That apricot tree grew from a seed that Mama ate and planted, which came from her Blenheim apricot tree. That makes this a second generation tree, but not necessarily a Blenheim according to some experts. The apricots are delicious, Blenheim or not.
I can forget something I thought of minutes ago because I climbed upstairs to the office so I could plop it into the computer. Where are pen and paper when I need them?
Two Sundays ago we stayed overnight in a faraway place and it wasn't because one of us had to have surgery. Hurrah! That's what our last few overnighters had been. Not two Sundays ago. We drove straight across the state to Shaver Lake in the Central Sierra Nevadas. A lot of driving that we weren't used to, but it was well worth it.
How fun it was to zig and zag, to go down a road with matured abandon (mature abandonment? oxymoron phrases, both?).
Left, right, right, right, left. . .too late. oh well, turn right, this road runs parallel. Turn right at 35 road. . . .
No GPS. No smart phone. We put our trust in a road map.
I love maps. The possibilities of places to see. I'm never too old to have new dreams that can come true.
"Hello," the Husband said into the phone receiver. Several seconds later, he heard, "Hi Grampa!"
"Who is this?"
"Look, pal, I'm not a grandpa. Who are you?"
Dratty grandparent phone scams.
I love living with the Husband. The other day he let me climb the ladder first and pick the apricots up high because he knows how much I like to climb ladders. The sweet guy held onto the ladder, too. Not too many apricots dropped on him.
I wonder if anyone has ever looked at the Husband and me and thought "Who takes care of who"? Snort. Snicker. Belly laugh.
Nine got here pretty quickly. I still can't recall the thought I wanted to "write" into the computer. See ii for reference, if you forgot, which is quite easy. I ought to know.
Molly the Sweet Cat says, "Purrrrrrrrrr"
I love living with Missy Girl even with those silly summer fleas that think she's the cat's meow. Poor baby. She gets them from hanging in the backyard almost all day. Fleas love me too. It's not summer unless I get flea bites, and I tell you I'm having a really good summer. This morning I combed only a couple out of her fur. It's possible we got them under control for now.
"Internal cancer?" Asked I of the Husband, looking up from the dermatologist's questionnaire. "What does that mean?"
"Cancer inside of you."
"Did I have internal cancer?"
"You didn't know you had cancer until they pulled it out."
"If I didn't know, does that mean that I didn't have cancer?"
"The forest or the trees?"
I checked the box on the form.
Oh my gosh, I couldn't find the letter from the IRS that said I needed to send them a missing tax form. Maybe 25 minutes, more or less, the letter showed itself. Just dropped out of the sky. Thank you very much up there.
This pile of two-inch (thereabouts) strips of different fabric will soon turn into a raggedy curtain in Molly's space of the living room. The Husband decided on the color palette and we went through my treasure fabric trove and pulled out what you see. I can hardly wait.
Today I'm linking up at Thursday 13 and LA Paylor's (Not Afraid of Color) I Like Thursdays. Come along with me, why don't you, and check out the other bloggers.