy driving behind us raised his finger at us …"

_________________________________________________________

That day in class, we had used Elmer's glue to place Honeycomb cereal into the shape of a snowflake. Nicole and I had finished eating our glued cereal bits by the time we arrived at Nicole's house.

The afternoon became evening and I wanted to go home. After desperately trying to brush the taste of lettuce out of my mouth and borrowing one of Nicole's nightgowns, I laid in their guest bedroom, staring up at the ceiling …There was a knock on the door.

Nicole's Mother: "Amanda, your Mother had a baby boy! You have a new brother!"

Me: [pretending to be asleep]

Nicole's Mother: "Your Father is here to take you home."

Me: [jumps out of bed] "Yay!"

The next day, I met Matthew. He was ruddy cheeked and his eyes wouldn't focus. There was also a horn missing from his forehead.

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"Ninda," that's what Matthew used to call me. The mushy parts of his brain had yet to fully form and he in turn couldn't properly pronounce my first name. Within a year's time I answered to "Ninda" and to this day whenever I hear "Linda," I look over my shoulder.

Matthew would end up being my only sibling and honestly I couldn't imagine having another. I often wondered how the Partridge Family, the Brady Bunch or the Osmonds did it. All of those …children. Much like I'm amazed nowadays at the talk show teens who desperately want a baby or the sympathy I feel for first-time parents giving birth to quadruplets. I have four cats, who are exhausting within their own right but who I can legally put in a cage or leave alone for a few hours.

____________________________________________________________

Four years apart, Matthew was my best friend as a child. We shared a room up until I was 14 yrs old.

"Ninda, are you awake?"

I'd open my eyes to see those the same shade as my own, inches from my face, wrapped in a Ninja Turtle's comforter. I'd get up and pour us bowls of Fruity Pebbles. We'd then sit on the den's sofa, wrapped in our respective comforters like Eskimos, watching Tom & Jerry cartoons.

Like any family (especially of divorce), there's water under the bridge. As Matthew and I grew older, our tight childhood bond fell into such water. The four year gap that benefited us as children started to stretch as I entered my teens and left Matthew behind in those awkward pre-teen years.

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Matthew locked me out of the house the first time he saw me smoke a cigarette (he hates this story). As I stubbed out my cigarette and ran up to the front deck after him, I heard the lock click. I also heard Matthew crying.

Matthew: "You're not my sister anymore! You're dirty! I'm telling!"

I pounded on the front door, begging him to let me in, apologizing, trying to explain to no avail. Finally, I would end up crawling through my bedroom window and finding him curled up in a ball on the sofa.

He stiffened as I appeared in the den.

Matthew: "How did YOU get in?"

He would spend the next couple of hours in our Mom's bedroom, until she arrived home.

[My bedroom, my Mother's and the bathroom were the only rooms in the house that had locks on their doors. That same year, Matthew would lock himself in the bathroom for two hours after I gave him a rather unsuccessful haircut. To this day I contest that I had no idea his hair was that thick.]

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Enter the grey years. On one side of ring the burdens of being the eldest on the other side the burdens of being the youngest. The things I thought I was sheltering him from verses the things that neither of us could avoid. The missteps of being thrust into a parental battlefield. Matthew and I coming at things from two different perspectives, two different histories. We lost one another along the way. We lost those cartoon mornings and the afternoons of inventing games until the streetlights flickered. I thought of him as a spoiled brat that didn't understand what was going on and he thought of me as an nonsensical embarrassment.

Looking back now, it makes sense that Matthew didn't like me much then …I didn't like myself.

Recently, I was going through a pile of CDs that I have on the top shelf of my closet. I came across a weathered Sleater-Kinney album. Inside the jacket's sleeve, a small Post-It with "From your beloved brother," written in my Mother's script.

It was 2000, Matthew had taken to breaking my CDs as payback for any earlier upset. My Mother would sooner or later replace them, hence the note.

_____________________________________________________________

One year, for Christmas, Matthew gave me a thumb-sized, cast-iron gorilla statue perched on top of a plastic red ruby.

_____________________________________________________________

Today my brother is 22 yrs old. My own 22nd birthday marked two full years I had lived in Chicago. Things were changing, my visits back home had lessened, Matthew and I would talk here or there but we had yet to truly reach a point where we recognized one another.

The past couple of years (this past year especially) have marked the turning point for both of us.

Last year, he came out for a solo visit and stayed with me for the better part of a week. I took him around and showed him the sights that made up my day to day life. We spent our evenings playing Scrabble (a childhood pastime long forgotten) and for the first time in years: we talked about more than just the weather. We talked about Mom, we talked about Dad. We talked about high school. We talked about the times I couldn't leave my bed. We talked about what we loved, what we lost, what we missed and what we wanted.

This past August, Matthew visited with his girlfriend Andrea. It was unfortunately a brief stay but shortly after he left, I called my Mother.

Me: "Mom, Matthew just left and I miss him. I really miss him. That was the best visit he and I have ever had."

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When Matthew was 6 yrs old, I helped my Mom put together his Easter basket. While she was busy with his real basket, I was filling another with dental floss, raisins and his soap-stained bath toys.

The next morning, Matthew froze as he started to open the basket that I had made for him …Before the tears started, my Mother uncovered his real basket that the "Easter bunny" had tucked away behind the sofa.

__________________________________________________________

The little boy I built forts with out of pillows, that I taught to walk, that (briefly) liked Hanson has grown up. The boy that I had lost sight of was now taller with broad shoulders and sporting stubble. I have always loved him but most importantly now, I like him. If he were just another face in the crowd, I'd want to know him. Even as I type this, I want to introduce you to him.

Every year, on my own birthday, my Mother explains to me that it's a birthday for her, as well (forget the fact that her actual birthday is 4 days after mine). Today I understand what she means. It's a given that I don't think I'd be the person I am today without my Mother or even my Father (who I haven't seen in 4 yrs and counting) but I know I wouldn't be the person I am without having Matthew in my life. I'm happy to know him. I'm happy that due to our shared genetics we are stuck together.

As I type this, Matthew is in his third year of college in Grand Rapids, MI. He's an English major (therefore looking at a career in teaching, ahem). His intellect surpasses "smart" and his wit grows sharper each time I speak with him. We talk about music, books, politics, school, relationships and what crazy thing Mom said the other day.

Me: Matthew, Mom tried to talk politics with me again.

Matthew: Ah, I know! She tries to do that with me too!

Me: I just can't do it!

Matthew: Me either!

He's the brother I've always wanted and I finally feel like the sister that's worth having.



My brother, Matthew -November 2008.