"Toothbrush." I sat patiently for the Husband to open the package.  "Very hot water." I held up a metal bowl filled with cold water. "You'll have to throw that water out first." I must've looked quite vacant as I sat debating myself where to do that when the Husband offered me two options. I stood up. "Baking soda." The Husband poured the powder. "More, don't be stingy."  "Vinegar."   The task was done. We sounded like play surgeons. Just for the heck of it, I asked the Husband to pour baking soda into the two openings of the u-shaped pipe that was full of vinegar. Sizzzzzzzle. "Like a volcano," said the Husband.  This morning the Husband had to unscrew the pipe from the bathroom sink because the brush part of a paintbrush dropped into the drain while I was washing it. Oops.  It turned out the brush was still stuck in the drain, but with some pushing and pulling, it easily slid out. What became a bigger

   I want to create things that make me feel like I'm lying on a bed of vibrantly colored flowers. That's what came to mind when I saw an illustration from the animated film Story of Flowers. It also inspired the haiku. Please, take a look at the short animation . It may inspire you, too.

Three weeks ago, I wrote a list of projects I wouldn't mind completing this year. So far, I've pruned two fruit trees, sowed some wildflower seeds in the backyard, and have begun organizing photos to scan. I like to think that I've brought my blood pressure down. We'll see what the doc says on Friday.  I've added another item to my list: finish painting all the electrical wall plates in the house. At the moment, I'm working on the wall plates in the kitchen. So fun!  

Whoooooooooooooooo-hoooooooooooooo! I'm singing. I'm dancing. Cheers to President Joe!  Cheers to VP Kamala!  Cheers to One and All!

I like to do things on my birthday to set up my new year. For instance, one year, I made sure to go swim laps. And, did I swim laps that year? Yep.  For my 67th birthday, which was in December, I set up a tabletop easel on a TV tray table in our office where the afternoon lighting is the best to paint. So I did. I painted this imaginary scene on cardboard with acrylic paints.  Cheers!

Sow wildflower seeds before the rain comes. (Hopefully we get rain this winter.) Prune the fruit trees. Make a paper mache elephant. Weave a seat and back for a patio chair. We have several old sturdy metal frame patio chairs that the Husband inherited. Alas, most of the plastic straps on the chairs are broken or about to break. I've got loads of material, so why not see if I can weave something stable and safe to sit on.  Finish this wall hanging. See that big floral piece. I visualize a forest. The Husband says it reminds him of a panty. hahahahaha. Scan Mama's photo albums. Reorganize the kitchen cabinets so I don't need to either get the ladder or call for the Husband to reach up high for something. Clear out unnecessary files and folders in my computer. Make an estate plan. Sew a vest for the Husband. I bought the material for the vest at least 5 years ago. It's simply finding a simple pattern for me to follow. Sew a tunic for me. Get my blood pressure down so

How many pot lids do I need? How many small ones, big ones, and in-between ones should I keep? The huge ones make wonderful cymbals. Clang, clang!  Those I'll keep for now. I doubt any of the pot lids I found in the cabinets belong to the Husband and me, whether acquired together or individually before we knew the other existed. Most, if not all, of these pot lids belong to Mama. Awk! She wouldn't have liked knowing that so many lids have no accompanying pots. If she were here now, I would expect her to glare at me, spew out her hit parade of unflattering names at me, and critique me with something like "You're worse than a boy!" In hindsight,  hearing it all said in Ilocano and understanding it in English may have saved me from being susceptible to herd mentality. Thank you, Mama and Daddy. Where was I? Pot lids! Mama had favorite ones. A few of the lids are etched with her name. "Why would she do that?" asked the Husband. "Would someone actually t

I took this photo from the passenger seat while the Husband and I waited for our turn to safely cross to the other side. Just think if our reality is to ignore the rules and plow right through the intersection because we don't believe we have to wait for anyone.  Yeah.  I like this photo. So much so that I painted it with Photoshop art filters in various ways. Hello, Mosaic Monday . :-)

Be safe and well, One and All!

   

 I like the look of rust. . . and fallen leaves. . .and winter in our backyard.

"Did you see our new butterfly sanctuary?" I asked the Husband.  "Look to the South. . .by the fence. . .to your right. . .I mean the other way." "Where?" The husband turned his head here and there, mostly here. "There," I said. "Our butterfly sanctuary!" The Husband groaned. "I thought you meant real butterflies. You nut!" :-)

My yoga pants are 10 years old or so. Until last year they had a new look to them because I rarely wore them. I didn't like how fitted they were. That's no longer the problem. I've worn and washed them so often that the legs got baggy and holey, in particular around the knees. I wonder why the knees since I can't bend them. I lost the ability to sit cross-legged in my late 30s. I wonder if I can do that again if I were to get knee replacements. Anyway, back to the holey yoga pants. By today's standards of yoga pants, mine are loosey-goosey, which I like and which means I won't find a similar pair ever. Fortunately, the rest of my holey pair of yoga pants still has a lot of wear to them. Simply patch the knees, right?  I've only sewn stretchy material once or twice. I always got nervous, panicky, even a bit scared. Today, I nipped all that in the face, and had a lot of fun. :-)