Showing posts with label nonsequitur rambling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nonsequitur rambling. Show all posts

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Hole.


Is a hole only round? Can't it be oval, triangular, hectagonal, or another shape?

Must a hole be whole? A whole hole. Couldn't it be partial?

Is a hole always black? Not green? Purple? Rainbow? If it's white, could we see it?

Could a hole by holey? We just can't see the multiple holes in a hole.

Finally, could there be such a thing as a holy, holey whole hole?


Now that you've had your fill of holes, head over to ABC Wednesday, where I've parked my link. It's a fun weekly meme with wonderful bloggers from around the world. Thanks, ABCW team, for hosting the letter H. 

Monday, January 23, 2017

Watching the Grass Grow


We've been having a wonderful winter of rain. The rainfall during the last couple of weeks has been like it used to be with flooding creeks, roads, and streets. It's possible the powers-that-be will say the drought is over in our area. Still, we shall need to continue to conserve water because our local population is growing due to the hundreds of houses being built.

I seem to want to work out in the garden just at it starts raining. All that means is I go outside while it's just a light drizzle to deadhead flowers and snap off jade branches killed by the frost.

Our front lawn has come back. With a vengeance, I think. The Husband says the grass is thick because he hasn't cut it. Not once since it started coming back. I'm fine with that. Actually, I'm curious to see how tall the grass can grow before I pull some out in a month or so when it's best to sprinkle pixie dust and wildflower seeds.

I took the above photo yesterday. Below is how the lawn looked in previous months. Giggle.

November 2016

September 2016

May 2016

I'm linking up with All Seasons today. It's a weekly meme hosted by Jesh at Artworks from JeshStG. Click here to check out the other participants and/or to join the fun.



Saturday, January 14, 2017

Setting Around-the-House Goals


Some mornings I wake up with a mission in my mind. Today, for example, the goal for the Husband and me is to bring down another bookcase to the living room from upstairs.

Very easy, you say.

Certainly.

As long as I keep us on task, which means not getting distracted by something else. I have a not-so-committed goal to make something out of cabbage and ground turkey. Maybe make a non-stuffed cabbage casserole. Stuffing cabbage sounds too time-consuming. I know: What else do I have to do? Well, bring down the bookcase and all the books in that bookcase. I'd also like to go outside and prune the apricot tree while it's still cold. And, maybe one or two of the scraggly rose bushes.

It's nearly 11:35 a.m. See what I mean about getting distracted. No? Well, I just wrote this post.


Sunday, January 8, 2017

Loving Winter


Rrrrrrrr-umble. . .BANG!

Thunder!

I didn't see it, but I did hear the thunderstorm sometime after midnight. I was quite happy not to see the flashes. FLASH!

It has been raining. Glorious, glorious rain. And, if the weather guys are correct, it will continue to rain until Thursday. Knock on wood.

During a not-raining lull this morning, Molly the Cat and I ventured into the backyard to see how things are holding up. Our raggedy back fence heartily stood up to yesterday's wind. Whhhheeeeeeeewwwwwh. . .

Molly was busy sniffing out what she probably hoped would be wild animals while I shot photos. We are so different from the Mama who would've swept as many leaves as she could before she decided it was too muddy and cold to be outside.

By the way, did you find Molly among all that green stuff? In the photo up there, that is. Yes, the path was once clear and free of leaves.  :-)

And, look, here. A rosebud! The Mama's spirit continues to shine in her rose bushes.


I'm linking up All Seasons, a weekly meme hosted by Jesh at Artworks from JeshSTG. To check out the other participants or to join up, please click here.


Sunday, January 1, 2017

Cheers to a New Calendar Year!


"What got into you?" asked the Husband, looking across the table as I cracked walnuts.

"The bananas got browner just like you said would happen," I answered. We bought the bunch of organic bananas yesterday afternoon. I only wanted three bananas, but when I saw that the bananas were a bunch for a dollar, I couldn't bring myself to buy three bananas when I could purchase eight for the same price. Would you?

I don't remember if I fully answered the Husband's question. I recall that he went back to checking out Facebook so I must've said that I want the walnuts for making banana bread. Now I think I'll bake scones. Easier. Then I'll freeze the rest of the bananas. I found out I don't even need to peel, slice, or stick them in freezer bags. And when I want to use one or two for baking or smoothies, I simply microwave the bananas for a minute or two. Voila!

