Today,  begins NaNoWriMo , which is short for National Novel Writing Month. Thousands of writers from all over the world commit themselves to completing a 50,000-word novel by the end of the month. That's about 1,666 words a day. That is not easy! Last year, I signed up to give a try. My enthusiasm lasted one day, which, for last year, was pretty good as I was feeling quite burnt out. I just didn't know it then. Once upon a time I wanted to write a Great American novel. Do I still? Dunno. I do have my unfinished novel, The Mystery of Sweet Fat's Ballroom , on my computer. The story takes place in both the present and in the mid-1930s. Lately, I think I should rewrite it. Keep the story in the 1930s, with flashbacks, if any, going back to the early 1900s. Okay, writing that got me excited. I might just go immerse myself in the past to get the imagination juices rolling. But, I know, for sure, I won't be writing 1,666 words today. So what got me thinking about Na

Will the cricket be background music to words anytime soon? Stay tuned, dear readers.

Ovulation. No more of that for me. Old. That's what I am and I'm fine with it. Ostentatious. Who me? Ovid. Never read his stuff. Should I start? Ogre. I can watch a Shrek movie over again. Ocean. Sometimes I think I could live by the ocean, especially if it is a warm ocean in which I could swim every day with the Husband. Say, like the ocean surrounding the Hawaiian Islands. Obequitate. As some of you dear readers know, I love to ride around on Tilda-Hilda, the pretty hard-working pink cruiser that she is. Obtuse. "You are such an obtuse thinker, Susie," said my high school government teacher long, long ago. Ha! He didn't know me at all. Now, if he had said to me, "You're such a dreamer."  So, now you know a bunch more stuff about me, brought to you by the fifteenth letter of the alphabet.  Olé! I'm hanging out at Jenny Matlock's Alphabe Thursday today. Come join me and read other posts featuring the letter O .

I drew socks the other day because I bought some socks for the Mama and me. They are just as colorful as the ones in the picture. The Husband bought socks, too. He was the instigator, which meant he needed socks and the Mama must have forgotten to give him socks for Christmas. Actually, it was more like she forgot to tell me that she wanted to buy his annual Christmas bunch of socks. I should've remembered, but I haven't been good in that department either. A couple weeks ago, I forgot about the Mama's doctor appointment. At least, I remembered the following day and called the doctor's office. We went on Friday for his five-minute examination to make sure she is still ticking. Yup, she is indeed. Her blood count actually went up,  and her blood pressure is that of a spring chicken. The Mama also gained a pound. She'd been losing a pound every four months for the past two years so I was very happy to hear the nurse say she was 110. The Mama's reaction. "

I'm not going to talk about garbage, other than to say that tonight we put the garbage cans out on the curb.  It seems like I just brought them in, which is my way of saying that lately the days go by much too quickly. I had planned to write a post on Monday, then yesterday, and then before lunch this morning. Now, I want to post this before I start making dinner in um 20 minutes. It's going to be a good dinner, too. We went to the Farmers Market this afternoon. All three of us—the Mama, the Husband, and me. It was a rare outing for the Mama and even rarer because she initiated the adventure. She was able to walk a block, back and forth, before she tired out. Hurrah for the 90+ Mama! Although, afterwards, when she plopped into the car, she said, "I don't think I will come anymore." And, when we reached home, she said, "I don't think I can go anywhere anymore. I want to sit down all the time." We could get her a walker with a chair so that sh

The first, okay, maybe it was the fourth, thing I did this morning before breakfast was write that To Do list. I did finish the mystery I've been reading at breakfast. I diligently stuck with the story although I didn't care for the protagonist who was too much of an insecure whiner. But once I learned who the suspect was, I skimmed through the final scenes. I closed the book and purposely went to complete something else. For about the next two hours, I topped off the Mama's outdoor potted plants with potting soil. It was something I had been thinking about doing for the last two summers. The other week, while the Mama was watering her plants, she mentioned that they needed more soil. "Uh-huh," I said, glancing at them and thinking I need to do that before she got to it. Fortunately, for me, a few days ago, the Husband and I bought three huge bags of potting soil. The Mama requested one, but I bought two extra bags. Not because I was going to add soil to

I admit it. I've watched a lot of TV in my life, ever since the Mickey Mouse Club in the 1950s. But, not enough to call myself a tvholic. Oh, sure there are days or nights when I sit in front of the TV and jump from channel to channel during commercials. That's so I don't think about stuff, including writing projects. These days, I usually fall asleep after an hour of TV, if even that, including on programs that I like. For instance, I rarely make it through Elementary , the show about Holmes and Watson in modern day New York. It could be a genetic trait. The Mama falls asleep in front of the TV after dinner.  Molly the Cat snuggles alongside her and they both snore in front of the TV. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.  I suppose I could stay awake if I wasn't lying down. "Sit up," says the Husband, waving his hand in front of my face. "I'm awake," I mumble. Barely, of course, but I'm not going to say so. And, maybe I shouldn't close my eyes durin

