The word journey comes from journeé (old French) that means a day's travel or a day's work. In the 12th century, people used the word solely as a noun. Two centuries later, the word was also used as a verb, meaning to travel from place to place. There you go, trivia information for Jeopardy. I'm linking my J post over to ABC Wednesday . Click here to check out the meme and J stories by other participants.

The Husband and I encountered danger yesterday—strawberry sauce. Oh my gosh! I modified a recipe that called for 2 cups of diced strawberries. The recipe probably meant a dry measuring cup, but I overfilled a two-cup liquid measuring cup. The strawberries went into a small saucepan with juice from a medium-sized lemon, a half a cap full of limoncello (in place of vanilla), and about 2/3 to 3/4 cup of superfine sugar. The sugar is a guess because  I poured directly from the box, stopping only when it looked like it would be too much. I brought the concoction to a boil, stirring occasionally, then simmered it for 15 minutes. We ate the strawberry sauce over a slice of toasted sourdough bread and a healthy sprinkling of ground almonds. Mmmmmmm. Once upon a time, I would've eaten all of the sauce in one sitting and then promptly fall asleep in a drunken daze. The Husband said the sauce caused his eyelids and the bags under his eyes to sweat. When he was a kid, sweet tart

Despite the current state of our world and the fruit flies in the backyard, I am enjoying the summer with the Husband, Molly the Cat, and Friends.  Yes, that is a bureau in front of the house. It was Mama's, one of the first pieces of furniture Daddy bought her in the late 1940s. I brought it outside earlier this year but only got around to painting it in June. I like to think Mama's Spirit is okay with that. On Saturday, my high school graduating class held its annual Class of 1971 Scholarship fundraiser. For the past 10 years or so we have awarded a $2,000 scholarship to a graduating senior. We're the first, and still only, class to have established a scholarship at our high school. Pretty good for us, slackers. Yes, we were when compared to the achievers in the class on either side of us. That's okay, look at us now. Go '71 HayBalers! For the fundraiser's silent auction, I donated this one-of-a-kind, perfectly imperfectly handcrafted coffee cup cozy. 

Camembert! Buche de Chevre! Cacio di Fossa! Cheddar! Molly the Cat loves cheese. Unfortunately, her tummy doesn't. Missy Girl and I are heading over to Say Cheese , hosted by Jeanna of The Ched Curtain , and ABC Wednesday , lead by Melody and the ABCW team. Come join us.

Hi'ya, dear friends! Big hugs to all. I thought I'd be back sooner on the blog, but you know how it goes with summer distractions. I'll write about more of them mañana. One distraction has been a local photography exhibition. A week or so before our party (the day after the Solstice), I got an email saying my three submissions were accepted and I would need to deliver them matted, framed, and ready to hang on what turned out to be the day after our party. All good, because that distracted me from getting too anxious about prepping for the party (including cleaning house and yard), as well as the party stuff sidetracked me from becoming nervous about preparing the photos for display. The photo above of an apple blossom is one that's on display in the exhibit. I took the picture in the backyard on a late Spring afternoon, then played around with Photoshop filters to get the final effect. Getting the photos ready for display took a village. A local business servic

Now that the Husband's eyes have healed from his cataract surgeries, he can drive again. And, that means I can be a passenger again . Last Wednesday was his first time back at highway driving. Yippieeee! I took out my pocket camera and clicked away at the passing scenery. These first two photos are of hardworking men and women harvesting greens, possibly romaine, in San Juan Valley, outside of San Juan Bautista.     You're looking at drivers heading north on Highway 101, just pass the exit to San Juan Bautista. Yup, I click away at nearly everything and anything. So is the advantage and luxury of shooting pictures with a digital camera. We were heading south on Highway 101. Did you ever see Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo ? He shot a driving scene through this grove of eucalyptus trees. Part of the movie was set in the old mission city of San Juan Bautista. FYI: Hitchcock built his own mission tower for the movie. There's usually congestion around