It's been a good new year so far. I've been very productive, too. Along with cracked walnuts, I've made a pot of New Years' beans and rice, wrote a couple of short pieces (I'm including this post), brought some books downstairs,  and envisioned a bit more about how the living room shall look. The Husband and I went down to the storage lockers and brought back a few boxes and things and looked in the attic to see what the Mama hid there. 

I know. What's gotten into me? The possibilities of the new year I suppose. Let's see what happens tomorrow.

May you all have peace, joy, and wonder in 2017!


To start the new year, I'm linking up with All Seasons, a joyful meme hosted by Jesh. Click here to check out the meme. Maybe you'd like to join in as well.



Monday, December 12, 2016

A New Trip


So begins a new adventure around the sun for me.

Here I gooooooooooooooooooooooooo. . .




Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Trieste


Trieste is the name of the street I live on. The Husband pronounces Trieste as Tree-est. The Mama used to say Trees-tay. I like to say Tree-es-tay. Molly the Cat simply says Mwrr.

Today, I found out that I was wrong about what trieste means. I thought it meant sad. In Italian, which is the word's origin, trieste means market place. (Italians pronouce the word as tree-es-tay.) According to Wiktionary.org, trieste is from the Latin word tergeste, which comes from Venetic, a once-upon-a-time language in the long-time-ago region of Veneto.

I love the idea that we live on Trieste, a market place. I shall now imagine myself selling, trading, and giving away the creations of my heart. They may be words, images, and things out of stuff. Hmmmm. When I was a young thing living in San Francisco I wanted to be a street artist when I grew up, but I had no idea what I could sell as I had no artistry of any kind. That's what I thought then.

Things are different now. I have the time to play with paint, ink, pencils, glitter, dyes, rocks, dirty, hammers, saws, needles, thread, paper, fabric, straw, flowers, paper, and so on and so forth, et cetera, et cetera. I can explore, discover, experiment, and simply try my hand at finding what kind of artistry is inside me. Who knows, if I want to, I might even make a small living out of it.

By the way, in Spanish, triste means sad or mournful. I'm glad to know that I don't live on a street called sadness. Maybe now melancholy and I can make a truce. 


It's the letter T at ABC Wednesday. Click here to join in on the fun and/or read posts by other bloggers around the world.  Thank you, ABCW team!


Tuesday, October 11, 2016

Harvest Time — Not So Easy Work


Harvesting crops is hard back-breaking work. Every time I pass by a field of workers, I'm very grateful to them. How can anyone not want to give them a living wage?

It wasn't until 1978 that farmworkers on large farms were finally included under the Fair Labor Standards Act, which required their employers to pay them minimum wage. Still, in some states today, farmers can choose to give their workers a piece-rate wage rather than a minimum hourly rate. It's not a high piece rate either.  For instance, if a worker receives 50 cents for every bucket of tomatoes she picks, she would need to pick about 2.5 tons of tomatoes to earn an equivalent minimum hourly wage for a 10-hour day. I think all states ought to mandate hourly wages for farmworkers.

I've got a Mama story for you. She always laughed when she told me about her first year working in the fields of America. It was either the first or second year that she was living here, so that was 1950 or 1951. She decided to pick tomatoes to help bring in money for the family. She was paid something like 25 cents a box. When she picked a bucket of tomatoes, she carried it to the end of the row and put it in the box.

"That was so hard,' the Mama said. "I didn't know what I was doing. It took hours to fill a box."

By the time she had two boxes, the farmer had come around. "He was a nice man," the Mama said. "He felt sorry for me. He started picking tomatoes and putting them in my boxes."

He was the same man that later taught the Mama how to drive an old Model T. But, that's another story.


I'm hooking up with Jeanette's Seasons, a weekly meme that closes tomorrow. Click here to check out her blog and other Seasons' participants.

Tomorrow is now today. That means it's time for ABC Wednesday, which is a meme in which I like to participate. It's the letter N this week. I figure with a little addition to this post's title and the fact that the Mama's boss was a nice guy, this post fills the bill. Click here to check out other ABCW participants.



Tuesday, September 27, 2016

The London Bridge


London Bridge is falling down,
falling down, falling down.
London Bridge is falling down.
My Fair Lady.
In first grade, we sang this Mother Goose rhyme as we marched under an arch formed by the joined hands of two kids. The hands came down on "My Fair Lady" and the two kids would then rock the captured kid between their locked hands, as we sang a verse about taking the key and locking the kid up. When that verse was over, either the captured kid chose a side and stood behind that kid or took that kid's place, after which, we marched and sang the rhyme again.

I don't remember what the point of the game was. For that matter, what the rhyme was all about. After three or four rounds, I would look longingly at the playground, even willing to climb up the jungle gym. And, that I disliked to do.

