A party has been going on in my head, and it has been rather rowdy at times. We all do need to be rowdy once in a while, but within reason. Within reason.  Who coined that phrase? How long did it take for others to start saying it? Before it was explained in a dictionary? In a grammar book? Is this phrase an idiom? Are idioms even taught anymore? Pshew! See what I mean? A party is going on in my head! Some of you may have thought that my idea of rowdy is making loud and happy noises, and possibly doing a silly prank or two on the Husband. That, of course. Sure. Maybe. Not telling. Giggle.   Rowdy to me is also playing with words and sentences, and thoughts and concepts. Once upon a time 11 years ago I jumped out of a plane. That was not hard at all. If you freeze, like I think I did, your instructor (the professional skydiver to whom you're hooked), merely pushes you over as he falls forward. Me jumping out of the plane (from 18,000 feet up in the air, too, mind you) w

One thing about not being out there, being visible, being noticeable, being memorable. People forget that you're there. Until you're not there and someone asks, "Where the heck is the person who sweated this small stuff?" SO UNFAILINGLY RELIABLE. I'd rather not have that on my tombstone. Shudder. You might as well etch this beneath my name— DRUDGE . Yes, yes, I know that the world can't run without us drudges. Did I say I abhor being a drudge? If I had, I would've done something about it long time ago. I would've taken the other path. Each and every time. I cannot imagine myself as a high maintenance diva. Maybe in a parallel universe I am. Heaven help those people.

As I settled back to read a few more pages of a novel around 11 o'clock the other night, after spending an hour or so doodling and drawing sugar canes, peppermint canes, and walking canes, I realized that I was doing different things.  (Canes are not easy to draw, by the way.) I am actually looking for things to do, different things to try because I am. . . giggle . . .retired. There are some things I'm no longer interested in trying . . . hang gliding . . .roller skating . . . hiking the Pacific Crest trail . . .driving a big rig cross country, toot-toot . . .going to Mars Yup, no longer interested in making those dreams come true.  One of the things I have been doing is painting. I did that watercolor in the photo up there. What do you think: Does it remind you of granite mountains? Maybe somewhere in the Sierra Nevada?

Warning: This is a grumpy story that happened this past summer in front of one of my happy places. The encounter did not sour me on continuing my visits, but for a moment after the event I felt like what's the use of living when people like that guy we met is alive. I was parallel parking into a tight spot in front of the library where a whole lot of children and their parents were lined up in front of the bookmobile. The kids were signing up for a how-many-books-do-I-want-to-read-this-summer type of program. The car in front of me hung over its rear parking mark and the car behind me was nearly up to its front parking mark. As I turned off the engine, the Husband and I heard a very angry "HEY!" We looked over to see a man standing against the building, his arms crossed, glaring at us. "Are you talking to us?" the Husband asked. "You hit my car!" the middle-aged man shouted. "We did not," said the Husband. "We would've hea

Until yesterday, that is what the Husband, Molly the Cat, and I saw when we looked out the patio door. Sitting behind the shed was a small chicken coop. Molly loved to climb up the chicken coop, along a plank, and onto the shed's southern eaves to take her nap between breakfast and lunch. For the past year,  the Husband and I have talked about taking down the structures because they were useless. No chickens for the coop (never were!) and if we did have chickens I would rather see them strutting freely (kind of) around the yard. As for the shed, only hobbits would be short enough to stand in it. If, even then. So, why was it built? I don't know, and I don't care to speculate about how it came to be built. When I heard a crow and saw a butterfly as we dismantled the structures, I knew that the Mama liked our decision. It felt good swinging the hammer and being constructively destructive. Pound! Pound! Grunt! Pound! GRUNT! Pound! Pound! The most physical activity

Rusty n ails. Rusty rust. Rusty stringing-words-into-sentences-into-paragraphs-into-stories. I'll get there. Again. 

It's past noon and I haven't done what I said I would do today. But, I did make apple scones for breakfast and went out to the front yard with Molly the Cat to deadhead daisies and pull some weeds. Now I'm writing about it all. All distractions from filling out income tax forms. Doing the taxes should take less than two hours. I already did a first pass last month to get an idea of the damage to our checkbook. So, no big deal, right? I'm listening to the Full Sail album by Loggins & Messina in hopes that it will get me into the mood. Yes, right after I imagine myself snorkeling in Hawaii.  Ah, such pretty fishes.  I'm linking up with All Seasons , a meme hosted by Jesh of Artworks from JeshStG. Click here to check out other participants.

