Need I say more.
Cheers to one and all!
I'm linking up with the monthly photography meme Wandering Camera hosted by Soma Acharya of Whims and Fancies. Click here to learn more about the meme and to check out other participants.
I wanted five children. It didn't matter if they were all girls, all boys, or some kind of combination. I like to think that's happening in a parallel universe. I wonder what their names are. Even today, I'll come across a name that I think is a nice candidate for one of my would've been kids. Maeve, Emmie, Sophia, Emerson, Benjamin James. . . . I like strong, happy names.
So, here I am, seven months shy of receiving Medicare, childless. Every time I thought I was pregnant, several days later, hello menses. I had an irregular cycle, so I tried fertility drugs as well as acupuncture to help get my reproductive system going. The acupuncture was a trip. When all the needles were inserted, I instantly felt like my spirit sprung out of my body and tap danced on the ceiling.
In the early 1990s, during the first week of vacation in Washington, I took a home pregnancy test. Yes, by golly! The First Husband and I went immediately into let's-take-care-of-me-and-the-fetus m…
The Husband and I see faces and shapes in rocks, trees, and other inanimate objects. How about you?
Scientists call this phenomenon of seeing things within things facial pareidolia. Some experts say that neurotic individuals are inclined to have this ability. Other experts claim that this condition is quite strong in religious people and those who believe in the supernatural. Leonardo da Vinci considered pareidolia as a tool that artists can use to visualize possible scenes to paint or draw. Carl Sagan thought that pareidolia was a form of survivor tool for individuals to recognize if approaching people are friendly or not. All interesting theories, don't you think?
I'm hooking up with Our World Tuesday. Here's the link for you to check out participants from around the world, and maybe to join up yourself. Thanks, Our World Tuesday hosts!
I have been randomly reading A Dictionary of Modern English Usage by H.W. Fowler that has been sitting on my reference bookshelf since 1994, when I purchased it new for a buck, but did not ever crack open until a few months ago. All these years I missed out on the amusing dry wit of Fowler, along with possibly learning when to use some words appropriately sooner. More than likely I bought this book because it was on a list of must-have reference books for writers. Who knows how many times I've thought about selling Fowler's book or donating it to a thrift shop. I'm glad I didn't.
This morning I read the entry for flurried, flustered, and fluttered. The word fluttered is usually used to describe a timid person who suddenly must deal with a crisis. Fowler did not seem to have much confidence with fluttered individuals. As for the word flustered, Fowler stated that a person so overwhelmed with multiple emotions she can't begin to express herself is best depicted as …
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 thing sitting on the kitch…
Is a hole only round? Can't it be oval, triangular, hectagonal, or another shape?
Must a hole be whole? A whole hole. Couldn't it be partial?
Is a hole always black? Not green? Purple? Rainbow? If it's white, could we see it?
Could a hole by holey? We just can't see the multiple holes in a hole.
Finally, could there be such a thing as a holy, holey whole hole?
Now that you've had your fill of holes, head over to ABC Wednesday, where I've parked my link. It's a fun weekly meme with wonderful bloggers from around the world. Thanks, ABCW team, for hosting the letter H.
Once upon a time when I was young, I needed to have a car insurance adjuster give me an estimate on the damage done to the car I was driving at the time. I no longer recall what the damage was and how the car got damaged, which makes me think that some one thumped or scraped the car in a parking lot and drove away. Or, something similar that made a big enough of a dent for the Daddy to tell me to take it into an insurance office so that I can get it fixed. Immediately.
At the time I was a big girl working and living in San Francisco. Whoo-hooo!
Very responsible I was, this big girl that I was. I even knew where to take the car, without looking it up in the phone book. Remember that book?
Early one Saturday morning, a friend and I drove over to the State Farm Insurance Office near a mall south of the City. Easy peasy. I went into the office and told a guy what I needed. He picked up a clipboard, and, leading me back outside, asked, "Do you have your insurance card?&quo…
The idiom just came to me. So, let me go look it up. . . .
Oh, it's not the I's, but rather the ayes. Now, that makes sense. The ayes have it. In other words, the majority of people who voted in favor of something won. Okey-dokey.
Pondering and writing about that idiom interrupted my original intention for this post. The thought started the other night. What came first: Ink or inkling?
Did someone have an inkling and needed ink for her pen to write about it? Or, perhaps, hmmm, she spilled ink on herself because someone surprised her by whispering in her ear. She stood up quickly, saying with much irritation to that person, "Inkling!" She was too polite to swear, you see.
This morning, while the Husband and I sat not impatiently in the doctor's office (simply a routine visit for the Husband), I wondered what came first: Imp or impossible? And, Id or idiot?
I think it is made from sheep, because that's the artisanal stuff we bought at the independent, natural goodness supermarket in Santa Cruz last week.
I forget that cow's milk isn't the only source for cheese until I eat cheese that's made from other animals. Maybe if I'd been more careful, I could've found the good ricotta made from cow.
