Here are some of the highlights of my 69th adventure around Apo Init, aka El Sol, aka The Sun. For the wanna-knows, the first language in that sentence is Ilocano, the second, in Spanish, and the last, English, the  three languages with which I’m familiar (Spanish, a little bit, and Ilocano in memory). Without further distractions. . . . 1. Knee-haw! Sing, my left knee joint, was renewed with titanium and plastic parts. The 14th of December will mark the prosthesis’ first anniversary. The first step I took after surgery told me I made the right decision to trust Dr. G to open up my leg, saw off the bad parts, insert a new prosthesis, and close up the incision. Did I have to get so graphic?  2. For sale. Good friend L and I held two yard sales to sell our mothers’ collections of stuff. I’m already thinking about what to do differently for our next yard sale. This last one, which was on Saturday, for example, I got artsy-fartsy with the signs, one of which someone either stole or destr

Lately, I’ve been wandering around the house looking for my prescription reading glasses. I have two pairs, the red ones still yet to be found. Until 2020, I had worn eyeglasses, or contacts, for 50-some years to correct my nearsightedness. That year, the first year of the Covid pandemic, I had cataract surgery in both eyes. The clarity, sharpness, and colors of nature, as well as being able to see words, things, and views far away that I could suddenly see after each surgery was delightfully amazing. The downside was I could no longer see the finer things like tiny letters up close. I can live with that.   Blurriness began in third grade for me. I thought it was normal to see wiggling letters on the blackboard. In fifth grade, the annual school eye exam showed I wasn’t seeing normally, so off to Daddy’s eye doctor Daddy took me. Dr. Green was his name. A nice old man with white hair, smelling crisp and sharp like his white medical top. His examination room was interestingly odd with

Like being 70 is any different than being 69. Of course it is! A new adventure around El Sol! A revolution in the making, yes sireee.  Isn’t that a darling angel in the photo? She used to be all beige. And, check out her green sparkly friend. It’s fun to do something new and different. In this case, it was playing with glitter and not making too much of a mess. Simple things. The Husband and I have a rating system for driving mountain roads. Gulp, double gulp, sweaty palms, and, the worse, double gulp and sweaty palms. If this past year was a mountain road, I’d rate the drive so far as a bunch of gulps and an occasional double gulp. Fortunate, am I. 

It felt like Christmas in our garage today. Good friend L was putting up fiber optic trees and Christmas sculptures that she’ll be selling at our yard sale tomorrow. Sparkle, sparkle. She also made sure a bear and small reindeer were twinkling brightly. That was cool to see.  I generally don’t pay attention to the wintery holiday season until after my birthday, wouldn’t you? I’d rather have a birthday two weeks before Christmas than share the same day with a sibling. Or, maybe not. There could be joy in that, but more likely in another dimension for my brother and me. Nobody explained Christmas to me when I was a kid—why you put up a tree, give presents, and go to church at night, and so on. And, what was with that old man with the beard in the funny red suit prowling the five and dime store. Whenever I saw him coming my way, I quickly ducked away.  In first grade, I was assigned the role of Mrs. Santa Claus. How can you tell your teacher that you do not want to be Mrs. Santa Clau

Ugh! On this fifth day towards becoming 70, I woke up with another glaring owie. This time, it was my right knee shouting, “You overdid it, Palsy!”  A month ago, I joined a weekly yoga class that focuses oldsters on stretching, loosening up our joints, and building up our balance.  Probably all that bending I did at class on Tuesday would’ve been okay if I hadn’t done a bunch of bending yesterday clearing out the geraniums. Ouchy growl! Until this morning, I forgot that my poor swollen right knee, called Song, is still the bad knee. She  has done quite well keeping up with Sing, the left joint that was totally replaced last year, which was my gift for turning 69. Poor Song. Hopefully, I can find another compatible, trustworthy surgeon to fix her in 2024. Sing’s surgeon retired. He was amazing, even straightening my leg when he said he couldn’t.  The poor Husband. He kept running over to see why I was suddenly groaning, moaning, cursing, or growling so very loudly. Song did not like

What’s that up there? A portal to other worlds, perhaps.

I liked how today went. I did a load of laundry in our new washing machine and gave succulent cuttings homes. The Husband and I packaged and mailed persimmons to friends and cousins, got Chinese takeout, and went to an exercise class that focuses on balance for old people.  At the post office, I  talked with a happy guy who was there to get his passport in order because he was moving to Italy. He had sold his business and his home to live in a house he inherited that he didn’t know existed until an attorney got hold of him to ask if he’d like the house. The happy guy gladly said “Yes” before even hearing where it was. The house belonged to his grandfather or great grandfather and somewhere down the line family stopped living  in it. Now the house was his. So very cool!  The best news today came from the happy nurse at my doctor’s office. The results of my chest x-ray were negative, which (after she told me that was a good thing) I took to mean my lungs were clean, intact, and in pla

Mama visited the ophthalmologist twice a year. She begrudgingly went with the hope that the doctor would miraculously get her to see well enough to pass the DMV eye test. That was not meant to be. Her doctor was a charmer. He liked to engage with his patients, to put them at ease.  He never failed to ask Mama for her secret of looking young. Sometimes, Mama would answer, giggling and smiling, “I eat rice.” Other times, “I like to eat fish.” Whatever she answered, he’d follow up with other questions, such as “How often do you eat rice?”or “”What kind of fish?” He sincerely was interested, so I observed.  Another thing he never failed to do after the initial look at Mama’s eyes was to turn to me and say, “Thank your mom for your good genes.” I appreciate that I have Mama’s genes. Mama was a super ager. She lived to a resounding 94 years old before her body hit the wall. That’s how her doctor described it. Mama fell a lot that last year. A lesson for me to build up my balancing skill

Scratch out words, string sentences, fill out paragraphs. . . .Today someone told a roomful of people that I was a writer by trade. I love that. It sounds like I put in long, hard hours getting words to convey ideas precisely, clearly, and succinctly. It’s nice to know your work is appreciated.  

