First things first.

So, y'know how there's that understood chain of events that happens once you meet "The One"? Like...love...really love...engaged...naivete...married...more naivete...decorating the nursery...babies...etcetera. Well, in between the "married...babies"...I've been told that certain happenings should take place in order to deem one ready for los bebes. It's called the, "Can you keep a living thing alive?" test. And it starts with houseplants.

Remember when I planted my herb garden on the porch? Yes? Basil, Rosemary, Thyme, Mint...all delicious, aromatic and lovely little organisms. Well, I also have a few other houseplants just for the decor factor, and with a few cuttings here and there as well. Here's how they're all doing:

"Devil's Ivy" or Pothos plant--thriving!

Clipping of Pothos--precious!

Philodendron--growing!

Philodendron clipping--perfect!

Herb fiesta--three out of four?

So.....if you did not notice....I'm missing an herb. Cue the funeral dirge--the Thyme died. Dead as a doornail. Or a doorknob. Or a stone. Dead and gone, as T.I. would say. We went on vacation and, alas, the Thyme was not hearty enough to withstand the hot, hot heat of a southeastern summer.

Ok, the plants and babies theory: apparently, the order is plants, fish, dog, baby. If you can keep the three previous living things alive and healthy, it's a good indication of your readiness for the responsibility of a bambino, (according to someone). Basically, if we do some simple math, I'm at approximately an 86% success rate, (I'm counting the clippings as one plant). YIKES. If I was a goldfish I would be hoarding food flakes and hiding in my plastic tank castle.

AnyHOW, regardless of Andrew's and my proximity to reproducing a squishy, pooping, screaming, delightfully cute little rugrat, we are definitely getting one of these regardless of how the whole fish thing turns out:

Oh, hello, Love! (Vizsla puppies...me wantie).

Can we all say a collective, "yes, please!" In fact, let's skip the fish and cut to the chase, ignoring my slightly brown thumb altogether: I gotta get me a puppy dog!