Alzheimers to Amphibians

I could use this as a moment to touchingly reveal that I have a soul and talk about my adorable and tragic bond with my recently deceased grandmother. Instead, I'm going to tell you about that one time my grandpa punched a nurse, and use that to illustrate the fact that Alzheimer's is some bad shit. Basically it eats your brain, then kills you. Notice that it eats your brain BEFORE it kills you. This means you'll forget everything and everyone you've ever known. You'll also panic a lot, because you have no idea what's going on around you. Oh, also it's incurable. As far as I know, Alzheimer's is one of the worst things that can possibly happen to you. It also happens to run in my family. On both sides. Metaphorically speaking, I'm tied to the railroad track of inevitability waiting to hear the rumble of a crazy train which tragically does not contain Ozzy Osbourne. Yeah. Anyway, on a happier note, gardening also runs in my family. Well, at least it does among the older family members (I have yet to meet a young person who legitimately enjoys gardening, but I do believe they're out there. Like Yetis.) My grandmother on my mother's side used to love to garden- back when she was living in a place where there was enough room to have a garden- and she always put statues in with the plants. All of these statues were frogs. Don't ask me why, but she loves frogs. Big frogs, little frogs, realistic frogs, cartoon frogs; if it was shaped like a frog it went in the garden. It was what you might call a frog fiesta. Oh, except for the one statue of Saint Francis. He was noticeably not a frog.

Trousers to Triptychs