The Flower Threatener

Lady G:  Get it together, you.  Or else.

In between my many high-paying gigs -- royal wedding consultant, general manager of WSJG, cruise ship performer, Broadway stage-crasher, dog walker, to name a few -- I've discovered a new talent guaranteed to reap in the dollars and set me up for early retirement.  I'm now a certified Floral Life Coach, qualified to bring your flowers back to life with the magic of my voice.  The other morning, I stepped into my garden -- oh, the vastness of it all, the flora, flora, flora -- and to my hora, discovered a lone Gerbera down for the count.  I walked over to the sad attention-seeker, which had stood tall and proud, if not just a tad boastful, in that "look at me" way that only pretty flowers can pull off, only the day before, and asked, "What up?"  Lady Gerbera drooped further into her pot, all moody, feeling kinda schva, as my sweet mom used to say.  My first move, maternally-inspired, of course, was to spoil her rotten with water.  "Have a little drink, Lady G," I said. "Have a little more."  Lady G sipped and sipped and got so farshikkert, I had to intervene.  "That's enough," I said, and spewed out a testy Cher-like command:  "Snap out of it!"  This proved too harsh.  My next move:  reverse psychology.  "I guess you're missing all the other flowers nobody wanted back at OSH.  I understand.  Grab your sweater, Lady G, and I'll take you back to your people."  Suddenly, Lady G perked right up.  She got her sh*t together and hasn't gone droopy since.  This near-religious experience has inspired me to write a new book, a combo parenting-gardening manual:  "A Gentle Threat Was All It Took."  Place your orders.  This one's going to be huge.