My, my, my, what an interesting news day today was. More than two-thirds of the House of Representatives voted to kick out a Congressman for being blatantly unethical. A U.S appeals court declared that the former president is not immune from being tried for criminal activity. And,  California Democratic Governor Gavin Newsom went on Fox to debate Florida Republican Governor Ron DeSantis to the discomfort of the latter and the moderator.  The moral for today: Hope is alive.

My latest thing is to nurture succulent cuttings in glass containers filled with layered colored sand. Coloring sand is also a new thing I tried this year. It’s easy-peasy to do. Mix acrylic paint little by little with sand until you get the hue you want. 

Double ugh. That was my first two hours this morning. Double ugh.  When I got out of bed later than usual, I decided to get my Medicare card ready to go for tomorrow. Be efficient, you know. I was going to say “anal retentive” but I couldn’t remember the term so had to do a Google search with keywords anal and efficient. And, what do you know, I am not anal retentive at all. After what I learned, thank goodness.  The Medicare card was not where I thought it was in the office, which took me half an hour to find that location and another half an hour to find out it was not there. I looked elsewhere. Nothing. Over there. Nothing. There. Nope. All the while, I took deep breaths to keep the panic away. Ugh. Then, I thought, maybe I could get a copy of my card at the Medicare website. Yes, you can, stated the site. You need to provide your Medicare number. I needed my card to give it. Medicare offered an alternative avenue to get my card via an online Social Security account.  Ok, I have an

Mama’s dream, when I was young and single living in San Francisco, was to purchase a two-story house that had been divided into two flats. “You can live upstairs,” said Mama.  Whenever she mentioned her dream, I responded with reality, “It’s too expensive.” That didn’t ever make her dream any less. Back then, the thought of living with Mama again, even in a separate apartment in the City, was not what I wanted. So, ha! on me. Fast forward to the summer of 2003, I find myself living with Mama again. Not in the city but back in my hometown of Hollister, which was transitioning from predominantly farmland to a sea of residences. We can thank the Husband for agreeing to move away from the San Francisco Bay Area where he had lived most of his life. By the time we moved, I had lived longer up there.  Not any more. This year marks our 20th year living in Hollister. I doubt we’re going anywhere. We’ve paid off the mortgage so we’re sitting pretty in that way. The Husband wanted to get far

Monday, Monday. What scintillating things did I do today?  A pearl choker wrapped around a wooded bracelet…voilà, a Christmas ornament in the making. The Husband and I moseyed down to the hardware store to purchase a package of packing tape, one six-outlet power strip, one surge protector, a bag of cactus and succulent soil, and a bag of orchid potting mix. When did the employees get so young? Even 30 year olds look like babies to me.  I finally read the operating instructions for our new washing machine. Nothing fancy, nothing smart. Simply turn dials, press button, and walk away knowing the machine will do its job correctly just like the old machine had for 18 years. With good fortune, this new machine will last for my forever. How was your Monday? 

Pareidolia is defined as the brain seeing a pattern in randomness, such as seeing a man in the moon or a face in a tree. I don’t see a man, or a bunny, in the moon, but I can see faces in trees. Some experts say pareidolia is normal, while other experts say otherwise. Seems like you can say that about nearly anything.

Today’s adventure was creating a space in the front yard for tulips, freesias, hyacinths, and lilies of the Inca to pop up come Spring. Our yard is clayish, so we shall see what grows.  Dig, grunt. dig, groan. . . . I double dug the ground along with working in potting soil. It is, and will be, so very worth it. The tulip and hyacinth bulbs are guaranteed to grow, according to the package. I wonder what the company pumped into the bulbs to make such a statement.  Imagine, red tulips and red hyacinths mingling with yellow and blue freesias and pink lilies of the Inca (aka alstroemeria and Peruvian lilies).  Although, the lilies may bloom way after the others are done for the season. I’m fine with that.

Crunch. Crunch. A couple of sparrows have found the basket of sunflower seeds I forgot to put away.  Crunch, crunch, crunch. You’re welcome.

I am grateful for being able to open the door and walk out into our backyard at any time of the day and night. I am grateful for being able to pluck a persimmon off our tree, wipe it on my sweater, and munch on it as I wander around the backyard looking for forgotten things that put together will become something else.  I am grateful for the Husband being the main dishwasher and coffee maker. I am grateful that we are able to afford the utility bill so we can turn on the heater during the chilly season. I am grateful that Daddy took the risk to sign a work contract with the Hawaiian sugar plantations and then decided to stay in Hawaii for a bit more (about 18 years) after his contract was over. I am grateful that Daddy chose to become a U.S. citizen when the government offered it to him and many other Filipinos who were serving in the U.S. military during WWII. I am grateful that Mama said “yes” to Daddy’s proposal of marriage and said “yes” to moving to the United States wh