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) Tick. Tick. Tick. I asked the Husband to investigate the ticking sound in the L Studio closet yesterday afternoon. I hadn’t heard it before. “Hush,” he said, reaching for an item from the shelf way up high. (2) He opened a small black case that held a polaroid camera once upon a time. Tick. Tick. Tick. The green wall clock! I wondered where it had gone. The Husband asked, “Did you think a bomb was in there?” (3) Nervous Nelly. She is me. I am her. (4) It’s nearly very soon for my-new-knee adventure to begin. (5) I discovered on Sunday that we don’t have enough decent soup bowls, dessert plates, and other dining ware for a dinner party of six and more. That’s what I get for retiring a lot of Mama’s and my dinnerware to the garden and crafting bins. (6) Dirty gin martinis with eggplant dip and chia and quinoa chips. Orange kobacha soup with petite slices of toasted walnut bread and pastrami bagels. Carbonara bucatini and roasted Brussel sprouts. A trifle of limoncello-soaked almo
Yesterday afternoon I began writing this post to share with Thursday 13 , but interruptions and distractions kept me from finishing. So, here I am this morning to try again. Just pretend this is yesterday. 1. I didn’t think I would write today. Then, the Husband and I went to the dentist for cavity work. 2. At our teeth cleaning, the dentist found we each had a cavity. Another first for us: his and hers cavities. 3. Our dentist is a very cool guy. He plays in a band called the Sake Bombs. Old rock and roll. That’s cool, but even cooler is he had us come in at the same time for the cavity work. 4. Dr. R&R has two stations dedicated for dental work other than cleaning . I got the corner one with all the windows to the busyness of passing everything and everyone. It was nice to look out a window and see something else, even if was waiting for decay to be drilled out of a back molar and the hole refilled. Is all decay the color black? Can it be gold or white? 5. Dr. R&R wor
"Let's make valentines for our friends," I said. "Okay," he said. Have we started? No. #1 Am I becoming Mama? As I pulled out the pit from the avocado, I noticed that it had sprouted. It gave out vibes like it wanted to grow, to become a tree. Our avocado tree began bearing fruit about 10 years ago, more or less. Mama planted seeds throughout the backyard and many (if not all!) of them sprouted. After Mama's Spirit soared into the Universe, I pulled out over 20 avocado plants in the yard, including a couple growing among the roses. Ouch! Yeah, I saved the avocado pit. It's nesting on top of a potted plant on the kitchen counter. If it grows, it grows. It's time for Mosaic Monday , a weekly meme hosted by Angela of Letting Go of the Bay Leaf . It's a cool meme and blog to visit.
"Have we seen this movie before?" I asked the Husband. "This looks familiar." "I don't think so. But it seems like I've seen this scene, too." Two weeks later, more or less, another movie. Said the Husband, "We already saw this movie." "We saw the documentary about his life. But it does seem like we saw something else." "This movie." It turns out the Husband and I had seen the first movie, Olive Kitteridge but not the second one, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood . Two thumbs up for both of them. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Missy Molly the pinky-nosed (wild) Cat sleeps anywhere she wants. So, I shall tiptoe over to Mosaic Monday .
"Summertime and the livin' is easy. . ." So it was, at least, yesterday. We watched a Mama turkey and her two babies amble through a hole in a fence. Not ours, though I wouldn't have minded. A deer stood still in the middle of the country lane we traveled. We sipped a sappy margarita that I concocted out of tequila, triple sec, lemonade, and guava juice. It tasted like cough syrup but we drank it anyway. Next time, I'll leave out the triple sec and lemonade and maybe I'll come up with a guava margarita. We sat outside in the late eve, the Husband, Missy Molly, and I. What pleasure! The Husband plucked a ripe apricot off the tree for us to share. Deep in flavor, the kind that makes your tummy sparkle and you sigh into a smile. Figs! Charlie, short for Charlotte, has borne fruit, at least six of them! That's a first for the "Little Miss Figgy" dwarf tree that friends gave us in 2018. Bean vines are twirling their way up and a
"Why are you cleaning? "asked Molly the pinky-nose (wild) Cat, as she scrambled among our feet, the broom, and the vacuum cleaner. "Are we having another party?" Nope, it's the 23rd, our monthly housecleaning date, a 2020 venture. So far, so good. With the Husband and I working together, we're done in a couple of hours. So it seemed today. Sweep. Dust. Vacuum. Scrub. Molly made sure she was somewhere else. This is what you see when you walk up our driveway. Sorry, I don't remember the names of anything that's not a rose, daisy, spider plant, California poppy, canna lily, jade, or uhm, I think that's it. Geranium! How I can forget geraniums? We have pink, white, red, bi-color, vine, bush, smelly, and not smelly at all. They live in the front yard, too. They're up towards the house so you can barely see them in the photo. I have a decent success rate of propagating geraniums for someone who goes on intuition and by hit-and-miss.