I didn't become curious about the London Bridge until 1975 when I learned that a rich American had bought the bridge and reconstructed it brick by brick on Lake Havasu in Arizona. A friend and I were driving cross country at the time and hoped to see it, but we ended in the wrong place. Bummer.

In 2007, I finally saw the London Bridge when the Husband and I did a road trip to the southwest. The bridge is gorgeous, no doubt about it. I was thrilled to see the once-upon-time bridge that spanned the Thames River. Seeing this European bridge in a desert setting though was quite surreal.


 In the photo, I was posing so it looked like I was holding up the arch. Alas, I was too short. Giggle.

Click here to see what the L other bloggers are writing about for ABC Wednesday. Thank you, ABCW team!


Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Lovely K's


I entered 5 k's in the Google search box just now and this mathematical equation came up:
k - k - k - k - k = -5.52259408 × 10-23 m2 kg s-2 K-1
Gulp. 
I hope it refers to something full of kindliness. Best to think that way.  After all, an OK is a better thing than a KO (knock out).

kind - kinder - kindest - kindly - kindness  = -5.52259408 × 10-23 m2 kg s-2 K-1
Giggle. 

Keep on keeping on. Peace out.


You got it. It's the letter K on ABC Wednesday. Click here to check out what bloggers around the world are writing about K.  Thanks, ABCW team!


Wednesday, September 14, 2016

I Kid You Not. Just


Just kidding around.

Just feeling like a kid again.

Just who do you think you're kidding?

Just a punk kid.

What's just that, kid?

Just a new kid on the block.

Just saying, "Hi, Kid!"

The kid just said, "Bleeeet."

Just handle with kid gloves. Handle just with kid gloves. Handle with just kid gloves. Handle with kid gloves—just.

What are ya? Just some kind of whiz kid?

Just kidding aside.

Yup. I drew a picture of just how I recall my small barefoot kid self.


J is this week's letter for ABC Wednesday. Click here to read other J-themed posts by blogger from around the world.  Thank you, ABCW team!!

P. S. Uhm, I thought this week was the letter K. Like how I just barely put the post back on the right track? 

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

The I's Have It



What do the I's have?

I don't know.

The idiom just came to me. So, let me go look it up. . . .

Oh, it's not the I's, but rather the ayes.  Now, that makes sense.  The ayes have it.  In other words, the majority of people who voted in favor of something won. Okey-dokey.

Pondering and writing about that idiom interrupted my original intention for this post. The thought started the other night.  What came first: Ink or inkling?

Did someone have an inkling and needed ink for her pen to write about it? Or, perhaps, hmmm, she spilled ink on herself because someone surprised her by whispering in her ear. She stood up quickly, saying with much irritation to that person, "Inkling!" She was too polite to swear, you see.

This morning, while the Husband and I sat not impatiently in the doctor's office (simply a routine visit for the Husband), I wondered what came first: Imp or impossible? And, Id or idiot?

Intriguing, aye?


The inspiration for today's post is ABC Wednesday and the letter (wait for it) I. To check out other I-themed posts, click here. Thank you ABCW team!

Sunday, September 4, 2016

You Call That Singing? Meow.


Almost every morning that I start off the day at the computer, Molly the Cat saunters into the office. She acts nonchalantly, ignoring me at first. She goes around the room, rubbing her body against the doorway, the chair legs, and whatever else may be in her path. Then she stops beside my chair. I know what's coming next.

Jump!

Molly struts back and forth before me. She doesn't care if she has interrupted my writing, my scrolling, my whatever-I-am-doing on the computer.

"Come on, Molly. Let me click this link." I reach under her body to the keyboard.

"Just don't step on the keyboard." Ha! She will if she wants.

Purrrrrrrrrrrrrr. She rubs her head on the edge of the printer, along the pencils in the cup, the umbrella plant that stretches toward the desk, and everything else she wants to mark. Like she hasn't already.

Molly also wants me to pet and hug her to her heart's content. Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Okey-dokey with me. Most mornings.

Okay, all mornings.

This morning was no different. Well, except, I starting singing while I petted her. The purring stopped. Her ears went up, as in Danger-Danger ready mode. She looked at me with pained eyes. I stopped singing. She relaxed. I sang, continuing to stroke Molly. Her ears pricked up again. She turned her head away from me. She looked like she was wondering if she ought to jump off the table. I stopped singing. She turned her head back to me. I sang. She turned away.

"Molly doesn't like me to sing," I said to the Husband, as he walked into the office.

