Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Thirty Two Years of Bliss or BS?

onion saree

Thirty two years ago I put my neck out for the Thali(Traditional Necklace given by the Bridgroom similar meaning as wedding ring)  and extended my hand,  for a ring and I guess that was taken as agreeing with the consensus that we get married.

So we got married thirty two years ago today.  We were two giddy youngsters who didn’t really know what we were getting into.

It’s been a heck of ride alright.  Regrets? yes plenty.  I regret that I didn’t start my taming sooner.  I am finding that it is indeed, hard to train old dogs.

Bliss or BS?  Well, I would be lying if I said it was all a bliss.  But, what would a mother of a two year child say, a two year old with massive tantrums, he is adorable but the tantrums?!!, mm yes her life is not a bliss but she does love her child and her life.  Yes, I do feel like that mother at times.

Some times I wonder if I have rocks in my head.  But then again I realise that sometimes those rocks appear to be diamonds.  But there are those times when they are just the one’s you buy from Bunnings (hardware store) in bulk for your garden.

I don’t think life is never a complete bliss nor a complete disaster.  It is what we make of it.  In my opinion life is always a working progress.  We have our set backs.  But then again those set backs teach us what to avoid the next time and how to progress.

This man next to me has let me learn and experience these things, been supportive of what ever I wanted to do or not do.  When I want to take up work or studies he has been there with the flag and when I want to quit,  again he has been there for that too.   Always stood by me in what ever decision I took.

If this man could support me with life changing decisions, I wonder why he can’t be supportive if I want to change the curtains or the paint the wall?  Why won’t he then take down the Christmas lights when I ask him to? Ok those are big ticket items I agree, how about just take those darn tissues to the bin.  I don’t think those used tissues got wings nor does the breadcrumbs and I am not planning on recycling either of them.  Use the dishwasher, don’t eat salami if you are planning on losing weight – wait, it’s me planning on him losing weight, not him, I get it now @@###.  Just listening would be a start, big old ears, just for decoration. @@## It’s no bliss listening to his BS day after day.

But…

In the scheme of things I come to realise that these are merely misdemeanors that could be easily pardoned with warnings and sometimes threats.  Ahhh!! that’s how he gets away with it every time.

Anyhow, I have come to realise after all this time, that I am a gluten for punishment.  So I think I might be hanging around with this man for the rest of my lifetime.

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Sun Hiding behind the clouds – Henley Beach South Australia

There has been many sunsets and sunrises in the last thirty two years.  It has been a wild ride Mr Ganesan.  Just like I did thirty two years ago, I am hanging on to my dear life on that pillion seat and never letting it go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

When life gets busy…

Kids are all grown up, the once young couple is now heading towards the mature years.  It has always been the simple things in life that gets me glowing.  But more so now than before.  With age and life experiences comes the better appreciation for such things.

I had the most simplest of day-out’s with hubby today.  But it has made my heart feel mellow and has definitely put me in a good mood.  Nothing special at all about the days beginning.  It started with our WIFI not working and needing a call to the telco company.  Followed with ‘man of the house’s’ unwillingness to help and his wife speaking her mind. When she speaks her mind, she really speaks her mind.  She doesn’t use swear words, but there may have been elements of black mail.  “Ah! you cook your own dinner tonight…”  for a man who stuffs up two minute noodles this is really the ultimate threat.

Well apparently he wanted to have a cup of coffee first.  Once that was sorted, he wanted to bail out by going to work with the ready excuse “have reports to write”.  I reminded him of the shirts that I bought, that needed to be exchanged as they were too small for him. I am going to be unavailable for sometime starting next Saturday.  Thirty one years  of married bliss has made the poor man incapable of choosing shirts for himself so he caved in to go shopping with me.  I mean to just that one shop and then he had the rest of the day to attend to his reports.

The Jeep is his pride and joy.  It’s no Maserati. but it sure gets treated as one.  He likes to put on this air as a tough and ‘don’t care’ macho man.  But that’s just the surface.  At times he could sound rather callous too.  But when you peek inside you see a sentimental mush.  He is an automobiles enthusiast.  None of them due to their status or luxury.  Him and the boys regularly make way to car shows (well not so regularly but when ever their free time and car shows align together).

