In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now in my late 60s, wowza! I tell you a lot of creativity is still to be found in this old young self. In you, too, whatever your age. Welcome to my barefoot world!
I can doodle my way out of impatience while I wait in a doctor’s waiting room and then wait longer in an examination room. What do you do to remain a patient patient? The above doodle was created during my final follow-up with Dr. G who replaced my left knee joint and realigned my leg. A miracle maker, he is. He thought I was giving it to him when I showed him the doodle. “I’m going to need it back,” I said. “This is on the back of my receipt.” A couple weeks later, I turned the doodle into a thank-you card for Dr. G who is moving on to new adventures. Cheers, Dr. G! I’m sharing today’s post with Art for Fun Friday . Thanks for dropping by. See ya!
Yesterday, I said I was no longer interested in going to Mars. Not that I've been offered the opportunity. I love the idea of traveling through space and exploring Mars. The problem is. . .me. Maintaining the flexibility, endurance, and stamina to deal with number one conceits is getting tougher for me. Let's face it in nearly all workplaces, there's always one. I'm beyond the point of putting up with that kind of misery, day in and day out on the job. Imagine doing that in close quarters 24 hours a day through infinity and beyond.
What a zool cinderella dress, don't you think? Sometimes I see a Cinderella dress in this dressmaker's shop in town that I wonder what a petite, zaftig "young" old fogey woman like myself would look like wearing it. Giggle. I'm hooking up with ABC Wednesday , the fun weekly meme began by Mrs. Denise Nesbitt and now hosted by Roger Green and the ABCW team. Check out the meme here .
My Alphabe Thursday theme—Places I've Been The Husband and I were waiting for Amtrak at the San Jose Diridon Station this afternoon. We weren't going anywhere, other than back home, jiggity-jigg. We were picking up my godmother who had been up in Sacramento. Sitting alongside the track gave me the wanderlust. Sigh. Once upon a time, the Diridon Station was called the Southern Pacific Depot and Cahill Depot. Built in the mid-1930s, it's a gorgeous brick structure designed in the Italian Renaissance Revival style. The depot was restored in the 1990s and renamed after a Santa Clara county supervisor. I'm guessing Diridon was the guy who made the big push for getting the funds to bring back the station's beauty. According to Wikipedia, the station's platform was used to represent a Connecticut train station in the movie Marnie by Alfred Hitchcock. As the Husband and I sat by Track 4, I wondered if trains used to stop closer to the building. Toda
Yesterday, I posted photos of the martians the Husband and I sighted on our recent walk. Today, I give you photos of the various earthly creatures we saw. Some were mild-mannered while others tried to scare us with ferocious looks. They weren't trying too hard because I didn't run away, and I'm truly a big scaredy-cat. Today is Our World Tuesday , a wonderful meme that let's bloggers from around the world meet and greet and share their part of the world. Click here to join us.
I want to learn to play the cello. So I say right now. In the past year, I have changed from wanting to play the bass guitar to the bass, accordion, trombone, drums, and violin. And, now it is the cello. The Husband says settle on one already. Easy for him to say. He can play the trombone. He can read music. He can sing on key. Me? I can read the C-scale, specifically the first five notes C-D-E-F-G. The first time I sang along with the Husband during our courting days, more than 18 years ago, he told me I was off-key. After another song or two, he said, "You're tone deaf." Huh? What? That was news to me and I'd been singing 40 years by then. But, it did suddenly make sense why the elementary school chorus teacher didn't let me join the group and I couldn't for the life of me tune my guitar when I was an angsty teenager. Fortunately for the Husband, I haven''t let that imperfection keep me from singing when I feel like it. He has even said
Once upon a time, in a far away place, a little girl wished upon a star, "I wish I could fly." Unlike other fairy tales, Midge's wish did not come true. So, she thought. One morning, Midge woke up, thinking, "Ah, today is the day I shall fly." She flung off her blankets and jumped to her feet. Bounce! Bounce! Bounce! With each bounce, Midge hung in the air higher and longer. Nearly three-quarters to the ceiling, she turned somersaults and back flips, cartwheels and spins. She bounced and she bounced until her grandmother opened her door. "Very good, my dear," said Lola Sue smiling so proudly. "You're getting to be quite good with the triple flips. I do believe you take after your grandma." Lola Sue jumped onto the bed, and together they bounced. Bounce! Bounce! Bounce! Holding hands, they bounced even higher and higher. "I think it is time," Lola Sue said."Are you ready?" "Yes! Yes!" exclaimed Midge, altho
The map of the world hangs on the wall above my cluttered desk and my more-than-often-than-should vacant mind. Above the map hang a few cobwebs. I'm sure Molly the Cat would be fascinated with the cobwebs if she would look up. Fortunately, the desk is too cluttered for her to find a spot to park while I work. The map? Yes, the map. I like maps. Except for topo maps, I can read a map. Reading maps, even street maps, are fun. For me. When I think of Africa, I see the number seven in a serif font. Australia makes me think of a terrier. On this world map, Greenland is orange. As are Brazil, Saudi Arabia, India, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Korea. I see no key for colors so maybe it means nothing more than that's what the creator of the map wished to color those nations. You would think I'd gaze at that map a lot. Nope. I put it up to inspire me. But, it only reminds me that I haven't traveled more than I would've thought I would by now. If I think long a
We are on a strict budget right now. Not that I'm complaining. The flow of income can get very tight when you choose to be an independent writer. So, all of you readers out there who want to be professional self-employed writers, bear that in mind. If you want the independence, you just keep plugging along. If you can't stand the financial insecurity, then you need to shore up on the writing, editing, researching, and computing skills to get a decent paying communications, technical writing, or editing staff job. And, for gosh sakes, please don't underbid your professional worth, which is essentially all professional writers' worth. But, I've wandered. Being financially insecure at the moment isn't my tale. Nor is being a professional writer, which I finally get is what I am. Talk about sometimes not getting it. Do you know the yellow gas station Shell Oil? I don't know how many times I've seen the Shell stations by the time I reached a certain day
If I were more ambitious, I would nudge myself to actually take the time do the following ten ... five ... three! things within the next...uhm...let's say five weeks. Sew the "bridle" for Molly the Cat. It's not really called a "bridle". I just can't remember the correct term right now. But, it's the thing to which you attach a leash. Yes, the Husband and I have visions of walking with Molly the Cat. So does the Mama. I've already bought the "ingredients" (again, I can't remember the correct term) for the project. If you're curious about my vague description, check this link . Okay, the bridle is a harness. Bridle sounds so much nicer. Pedal my bicycle to and from Tres Pinos. Every morning before breakfast, too. Tres Pinos is a cool, tiny village about five to seven miles away from the house, depending on what route I take. This would be a very huge commitment as well as a complete overhaul of my schedule. It would mean
This morning, I read that a local farm needs a driver to deliver CSA boxes to its distribution points in several cities. Only twice a week. Only 15 to 20 hours a week. $12 to $14/hour, depending on experience. I would love that job. Yes, I would. Those are not long hours at all. The pay is definitely a living wage and it would be a nice monetary supplement for this nonstarving writer. The lifting and hauling? I may not be in the best of shape, but I can manage the up to 40 pounds per item. I truly believe that within a few weeks my strength and stamina would be greatly improved. I would be hauling boxes with the not-quite nonchalance I used to do when I was quite younger. (Hey, it's my daydream.) Besides, the Husband says he would do it with me. Just think, the farmer would get two for the cost of one. If only I didn't have this writing project right now. And, those other responsibilities that I can't walk away from for two days a week. I know my limits—and my