Molly looked at the Husband as if to say, "Save me. Tell her to stop. She's loud and off-key."

The Husband already knows that. The first time he heard me sing, he told me I was tone deaf. That was 21 years ago. He says these days I can stay on key a lot more.

I sang some more. Molly jumped off the desk and walked (at least she didn't run) out of the office.

Well. Golly gee.


Wednesday, August 31, 2016

The "H" I Say


The other day I decided to keep a daily Have-Done list. For awhile, that is. Until I no longer need to let myself know that I have accomplished something each day.

Every day, I add things to my To-Do list. As you can see in the photo, the items don't always get done right away. Sometimes, not for weeks after I put them on the list.

The Have-Done things, so far, were not on my To-Do list. That's okay. They were usually stuff:

•  I would've distracted myself to do so I wouldn't do anything on the To-Do list. For instance, dig up a narrow piece of the front lawn to create a new home for a bunch of jade plants that no longer fit in their pots.

•  I would've discovered I needed to do before I could do a To-do item, such as clean the freezer in order to start it up again.

•  I needed to do that moment because they needed to get done then and there. We needed to pay that water bill, you know.

•  I would've eventually put on my To-do list. That would've probably been the applesauce I made this morning from the apples I picked off our tree last week.

There you go. That's how I am right now.  

H is the letter for this week's ABC Wednesday. (Thank you very much, ABCW team.) To read other H-inspired posts and/or to join in with your own, please click here.


Monday, August 22, 2016

A Sloth Who Likes to Read


"Stop reading," ordered the Mama. "Go outside."

I'd probably been lying on the bed reading for three or four hours that sunny summer weekend afternoon. I was probably 12 years old.

That's what the Mama got for buying me a bed with a bookcase headboard. It was packed full with paperback books that I purchased from the monthly Scholastic book catalog during the school year. Three or four dollars bought me a lot of books back then. I shall always be grateful the Mama and the Daddy let me buy so many, and for leaving me alone to read the books over and over most of the time.

Reading was my favorite thing to do in summer, followed by riding bicycles, watching movies, and eating. Except for the bicycle riding, I seem to have slipped back into my once-upon-a-time summer routine. I'm not getting much done, I admit. And, yes, my clothes are feeling snug. Again.

I really do need to urge me to step outside and do something. There's still time today to water the flowers in the backyard, or pick up all the apples and lemons that have dropped off the trees, or rake the leaves, or put everything back in the shed, or . . . .

Maybe I'll take my book outside with me as incentive. After each thing I finish, I can read a chapter.

Yeah, right.

I'm a grown-up. First things, first. But, that could be reading.

Silly me, thinking I can bribe or shame myself into doing things.


Wednesday, August 10, 2016

It's Elementary, My Dear.

"Make an effort."

This morning I read that line in Emma: A Modern Retelling by Alexander McCall Smith). I felt like the character, and the author, was talking to me.  

Please make an effort, Susie. 

The Mama said it another way about herself when she felt tired, which was every day for her last several years. Plain and simple, she used to say, "I push myself."

After we buried the Mama this past April, the Only and Older Brother said to me, "Keep on living."

I scoffed at what the Only and Older Brother said. Of course, I'd keep on living. Why would I not? Lately, though, honesty keeps trying to surface. Drat that honesty. For that matter, dang to introspection, rumination, and heart-searching that show up in my dreams.

Sigh.

So, this is my effort today for the letter E for this week's ABC Wednesday: a story that I shared three years ago (April 5, 2013) about an amazing thing that reminded me of the wonderful effortlessness of life.

Flying with the Eagles

The Loneliest Road in America truly sums up the stretch of U.S. Route 50 through central Nevada. I had no idea Nevada had so many desert valleys until I drove this national highway.  You get over one mountain range and voila! It's deja vu—another endless valley floor with a mountain range staring from afar.

In the late 1980s, the First Husband and I decided to drive cross-country, from San Francisco to New York. However, the first day of our adventure began with a dental emergency and a pain that would eventually make itself known as cancer for the First Husband. After several days of checking with doctors, we got in our red Mazda pick-up truck and headed east, with an open mind that we would turn back at Denver if the First Husband did not feel well.

I don't remember how we decided to take U.S. 50 rather than the more direct U.S. 80 through Nevada to Utah. Most likely it was the romantic notion of driving the Pony Express Route. Those poor fellows. Miles of dust behind them and miles of dust before them. Still, if I had lived during that era, I would've wanted to have been a Pony Express rider. As it was, I did imagine myself a modern one as I drove us through eastern central Nevada. Instead of the U.S. mail, I was delivering the First Husband to several places in the United States where we could research the life of his father, a first generation Korean American who had dedicated himself to Korean independence from Japanese rule, as well as to spreading the Christian word. But, that's a tale for another day.