However  the Jeep holds a special place in his heart, especially the wrangler type ones.  He learnt to drive on a Jeep with his dad.  Although the lesson only lasted the one time as the day ended up with disagreements as usual, it still holds a special place in his heart. More so than he likes to let it out.  So this Jeep takes the special place in the garage while our regular cars are left to fend for themselves on the driveway, the curb or at times even the grass/lawn.

It was a nice sunny day but temperature was low enough to enjoy the day.  Once again we started off with a regular squabble, “where did you keep the keys? you were the last one to drive” as usual the scapegoat was going to be me.

Yes, I was the last to take it out. As on that auspicious day I had lent my car to his work mate whose car was at the mechanic.  So reluctantly he gave me the Jeep.  But, but, but … I quickly remembered that I did not park it in the garage.  So he was the last to drive. Got him on technicality.

Squabbles don’t last long (most times).  We both laughed at each other, I was happy to prove that I was not in the wrong (as usual) and he sheepishly was trying to butter me up.

We may be past our prime but in our hearts we are the same when we first met.  I am not talking about anything hot and heavy, but something as simple as holding hands still makes me feel eighteen again (well in my case nineteen, that’s when I met him).

The mirror –

Shows the grays and the wrinkles.

Shows the muffin tops that’s refusing to hide 

and that one hair that peeks out of my chin

But oh mirror!

Those grays and wrinkles are of two lives who have lived.  Of lives that at times had almost drowned to the bottom of the sea bed.  Each one of us has taken turns to resuscitate the other and together we have surfaced up to the top by just strongly holding on to each other.

But oh mirror!

You do not know the struggles I’ve been through to get those muffin tops.  Even the big tummy on my hubby, it took many years and many beers to get there.  Just like Rome wasn’t built in a day.  It is a sign that our lives were not just misery and doom, we made time for fun and laughter too.

And mirror!

Who gives a dime (You could replace it with a ruder a word if you wish) about a hair that peeks out of my chin.  Because the most important person, that is my husband, with his diminished eye sight can’t see it anyway.  So if my man doesn’t care who gives a dime anyway.

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So the young couple in spite of what the mirror was telling headed happily to the shops.  Friendly banter followed at the shops, the mood was so good and they decided to have a coffee.

We found this gorgeous cafe in the beach side suburb of Glenleg.  Struggling with reflux I am not allowed to eat or drink anything on that menu.  Decided to be a half a rebel and had a short black which later followed with ‘milanta’ (antacid).  Made a date with hubby for next mothers day.  So he is going to take me there for breakfast on Mothers day, May 2019.  Hopefully by then I would have sorted out my reflux issues.  We laughed about making a date for a year later with the waiter.

When two people are happy they infect it to those they come in contact with.  So the moth and the butterfly went on spreading the pollen along the way.  It was just a drive and coffee but feels like so much more. Life has been so busy lately and when you have no time and even the little time you get together becomes so precious.

I don’t want the moon, I just want to watch the moon with you.

And Oh Mirror! if you have ears and you hear us squabble.  Don’t be afraid.  Squabbling is our way of communicating.  It is our way to show that we are both equal.  It is our way to show that we don’t conform out of fear or lack of freedom.  You will notice neither of us are afraid to admit wrong or defeat.  We both know the value of love, life and loss. So we don’t hold a grudge and waste our time together.  I know I married a mule.  And I know mules can be stubborn.  But, I also know, when you work the mule favorably, it’s a great animal to carry your burdens.

Here’s to more squabbles(maybe little less of them), wrinkles and gray hairs.  Here’s to more simple things in life and growing old together.

TMP15

I don’t want the moon, I just want to grow old together watching the moon with you.

Posted in True Story, Inspirational

Word Association – Broken

word association
Broken – Arj

 

Once again I look for a word prompt from wordpress for inspiration.  The word Broken catches my eye.

Word Association is a game that is played ‘just for kicks’ at most school or even work team building outings.  On the surface it comes across as a very innocent game.  But if you were a savvy psychologist you would seriously analyse the answers from each individual.

Let’s take the word Broken.  Many words could follow that.

Broken – heart.  depends on the speed of the answer.  Quite possible the person is  a                                         recent single .

Broken – down   He/she isn’t driving a brand new car

Broken – Leg       Very possible this answer could be from my eldest after one his ski trips

Now I will give you my answer,

When I heard the word Broken the first thing that came up in my head was ‘Arj’.  I am almost certain that would have been the same for my husband and even my eldest.

