In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now approaching 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 read that morning glory blooms last one day, hence the sweet flower's name. Well, then, I shall stop complaining about how quickly the new kind of morning glory I sowed this year fades away. Isn't it gorgeous, oh so frilly pretty in pink? By the way, do you see a face in the morning glory? I see a couple. In the above color photo, when I focus on the slit, which looks like an eye, I see a lion's face. Now, in the black and white photo below, I see a profile of a face looking to the left in that bottom petal. Anyone else see a chin and mouth? Do you see faces in flowers, clouds, trees, and other objects? There's a name for that ability. It's called pareidolia. There are times when I'd rather not see faces in things, especially when they're spooky. I'm sharing with Mosaic Monday today. Yes, I know it's Tuesday. :-)
1. I've been working in the yard the past few days. It's getting where I prefer being outdoors. What am I talking about? I've always rather be outside. It was when I was living in San Francisco that I got used to being indoors. After all, I can walk around without shoes. 2. Speaking of being barefoot. Last night we watched Sayonara , starring Marlon Brando, a 1957 film based in Japan about the prejudice against interracial relationships, in particular, marriage (Heavens to Murgatroyd) between American military men and Japanese women. There was also a hint of lust between a Japanese man and an American woman, which probably drew both an aghast! and a titillated hmmm from the audience. 3. There's a similar theme in the musical South Pacific . In one scene, the American officer, who's in love with an island girl, and the American Army nurse, who's horrified the deceased wife of the man she loves was an island woman, commiserate about having to foll
I like to keep a bunch of rocks nearby when I paint so that I can use up any leftover paint on them. Wouldn't it be funny if the rocks in the yard seek hidey holes because they dread the thought of being splashed with clothing? Now that would make for an interesting story. Be my guest. This afternoon I happened to notice the various faces of a green painted rock. A different story on every face. These are only four of its faces out of eight, possibly 10 or more. What stories do you see? On Mondays, when I can, I like to participate in Angie's Mosaic Monday at Letting Go of the Bay Leaf . Come check out the other bloggers with me. By the way, here's what happened at last week's City Council meeting that I was in a hurry to check out live on TV: The Council voted 3-1 to disregard the mayor's appeal to stop the construction of a project to build condos on top of retail stores and another building to house nonprofit organizations on a downtown lot that h
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
I woke up to a heavy fog cover this morning. If I didn't know better, I would've said no eclipse for us today. I kn e w better. About 15 minutes before the total eclipse, I put on my sunglasses, grabbed a stool, and went out to sit on the driveway. Molly the Cat followed me out the door but she swerved to the right to stare at the pine cone covered with spider web nudged in the fence. The Husband came out seconds later. "You aren't going to see anything." "Sure I will." He went back into the house only to return with a cup of coffee for me. Such a guy! "Where are the cards?" I asked. He had pricked 3x5 cards for us to view the eclipse. "You're not going to see anything." "You don't know that." He sighed. Still, he went inside and fetched the cards. While he was gone, I looked up into the sky. It sure seemed like I could see the outline of the sun through the fog cover. For sure, the sky was ge
Come See the Strange Thing! Posters called out to the Husband and me once upon a time at the county fair. Only a Dollar! How could we resist? We walked up to the counter, plunked down our two bucks, and entered the tent. Pictures and articles were plastered on the wall. I didn't want to read. I wanted instant gratification. Where is the Strange Thing! ? Then. . . . Eeeeeeeeeeeew! On display was a shriveled up something that looked like a dried up armadillo. Yuck . The Strange Thing! was said to be a blood-sucking creature called a chupacabra. Was it real? Qué sera, sera? The Internet mostly says the chupacabra is an urban legend, but that doesn't keep the curious from conducting field research. Years later the Husband and I crack up whenever one of us brings up The Strange Thing! Have we learned our lesson? Will we plunk down hard-earned cash to see the next Strange Thing! at a county fair? Qué sera, sera? By the way, we have our own little strange th