In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now in my late 60s, wowza! I tell you a lot of creativity is still to be found in this old young self. In you, too, whatever your age. Welcome to my barefoot world!
It's time for a pretty picture. Just because I feel like it. Last Saturday, the Husband and I ran away to the beach for the day. We all need to do that now and then. To forget wearies and woes, figures and foes, as well as everyday routines. When was the last time you did that? A few weeks ago, I decided to participate in the A to Z Blogging Challenge that takes place in the month of April. Participants blog through the alphabet, Monday through Saturday. This is another Doing 60 thing for me. You're welcome to drop by one day, some days, or all days in April. To learn more about the A to Z Blogging Challenge, please click here .
"Boo!" "What?!" The Husband jumped. I got him twice already. "Stop scaring me," he whined in a fake scaredy-cat kid's voice, after he stopped laughing. "Stop scaring me." Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. I'm feeling loosely-goosely right now. Almost floating on air. It's the ibuprofen speaking. I took one of them red pills a few minutes before I surprised the Husband the first time. "Boo!" I'd taken 3 of them before going to bed last night. "Boo!" I'm getting ready for a big OW! later on today. An endometrial biopsy. The doctor said it would hurt a little Hah! I know better. I've had two in the past several years. The second one was the worse and I had self-medicated myself before then. Let's just say two ibuprofen pills doesn't do it for me. The Husband said he could hear me from the waiting room. Until yesterday, I thought I was a wimp, a weenie, a baby for not having been able to
A glorious first day of Spring to you, dear Readers. It's overcast with the hope of more rain, rather than just sprinkles, in my neck of the woods today. Having a nice steady, but gentle on the fruit blossoms, beat of rain would be perfect for right now. Yesterday, the Mama sowed her bittermelon seeds in a pot. That means the time for the Husband and me to start preparing the Mama's veggie garden plots is very, very near. If the Mama still had her strength and endurance, everything would've been done a few weeks ago. That's okay though. She has been distracted with transplanting different flowers from elsewhere in her back and front yards to the one particular patch of ground that you see in the photo below. "I want all flowers here," she said."Lots of flowers." It's gonna look amazing.
Our local movie house offers a Wednesday series of independent films. They are the type of movies that if you live in a small city out in the boondocks you have to schlep over the hills or up the far-away freeway to a large nearby city. Yesterday was the first time the Husband and I took advantage of the series. Unfortunately, it was the theater's last offering. Who knows if, and when, it will offer another series. The movie was Hyde Park on Hudson , which was about the relationship between President Franklin D. Roosevelt and Daisy Suckley, a distant cousin. It was a good-size audience for the late afternoon screening—about 24 and 30—especially when you consider where we live. We were all uhem in the grey-haired age group. The Husband and I were probably among the youngest there. I whispered my observation to the Husband. "I still think of myself as being in my 20s," he said. "I do, too. But, we're not." "I thought we were middle-age."
Garlic cloves all in a row—kinda. The Mama definitely has something-to-plant radar. This morning, I decided to plant the garlic cloves that were sprouting on the kitchen counter. I always wanted to grow garlic, just for the heck of it. Hmmm, I may have inherited the "mad horticulturist" genes from the Mama. Anyway, I put the chosen garlic in a yogurt container (which was probably the clue to the Mama that something was about to be planted) and put the container out on the back step. I would plant them after I picked some lemons. The lemon-picking task quickly created the additional task of pruning the branches that were touching the tops of the apple tree. To the Mama's delight, because that meant she'd have something fun to do in the garden. As I was walking by the Mama at one point of fetching pruning tools, she had this where-is-that-thing-I-wanted? look on her face. I thought it was the empty basket for the lemons that I was holding, so I gave that t
Last week, I planted my first banana trees. That's another Doing 60 for me. The banana trees are transplants from the Mama's banana grove in another part of the yard. Click here to see where they originally stood. They were the clump on the far left side. Usually, I dig out the banana trees and leave them for the Mama to replant. No more. Not that the Mama can't do it. But, why let her have all the fun, right? Besides, I need to increase my strength, if I want to keep up with her come veggie gardening time. The Mama supervised the job. I lugged them across the yard, one by one. In the photo, the banana trees look like they weigh nothing. Hah! The Mama marked the spots where she wanted them. And, I dug. Ping! Rock. Ping! Another rock. Ping! Ping! I enjoyed the challenge of getting the rocks out. It was so much easier than sitting in front of the computer screen and trying to think of a word that would precisely describe what I needed to say in a sentence. P
I got out of bed singing "one toke over the line", but I was not channeling the guys who originally sang it. Rather, I was singing while thinking of the singers who sang it on the Lawrence Welk Show. Mr. Welk described the song as a "modern spiritual". Uh-huh. Yep. With that lively verse going over—and over—in my head, I decided that the agenda today is to put one foot in front of the other. I speak metaphorically. Perhaps, though, I may just take a step out the door and go around the block. The Husband and I are going on a hike with some friends at the end of the month, so it would be a good idea to be a bit in shape for it. I'm counting the hike as one of my Doing 60 things. Doing 60 ? That's what I've called the challenge that my dear friend Jenn gave me as I approach 60 years old at the end of 2013. I've already done a few. Just haven't written about any of the them, until now. Last week, Jenn and several other young old fogey