1. Pop! went the left lens of my eyeglasses. So much lighter with just one lens. And, when I perch the frame on my nose just so, and hold my head just so, everything straight ahead is clear and in focus. 2. It was one week ago that steady-handed Dr. Eye made that slit in my eyeball, extracted the cataract, and implanted a brand new artificial lens. Hmmmm. What if the science fiction stories about implanting chips into unknowing people were true? Shudder. 3. Purrrrrrrrrr. "It's only your imagination," says Molly the (wild) Cat. 4. Yesterday, the Husband drove me to the library. I don't want to drive until I have full vision in both eyes again. That may be May. Was that a sigh I heard? 5. "I'll take that." The Husband carried my bag of books from the house to the car, then from the car to the library counter, and vice-versa. I'm not supposed to handle anything over 10 pounds for a while. Jiggity-jig. 6. I'm not allowed to bend,
Tried and True? Or, an experiment? That's what I asked the Husband, who took himself out of the science fiction story he was reading for the nearly-one-too-many time, within probably 15 minutes. I am a fortunate woman because the Husband didn't ignore me, nor grunted, then ignored me or snarlingly said, "What." The Husband, instead, looked up from his book and asked, "I don't know what you're talking about. What are you referring to?" ("Now" is what I added in my head.) "What do you think?" I asked. "Should I make the olive cheese balls the usual way or try something different?" He pondered and considered (I love that) before having a level-headed discussion with a whirly-minded woman as myself. We agreed the only constant (kinda) was the cheesy-buttery dough because the types of olives and cheese rarely were the same combination as the first time I made the recipe. I could refer to the recipe, but I do
coffee. This morning the Husband and I shared a chocolate old-fashioned doughnut to enjoy with our cups of black coffee. Happy smiles all around. Cable. I want us to get rid of our cable subscription. The Husband agrees it's too expensive for the few channels we watch. Will we? you ask. We will, I'm sure we will. The bigger question: When will we? Procrastinators are us. ceramics. When I was 19, my big dream was to own a bookstore with a ceramics workshop in the back. Cute. The Husband says I'm cute. I tell him it's because he loves me. He says, "It's because you are cute." chicken. There are times when I think our representatives at the local, state, or national level of government are too chicken to make a stand one way or the other. Bwak, bwak cooking. I do that once a day, at least, most days. I like when it's a some day. Coast-co. "We're going to Costco," I would say to Mama. "Where?" she w
The Husband says I am predictable with my choice of music, which is why he made a bet with me yesterday afternoon. "What do you think I'm going to play?" asked I, as I headed towards the Bose player with a CD in my hand. "Da da dah da da dah....." The Husband sang the first notes of "Baroque and Blue" performed by Claude Bolling and Jean-Pierre Rampal. Our small music collection consists of CDs of our favorite albums of yore, and I do like to play one of two Bolling CDs on a sunny afternoon. "Want to bet ten bucks on that?" The Husband doesn't bet unless it's a sure thing that he is right. "Sure." he said to my surprise. But, then, according to him, I am predictable. "OK!" I inserted the CD. Santana! Ha! "You owe me $10!" "What?" "You lost the bet." The Husband groaned. "I'll put it on your tab." It isn't often that I catch the Husband of
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
Good news! The ophthalmologist saw the back of the Husband's eyeball this morning. His eyeball is long and elongated, probably so much so that first the optometrist and then his regular ophthalmologist couldn't see anything because they have older machines. Imagine being seen by physicians who have state-of-the-art technology at their fingers to help them diagnose and treat you, no financial strings attached. Now, that's a utopia for you. Have you ever wondered if utopia could exist in a country or another organization with millions and millions of members? While sitting in the waiting room, we met a man undergoing kidney dialysis three days a week. As part of telling his story, without prompting, he showed us his wounds. Oh my gosh, embedded in his forearm was something that looked like a cow's hoof under his skin. It's called a bovine carotid artery graft (I looked it up when I got home.) that helps with the dialysis process. If I showed horror when he fi