Broken – Arj  –  Makes a lot of sense in our family.  Although family member ‘Arj’ would vehemently deny that statement.

Arj is my youngest who was born with too much oomph.  He came out with a mighty hurry and with a lot of gusto.  Even after twenty one years there is no sign of the brakes being applied.  Over the years he has gathered more muscle and strength.  Which doesn’t help our course nor the items in our household.

The unbreakable ‘Tonka Truck’ was no match for this kid.  Yes that was broken too.

 tonka

So you can imagine the condition of the rest of his toys.  Many number of toys came from  my nephew who was a few years older than my boys.  It would come in pristine condition.  Hari is not as gentle as my nephew but the toys would still have a lot life in them when they get to Arj.  With Arj they meet their demise pretty soon.

Gentle touch and patience are two words you will never associate with Arj.  When he closes a door (any door) the whole house shudders.  He walks as if he is in the Army barracks and being ordered to march.

Two recent incidents:

Arj travels to Sydney to catch up with his brother and head off for skiing.  Hari picks him up from the airport and they head off straight to the slopes.  Its a good 5 – 6 hr drive when you don’t include traffic.  After 2-3 days of skiing they head back to Sydney.  Not sure if they planned to leave late or boys being boys, they leave the ski lodge late.  Hari takes on the wheels again.  They get home late.  Hari was really tired and wanted a long hot shower.  So he asked Arj to have a shower first, so that he could have a nice relaxed long shower after.  (Hari and I are mindful of the environment, but not when we are having a shower).  By the way this was a brand new apartment.  Building was completed only a couple of months ago and Hari had moved in a month ago.  Arj switches on the light in the bathroom.

Total blackout.

Well as per Arj he just touched the switch.  Hari found the switch completely sunken into the wall.  It had fused the whole thing.  Yes, Arj claims it wasn’t his fault, it must have been cheep workmanship according to him.  How Hari managed to live there for a whole month without coming across this poorly crafted light switch is really remarkable.

The Second incident that comes to mind is the refrigerator  door handle.  It was a regular weekend in our household.  Washing machine, Dryer and vacuum cleaner were getting a work out.  Arj was going to feed the turtles and then the two of us were going to wash the dog.  The turtles have frozen meals and this is kept in our spare refrigerator in the laundry.

Snap! crash! what ever other sound a refrigerator door handle makes when breaking.

Again Arj gently touched the door handle to gently open it.  It was probably a very poorly made refrigerator.  Arj was left to hold part of the door handle that was now very securely in his palm.

I have had the pleasure of living past the golden jubilee.  In this life time I have heard of broken heart, broken leg and broken down. I have heard of broken switch as well.  But never in this fashion.  I have NEVER heard of  a broken refrigerator door handle.

We all agree with such gentle touch of Arj, it really cannot be his fault that so many things crumble at the sight of him.  We as a family must strive to buy and build better things.

 

Broken https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/broken/

Posted in Book review, True Story, Inspirational

An Unfinished Odyssey – Book Review

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With a lot of pride and joy, I start writing today.  I start writing about a project I was involved in.  I can’t take any credit for the way this book has turned out.  But I will surely take pride in claiming to know the Editor and publisher of this great book.  So I am going to claim pride by proxy.

Rohan may not know this, but after a very long lapse the reason for me to pick up the pen or in my case the keyboard to write was, him asking me to write about my journey through cancer and other medical dramas.  At the time he made this request, my desire and habit for writing was dormant.  That piece of writing was the reason for the birth of my blog.  So I owe a lot to Rohan for igniting that passion again in me.

Rohan is a great writer himself and was a regular cricket columnist for the “Island” newspaper.  He is a well read man with wicked sense humour.  But along with those good qualities he also possessed a very stubborn and ‘never give up’ ‘pain in the rear’ type quality. Which can be pretty annoying, especially if you aren’t too convinced you want to do what he is asking you to do.  However, you finally give in, as you can see he is not going to back down until he gets what he wants.

“An unfinished Odyssey” is the grand production from the above guy. Rohan and my hubby worked for a company called the Ceylon Shipping Corporation.  Amazing establishment in those days.  Rohan was the Chief Engineer and my hubby a Captain. Rohan tirelessly went after many who have sailed on these ships to write their life and stories and made it into this magnificent book.

