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!
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
"Knock on wood, said Dr. Eye, who then knocked on the side of a medical supply cabinet. I turned to my left. Nothing but eye examination machines. All metal. I looked back at the cabinet. "About the closest to wood," Dr. Eye said, somehow knowing what I was thinking. "Maybe this," I said, leaning over to tap a small box, probably made of balsa, on the cabinet. "It probably does have the most wood in this room," Dr. Eye said, tapping the box. Someone asked me if I felt confident about Dr. Eye taking out my lens and inserting an artificial one with my current prescription. Totally. Four more days. :-) Linking with All Seasons at The Jesh Studio.
It certainly has been awhile since I've peeped my sweet peepers out of my not-so-dark hole in the ground. I love the way you say things, Jeana, of The Ched Curtain . You, too, Widders, of Widdershins Worlds . Thank you very much for wondering outloud if I was still kicking. :-) So, what was I doing while silent crickets and frogs took over the blog? I've thought about things such as why girls couldn't also be made up of "snips of snails and puppy-dog tails", and wondering if anyone has coined future fossil fuels yet. I've raked at least two years worth of dried leaves from beneath the flowers and plants in the front yard. Not to say, learning yet again that I, no, we need to rake leaves right after they've fallen. Also prune brittle and drying branches. Deadhead the flowers, too. And, pick up the fallen fruit sooner rather than later. It certainly has been a long time since I've strung sentences together for fun. I am simply dancing with
Thirteen years ago, I would've replied "Nooo. Really?" should future me had reached into the time spectrum to tease me about my today. Never ever would I have thought 13 years ago that I would actually do these things. One. Taking 15 years for us to move the Husband's parents' belongings from a rented storage locker to our garage. Two. Buying artist's and crafter's paints. Three. Tending to all sorts of flowers on what was once Mama's lawn. Four. Mulling over the possibilities for curtains I'll sew for the bedroom, L Studio, and living room windows. Five. Interrupting a task to play Scrabble with the Husband, and knowing that I'll finish the task when we're done with the game. Six. Painting a mural. Seven. Being told by a specialist that he can't straighten my leg. Crooked? That was news to me. Eight. Receiving my social security benefits! Nine. Being loved by Molly the Cat. Ten. Meeting many ki
Hey ya, Hi ya! How ya? It has been awhile, two weeks awhile more or less. I like to think that in a parallel universe, the Husband and I were away on holiday, because in my reality I was simply being out of sorts. The first week I was feeling bummed as I was doing another round of sorting through Mama's stuff. Along the way I caught a virus and nursing that into a short run distracted me. The Husband and Molly the Cat were wonderful caretakers to this grump of a patient. So, here I am, raring to go, again. We've had rain for nearly all of this past week. Hurrah! All the different birds in the backyard enjoyed the rain, too. Chirp, chirp. Molly the Cat wants you to know she is raring to go, too. For her, it is outdoors. A (cute) black cat has invaded her territory. Where am I hanging out this time? At Jesh's All Seasons , Angie's Mosaic Monday , and Jeana's Say Cheese! I hope you check out their memes, possibly join in. Thank you, Ladies! All S
I got so pissed this morning, I could spit. Would you say that I'm saying this literally or figuratively? FYI: I did not, am not, nor will I spit about what got me furious. Spitting I reserve for when I am sick (better out than in, right?) or for root hormone (some gardeners say that spit makes a good substitute). The Mama pretended to spit whenever she broke glass, followed by a plea to Mary, Jesus, and Joseph that they don't hold the broken glass as a point against her. Too much TMI? Sorry. I continue. The cause for my growling spew? Let's simply say that my tolerability cap for political beliefs got blown off for a moment. I allowed myself to care that I was disappointed about humanity and so became bummed. As you can see, not anymore. The Husband and I took a drive to Freedom to purchase food for our precious, and spoiled, Molly the Cat. The 60-mile round trip drive, more or less, had us rolling by green hills and zigzagging through a canyon and among f
I like wandering the back roads of our area. I like looking at the clock and seeing that it's not even 11:00 a.m. and I've accomplished a lot and if I want to accomplish more, I can. I like moving things around in a room to find the sweet flow to it. The Husband and Molly the Cat, not so much. The Husband doesn't care for all the lifting, carrying, pushing, and pulling. I tell him it's exercise. Missy Girl simply dislikes the change, at first. I wish I could do all the moving with my mind. Isn't there a term for that? Yesterday I decided to move my sewing stuff to the other side of L Studio, and, in so doing, I discovered the fabric for my tunic that I've been wanting to sew for two years, but couldn't because, yeah, I had no idea where the material had gone. Hee-hee. DRUMMER DUDE I like the all-of-a-sudden, off-the-top-of-our heads, impromptu moments with the Husband. The other day I was throwing stuff in the green organic waste can
The past two weeks, I found a fellowship among like minded people standing on a corner in our small city in our rural California county. We took a couple hours out of our Saturday morning to protest against our federal government's decision to separate families who cross over the border without the proper papers. Politics aside, taking children, especially very young children, from their parents was a heartless and unjust move on our government. Yes, the current White House administration said it wouldn't do it anymore, but, without the public light on them, can we trust them to reunite the families. Last week, about 26 of us stood on the corner. Yesterday, we were more than 80 women, men, and children standing strong. That's a big turnout for our neck of the woods. For nearly two hours, we heard car horns and saw people in cars waving at us. The people in those cars were like-minded, too. They acknowledged what we were doing and approved it. I hope that they
