"It's snowing!"

"Did you see the snow on the mountains?"

Everyone we talked to yesterday, both friends and strangers, bubbled ebulliently about the snow on the mountain ridges around us. "I don't have to go to the Sierras now," said a guy in the Target parking lot.


Not that it was a lot of snow. Simply a decent dusting on the forward peaks that lasted all day and a thick enough coating on the back peaks to be saying "Hello! Snow here!" today.

The temperatures have been in the 30s and 40s, which probably sound like the tropics to some of you. I don't recall the last time our tap water is as cold as water in a mountain lake. It tastes refreshing.


It has probably been 10 years, more or less, since we've seen snow in our area. Last time, the Husband and I drove up to the end of a long country road to wander in the snow and throw a snowball at each other. Not this time. We were afraid of flooding Eliza if we went through a deep puddl…

Miao, miao. How is everyone?

It has been raining. Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

The sun pops up now and then. When it does, Missus Lady and I go outside or she leaves the back door open so I can slip out if I am so inclined. Nice human, she is.

On Saturday morning, Missus Lady got it into her head to put some of her toys in the puddle that likes to grow on the patio whenever it rains. Silly human, she is.


I heard her and Hero Man talking about putting some thing on the patio so she can put up dioramas that wouldn't be in anyone's way. If the thing had drawers, they could be pulled out and converted into planters, suggested Hero Man. Whatever it is, Missus Lady said, it would need to be stained so it can withstand the weather for a couple of years. Whatever it is, I hope I can climb up on it and take a snooze. Miao.


Miao, miao. Missus Lady reminded me to tell everyone, "Hello, hello!" She apologizes for having not responded to comments on the last post. She shall over the next …

Day's End.  That was how it looked yesterday at sunset. 

Disaster Rose.  What do you think of that for a protagonist's nickname?

David.  I've always liked that name. Solid, cheerful, thoughtful. Dave. Davey.  The Husband's surname means son of David. 


Debonair.  Cary Grant. George Clooney. The Husband. Humor is part of my definition of debonair.

Dig it.  Can you dig it? Hands, please, who said this once upon a time, with a straight face. I do like to dig in the yard, and I do a decent job of digging, I like to think.

Meet John Doe.   Recently the Husband and I watched Meet John Doe, a 1941 Frank Capra film starring Gary Cooper and Barbara Stanwyck with Walter Brennan. Good trembles into arms of Evil so it may survive, but eventually Good realizes it is not Evil and scrambles back onto the path of light.

The name John Doe doesn't make sense to me. I understand that it refers to a male with an unknown identity. Shouldn't it be John Buck then?


Daisy.  So heart…

coffee.  This morning the Husband and I shared a chocolate old-fashioned doughnut to enjoy with our cups of black coffee. Happy smiles all around.

Cable.  I want us to get rid of our cable subscription. The Husband agrees it's too expensive for the few channels we watch. Will we? you ask. We will, I'm sure we will. The bigger question: When will we? Procrastinators are us.

ceramics.  When I was 19, my big dream was to own a bookstore with a ceramics workshop in the back. 

Cute.  The Husband says I'm cute. I tell him it's because he loves me. He says, "It's because you are cute."


chicken.  There are times when I think our representatives at the local, state, or national level of government are too chicken to make a stand one way or the other. Bwak, bwak

cooking.  I do that once a day, at least, most days. I like when it's a some day.

Coast-co.  "We're going to Costco," I would say to Mama.
"Where?" she would respond.
"Costc…

"Slow down," shouted me, leaning out the passenger door window. "Elk!"

The Husband obliged. Click, click.

"There are buffalo, too," I exclaimed. The Husband took me for my word. His cataracts don't let him see the details in the far distance. The animals were probably a city block or so away. Of course, we weren't in a city, but on the back road behind Mt. Hamilton, in San Jose, on the way to Patterson, a Central Valley town next to Interstate 5. 

That was last month on one of my birthday adventures in Sedgwick, the rental car. Today I enlarged and sharpened and did Photoshop voodoo on the digital shots until I got good enough photos.

The buffalo were cattle. So much for my eyes.

The other creature certainly was a gorgeous young elk buck. He looked as if he was posing for me. A tourist with her dagnabbit camera. Click, click.

The dude was a tule elk, which supposedly is found only in the grassy and marshy areas of California. I read that the elk…

The Husband says I am predictable with my choice of music, which is why he made a bet with me yesterday afternoon.

"What do you think I'm going to play?" asked I, as I headed towards the Bose player with a CD in my hand.

"Da da dah da da dah....." The Husband sang the first notes of "Baroque and Blue" performed by Claude Bolling and Jean-Pierre Rampal.  Our small music collection consists of CDs of our favorite albums of yore, and I do like to play one of two Bolling CDs on a sunny afternoon.

"Want to bet ten bucks on that?" The Husband doesn't bet unless it's a sure thing that he is right.

"Sure." he said to my surprise. But, then, according to him, I am predictable.

"OK!"

I inserted the CD. Santana! Ha!

"You owe me $10!"

"What?"

"You lost the bet."

The Husband groaned.

"I'll put it on your tab."

It isn't often that I catch the Husband off guard to get him …