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!
Yesterday’s post was about our lack of napkins for our lunch with friends later that day. I had written the post the day before (on Friday) with the problem resolved because I thought it was. Well… Come Saturday morning, I went to the closet to fetch a roll of paper towels. From the back of the closet, I pulled out the package of towels. So, I thought. Hello, toilet paper! Ugh. I could still sew seven napkins in time. Sure, you’re right, either the Husband or I could have driven to the store. Quite simple solution. Good fortune rang. It was good friend Missus H on the phone to see how things were and if I needed anything. “Do you have any napkins to spare?” She didn’t. They were using paper towels. “Could you please bring a roll?” She would, but if I liked she had purple and green napkins that she used for guest bath towels. The green napkins were perfect with the feast of Fijian fritters, cilantro chutney curry chicken, coconut-creamed spinach, grilled shrimp, jasmine rice, boiled
1. Who remembers the days of the manual typewriters? Clack, clack, clack. And, if you were a proficient typist, clack clack clackity clickclack clickity. . . ! 2. Anyone else glad he or she took typing in high school? Friends tell me we learned on electric typewriters. I remember the manual typewriters in journalism class. Yup, I felt like a real reporter when I composed my stories on a typewriter. 3. During the days of electric typewriters, a few of my friends typed 100+ words per minute and more with hardly any mistakes. I dilly-dallied around half that speed with several mistakes. (I hated typing documents that required carbon copies.) 4. The fastest I could type was in the high 70s. I remember coming out of a job interview all psyched about that high score. I thought that I ought to insure my hands. They were, after all, necessary for my livelihood. hahahaha. 5. The other day the husband and I talked with friends over the phone for a couple of hours. That's al
Not a pumpkin, but a tomato! Last Sunday we went to a tomato tasting party hosted by good friends Missus and Mister H, who planted a variety of tomatoes. I can't recall if Missus H said they put in 70 types or 70 plants. Many of the different varieties looked huge and heavy. A couple I picked up had to be close to 12 to 16 or more ounces. One of my favorites was a big red organic tomato called Boxcar Willie, which was named after Grand Ole Opry Singer. The Husband described its taste best—"It was sweet, and had a rich flavor." Another favorite of mine was Barnes Mountain Yellow, a very plump heirloom yellow tomato which ancestors were grown on Barnes Mountain in Kentucky. Its flavor reminded me slightly of smoked salmon. I also liked Lemon Boy, a true yellow of a tomato, which was your average size of a tomato. I don't remember the flavor, which tells me that I was probably more enamored with its name. There was an heirloom tomato called Abe Lincol
Today's post is all about what's going on in two parts of the backyard. One part is the patio, of which first up are the strawberry plants that live in the red cooler. The original three plants gave us two or three yummy strawberries every few days or so from June to just recently. The plants also sent out more than a dozen runners. All, I hope, will provide us with more strawberries. Back in June, I finally got brave and turned the Daddy's wheelbarrow from the 1960s into a succulents planter. Some succulents did okay, such as the red paddle plant, while others scorched to death. I've determined that it's okay to pull out a shriveled succulent, as well as plop in another succulent on Wheelbarrow Plain. I keep remembering what Mama said, "If they grow, they grow." The Husband and I have temporarily named the four distinct spaces in the backyard, from south to north, Avocado Room, Sunny Room, Shady Room, and Geranium Room. The last few days I h