"How do other people clean their refrigerator coils?" I asked the Husband as he walked through the kitchen. I was laying on my side, looking at thick globs of dust clinging on the coils. "They don't," he said. "The vacuum cleaner can only reach so far." "Use a yardstick." Sigh. Earlier yesterday morning, the Mama asked me, "When are you going to vacuum the refrigerator coils?" Sigh. I thought I'd done it six months or a year ago, but the way time flies, it was probably two years ago.  I need to wash the kitchen floor soon, so I figured I might as well deal with the coils first. It would only take 10 minutes. Ha! Maybe it would've, if I had not gone and fetched the big yellow flashlight and shined it on the coils. Sigh. I had to make some kind of effort to get at those globs of dust. Not that the Mama would get down on the floor and inspect my job. That's something she can no longer do. Getting herself down o

Will the cricket be background music to words anytime soon? Stay tuned, dear readers.

This morning I crushed my own myth that I need a bicycle with a bunch of speeds to ride on Lone Tree Road, which is one of the foothill roads several miles from our house. Tilda-Hilda and I traveled 3 to 4 miles up the road before turning back. My goal was to get to the gate that either the county officials or residents close when they think the road is too dangerous to travel. Once I reached that gate, I pedaled a half-mile or so further to find a spot to take a photo of Tilda-Hilda. You're so lucky that I just thought about taking photos of where Tilda-Hilda and I have been around our county. I promise though that I will show only photos of our toughest feats. But, then, what constitutes toughest, eh? It's about another seven to nine miles to the end of Lone Tree Road (where the public can access it). Once upon a time, I said pedaling the length of this road is on my bucket list. But, that's when I thought I needed a 10-speed or 7-speed bicycle. No more! Pink cruis

Ovulation. No more of that for me. Old. That's what I am and I'm fine with it. Ostentatious. Who me? Ovid. Never read his stuff. Should I start? Ogre. I can watch a Shrek movie over again. Ocean. Sometimes I think I could live by the ocean, especially if it is a warm ocean in which I could swim every day with the Husband. Say, like the ocean surrounding the Hawaiian Islands. Obequitate. As some of you dear readers know, I love to ride around on Tilda-Hilda, the pretty hard-working pink cruiser that she is. Obtuse. "You are such an obtuse thinker, Susie," said my high school government teacher long, long ago. Ha! He didn't know me at all. Now, if he had said to me, "You're such a dreamer."  So, now you know a bunch more stuff about me, brought to you by the fifteenth letter of the alphabet.  Olé! I'm hanging out at Jenny Matlock's Alphabe Thursday today. Come join me and read other posts featuring the letter O .

"Do you think it would depress the Mama if she saw photos of herself from her younger years?" I asked the Husband yesterday morning. "I don't know," he said. "Would you like it?" "Sure. But that's me." I would, too. But, I wasn't sure how the Mama would feel. So, I decided not to make a mosaic photo to give her for her ninety (cough third ) some birthday. You'd never guess what happened yesterday evening. The Mama asked me to find the photos of her wearing her Maria Clara dress and make big prints of them. So, I did. She'll be surprised when she sees them because it takes forever for me to do things. She had asked me to hem her jeans on the sewing machine.  I finally did yesterday. But, the pants had sat so long on the chair that Molly the Cat took to sleeping on them. This photo was taken in November, 1962, a few weeks after we moved into the house that she and the Daddy purchased.  She was standing in the