More Than You Want to Know About VFTs

This past week (on the 6th) Mike and I celebrated our one year anniversary. Our anniversary gift, from ourselves, to ourselves, was a used Wii with Wii Fit, which we have been enjoying immensely. It's an amazing ab workout... and I'm definitely a fan of all the cute balance games. We decided to also spend 5-10 dollars on a surprise gift for each other, to make it a little more fun. Mike got me some chocolate and some silicone bakeware, which made me super happy. I decided we were in need of a "love fern", so I got him a Venus Flytrap.

At the time, the Venus Flytrap (or VFT, as it is known by enthusiasts) seemed like a great choice. They eat bugs, which is cool, and, perhaps more importantly, they were the only living plant I could buy at Meijer. Plus, as I discovered as I looked through them, they have beautiful white flowers. I picked one that looked healthy and had several blooms on it, and brought it home. The next morning, I presented it to Mike. And then (and only then) I started looking into what care was necessary to take care of the plants, to make sure I could keep this symbol of our affection alive.

(The flowers on the one I got Mike are blooming and pretty, but otherwise this is what our plant looks like)

Turns out these VFT's are the most finicky creatures known to mankind. Because they get their nutrients from the bugs they eat, they don't need any in the soil. One would think this would make them easy to care for, because you don't need to worry about fertilizer, but actually it means that the nutrients in ordinary dirt (or ordinary tap water) will give the plant root burn and kill it. It can only tolerate distilled water, and in order to give it the badly needed transplant, we had to buy nutrient-free sphagnum peat moss. The plant is also pretty picky about what bugs it can eat. Anything with a hard outer shell (like a beetle) will kill it, as will anything with any noticeable fat content (like any sort of meat). Caterpillars and other plant eating bugs are off limits unless they are killed first, because they can eat through a trap before the trap can eat through them.

If the humidity drops below 50%, it will die (which is why it needs a terrarium... which makes it awfully difficult for it to catch bugs). If it is over or under watered, it will die. If its traps are triggered too often, it will die. If it doesn't get 4-12 hours of sunlight every day, it will die. If it isn't kept in the fridge during its dormancy period, it will die. And (here's the kicker) if it is allowed to flower, it usually dies.

So, long story short, VFT's do not, apparently, make very good symbols for the health of one's relationship. I'm thinking I'll be lucky if I can keep this thing alive for a month. I guess I should start planning for the divorce?

So that's what leg warmers are for...

I spent most of last week looking forward to Friday.  Not because it signaled the beginning of the weekend (with less than two weeks until finals, there's no such thing as a weekend in law school) but because the weathermen had promised a beautiful sunshiney day with temperatures in the low 70s.  I love the winter, but the thought of not having to put up with clouds and freezing winds for at least one day this April was very tantalizing.

Friday morning I pulled out my capris, which had been banished to the top shelf of the closet since September, and put a t-shirt.  At the last minute, as I headed out the door, I threw on a hoodie too.  After all, it was only 7:30 in the morning and the sun had only been up for about ten minutes... it probably wasn't perfect weather yet.

5 minutes late, as usual, I ran out of the house and began walking briskly to school.  By the time I got to the parking lot, I could tell that something was amiss.  My toes, who had been so happy about the return of the flip-flops, were beginning to protest.  

"It can't be that cold," I mentally told them.  "Suck it up."  

They didn't stop tingling, though, and as I continued walking my legs and hands and ears joined in.  Puzzled that my extremities were so bothered by what I assumed was 50 degree weather, I started to look around at my surroundings.  Someone defrosting their car window.  Crunchy, ice covered grass.  My own breath, escaping from my mouth in puffs that reminded me of the pictures of nineteenth century trains in my property casebook.  

I passed three people on my way to school.  Every single one of them was wearing gloves.  All three of them had coats.  Two of them were wearing beanies.  Smart, sensible people who actually checked the weather before dashing outside in beach wear.

"So this is how natural selection thins the gene pool,"I thought dismally.

After what seemed like a very long 25 minutes, I finally made it into the warmth of the law school building.  As my feet began to thaw enough to resume their tingling protests, I looked around at my fellow classmates and was confronted by a sea of bare feet, legs, and arms.  The girl to my right was wearing a mini skirt and flats, the boy on my left had on flipflops and shorts.  This made me feel much better about my own judgment.  Of course, it also could have prompted me to worry about the future of a legal profession in the hands of people who weren't even capable of dressing themselves appropriately for the weather... but I'm pretending that it really wasn't a matter of inferior judgment, but a signal of superior foresight.  After all, it may have been a miserable 28 degree trek to school, but when my fellow classmates and I headed home that afternoon, it was a glorious 69 degrees -- warm enough that my toes began to forgive me.