A warning for delicate ears: Bodily toots are being mentioned on today's post. (giggle) Yesterday, I wrote   how I forgot the topic about which I wanted to write. Well, it came to mind last night when I saw a cartoon that a friend posted on Facebook. Thanks, Thomas. So, here's what I couldn't remember yesterday. (giggle) I'm one of those people whose body systems get all relaxed when she wanders around a bookstore. The moment I enter the door, total zen. Unfortunately for those around me, I'm one of those book browsers who not only gives the occasional loud ah! when she sees an interesting book cover, but also an occasional silent toot, leaving a lingering aroma. I try not to, but, hey better out than in. Sorry for the TMI, but it's to set you up for this next paragraph. (snort) The future-Husband and my first adventure included a visit to a used bookstore in his neighborhood. I have no idea if the shop still exists. I hope it's still there. It&

Bilingual, I am not. A bilingual person is someone who is fluent in two languages. I'm one of those second generation kids (in any immigrant group) who can understand their parents' language but cannot speak it. Oh, sure, I can say some phrases in Ilocano, the Mama's language,  such as, uh,  Awan ti nakkem mo  which means "There's nothing in your head." Something the Mama said to me often when I was a kid. The Husband tells me it's strange to listen to the Mama's and my conversations. She says something in Ilocano and I respond in English. I say something to her in English and she responds in Ilocano. Most times, I don't even realize she's talking to me in Ilocano.  I suppose you could say we are having a bilingual conversation, just that neither of us are bilingual. There are times when I can't figure out what the Mama wants. It's not because of the language difference, but because of the Mama's unique thinking process. She

I drew socks the other day because I bought some socks for the Mama and me. They are just as colorful as the ones in the picture. The Husband bought socks, too. He was the instigator, which meant he needed socks and the Mama must have forgotten to give him socks for Christmas. Actually, it was more like she forgot to tell me that she wanted to buy his annual Christmas bunch of socks. I should've remembered, but I haven't been good in that department either. A couple weeks ago, I forgot about the Mama's doctor appointment. At least, I remembered the following day and called the doctor's office. We went on Friday for his five-minute examination to make sure she is still ticking. Yup, she is indeed. Her blood count actually went up,  and her blood pressure is that of a spring chicken. The Mama also gained a pound. She'd been losing a pound every four months for the past two years so I was very happy to hear the nurse say she was 110. The Mama's reaction. "

Molly the Cat aka Molly the Kitty Cat aka Miss Molly by Golly. These days, she's also known as Molly Girl. Last week was her first anniversary with the crew. We, humans, had no idea it would be such a pleasure to have a cat that lives indoors. We hope the sweetie pie is just as happy as we are about living together. Molly Girl plays no favorites. She adores the Husband. He is the one who plays with her before giving her dinner. She likes me because I am the human who mostly takes her outside to wander and offer her a snack at lunch time. And, she cherishes the Mama because this human massages her and gives Molly food to break her fast every morning. The Two Ladies Molly the Cat and Mama are so cute together. After a year, I see similarities between the two ladies. Both are picky eaters. Unless they feel ravenous or truly like the food in front of them, they'll leave just a little less than half on their plate. Will they eat the leftovers the next day? Ha! They l

My strategy used to be: Wait until all the leaves have fallen off the trees and then gather them up. Sure, it would be one murder of a day, raking and bagging literally tons of leaves....I say literally because obviously tons of leaves do not fall from less than a dozen trees. Maybe, thousands of leaves, but then I would just say that and not "literally thousands of leaves" because there are thousands of leaves on the ground. Yes, I think people overuse the word literally. Okay, back to leaf-gathering strategies. The Mama's strategy: Pick up leaves every morning. Depending on the season, it may take her less than 30 minutes to several hours before she is satisfied that her garden is neat. The Mama dislikes the sight of leaves on the ground. She actually grumbles and shudders when she passes people's yards that are full of leaves. "If that was mine," she always says. "I wouldn't stand it." The husband or I usually respond, "Look away

Since Molly the Cat came into our lives, I did not know that: Cats snore. Cats sleep on their backs with their arms and legs splayed out. Yeah, just like a drunken person. Cats like to have something to eat after having been brushed. Cats don't necessarily know how nor inclined to say meow to their humans. Molly the Cat chirrups when she talks to us. Cats will wait until you clean up their litter box, then jump into it immediately and do their thing. I always thank Molly the Cat for doing it before I throw the poop bag away. Cats will suddenly race around the house after something that only they can see. They run so fast, you think you can see lines of action, such as those drawn in cartoons, extending from them as they shoot down the hallway and take the corner almost in mid air. Cats will pretend to wait for your permission to go explore that dark corner between the couches just to make you feel that you are the boss. Ha! Cats are even pickier eaters than the Mama. W

Yesterday was like Christmas. After eight-and-a-half years, I finally opened some boxes marked KITCHEN that belong to the Husband and me. There was stuff I forgot we had. When we moved in with the Mama, most of our belongings stayed in storage. Last month, we consolidated two lockers into one and I decided to bring home some of the KITCHEN boxes. Until late yesterday afternoon, they'd been sitting in the garage. They would probably still be there if we didn't move boxes around to try to find a mouse carcass. Shudder . We did not find any mouse remains, but we did discover that something ate through the cat carrier—which we had bought to eventually take Mr. L. Gatto Cat to the veterinarian (and it's a good thing we didn't)—to get at the bag of cat litter that we'd stored in the carrier. Was the mouse disappointed when he finally reached the sand? "Do mice hibernate?" the Husband asked. "I don't know," I replied, watching him poke a