Tag Archives: hobbies

August 11, 2026 · 1:48 pm

Green Thumb–Not So Much

I absolutely love my houseplants. I do. But sometimes love isn’t enough. You need actual talent to care for plants and help them thrive. My friend, Glenn has a green thumb. Me, not so much. At a bare minimum, you need a certain level of competence just to keep them alive. Apparently, I don’t possess the necessary skills to do even that at times, as evidenced by the numerous plants in my household that didn’t make it—to include a cactus.

Amazingly enough, I do own quite a few plants of varying types that have survived, perhaps in spite of me. Or perhaps because I somehow refrained from drowning them or ignoring them so long that they would shrivel up and die. I don’t know what comes over me, but sometimes when it’s time to water, I think more is better. One of my poor plants is recovering from soil so saturated it could qualify as a wetland. My daughter keeps reminding me NOT to water it anymore, and I’ve listened, for the most part. Each week, I poke my finger into the dirt to learn how moist it is and contemplate how just a little water might help it, which, admittedly, is how I got into this swampy mess in the first place. Who are we kidding—that plant currently lives in a bog.

At the other end of the spectrum, occasionally I’ll forget to water my plants for weeks at a time. I know; I am a terrible plant mother. By the time I notice, many of the leaves in question are withering away right before my eyes. I really wish they could whine or set off a siren to get my attention. That’s the kind of plant I need—one that acts like a toddler, demanding to be fed.

That is not to say I totally neglect the plants in my care. I’ve been known to pluck their yellowing leaves and turn the pots to get balanced sunlight. I even talk to them on occasion and I’ve given some of them names. Pedestrian names, but names nonetheless. Steve is a snake plant and lives upstairs with a fair amount of bright morning light on sunny days. Dave, a jade plant, is situated right next to him and is doing quite well (again, in spite of me).

I also have a bunch of succulents, and a little fern, that all sit on my kitchen windowsill, thanks to one of my daughters who couldn’t find room in her car when she moved to Colorado. She, of course, remarked that “Everything will be fine, Mom. You probably won’t kill them.” That is not to say that our cat hasn’t tried. He knocked one of the pots into the sink not long ago, tearing one of its leaves off and dumping most of its dirt in the process. So, I carefully replaced the roots, stem and dirt in the pot, all the while assuring my little plant that he would be okay, as one does.

It’s true—I talk to my plants as if they were children or pets. I tell them how wonderful they look (when they do) or how miserable they look (when, in fact, they don’t look so great). Naturally, I offer my profuse and heartfelt apologies, expressing how incredibly sorry I am because I screwed up, yet again. I think they understand me, to an extent anyway, and hopefully find it in their hearts to forgive me. Much of the time, I smile at them and use a high-pitched, squeaky voice to address them, because, of course, I do. Doesn’t everyone? I think they enjoy the music I play in the house, too, which is a relief because not everyone likes my playlist.

Interestingly, one of my daughters conducted a science experiment in grade school, hypothesizing that houseplants are positively affected by certain sounds. She read aloud to one of them, played her French horn for another, and exposed yet another to music on the radio. There was also a control subject that had no special sounds played near it. Amazingly enough, the plant that “listened” to the radio grew the most. At any rate, it was a fun experiment and one that might have inspired our whole household to recognize plants as sentient beings.

In light of that, maybe there’s hope that one day I’ll sprout a green thumb. A girl can dream, can’t she?

Welcome to my world. It’s where I live (with scores of houseplants that have miraculously survived, in spite of me). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesFromPlanetMom. Signed books are available on Etsy at PlanetMomMarket.

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Filed under "S" is for Shame, A Tree is Nice, Home is Where the Weirdness Lives, Me Myself and I, Ode to Embarrassment

Tagged as Green Thumb, hobbies, home, home life, houseplants, humor, love, plants

June 23, 2026 · 12:00 pm

Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

The title of this column, which is a renowned line from J.R.R. Tolkien’s novel, The Fellowship of the Ring, certainly rings true for me—although I have been known to become somewhat disoriented while wandering, especially in the woods.

At any rate, one of my favorite activities is to try to get my steps in—usually walking around my neighborhood, but I’ll walk practically anywhere if it’s not too hilly. Typically, the weather dictates specifically where I’ll go and since I acknowledge that I can no longer stand the heat, I refrain from walking outdoors when the temperature is akin to the surface of the sun. That goes for the dead of winter, too, when it’s windy or icy or unbearably cold. Instead, my husband and I opt for doing laps around the indoor track at Lycoming College—a wonderful facility that we are so fortunate to be able to use. As an added bonus, we get to interact with delightful college students and faculty as we cruise around the oval together, overlooking an enormous gymnasium below. They even pipe in music that permeates the entire space, although we usually bring our own tunes.

Naturally, the college kids lap me (usually running like the wind) which I take in stride because I have them by several decades, never mind their superior flexibility and lung capacity. But they never lord it over me, which I appreciate greatly. They smile and sometimes even offer words of encouragement or a friendly “hello.”

But sometimes it’s even too hot to walk there, as the outdoor heat tends to seep inside, especially on sunny days. And let us not forget my wretched hot flashes. I know I haven’t. I suppose I could join a gym, where it’s likely air-conditioned, and use a treadmill to my heart’s content. But I know myself. I signed up for a gym membership years ago, fully intending to frequent said facility and never once did so. I don’t know why exactly; I only know that. So, for me, that would be a total waste of money.

