{phfr}: mid August

{Pretty}:  There are three hibiscus bushes, huge and thriving, by the water fountain on the path where I run. I stop to get a drink, but the whole time I’m just marveling at their beauty.
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When I was pregnant with Owen, one of my friends at work hosted a party for me the night before his due date. We all sat around her fireplace, and she taught me how to knit. I drank a gallon of Raspberry Zinger tea and prayed that the raspberry leaf would promote my labor. After the ninth or tenth cup, as I was floating away on a tide of tea, I read the box and discovered that there was no raspberry leaf in the tea: it was all hibiscus.

{Happy}:  We’ve been to the Botanic Gardens now four times this summer to see the Chihuly. Every time we go, I see something new or learn more about the glass. So many of the sculptures seem to have grown up in the plants- I’ve walked right past them in the conservatory, thinking the glass itself was an exotic tropical plant.

{Funny}: This enchanting guy is a Poison Dart Frog. The Botanic Gardens has a terrarium of them by the door to the conservatory, with a note explaining that without the alkaloids in their natural diet in the Panamanian forest, the specimens here are not venomous. It seemed interesting but an academic point until my friend Tamarin located this large one– much bigger than the ones in the terrarium– hopping free among the plants.

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{Real}: We visited friends this week and played a rousing game of Blob Tag. [An aside: when I wrote this post, my autocorrect kept changing it to Blog Tag.]

(One person is “It”. When she tags another person, they hold hands and try to tag more players. The blob gets bigger and bigger– you hope– until the last person still free becomes the new “it”.)

Earlier that morning, my planned four mile run was abbreviated into a [really slow, lame] two-mile run, and I was beating myself up about it until we started to play blob tag. After being “It” multiple times, I calculated  that I ran more than a mile, all in a desperate sprint with an inadequate bra.  Now my “bad run” has been reframed into a “good warm-up.”

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