For breakfast I ate a peanut butter-ricotta-honey sandwich. As I chewed, I thought of sheep, their wool, their face, and their hooves. I recalled the Warner Brothers cartoon in which the wolf wore sheep's clothing to get closer to the sheep. The sheepdog always beat the wolf at his game. Of course. The funniest part about the cartoon was the end when both the sheepdog and wolf clocked out of their work shift and said, "See you tomorrow."
Molly the Cat came mewing to see what I had for breakfast. She likes cheese, too. I gave her a pinch of the ricotta from my sandwich. Sniff, sniff. She walked awa…
I woke up this morning to Janis Joplin singing Me and Bobby Mcgee. . . . "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose. . ." I've soaked six of the Mama's bittermelon seeds and will put them into the ground on Tuesday. The Mama started seeds in late March to plant in early May. Maybe it's too late for the seeds to take. Maybe not. My To Do lists keep multiplying. Yesterday I got three boxes full of river rocks that a lovely woman in town was giving away. Her sister picked up the rocks from our local river bed. The boxes are still in the trunk. Have no idea yet what I shall do with them The Husband and I wandered around the motorcycle rally in town, listening to the bands and watching the crowds. Vrrroom-vrooom.
Old age realizes the dreams of youth: look at Dean Swift; in his youth he built an asylum for the insane, in his old age he was himself an inmate.~ Soren Kierkegaard
When I was a youth, I dreamt of hiking mountains, pedaling bicycles, paddling boats, crafting words for a living, seeing wondrous sights, traveling to distant lands, hanging out with great friends, and sharing life with an honest, respectful, kindly, compassionate, intelligent, and funny gentle man.
I have realized, and continue to realize, my youthful dreams. How about you?
Youth has no age.~ Pablo Picasso
It's the letter Y at ABC Wednesday. Click here to read other Y posts and/or to join in at the fun weekly meme.
Last night, Molly the Cat plopped in front of me and stretched as far as she could.
"You will do no more computer work," Molly said, thumping her tail on the keyboard whenever I reached for it. "None what so ever."
The Husband and I were gone the whole day, playing with friends at the coast. It was a kayaking adventure, perfect for the hot summer day. Not to worry, the Husband and Gerry the Pacemaker stayed ashore. Once the Husband can handle it, I have plans for us to go kayaking.
Molly the Cat simply has to get used to us going out, and I have to get used to her cutting me off from the computer on those going-out days.
Today, I'm linking up at Seasons, a weekly meme hosted by Jeanette of St Germain's Blog. Click here to join in (which is open until Wednesday) or to read other posts.
It's time to get back into the swing of participating in Teresa's Friday photo hunt meme at her blog, Eden Hills. This week the hunt was for photos interpreting the letter J, week's favorite, and a cuppa.
A Cuppa Joe
I drank a sweet, amazing cup of mocha this afternoon, the first taste of coffee in more than three weeks. As I sipped my personality quickly changed to big smiles, floating contentment, and yakity-yak. Ahhhhhhh.
If some of you are wondering, I'm still on my No-this, No-that food program. After 16 days, I'm allowing myself a treat now and then. So, while we were doing our Saturday errands, the Husband and I stopped at our favorite cafe, Vertigo Coffee, in San Juan Bautista. The above photo isn't of today's wonderful creations by Ryan, but of the amazing mocha's that we had on my birthday in December. If you're ever in San Juan Bautista or passing through the area, check out Vertigo Coffee. The cafe also serves delicious artisanal sandw…
Last month, while I had Gone Reading, I came across the drawing I made in first grade that started me on my path of fear of drawing, painting, and doing anything in the fine arts.
"Make the calves touch the ground," wrote First Grade Teacher. She even drew an example of a calf on the ground on my drawing. Sigh.
Many moons later, I realize that First Grade Teacher was merely doing her job to make sure I knew that cows belonged on the ground and not in air. Teacher did give me an A for the assignment after all. But, it would've been nice if she had also written something like "You have a wonderful imagination, Susie." Or, "The cows look happy in the air. How would they look standing on the ground?"
Three or four years ago, I began to embrace art. To simply draw, paint, make collages, and whatever I feel like trying. The more I do, the less time I stay in a frozen-in-fear mode at the start of a project.
Did you ever see the movie Up, the animated movie about the old man who ran away by tying balloons to his house and flew to a waterfall in South America? He and his companion, a stowaway Cub Scout, met a mechanical dog by the waterfall. The very intelligent speaking dog got sidetracked every so often by squirrels and when he thought he saw one, he'd suddenly turn and say, "Squirrel!" Well, that's me.
Its boingness is more so since I only drink it now and then. Boing! Boing! Boing!
Yesterday was my day of Boing! I brewed coffee for the Mama, the Husband, and me to sip as we ate old-fashioned doughnuts. Yummmmmmm. Boing!
It's the letter B on ABC Wednesday, the weekly meme started by Mrs. Denise Nesbitt and continued today by Roger Green and his ABC Wednesday team. Click hereto participate and/or to check out other participants.
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.