when joe (mike's lab mate in illinois) graduated, he left behind a legacy of hard work and two potted plants.

one of them was an ivy-type plant upon which mike wrote "joe's memorial plant." he then forgot to water it, nearly killed it, and brought it home to me to revive it. apparently, the plant holds the spirit of joe in the lab (who knew chemists were superstitious??)

the other plant was a rubber plant. it grew like a tree for several years, withstanding several cat attacks and the poor lighting in our apartment. as it grew, though, it kept getting uglier - a tall trunk with only a few leaves near the top and rather wobbly on its roots (i had to lean it against the window frame).

finally, i called my father (who has a legendary green thumb, like my mother in law) and asked what to do. "chop it," he told me. "the old stem should grow leaves." then, as an afterthought, he added "and put the top part in another pot and see if it sprouts."

i tried to impress upon him that my husband would be really upset to come home and find the second joe memorial plant looking like a stick in the mud (literally), but my father insisted that was the way to save it, so i did as he asked.

the original plant has since grown several leaves, withstood several cat attacks and is flourishing. the top of the plant, however, has sat for almost a year - never dying but never showing any signs of life, either. for a while, i've wanted to yank it up and see if it was growing roots, but i restrained myself. then, in the last few months, i've seen some small changes. and now, as mike nears the end of his grad school career, the plant has started flourishing.

i'm sure the metaphor goes without saying (but i'm going to say it anyway). for years, we've been stuck in this grad school pot forever with no signs of changing, but without wilting either. and now, finally, we're going to start growing again.

who knew we were going to do that in new york city? all we have to do now is find a place with more sun.