Today I'm playing hooky. Yes, I'm retired, but even retired people need to play hooky from everyday routines. For me that has meant, so far, sleeping in until 10 a.m. (I don't recall the last time I did that when I wasn't sick.) and watching TV while I ate my breakfast of black coffee and Brie slapped between two slices of sourdough bread. The Husband eventually moseyed over to the living room with his second cup of coffee and plopped on the couch. He was content with me clicking the remote. We ended up watching Kitty Lynne Klich paint her interpretation of a photograph of an Italian scene. I thought it fascinating how she mixed colors and applied light and dark hues to get what she wanted. At some point of watching Kitty, Molly the Cat sashayed by. She looked perplexed. Why were we sitting in the living room in the morning? Why is the TV on? Why is Missus Lady sitting in Hero Man's seat and Hero Man is hers? Is that Brie I smell on your breath Missus Lady
The Husband and I finished and installed a fun project on Friday. Some of you may remember I talked about the work-in-progress fence project last Sunday. Amazingly it only took us six days from creating the first fence panel to the installation of seven panels weaved with branches from the backyard trees. That's a short time, considering who we are. It was lots of fun working with the Husband on it. He agreed. We love the final result. We don't know about the neighbors, who I hope simply think of us as those old hippies doing their thing. Hmmm. Maybe that's not a good idea. The Daddy warned me not to end up being a hippie, which to this day I have no idea what he considered made up a hippie. I can only hope I did not disappoint him. lol This morning the Husband showed me how to tie Boy Scout knots. One knot reminded me of the stitch the Mama taught me for hemming. Another knot had me thinking of knitting, and still another of crochet. I didn't do so well re
Welcome to our havoc of a patio. The Husband calls it "lived in", the kind man. Most, if not all, of the placement of things on the patio was done by me. Thank you. That's not abandoned clutter, mind you. Nearly everything in sight is a work-in-progress of something, whether individually or collectively. They're all in different stages. Some, I grant you, are still at the starting line. For instance that brass lamp with many arms which friend Missus H gave me. I fell in love with it when I saw it hanging out in her barn. Not sure yet whether to dismantle the wiring. Towards the back end, by the miracle tree is a work-in-progress actually being worked on. I pulled out the fence of twigs in the front yard by the sidewalk because it looked *gasp* messy. (That's right, these eyes of mine know messy from eclectic whimsy.) So, the Husband and I decided to make a sturdier fence. We've got two panels done. What do you think? I think they're cool. T
Part of the pink tea rose plant leaned over the pathway to the front door, making it a sweet-smelling and annoying obstacle for us, humans. Molly the Cat had no complaints. The Husband and I considered using the Mama's aluminum tiny step ladder. It was a perfect height for holding up the rose branches. But, as is our custom, the Husband and I left the thought hanging in the air. Last week the Husband called up to the second floor office window, "Where is the ladder?" He was outside watering the front yard. (I say "call" because the Husband and I don't like to shout or yell. We merely project our voice from our diaphragm like old-time actors on a stage. So I think.) "I don't know," I called out from my desk about 10 feet away from the window. My hand still posed over the keyboard, I said, "I'll go look." Fortunately the Husband called up, "Never mind." By then I was curious so I searched for the ladder. Yup. I