The header illustrates, in my mind, what my world was like when I was a small kid. We lived several miles out of town, one of four houses behind a country store, nearly surrounded by fields and orchards which I explored. I've become aware that our front and back yards may be reflecting my long-ago playground. Here are two views of the lower half of what was the former lawn. It's been over two years since we pulled out the lawn. We don't miss it at all. The daisy bushes have exploded all over the yard. Pow! Pow! Pow! I like the volunteer wild grass that has grown in a pathway. In May, or April, I'll pull it out. Soon, poppies will start showing their orange selves. And, here's part of the backyard that looks like it belongs in a storybook. So I thought when I saw the photo. This spot gets nice shade in the afternoon. If we set a little round table there, we can sit and eat snacks or play at being an artist. Of maybe, instead, we can put a sofa there so we

"It's snowing!" "Did you see the snow on the mountains?" Everyone we talked to yesterday, both friends and strangers, bubbled ebulliently about the snow on the mountain ridges around us. "I don't have to go to the Sierras now," said a guy in the Target parking lot. Not that it was a lot of snow. Simply a decent dusting on the forward peaks that lasted all day and a thick enough coating on the back peaks to be saying "Hello! Snow here!" today. The temperatures have been in the 30s and 40s, which probably sound like the tropics to some of you. I don't recall the last time our tap water is as cold as water in a mountain lake. It tastes refreshing. It has probably been 10 years, more or less, since we've seen snow in our area. Last time, the Husband and I drove up to the end of a long country road to wander in the snow and throw a snowball at each other. Not this time. We were afraid of flooding Eliza if we went thr

Miao, miao. How is everyone? It has been raining. Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. The sun pops up now and then. When it does, Missus Lady and I go outside or she leaves the back door open so I can slip out if I am so inclined. Nice human, she is. On Saturday morning, Missus Lady got it into her head to put some of her toys in the puddle that likes to grow on the patio whenever it rains. Silly human, she is. I heard her and Hero Man talking about putting some thing on the patio so she can put up dioramas that wouldn't be in anyone's way. If the thing had drawers, they could be pulled out and converted into planters, suggested Hero Man. Whatever it is, Missus Lady said, it would need to be stained so it can withstand the weather for a couple of years. Whatever it is, I hope I can climb up on it and take a snooze. Miao. Miao, miao. Missus Lady reminded me to tell everyone, "Hello, hello!" She apologizes for having not responded to comments on the last post. She sha

Day's End.  That was how it looked yesterday at sunset.  Disaster Rose.  What do you think of that for a protagonist's nickname? David.  I've always liked that name. Solid, cheerful, thoughtful. Dave. Davey.  The Husband's surname means son of David.  Debonair.  Cary Grant. George Clooney. The Husband. Humor is part of my definition of debonair. Dig it.   Can you dig it? Hands, please, who said this once upon a time, with a straight face. I do like to dig in the yard, and I do a decent job of digging, I like to think. Meet John Doe.   Recently the Husband and I watched Meet John Doe , a 1941 Frank Capra film starring Gary Cooper and Barbara Stanwyck with Walter Brennan. Good trembles into arms of Evil so it may survive, but eventually Good realizes it is not Evil and scrambles back onto the path of light. The name John Doe doesn't make sense to me. I understand that it refers to a male with an unknown identity. Shouldn't it be John Bu

"Slow down," shouted me, leaning out the passenger door window. "Elk!" The Husband obliged. Click, click. "There are buffalo, too," I exclaimed. The Husband took me for my word. His cataracts don't let him see the details in the far distance. The animals were probably a city block or so away. Of course, we weren't in a city, but on the back road behind Mt. Hamilton, in San Jose, on the way to Patterson, a Central Valley town next to Interstate 5.  That was last month on one of my birthday adventures in Sedgwick, the rental car. Today I enlarged and sharpened and did Photoshop voodoo on the digital shots until I got good enough photos. The buffalo were cattle. So much for my eyes. The other creature certainly was a gorgeous young elk buck. He looked as if he was posing for me. A tourist with her dagnabbit camera. Click, click. The dude was a tule elk, which supposedly is found only in the grassy and marshy areas of California. I read