As some of you dear readers know, I underwent a full hysterectomy last year. For those of you who are learning for the first time, yes, I did. Snip, snip, snip, snip went the oncologist/gynecologist with the da Vinci robotic arms and pop! shusssssh! went my Fallopian tubes, ovaries, uterus, and cervix, along with cancerous cells, which nobody was really sure if they truly were there. Yes, it overwhelms me when I think about it. My mind does really well about not thinking. My body is another story. Before telling you more, know that the doctor assured me that my reproductive system fits the size of my fist, maybe even smaller, and that within time my guts will drop and fill the space. So, here I am just over 13 months later continually clenching my tailbone because I'm afraid my intestines will fall out. Seriously. This got me to wonder: Has anyone given birth to her guts? Do you think I ought to ask the doctor? Giggle
I started taking the free tai chi class at the local senior center last month. Having learned some tai chi movements back in the 1980s, I knew tai chi would be good for my health. The teacher was encouraging when I told her about my knees (no cartilage in them according to the specialist). She let me know that it was okay to not attempt more than my body can handle at any moment. In other words, do not over do and screw up your body. Just from the first class, I realized these things about me: I breathe shallowly. I need to be mindful about breathing deeply. I hold a lot of tension in my body, particularly in my hips, legs, and knees. I need to relax my body, particularly the muscles around my tailbone. When I do, the pain decreases and I can chip away at the stiffness. I'm not confident that my knees can support me so I walk with my body bent forward. The movements reinforce the concept of empty and full steps. In short, I can trust my legs. That when I put weight on one
I almost decided to go back into the blog's archives today. After two weeks away, I felt rather constipated in thought. Then I heard a low hum that I eventually identified as the stove fan. Ha, that may mean...yes, indeed. I caught a hint of pancake in the air. The Husband was making us pancakes for breakfast. Hoo-rah! Off the computer, down the stairs, and to the kitchen I went. After eating the Husband's yummy fare, I was inspired with many thoughts that I might write about. One being the Husband made us pancakes for breakfast! Aren't I a fortunate woman? Today I'm linking up with All Seasons , a weekly meme hosted by Jesh at Artworks from Jesh St.G . Click here to check out Jesh and her meme. For the participants list, click here . Thanks, Jesh!
The other day I came across these photos of the Mama's front yard in 2010. Neat and proper, how the Mama loved her gardens and landscaping to be. A philosophy that differs from mine, which is essentially a higgledy-piggledy one, although you might say that there is order in chaos. It has been almost two years since I've taken over the Mama's gardens and landscaping. Flowers have gotten out of hand. The canna lilies, for example, were winning in their plot to take over the front garden so I dug out most of the bulbs and transplanted many elsewhere last month. The Mama's rosemary bushes, on the other hand, are getting straggly in a way that I wonder if they may be on their last legs. The Mama's roses got rather tall. Some nearly reached the roof. She deadheaded them, but after someone mentioned how tall the roses were, she was no longer interested in cutting them back. So I thought. Now I wonder if was because it was too difficult for her to prune them and s
Yesterday afternoon, and into the night, I essentially did something like a cramming session. As is my wont, I waited to the last minute to complete documents to bring to the self-help legal center at the courthouse this morning. Monday is the only day the center is open for five hours. I made sure that the Husband and I got out of the house in time to get there at 8:00 a.m. because I was told that people begin lining up minutes before the door opens. Half a block away I could see parking spaces right next to the building. We were so in luck! The courthouse doors were still locked at 8:01 a.m. Peeking through the glass door, we saw no guards manning the security screening machines. Odd, right? I walked a bit further up and noticed through the windows that the shades were drawn at the counter where the court clerks ought to be. Eerie! "Is this a holiday?" I asked the Husband. "Is this the 19th?" he answered. "President's Day is the 19th." "Tha
How many dishes can you make out of leftovers? Not separate dishes. More like turning leftovers into something left over for more leftovers. It was either Monday or Tuesday last week that I made pork ribs by first simmering them with fresh garlic and Cajun spices, then broiling them in a toaster oven. For the BBQ sauce, I mixed leftover homemade pizza sauce, made a few days earlier, with horseradish. Sounds horrible, but it tasted mighty good, so the Husband said. Even though it was a small slab of ribs, we had leftovers. Not enough for two people though. A couple days later, I added the meat to a concoction of garbanzo beans, peas, linguisa, and leftover sauteed onions and mushrooms. I also threw in a couple of frozen tomatoes. That delectable dish was served with Jasmine rice. There were leftovers. On Saturday, we happened to be standing in front of a Mexican restaurant. Its doors were wide open so we could enjoy yummy smells. Although mouthwatering, we weren't hungry enough t
Lately, it's like pulling teeth to get me to go beyond the mailbox. Some of my reticence is not wanting to catch any virus out there in the public. Some, not wanting to put on a bra and shoes. A little, the annoyance of possibly feeling a whiff of fear and hostility of someone judging me or others around me as not being allowed to exist among them. Yes, there is that. A bit, the pain of my so-called arthritic knees, which I prefer to describe as having no more cartilage. But, mostly, I haven't felt the need or urge to go out. Yesterday afternoon, I didn't talk myself out of going out because we needed to fill up the pantry and refrigerator again. If I'm going to cook more, then I need ingredients to create decent meals. So off to the organic farm stand and the grocery store we went, along with a stop for a couple of beer growlers from Brewery Twenty-Five in San Juan Bautista. I'll write more about them another day. Our stroll from the car to the beer plac