My friend has a Crayola Box of unique and interesting friends. She loves the different and strange and I feel honored to be part of her creative and beautiful world. Both of us worked at the same place and were having a conversation one day. She was telling me something personal and I remarked back about how that happened to me. She whipped around, looked at me, and spoke vehemently these simple words. “This is not about you, this is about me.”...

I yelled and brought my husband close to see what the clamor was about. He looked at the object of my uproar, grunted, and walked away. Obviously, he did not share in my enthusiasm. My plant had birthed a baby leaf. You have to understand my house is where plants come to die. Every year, I go and find a Wandering Jew to take home. I find the most brilliant, thriving beautiful plant the one that I believe has the best chance for survival. They...