"You need to replant my mother-in-law plant. It's going to get root bound" Brad told me as he walked out the door on his way back to Wyoming. It sounded to me like the plant was about to get constipated. I thought about feeding it a laxative.

The plant had been sitting on the breakfast bar for the last three months. The only time it got any attention -- or water was when Brad came back every two weeks and gave it a drink.

"I think you should take care of it," I told him. "You know it won't survive me." Obviously, he had forgotten the 26 houseplants I've killed over the last 8 years.

But, after putting it off for the last six days, I finally decided it was time to get a larger planter and replant Brad's mother-in-law. That was yesterday afternoon. I've notice it's already starting to lose leaves. That's not a good thing. Brad's mother-in-law is my mom, and he made me responsible for keeping her going.

Brad's mother-in-law isn't the only thing I've come close to destroying. The best part is, I've killed most of the weeds in my yard.

All I know is I'm not touching Brad's mother-in-law again until Brad gets back. Then the responsibility is all his.

Once I got done withering Brad's mother-in-law, Jeremy decided it was time to take the boat to the lake to give it a try. I've learned several very important lessons. Fish don't like the heat any more than I do. Flywheels and fingers don't mix, sandbars can show up anywhere, and two hours on the lake when it's approaching 100 degrees is about my limit.

We had it all planned out. We'd get up early and beat the heat. Little did we know it would be 84 degrees by the time we left the house at 7 a.m. We've been having carburetor trouble for the last two weeks and Jer thought he had it all worked out.

We got out to the lake, unloaded the boat with no problem. Started it with no problem, left the dock and couldn't get our speed above 7 miles and hour. I figured I might as well throw out a line -- either we were going too fast, or the fish were staying in the shade somewhere -- I didn't even get a nibble. A couple of hours later we decided to put the boat in full gear and head for home. By that time, while I can't be sure, it must have been up to 115 degrees.

Jer wasn't satisfied with the way the boat was running. I was just glad it was. He went back to the back of the boat. We hit a sandbar, and his finger ended up in the flywheel. Thankfully, both of them are still intact. Jer's finger is in a little worse shape than the flywheel.

Overall, we had to call it a successful trip. The boat remained running. We only had to push ourselves off three other sandbars and Jeremy's finger is neatly and cleanly bandaged. Unfortunately, what fish may have been in the lake remain in the lake -- as does my dream for a successful fishing trip -- just once.