Should I die, this blog will serve as my son's source of virtual mama.

If I live, I won't have to repeat myself.

sigers writes fiction and nags her son in austin, texas. 

I want you to dabble in other people's passions.


Okay, so you know how I go to all these plant nurseries? And I look at flower smut on the Internet? And I dig around in the garden and wail over peonies? All that HIGHLY BORING crap I do? I didn’t always do it. I wasn’t into it when I was younger. But I did have a great-aunt Honey. Honey LOVED gardening. And she would compost when it was country as hell, instead of eco-chic. And she had trees and roses and a fig grove and for the most part, I found it boring. I asked a question or two, here and there, but it was pretty much a Honey thing.

Do you know how many times I have looked around a plant nursery or a garden or a park and thought about how I would LOVE to have brought Honey here? How we could have spent the afternoon discussing the merits of turkey poop? 

“I’m sorry, Honey. I just didn’t know what I was going to grow up to be,” I say that so much that it’s like a prayer for every time I get giddy over a plant.

You never know what you’re going to grow up to be. But it is possible that you might be into the same things that the people you love are into. I am asking you to be open. I am asking you to wholeheartedly throw yourself into someone else’s passion for an ¬†afternoon. Just to be with them. I know that a love of stamp collecting won’t necessarily germinate right then, but it might. Or it won’t.

But either way, you’ll have the experience and the memory.