As we approached the Utah border in the Great Basin desert, the First Husband was napping in the passenger seat. Not too long after passing the sign welcoming us to  Utah, I saw two huge birds standing in the lane up ahead. As we got closer, I saw that they were nipping at a carcass on the ground. One bird glanced up at our advancing truck.

"Husband! Husband!" I slowed down, but continued driving forward. They were bold and handsome eagles. Young ones, I think. I was almost upon them as they positioned themselves for take off.

One eagle opened its wingspan. It seemed to be as long as the width of the front of the truck.

"Husband!"

The First Husband woke up in time to see us driving between two gliding eagles before they soared upwards into the sky. 



Please click here to check out the other participants and/or link up in this week's ABC Wednesday.


Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Crybaby Me.


The Mama used to tell me a story about the time that the Daddy carried me on his back while they picked tomatoes one summer day. I was maybe two years old. "You cried and cried," the Mama said. "You kept saying, 'Go home, Daddy. Go home.'"

The poor Daddy! And, all those other poor workers around us who were forced to listen to a tiny, fat crybaby of a girl piggy-backing on her poor Daddy's back. The poor Daddy!

How did the Parents ever get me to stop crying? Did the Daddy take the Mama and me home and go back to work? Did I eventually calm down, get off the Daddy's back, and find a way to entertain myself so the Parents could work in peace? I don't know. The Mama never told me what happened. She simply laughed after telling me.

Why am I telling you the story? I don't know. I find myself tearful all of a sudden lately.

C is for crybaby me. Not pitiful me though.

C is the letter for this week's ABC Wednesday, a weekly meme that is keeping me centered. I thank the ABCW team, lead by Roger Green, and started by Mrs. Denise Nesbitt, for giving me a place to share my words. To keep me going. Maybe next week, I'll be more cheerful.


Sunday, July 3, 2016

Five Things this Morning


  1. I woke up this morning to Janis Joplin singing Me and Bobby Mcgee. . . . "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose. . ."
  2. I've soaked six of the Mama's bittermelon seeds and will put them into the ground on Tuesday. The Mama started seeds in late March to plant in early May. Maybe it's too late for the seeds to take. Maybe not.
  3. My To Do lists keep multiplying.
  4. Yesterday I got three boxes full of river rocks that a lovely woman in town was giving away. Her sister picked up the rocks from our local river bed. The boxes are still in the trunk. Have no idea yet what I shall do with them
  5. The Husband and I wandered around the motorcycle rally in town, listening to the bands and watching the crowds. Vrrroom-vrooom.

Thursday, June 30, 2016

Five Things Today

  1. I thought today is Friday.
  2. I'm a few chapters into The Coincidence of Coconut Cake by Amy E. Reichert.  I'm enjoying it and it's so easy to read because the writing is seamless.
  3. The surgeon removed the week-old bandage covering the incision that marks the spot where the Husband's pacemaker was inserted last week. "You're good to go," said the surgeon. Hurrah!
  4. Why are some people okay about their neighbors being able to hear their music, conversation, and screaming grandkids clear as a bell from their backyard?
  5. I found three bags full of the brother's children's clothes in the Mama's closet. They've been there for at least 25 years, when the brother's wife put them in the bags to throw out. Somehow the Mama got her hands on them before she could. 

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

A Wagon Full of Rocks


Last week, the Husband and I rediscovered the landscaping supply store outside of town. Our original intent was to merely check out  the ground covering alternatives for a future pull-out-the-front-lawn project. When I came across the pit full of tiny rocks, I had to have some. So, I got about 5 pounds for about two dollars. What a bargain!

I went home and proceeded to quickly use them in cup planters that I was putting together. So, of course, the next day, we went back to the store and I bought 10 pounds. I went home, and, yup, within a couple of hours I was down to a small bowl full of stones. I wasn't close to potting and repotting all the Mama's plants.

To make sure I did something else the rest of the week, I didn't go to the store. Good, girl, me.

Yesterday morning, I broke down and the Husband and I drove to the store and went home with four bags full of stones for a total of 120 pounds. Ha! We'll see how long that lasts.

By the way, that's only two bags full of rocks in the red wagon.

Talk about talking about nothing, huh?


It's the letter W at ABC Wednesday. Click here to join the weekly meme or/and check out more W posts by bloggers around the world.