If I had written this post several days ago, I may have been called it Hysterical Report . Actually, I thought about renaming this blog to The Hysterical Report . I'm glad I waited. I'd rather not be hysterical about anything. I am on a new adventure. No. I take that back, it's not new. After 12 years, this adventure's path has come into the foreground. It's simply not a good idea to let the grass grow over this path anymore. My in-my-face-but-not-hysterical-adventure is an upcoming hysterectomy. Da-dah! Oh-oh, did I lose you? Come back when you can wrap your head around the concept of a hysterectomy. It took me awhile. I realize it helps for me to write about it. Yesterday afternoon I got a chest x-ray, one of my three pre-op things to do. The other two are an EKG (next week) and several blood tests (a week before the operation). Did you happen to flash on the Operation board game, by the way? Because I did the X-rays in town, I repeated myself a lot to the lab

When I saw the episode of Grace and Frankie, an original Netflix series starring Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin, in which Frankie (Lily) mentions her diary and Grace (Jane) responds with "Your bullshit diary where you write in the air?", I thought that's how I've mostly been blogging the last 11 months. Unlike Frankie, I mentally write the words. Have you seen Grace and Frankie by the way? In a nutshell it's about two vibrant women in their 70s who suddenly become roommates because their husbands announced they are gay, been having a secret relationship with each other for years, and want a divorce from Grace and Frankie because so that they can married. A mouthful, huh? The series revolve around Grace and Frankie coming to terms with suddenly being on their own after 30-40 years of marriage. It's also about the women becoming each other's main support, although they don't think much of each other's life style. Grace is an uptight former CEO o

With all the current churning of evilness in our country's leadership, we need to take time every day to look for the wonder, the beauty, the eloquence, and the love in our lives and our environment. Call me simple, if you like. Doesn't matter. I have faith that we shall get positiveness, common sense, and humanity back in power again. It's the letter E at ABC Wednesday . To check out ABCW posts from bloggers around the world, please click here . Thanks ABCW Team!

"What got into you?" asked the Husband, looking across the table as I cracked walnuts. "The bananas got browner just like you said would happen," I answered. We bought the bunch of organic bananas yesterday afternoon. I only wanted three bananas, but when I saw that the bananas were a bunch for a dollar, I couldn't bring myself to buy three bananas when I could purchase eight for the same price. Would you? I don't remember if I fully answered the Husband's question. I recall that he went back to checking out Facebook so I must've said that I want the walnuts for making banana bread. Now I think I'll bake scones. Easier. Then I'll freeze the rest of the bananas. I found out I don't even need to peel, slice, or stick them in freezer bags. And when I want to use one or two for baking or smoothies, I simply microwave the bananas for a minute or two. Voila! It's been a good new year so far. I've been very productive, too. Alon

So begins a new adventure around the sun for me. Here I gooooooooooooooooooooooooo. . .

The other day I decided to keep a daily Have-Done list. For awhile, that is. Until I no longer need to let myself know that I have accomplished something each day. Every day, I add things to my To-Do list. As you can see in the photo, the items don't always get done right away. Sometimes, not for weeks after I put them on the list. The Have-Done things, so far, were not on my To-Do list. That's okay. They were usually stuff: •  I would've distracted myself to do so I wouldn't do anything on the To-Do list. For instance, dig up a narrow piece of the front lawn to create a new home for a bunch of jade plants that no longer fit in their pots. •  I would've discovered I needed to do before I could do a To-do item, such as clean the freezer in order to start it up again. •  I needed to do that moment because they needed to get done then and there. We needed to pay that water bill, you know. •  I would've eventually put on my To-do list. That would'

"The surgeon will make an incision in my chest." "Do you think it will be an X?" I asked. The Husband laughed. I think he laughed. I'll say he laughed. I want him to have laughed. Tomorrow morning, a surgeon will make an incision in the Husband's chest and install a pacemaker. Yup. A pacemaker.  The results of the remote heart-monitor the Husband wore for two weeks showed that every now and then his heart flat-lines for several seconds. Not good at all. Thank goodness this problem was caught now rather than much later and that there is a ready solution. And, thank goodness we have a proactive doctor who cares for his patients and is willing to make insurance companies authorize things immediately. The Husband is ready as ready can be for this procedure. I cut his hair and trimmed his beard so the surgeon and his team wouldn't get annoyed at all that hair, especially his beard. How much hair? It filled the vacuum cleaner's canister