Instead, I do what I never once imagined I would do—I hike the vast acreage (i.e. the innumerable aisles) contained within in our local grocery stores. Needless to say, the temperatures are cool and comfortable, and the terrain is flat. There’s music, too. Not surprisingly, I’ll occasionally encounter a bottleneck of people and carts on my path, but that’s easy enough to navigate. What’s more, sometimes I’ll stumble upon someone I know and enjoy catching up with them, or I’ll notice a ridiculous sale on Milano cookies and feel compelled to gather an armload, which I’ll reluctantly haul around the rest of the store. Aside from that, it’s a perfect place to trek on pretty much any day of the week.

That said, I’ve become a glorified “mall walker,” the very group of people I used to silently judge because I couldn’t understand why they weren’t in a park or a neighborhood or slogging away on a treadmill somewhere. Now I get it. Only it’s grocery stores—not the mall.

Truth be told, I mostly prefer taking my daily jaunts through our neighborhood, in the fresh air and sunshine. As an added benefit, I run across friends, their kids and sometimes I even get to pet their dogs. If it’s after dusk, I enjoy seeing people’s windows aglow with warm, yellow light as I pass—especially in the winter. And because I’m a complete weirdo, I like to kick stones and step on dry leaves along my path, hearing a satisfying crunch beneath my feet. We always seem to have an abundance of leaves in our street so that’s a win for me. Thankfully, thick groves of old-growth trees envelop our neighborhood almost entirely, lush shrubbery and thickets lapping at the edges of the pavement. And there’s nothing that I love more than to be surrounded by woods in any season.

It’s true; not all those who wander are lost. Some are just trying to get their steps in, and along the way discover that the path they’ve chosen feels much like home.

Welcome to my world. It’s where I live (probably walking). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesFromPlanetMom. Signed books are available on Etsy at PlanetMomMarket.

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Filed under A Tree is Nice, Gratitude, Me Myself and I, Me Time, Unplugged

Tagged as humor, fitness, exercise, outdoors, hobbies, walking

May 12, 2026 · 11:00 am

By the Book

I have what some would consider a small library in my home—which sounds more impressive than it actually is. It’s a tiny collection of books written by some of my favorite authors, situated on a shelf just above my desk. On occasion, I pull one down and reread it, recalling why I placed it among my beloved titles in the first place. Oddly enough, I sometimes get more out of a book on the second time around, enjoying it to an even greater extent, observing finer detail with each passage and page. If, for whatever reason, I decide not to reread a book, I give it to someone or donate it randomly by placing it inside the Little Free Library in our neighborhood that my friend, Christine, installed several years ago. It’s no secret that I appreciate it as much or more than the neighborhood kids do.

I also have a to-be-read pile (TBR) in my home, stacked in the order I intend to consume each literary gem. One of the tenets I hold dear is that my TBR pile can never be depleted to zero. I have to know there is always another book waiting for me. Otherwise, I get anxious when I’m about to finish one if another isn’t lined up, at the ready. Quirky, I know.

But I doubt I’m as quirky as my husband by comparison. That man has the books he intends to read scattered all over the house, a few stashed in almost every room—in case sudden inspiration strikes, I guess. What’s more, he reads more than one book at a time. He calls it multitasking, of course. I call it madness. I have no idea how he keeps the narratives straight in his head. Heaven forbid he misplaces his bookmarks.

And despite the loads of encouragement I give him, he rarely agrees to read a book I suggest—even if I know in my heart of hearts that he’ll love it. Further, it’s almost impossible for me to convince him that he’d enjoy a novel. He usually goes for nonfiction like biographies or autobiographies on the topics of history, war, music and politics. Truth be told, I probably prefer nonfiction, too, although I have a few favorite novelists whose styles I can’t resist. At any rate, I’m seldom able to sway him to read just one of those writers.

On a related note, again and again he reminds me NOT to buy him another book—for Christmas, for his birthday, for Father’s Day, etc. And I fail to listen. The fact that I purchase yet another title for him is a manifestation of a terrible compulsion I feel each time I enter a bookstore—much like buying for myself. Oh well, I could have worse habits.

Thankfully, the greater Williamsport area is home to six wonderful libraries, the James V. Brown Library in Williamsport, the Konkle Memorial Library in Montoursville, the Jersey Shore Public Library, the Montgomery Area Public Library, the Muncy Public Library and the Hughesville Area Public Library. That said, we can always rely on them to provide wonderful book-related services for people of all ages and stages of life.

When all is said and done, there’s at least one thing my husband and I share when it comes to books—we not only love them, but we have enough sense to bring a good one along when we know we’ll be holed up at jury duty or at a garage getting our cars inspected, et al. Without fail, we’ll be there for hours on end and scrolling on a phone or watching TV will only suffice for so long.

Speaking of books, don’t miss the Second Annual Storytellers Book Fair hosted by Lycoming Arts in the Pennington Lounge at Lycoming College on Friday, May 15th from 4-7pm! There will be basket raffles, local author and artist meet-and-greets, book sales, mystery wine pull, community book swap, a discussion about PJ Piccirillo’s featured book (The Indigo Scarf) and a session regarding the publishing industry and book promotion (by Otto Bookstore General Manager, John Shableski). All proceeds from guest passes and activities will support Lycoming Arts and its work to connect our community through the arts. I’ll be there with bells on, signing my books. Hope to see you there!

Welcome to my world. It’s where I live (probably reading a good book). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesfromPlanetMom. Signed books are available on Etsy at PlanetMomMarket.