In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now approaching 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!
I like to do things on my birthday to set up my new year. For instance, one year, I made sure to go swim laps. And, did I swim laps that year? Yep. For my 67th birthday, which was in December, I set up a tabletop easel on a TV tray table in our office where the afternoon lighting is the best to paint. So I did. I painted this imaginary scene on cardboard with acrylic paints. Cheers!
“Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is love correcting everything that stands against love.” ~ Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. Good cheer, Friends, One and All! It's time for Mosaic Monday . Thanks to hostess Angie of Letting Go of the Bay Leaf .
I'm grateful we have level-headed, compassionate, responsible, and experienced individuals leading our country again. President-Elect Joe Biden and VP-Elect Kamala Harris are already at work cleaning up after the sulking twice impeached dictator wannabe. Thank you!
Sow wildflower seeds before the rain comes. (Hopefully we get rain this winter.) Prune the fruit trees. Make a paper mache elephant. Weave a seat and back for a patio chair. We have several old sturdy metal frame patio chairs that the Husband inherited. Alas, most of the plastic straps on the chairs are broken or about to break. I've got loads of material, so why not see if I can weave something stable and safe to sit on. Finish this wall hanging. See that big floral piece. I visualize a forest. The Husband says it reminds him of a panty. hahahahaha. Scan Mama's photo albums. Reorganize the kitchen cabinets so I don't need to either get the ladder or call for the Husband to reach up high for something. Clear out unnecessary files and folders in my computer. Make an estate plan. Sew a vest for the Husband. I bought the material for the vest at least 5 years ago. It's simply finding a simple pattern for me to follow. Sew a tunic for me. Get my blood pressure down so
While traipsing through the backyard early one morning last week I came across first-time visitors. Mushrooms! Mama would've harvested them. She would've thrown a quarter into the stewing mushroom pot, and if the quarter didn't turn black, then she would've eaten them. I wouldn't be surprised if there is a scientific basis behind the coin changing color to signify mushrooms are poisonous. When I was a kid, I ate the mushrooms my parents gathered on the oaks and sycamores along a certain creek in the hills right after good winter rain. They were tasty but kind of slimy, what the Husband might say in jest, "Awful mouthfeel." Daddy taught me which mushrooms to look for and where to find them, but I could never trust my judgment so I mostly held empty buckets and carried full ones back to the car. I love those times.
How many pot lids do I need? How many small ones, big ones, and in-between ones should I keep? The huge ones make wonderful cymbals. Clang, clang! Those I'll keep for now. I doubt any of the pot lids I found in the cabinets belong to the Husband and me, whether acquired together or individually before we knew the other existed. Most, if not all, of these pot lids belong to Mama. Awk! She wouldn't have liked knowing that so many lids have no accompanying pots. If she were here now, I would expect her to glare at me, spew out her hit parade of unflattering names at me, and critique me with something like "You're worse than a boy!" In hindsight, hearing it all said in Ilocano and understanding it in English may have saved me from being susceptible to herd mentality. Thank you, Mama and Daddy. Where was I? Pot lids! Mama had favorite ones. A few of the lids are etched with her name. "Why would she do that?" asked the Husband. "Would someone actually t
I took this photo from the passenger seat while the Husband and I waited for our turn to safely cross to the other side. Just think if our reality is to ignore the rules and plow right through the intersection because we don't believe we have to wait for anyone. Yeah. I like this photo. So much so that I painted it with Photoshop art filters in various ways. Hello, Mosaic Monday . :-)
While looking for a photo in my digital archives, I found the above picture of Mama that I took in March 2014. Mama was 92 years old. I wonder what she was looking at that she reacted so. Two mornings ago I was clearing out the stuff under Mama's once-upon-a-time bathroom sink and found a crisp newspaper sheet neatly folded into a rectangle the size of my hand. Unfolding it got me weepy but I didn't cry. Not until today, this moment. At first, I thought the folded paper probably held snippets of Mama's hair (she cut her own hair, and very well, too.) that she had fancifully wrapped in newspaper and forgot to throw away. There was no hair. Okay, then most likely she saved the newspaper because of an article that quoted the Brother who had been a vice principal at the high school. Nope, the newspaper was dated two or three years after his once-upon-a-time there. The four pages were full of advertisements and one long article about President Obama. Had she kept it for the
"Did you see our new butterfly sanctuary?" I asked the Husband. "Look to the South. . .by the fence. . .to your right. . .I mean the other way." "Where?" The husband turned his head here and there, mostly here. "There," I said. "Our butterfly sanctuary!" The Husband groaned. "I thought you meant real butterflies. You nut!" :-)
My yoga pants are 10 years old or so. Until last year they had a new look to them because I rarely wore them. I didn't like how fitted they were. That's no longer the problem. I've worn and washed them so often that the legs got baggy and holey, in particular around the knees. I wonder why the knees since I can't bend them. I lost the ability to sit cross-legged in my late 30s. I wonder if I can do that again if I were to get knee replacements. Anyway, back to the holey yoga pants. By today's standards of yoga pants, mine are loosey-goosey, which I like and which means I won't find a similar pair ever. Fortunately, the rest of my holey pair of yoga pants still has a lot of wear to them. Simply patch the knees, right? I've only sewn stretchy material once or twice. I always got nervous, panicky, even a bit scared. Today, I nipped all that in the face, and had a lot of fun. :-)
Early this morning, which was 5:51 a.m. in California, we were as close as we'll ever get this year to the star of our solar system, the Sun. Those in the know call this point on Earth's orbit perihelion. Now, you, my friends, and I are in the know. I learned about it at Earthsky . (Gotta love the Internet, and access to it.) I slept through the perihelion but nearly an hour later an earthquake woke me up. The bed and house seemed to be floating on choppy water for a few seconds. I'm not sure if it's my imagination or if I actually heard a faint rumble. Reports said it was a 4.3 on the Richter scale. There were several smaller aftershocks, but I didn't feel them. We're within spitting distance (well, we can quite easily) of two major faults in the area: the San Andreas and the Calaveras Fault. It's only the jolting or rolling ones that I feel. It's great to be alive, tripping through the Universe on the Earth.