Rohan asked me to contribute to this book as the only female/supernumerary and I duly obeyed.  It was great to see my name on such a great book.  I wrote a book review and sent it to the Editor of the Sri Lankan “Island” paper.  I was rather chuffed today to find out that it has actually made it into the paper.

The Book Review

An Unfinished Odyssey’ – an Anthology a collection of tales and musings from those who have served for CSC (Ceylon Shipping Corporation), compiled, designed and edited by RohanWijeyaratna.

In the era of eBooks, this book stands as a testament and shows the irreplaceable value of a good hard cover book; a book that you can judge merely by its cover alone.  The journey begins from the minute you set eyes on this creation. It is evident the Editor, Designer and ‘Owner’ of this book Rohan, had looked into every minute detail which has gone into making it near perfect.  From the posh silky paper to the font style, everything about the book looks simply exquisite.  If you are a reader you will be affected by a serious case of “can’t put it down”.  If you are not a reader, it is a piece of artwork to adorn your bookshelf in the sitting room, to make you look learned.

Like all great ideas the origins of making this book evolved around Rohan’s inspiration lapped up by a bunch of old sea dogs who had by then consumed a skinful or two (a sailor’s skinful or two – the amount that leaves most land-dwellers incapacitated). Rohan was perhaps the only one in his senses to understand the enormity of the exercise, which is why we heard from him so often – pleading, cajoling, threatening and insulting in various stages prior to final deliverance. What he has put together are a collection of tales which are near unbelievable. They stand as a true testament to his unrelenting perseverance.

Many of us are inspired into writing our own life stories.  We often say to each other that we should make these stories into a book.  But very seldom do such wishes turn into reality. I doubt if anyone else would have initiated such a mammoth task; very certain no one could have persevered and produced it with such class as Rohan has.

However, reading about the editor I come to realise that RohanWijeyaratna is no novice when it comes to the literary world, and it is abundantly evident with the outcome of this book. He has been a regular Cricket columnist for “The Island” newspaper for about 7 years in addition to his professional work.  He was also responsible for the birth of the Newsletter, and he also produced and  published as the ‘Journal of the I.Mar.E – Sri Lanka branch (Institute of Marine Engineers)’.  Without such journalistic experience and expertise and the inherent art in him, this project might not have been so successful.

The very first page, poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow sets the scene perfect.

“Ah! What pleasant vision haunt me, as I gaze upon the Sea….”

The first verse finishes with “all my dreams come back to me.”

The last verse finishes with “and the singing of the sailors and the answers from the shore!”

And yes you can’t put it down after that start.

The book gives you a snippet of the history of Sri Lankan Shipping which starts in the late 1960’s and then the tales from individual sailors starting around early 1970’s.  Writers from the early era have taken justifiably written with pride in describing their first love – the m.v. ‘Lanka Rani’, which was the first ship they sailed on.  The stories arelisted as per the progression from the Cargo Ships with oak interiorsfit for a Queen to the modern Container ships stripped of its oak finishes, brass fittings,the lace and trimmings.

Just like how Rohan explains, “much like good wine, the stories kept getting better with age and embellishment”.  It is evident from these stories that this period in their lives was not just in pursuit of a career for these young men (now not so young).  As a woman who sailed and didn’t have to work for the privilege I can confirm this part of their career and life was, and will always bequite unforgettable for them.

Like life, these young men met with their fair share of triumphs and trials on each of these voyages. Death of their colleagues(at sea), fire, and very bad injuries were all part of the journey. Movie scenes of “man overboard” was part of their life.There are stories of “Ghosts” on board as well to add to the mystic.  One writer explains how “when they ran short of liquor the ghosts were up to mischief”.  Everything was solved with a good drink, laughter and mateship.

The book illustrates much good humour and witticisms throughout, even in the presence of hardship.  It gives you a great appreciation of the “foreign” item you buy off the shelf-be it the most expensive bottle of Grange Shiraz or just some condiments. They’ve all had their fair share of taleswrapped around them as they reached their final recipients’ hands, and those who brought them to us had a way ofnarrating their tales with passion, pride and style, as amply seen throughoutthe pages of this maritime classic -“An unfinished odyssey”.

