This year I decided to enter a couple of flower arrangements in our county fair. Never done it before. Entered the flower arrangement division, that is. Nor, for that matter, made a flower arrangement. So, why do it? Well, it's because I'm turning 60 soon and this year has been all about doing new stuff. My friend Jennifer challenged me on my last birthday when she thought it was my 60th birthday.  That still cracks me up. I'm glad she got it wrong. I may not have even thought about doing some of the things I already have. So, anyway, here is one of my fair entries. It's called -- appropriately -- Writer's Block .

Today I discovered a talent -- and a natural skill -- that I have. First, let me put it all in context. I decided to enter the Country Roads Dry Flower Arrangement category at this year's County Fair. It'll be my first time. The requirement: I must make a dried flower display using a receptacle that I have found alongside the road. So, this afternoon, the Husband and I decided to walk on the street that's next to the last small open field in our neighborhood. Unfortunately, a chicken-wire-type cyclone fence blocked us from wandering in the field. Still, I lucked out. Just on the other side of the fence was a broken toy rocket and a small kinda flat rubber ball. Bingo! I was able to pull the rocket through the fence without busting it. Whoo-hooo! Now to get the ball that was further away from the fence. The Husband and I found a stronger and larger stick, but that, too, was on the other side of the fence.  That's when I learned about my talent. I was able to

The most amazing thing happened to me yesterday morning, as I was pedaling my pretty pink bicycle. Quite freaky, in fact. Totally insane. I wish I had one of those cameras strapped to my head so I could've recorded the whole thing, which lasted a few seconds but in slooooooooow motion seemed God, Almighty! long. In my mind, what I did is akin (almost) to attempting the circle-of death-biker stunt. Hey! Don't laugh. You gotta remember I'm a fat, young old fogey turning 60 in a few months, which I say in a very positive way. Okay, okay. I think I've got your attention to the kinda, somewhat, yes, indeed risk I experienced yesterday morning. It was about 8:17 a.m. For those of you who don't know my normal pattern, that hour is like sunrise for me. The Husband was still snoozing in bed, the Mama was eating her breakfast, and Molly the Cat was gazing out the back window probably thinking about climbing the fence. Me, I had a meeting to go to and by, golly, this time

I just love it when technical things come together. After all, I am a non-techie, regardless of what others may say. Early this morning, or late last night (depending on your point of view), I received an e-mail saying that my domain names had expired and if I wanted to keep them, I need to renew pronto. So, that I did. I decided to forgo the URL for the old blog and purchase a domain name for Don't Be a Hippie . Purchasing su-sieeemac.com was quite a cheap thrill, I tell you what.  su-sieeemac.com? Yep. I figure I can always use the URL for something else down the line, should I ever cease writing Don't Be a Hippie . For once, I'm looking ahead. Anyway, a few minutes ago, I keyed in the right combination of words and numbers to have Don't Be a Hippie appear in the browser when I plug su-sieeemac.com into the appropriate bar. Whooo-hooo! Another cheap thrill. I think I will count this feat as a Doing 60 . The little things count, too, in my book. So, as not

This is dedicated to the Husband's and my friends—the Young Old Fogeys. We Do It! We're too old to do this. We're too old to do that. We're too old so some think. But, we do it. I'm not a young man. I'm not a young miss. Ah. But, we have much bliss For we do it. We hike up the hills. We zip through the trees. We pedal against the breeze. We like to do it. We're too old to do this. We're too old to do that. We're too old so some think. Ha! We do it. © Su- sieee ! Mac. All rights reserved.

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

My birthday was a couple months of ago. It was a delightful day, spent wandering with the Husband. One of the many highlights of the day was a package from Jenn, a dear long-time friend. Many years ago we worked together in a community-based nonprofit in San Francisco. She  developed on-the-job-training jobs for at-risk youth, while I counseled them about staying in school. Jenn and I had a lot of fun moments within our serious ones. She could get me to do things I would not consider doing, such as buying a disco dress in all its femme fatal glory. Not just once, but twice. And, then there was that time we were walking back from some serious moment, talking about non-serious things as we passed by the panhandlers, street musicians, and the folks talking into objects before there were cellphones on Market Street. We stopped in front of a wig store and gazed at the display of gigantic Barbie doll heads sporting long and short hairdos. "I wonder how I'd look in a long blon