Dear Friends, The Mama, the Husband, Molly the cat, and I have rounded the last bend of the Mama's life journey. As we glide through this last leg, please give out a big cheer, throw a kiss, stomp your feet joyously, clap your hands heartily, or do another whooo-hooo of choice.  The Mama sends you big hugs, kisses, smiles, laughs, and much love. She thanks you very much for being part of her life, whether it be directly or indirectly through the Husband, Molly the Cat, or me. Love, Su- sieee! Mac

Molly the Cat and the Mama got a set of killer wheels the other day. Neither responded well to their portable travel wheelchair. Of course, who really wants to use such a chair much else actually own it. "You think the cat will like that?" asked the Mama when she saw what new tool we brought into the house to help her get around safely. The day before it was a bedside commode, and the day before that a walker. Each purchased just in time for its suddenly urgent need. When the Mama was too tired to inch her way forward any further, she sighed and allowed herself to sit in the chair and be glided to the other room. Settling on her couch, she said, "Give the cat a turn." I think Molly the Cat sighed too when she sat on the seat. She allowed herself to ride for a few feet. The killer wheels came into the house only two days ago, but it seems more like weeks. Sigh. In my imagination, I see the Mama, the Husband, and I charging out of the house and down the sidewalks

We are on a new adventure—the Mama, Molly the Cat, the Husband, and I. The Mama's body is failing. Thank goodness, her spirit is not. She's stubborn. That's a positive. Yesterday afternoon, she faced reality. She fell! "You need to use the walker," I exclaimed. "No! The dead people used it," she said, referring to the walker gathering dust in the garage. She used it once upon a time when she was healing from a broken hip. Somewhere along the line she let a friend borrowed it, which his wife returned after he died. "We will get you another one," I said. It was 5 o'clock in the afternoon. Fortunately, for us, we found a bare-basic walker, without the sparkles and whistles, at the pharmacy. Thankfully for us,  the Mama allowed herself to use the walker. I loved that at one point, as she slowly made her way down the hallway, she stamped her feet and scolded her legs for not working with her. Last night, Molly the Cat gave the M

"Hey, kid, you want me." That loaf of sweet French bread jumped out at me as I entered the kitchen. "One slice won't hurt you," it purred, smiling seductively from the kitchen counter. Sigh.  Deep breath. Ignoring my yearning for a taste of the bread, I gathered ingredients to make sandwiches for the Mama's and the Husband's lunch. I simply pretended that I didn't like bread.  It worked, thank goodness. Turns out I still don't know better. Nine days ago, I started to limit the foods that I can eat because I was lethargic and scatterbrained. For the last two months, I had been consuming too many desserts, bread, potato chips, and beer without doing any worthwhile exercise to offset the yummy calories. In addition, my eczema was constantly raging and, frighteningly, an insect bite turned into an ugly fungal infection, which was a first for me.  Burp. Burp. Yeah, a lot of those, too. So, no gluten foods.  No fried foods. No desser

Hello Dear Friends! All in all I had a great reading trip, going back and forth in time and traveling all around the world without leaving home. I didn't realize I'd be away this long from the blog. I actually feel mentally stiff trying to string words together. We are doing fine, thank you all for asking.  As we head into spring, we are going outside more each day. Now and then the Mama goes out to play in her garden. I love those days. Life is kind and gracious. S ' wonderful! It's the letter G on ABC Wednesday with Roger, Melody, Di, and other ABCW team members. Whooo-hooo! Click here to join in or to read other G posts.

Ilocano is the Mama's primary language. It was the Daddy's as well. Ilocano is one of the languages of the Philippines. I'm one of those second-generation people who can understand their parents' primary language proficiently but is a doofus when it comes to speaking it. I don't even think I spoke it before I went to school, which was probably because the Only and Older Brother was already in school when I came along. Because we've lived with the Mama for over 12 years, I've gained back much of my comprehension skills. It's a good thing. As the Mama has gotten older, she is speaking more in Ilocano without realizing it. Her hearing is pretty bad, which has me thinking that a lot of the time English sounds like jibber jabber to her. I've started using a word or two of Ilocano, when I can think of it. Of course, my Ilocano also sounds like jibber jabber to her. Doesn't matter. Broken Ilocano talk, here I am.   Adda iti kayat mo? Is ther