Pink four-o-clock flowers have been growing crazily and happily around the front and back yards this summer. These are among the late bloomers. The flowers open up in the afternoon, hence the name. Supposedly they stay open through the night. Four-o-clock flowers are annuals. They're also called the Marvel of Peru, where the lovely flowers originated in the Andes Mountains. Four-o-clock flower and Marvel of Peru are both very pretty names. So is it's technical name— Mirabilis jalapa . They showed up a couple of years ago in the front yard, near the sidewalk, just on our side of the property line. Mama saved the seeds from last year's blooms and threw them along the fence in the back and north side of the house.  I tossed them in the lawn, but nothing came up. Weeds did, so maybe I threw some other seeds. I won't get it wrong for next year.  The Mama has a large bucket full of seeds already, and I collected my own small bucket of seeds to toss around. We shall

"In the Philippines, it was Labor Day when Junior was born," recounts the Mama every year, as the holiday approaches. This year was no different. This year, I wondered if the Mama was being funny and has been waiting years for me to laugh at her joke.

He trudged along like a ghost in mourning. Paula sighed as she pulled back from her living room window. Curtis Warren, her middle-school English teacher from decades ago, had lost his wife to a drunk driver less than a year ago.  Paula heard that his family was concerned he would take his life. She knew the feeling. When her husband died from cancer five years go, Paula became a vagabond. She came back home a few months ago to be with her dad in his last days. She didn't know how much longer she would stay.  "Oh, no!" Paula rushed out her front door and down to the sidewalk where Curtis lay sprawled. She helped him up and held onto him until he was steady on his feet. "My mind was thinking of other things," the 70-year old man said. His voice rough as if he hadn't spoken in a long time. "It happens," said Paula. "Come up to my porch, Mr. Warren, and sit for a while. I have fresh lemonade." "No, no," he said, shakin

This afternoon, I shut the car door while I kinda stood between it and the car. The edge of the door jarred my jaw on its way to its destination. Kinda made the nerves in my skull sizzle. I'm very talented. Fortunately, nothing other than a tiny bit of pain in the jaw for a few minutes. "I don't like it," I said to the Husband as we drove to the produce stand. "You wouldn't like being a boxer then," he said. DAYS 47 to 60 with TILDA-HILDA Did you wonder if Tilda-Hilda and I had stopped riding for the year? Not at all. We're been doing things a bit differently. Three Saturdays ago was the the last time Tilda-Hilda and I went out on the back roads.  Since then, we've been sticking to our neighborhood and an occasional ride to downtown, as my left knee recuperates. Most of our riding had been pedaling three blocks back and forth to Godmother Pat, once or twice a day. She had a horrible accident in July that resulted in the loss of t

Time to hook up with The Weekend in Black and White , hosted by the generous Dragonstar. To participate or to check out other black and white photos, please click here .

My Alphabe Thursday theme: Places I've Been The Pinnacles National Park is a comfortable drive away—about 30 to 40 minutes—through gorgeous rural landscape. I sometimes think that I can pedal Tilda-Hilda there one day. Yes, we're still going out nearly every day, but only around the neighborhood. I'll do an update about us tomorrow. Maybe. Back to the Pinnacles. The Pinnacles is truly odd topography in Central Coast California. It's a lone mountain, straddling San Benito and Monterey counties. On the western side (Monterey County), the Pinnacles seems to pop up from no where above Salinas Valley. From the distance, you think it's simply a low, nondescript mountain. Nope. It's when you go into the park that you see the amazing, inspiring rocky spires for which the park got its name. Once upon a time, millions upon millions of years ago, the rock formations that make up the park was part of the Neenach Volcano in Southern California.  Over the milli

This is making my day, big time. Hope it brightens yours. I have no idea who the creator. Who ever you are, Thank you!!!!

It's like pulling taffy today. The words and sentences flowing out of my brain, that is. Maybe it was all the fun I had this weekend—a community music concert in the park on Saturday and a community festival on Sunday. Maybe it was wearing a hat while hanging out in the full sun for two days in a row. Maybe it was that delicious 10-ounce glass of Gillespie Brown ale handcrafted by Twisted Manzanita that I drank yesterday afternoon.  Maybe it's simply that my brain is tired. Let's see how I am tomorrow.

“Panties!” the middle-aged woman exclaimed, working her way against the stream of incoming buyers and gawkers. A couple stepped aside when she grumbled, “No respect at all!” The petite woman carefully placed her estate sale purchases in the back of her prized green 1957 Chevrolet truck. She flipped open a velvet blue lace fan and cooled herself. She wondered who in her right mind would want to buy a dead lady’s panties. “Hey Midge!” shouted her friend who called herself Lara today. Midge strode over to pick up the bags and baskets beside Lara. “Lots of great stuff,” Lara said. “Did you see that Whitman copy of Spin and Marty?” “I would've bought it, if it wasn't falling apart,” said Midge. Lara nodded. “They should’ve just dumped it. Quite a lot of stuff they should’ve burned or taken to the dump.” “No kidding,” said Midge. “They were even selling. . .” “You’ll never guess what I bought!” Lara said at the same time. “Panties!" “Panties!” “What?” “W

This is what I saw in one of the Mexican grocery stores in town this morning. Hasta mañana.