I can assure you, it is a great read; worth every penny spent in buying it.

By Uma Ganesan – who sailed in the capacity of Supernumerary.


 

I humbly urge as many of you to make a purchase.  I don’t make a red cent from the sales nor does Rohan.  He is a visionary.  He is planning to sponsor as many cadets from poor backgrounds.  I think the best form of charity is not just to give some one the money but in fact to pave the way for them to make that money.

For book purchases http://unfinishedodyssey.lk/

My review on the island paper

http://www.island.lk/index.php?page_cat=article-details&page=article-details&code_title=185229

 

Posted in Daily post, True Story, Inspirational

Putting his foot in it… Awkward

My Beloved turns Sixty tomorrow.

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So I thought it is only fitting that I talk about some of his monumental “putting his foot in it” moments.  Not that he is the one who feels embarrassed or awkward, I am usually the one left to cover up the situation.

I could write a book about these incidents but unfortunately some of them might be far too politically incorrect.  Almost all of them are politically incorrect but if I avoid them I won’t have anything to write about.

Before you judge him, yes he is politically completely incorrect.  However, he has the most amazing heart.  He will help anyone with any colour, race or religion, but don’t ask him to recite Baa Baa rainbow sheep.

Here we go, with one of the gems.

We had been invited to another Aus/Sri Lankan family for dinner.  There were many people there and we didn’t know many of them. That has never been a deterrent for my husband to completely take over the conversation.  While he was holding the fort in the lounge room I went into the kitchen to help the host.  Suddenly the host rushed in and frantically starts to talk to me.

She goes “Uma, you need to hurry, your husband, he is talking about religion(anti)”, and she points to a couple and says, “they are very strong Christians, you need to make him stop”, I tried to get his attention without raising others attention, but to no avail.  The man was very impressed with his audience and he wasn’t going to give up the floor any time soon.  The said couple kept quiet and didn’t voice their opinion or objection.  The long night finally ended.  And each guest was now finally leaving one by one.  We were about to leave and my husband notices ‘The couple’ waiting.  They make eye contact and they answered to a question we never asked “we are not from Sydney, we are just about to call for a cab”.

All night, I have been trying very hard to avoid them and to keep my husband away from them as well.  But alas, my husband asks them where they were staying and announces that it in fact, that place was on our way and would love to offer them a lift.  My heart just sank.  I have no idea why but the couple accepted the offer.  It was a long awkward drive back home.

The above is the politically corrected version.

 

 

 

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/awkward/

 

Posted in Daily post

Waiting ….

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I miss mum

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What’s taking her so long?

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Hang on! Is that mum’s car?

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Yes I think so.  Finally.


 

Waiting…

Waiting is part excitement and part anguish. The part anguish is made up of plethora of sub emotions.  Anguish divvies into several heads like the Hindu Gods.  Boredom, impatience and then progresses to annoyance, irritation and finally escalates to panic.  Usually does a full circle and completes with relief and sometimes unfortunately disappointment.

This was my great epiphany while waiting for my mum at the airport.

Mum was returning after her three month holiday overseas.  I cooked, shopped and stocked her fridge yesterday.  Set my alarm up for an early start.  Tossed and turned all night, worrying if I may miss the alarm.  Woke up earlier than the alarm and thought it was for the best.  But still the daily chores got in the way of being early at the airport.

As per ‘Murphy’s Law’ every slow driver and every red light was my companion for the drive.  After circling three times, I finally manage to park my car.  I was just hoping that for my sake that either there was a delay in baggage collection or at customs and that mum wasn’t waiting anxiously for me.

I glance at the flight status board as I rush in.  Good, the flight has not landed.  I contemplate grabbing a coffee, I didn’t want to part with the money just as mum exited those doors.  I decided on having that coffee after all.  Made the request for a short macchiatto, just in case I didn’t have enough time to finish a larger coffee.  Perched myself on the bar stool that had the direct view of the arrivals.  Even though I was running late, I still came prepared with my little ‘mini tab’ to do some writing.  Just in case.

By this time it was half an hour passed arrival time.  Flight status remained the same.  Another fifteen minutes passes.  Under the guise of writing my emotions were getting the better of me.  I skipped boredom.  Patience – I wasn’t impatient waiting but the airport arrivals website was definitely testing my patience.  

