The bones of Jesus and my underlying fear of Scoville

Friday was a minor milestone in that it marked the halfway point of my practicum. I also began a new printmaking unit with my grade nines. However, I have such limited knowledge on printmaking procedures that the lesson was akin to jumping out of an airplane, as eyes clenching and stomach tingling adrenaline forces one to breathe a prayer, "Oh Lord, please let this parachute work/lesson plan succeed." Which it did, and I am quite sure that the ancient and bleached bones of James Cameron did not in fact answer my prayer, nor do they walk with me during daily struggles and joys.

Also to my surprise was the recent appearance of a small pepper hanging diligently to the branch of the habanero plant that has been sitting hunched, like a green gargoyle, in front of our apartment window since September. Two ironies struck me as I fathomed the cultivation of my meager harvest. 1) This plant, thought to be one of the hottest peppers in the world (compare its 200,000 Scoville units, the measurement of spicy heat, to Tabasco Sauce which rates from 7,000 to 8,000 Scoville units), has been growing during the coldest winter recorded in Winnipeg (...Winnipeg), with only two panes of glass separating these two abominations of nature. 2) Even as my mouth salivates to taste its molten nectar, I realize how much uncomfortable pain this plant has brought to my body in the past (both to the northern and southern regions). In actuality, tending this plant is similar to graciously nursing a grenade, coaxing it to grow to its full explosive potential, and often I find my self staring at it cock-eyed half wondering why I allowed such explicit danger into our home.