Pretty pink hollyhock, isn't it? It's part of the second growth from Ninang Pat's hollyhocks. She cut the plants back last month. She was surprised to see more grow. Ninang Pat gave me some seeds for red hollyhocks. Hopefully, they'll grow for us. Ninang is the Ilocano word for Godmother. When I was baptized as a baby a long time ago, I had the good fortune of having six godparents—three ninangs and three ninongs (godfathers)—formally sponsor me. Informally, I had twelve godparents because the spouse of each godparent is also considered a godparent. But, actually, I had 9 or 10 godparents, because one or two of the ninongs were bachelors. Have I told you this before? With all those godparents, I was not spoiled with lots of gifts, although one bachelor ninong was very generous with candy when he came  to visit. Ah, the fattening of Susie. Ninang Pat is the last of my godparents. She married Ninong Pablo when I was three. For the longest time, I was confused

My Alphabe Thursday theme: Places I've Been It's  hot right now—99 degrees. Yes, I know, it's hotter somewhere else. But, I'm a baby. Once, I finish this post, I'm going outside to stand in the shade and let the warm breeze cool me down, if that's possible. It being hot, I shall think about being by the ocean. And, in my world, that's the Pacific Ocean. Except for seeing the Atlantic Ocean for two weeks in 1975, the Pacific Ocean is the only ocean I know. Fortunately, the Pacific Ocean is a 40-minute trip away. When I was a kid, the parents would pack us up and head for the beach in Pacific Grove. Sometimes every weekend. I was told that our family would often meet up with a bunch of Filipino families at the same beach. This was when I was a very young child before I started remembering things. Although I do recall a scene at the ocean of an uncle saying in a very worried voice, "Whose bleeding?" Then someone saying, "Look at Susie&

We will celebrate the Mama's 90+4 birthday by eating chicken feet, fried shrimp with heads, chow mein, sesame balls, and whatever else suits the Mama's fancy, while we watch Shirley Temple movies. And, when she says "Let's take a break," she will probably go into her garden and plant a few flowers. I love the Mama. I am sharing the Mama with Our World Tuesday . 

What happened? My serious—as opposed to maybe I'll do it—To-Do-List got very long just now. Yuck. All I can do is do what I can. And, stop now and then and play with Molly the Cat. That's very important for my sanity. I like this photo of Molly. Can you tell it was taken upside-down?  Molly seems to like the camera that way. By the way that fleshy stump next to her is my leg. Until tomorrow.

This cute bug dropped by as I was working in the front garden this morning. I have no clue what he or she is. Nor where it came from. I suppose it flew onto the rosemary bush. Next thing I knew the bug was chomping away on the rosemary!  Okay, a Google search of rosemary-eating bugs showed round beetles. Nothing long and lanky as this dude or dudette.  Anyone have an idea?

Yesterday morning, I was being resourceful in front of this building, which once-upon-a-time was the hospital in Hollister. It was in fact the place where I was born, one of many babies that came into the world between 1907 and 1962. Today, the building is home to various offices and shops. Probably a few ghosts, too.  Anyway, back to yesterday. I was lying on the bottom steps trying to take a good picture of the huge trees that line the sidewalk in front of the old hospital. I was doing as someone said to me about getting one or all five trees in a picture, "Be creative." Imagine what the drivers passing by must've thought.  Or, the Mama, if she had seen me.

It's The Weekend in Black and White , hosted by Dragonstar.  Click here to participate or to check out other black and white photos by blogging photographers around the world.

My Alphabe Thursday theme: Places I've Been Toot! Toot! Allllll Abooooarrrrrrrrd! Last year, the Husband and I took a ride on the Niles Canyon Railway, a living museum that runs through the gorgeous Niles Canyon in the San Francisco Bay Area. We rode in historic train cars pulled by a vintage diesel engine. It was about a 90-minute round trip between two small historic towns, Niles (which is now part of Fremont) and Sunol (which is off of Highway 680). The Niles Canyon Railway is operated by volunteer conductors and engineers. They're part of the Pacific Locomotive Association, a non-profit organization. The volunteers in this group rebuilt the line that was once part of the transcontinental railroad. The volunteers continue to obtain and rebuild train cars. Near the Sunol depot is the train yard where the cars are stored and worked.  One of the association's objectives is to provide the public with a sense of what riding trains was like in small communities

Today, I was out with Tilda-Hilda for about two hours doing errands and taking photos. I was getting on and off Tilda-Hilda a lot. I won't be surprised if later today some of my muscles protest soreness for being awakened. Good. Altogether, Tilda-Hilda and I pedaled nearly 5 miles to and from and around downtown. I sweated, which is why I'm counting this as a workout. With all the picture-taking I was doing, I forgot to take one of Tilda-Hilda.  Hence, the photo of her happily back home.  Until the next ride.