As per the website there was no mention of the aircraft.  This website is supposed to show all flights that was meant to arrive on that day and their flight status.  Frustrated,  I decided to check the Malaysian airlines website.  It stated that the plane had departed Malaysia.  And that’s all.  No mention of delayed or approximate time of arrival.  I gave another ten minutes and checked the two websites again.  Same messages.  On Adelaide airport’s website there was no mention or acknowledgement of the aircraft and Malaysian Airlines just says that it departed.

My mind was refusing to come out of the pit of panic.  Fates of MH137 and MH17 infiltrates logical thinking.  My positive outlook and glass half full attitude were shying away to the back seat.  Still I muster everything in me not to panic as I logically think that no one else was panicking around me.  I think maybe just maybe ‘flight tracker’ should/could tell me more.  Thankfully it did.  The flight was delayed approximately by one hour.  Sigh of relief.

The emotions start all over again once the passengers start to arrive.  I am regular at airport pickup as my husband travels a lot for work.  Also, I always offer to pick friends, relatives, exchange students (Just those who are going to stay with me).  It always feels the same.  They are never the first ones to come out.  I start to wonder if mum was having issues at customs or quarantine.  More at quarantine, if she has brought some food item that is not allowed in Australia.  We always joke that bringing drugs into our country might be easier than bringing some fruit.  Fellow Aussies think about it a kilo of drugs vs a kilo of bananas?  I share this joke in a hushed voice to the guy sitting next to me to kill time.

Finally I see a familiar face and a familiar load of luggage. Mum doesn’t believe in travelling light.  I hug her tight with relief.  I didn’t even comment on her luggage.

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/patience/

 

 

Posted in Daily post

Mumma!!! I just killed a Cactus…

cactus

If Freddie Mercury has seen my garden before he sang Bohemian Rhapsody his lyrics could have been about a dead cactus rather than him declaring to his mother about killing a man.

You know how they say certain family traits skips a generation.  Well it certainly did when it came to my gardening skills.  Well a few more things could be added to that, sewing, knitting and other artistic skills.  My mother is a queen of all trades and I am master of none.  My mum has the ability to grow things out of nothing while I manage to kill a fully grown plant.

I am scientist’s daughter and I believe that I am trying to prove Charles Darwin’s theory of “survival of the fittest” in my garden.  Time to time I experiment which ones can survive the longest without water etc.  Of course there are casualties in this experiment.  Yes as per my heading suggests, I did kill a cactus.

I have rearranged Freddie’s song and my version as follows.  Sorry for all “Queen” fans if you find this appalling.  I love him too.  But seriously he was a musical genius but completely out of his mind.  I believe my lyrics makes more sense.

 

Is this the real life
Is this just madness
Caught in a heatwave
No escape from sun
Can’t Open my eyes
I Look out the curtains and see
I’m just a poor gardener, Please I need sympathy
Because plants are easy come, easy go,
Little water, no water
Anyway the hot wind blows, doesn’t really matter to me – to me

Mama, I just killed a cactus,
I didn’t put a gun against it’s head,
I didn’t Pull the trigger, but it’s dead,
Mama, spring has just begun,
But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away
Mama, ooo,
Didn’t mean to make you ashamed
I will be back again this time tomorrow
To Carry on, carry on, as if gardening matters

Too late, time has come,
For the cactus with the spines
It’s hot all the time,
Goodbye all the dead plants – sorry you got to go –
you all left me behind and to face the truth
Mama, ooo –
I don’t want to kill my plants,
I sometimes wish I’d never had a garden at all –

I am just a poor girl no plant seems love me

(ok I am going to miss the next verse it’s the one with “Gallileo, Gallileo”, it’s too crazy to decipher even after a glass of gin)

So you think you can shame me and wither right in front of my eye
So you think you can love me and leave me to die
Oh Cactus – why did you do that to me
You got me to be the worst Gardner of the year

Nothing really matters
Anyone can see
Nothing really matters, nothing really matters – to me

………

Not true, The Garden matters to me, but not matter enough for me to wither in the scorching sun.  And sometimes I take the time to water them and apparently, I’ve stifled the plant with too much water.  Excuse me, I can’t seem to win.

I don’t ask for sympathy but maybe a bit of empathy.

 

 

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sympathize/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/stifle/

http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/f/freddie_mercury/mamma_lyrics.html