Okay. So, I changed the name of the blog, from Don't Be a Hippie...Then and Now to The View from the Top of the Ladder . Will a new name get me to write regularly, or just write? We shall see, dear Readers. I haven't written in a long time. Anything. No, that's false. Occasionally, I write short articles for moolah, and  I post at Take 25 to Hollister , with the goal of doing it everyday for a year. But, until this moment, I haven't said anything about my intent there. I just post. I'll know on January 7, 2015, if I have accomplished my goal. A second time. This is the fourth blog title change for me. The last three times, I started a new physical blog. This time, I realized whatever for. My writing voice hasn't change. Neither have the topics that I  write about because there is nothing new under the sun, including my "writer's block" that has been going on  for more than several months. Possibly years. Some would say that I don't ha

I don't know what got into me. The Husband and I went to the supermarket yesterday afternoon to purchase fixings for split-pea soup for dinner. That meant grab a slice of ham from the meat department and fill a bag with about 2 pounds of split peas from the bin in the produce section. But, then we walked by the fish display. Wild, but previously frozen, Rex sole was on sale for $4.99 per pound. Neither of us ever had it before. Its name intrigued me. About a pound, please, sweet butcher lady. Then I saw the squid. Ooooh. And, the octopus. Double ooooooh . The squid would be a treat for the Mama and for me. The octopus, too, if cooked correctly so it wasn't all rubbery. The Husband doesn't care for either, but he can have 2 pieces of the Rex sole. So, I asked for about a half pound of the squid and a quarter pound of the octopus. As the butcher lady wrapped the items, I spied the locally made sausages. I turned to the Husband. "Shall we get some sausage?"

I have a blue notebook that's entitled Efficiency Notebook . It was something I found in one the Father-in-Law's boxes labeled Office . The notebook's cover states that inside are 80 medium ruled and margin line sheets. After the Husband and I tore out the pages with the Father-in-Law's notes, fewer than 40 blank pages were left. Why didn't we just throw out the notebook? I don't know anymore. Maybe the kuripot in me wouldn't let it go. Kuripot , for those curious, means cheap, thrifty, penny-pinching, or frugal in Ilocano. Some people characterize the Ilocanos, which is my ancestry, as being kuripot . But, then I could just be individually that way. When I hold my palm up, fingers naturally resting against each other, I can't see any light between the fingers. That, according to the Mama, means I'm pretty good about not spending a lot of money. Yes, that's the reason I think insurance of any kind is a scam. Anyway, the Efficiency Notebook

The most amazing thing happened to me yesterday morning, as I was pedaling my pretty pink bicycle. Quite freaky, in fact. Totally insane. I wish I had one of those cameras strapped to my head so I could've recorded the whole thing, which lasted a few seconds but in slooooooooow motion seemed God, Almighty! long. In my mind, what I did is akin (almost) to attempting the circle-of death-biker stunt. Hey! Don't laugh. You gotta remember I'm a fat, young old fogey turning 60 in a few months, which I say in a very positive way. Okay, okay. I think I've got your attention to the kinda, somewhat, yes, indeed risk I experienced yesterday morning. It was about 8:17 a.m. For those of you who don't know my normal pattern, that hour is like sunrise for me. The Husband was still snoozing in bed, the Mama was eating her breakfast, and Molly the Cat was gazing out the back window probably thinking about climbing the fence. Me, I had a meeting to go to and by, golly, this time

The map of the world hangs on the wall above my cluttered desk and my more-than-often-than-should vacant mind. Above the map hang a few cobwebs. I'm sure Molly the Cat would be fascinated with the cobwebs if she would look up. Fortunately, the desk is too cluttered for her to find a spot to park while I work. The map? Yes, the map. I like maps. Except for topo maps, I can read a map. Reading maps, even street maps, are fun. For me. When I think of Africa, I see the number seven in a serif font. Australia makes me think of a terrier. On this world map, Greenland is orange. As are Brazil, Saudi Arabia, India, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Korea. I see no key for colors so maybe it means nothing more than that's what the creator of the map wished to color those nations. You would think I'd gaze at that map a lot. Nope. I put it up to inspire me. But, it only reminds me that I haven't traveled more than I would've thought I would by now. If I think long a

No, I haven't forgotten to write Part 2 about buying birthday perfume for the Mama . Yesterday afternoon while looking for a bookmark I found the envelope containing all the tags and bits of information about the perfume samples that I got her. So, part 2 is a coming. One day. These days, it just takes me a long while to get around to doing the fun writing. Something called writing deadlines get in my way, as does making meals for the crew and doing the minimum housecleaning that I can get away with, which generally means when we're all sneezing. Not to say trying to stay half a step ahead of the Mama and remember to go water the flowers and chayote vines before they wilt. Oh, and other stuff, whatever they are. By the way, is anyone out there flinching with my grammatical errors yet. I'm sure they're there. "They" referring to errors. I ought to be sleeping. I've got only 15 minutes left of the sleep cycle for my liver to regenerate itself. I read somewhe

Really? It's been almost a month since I posted a post. Wish I could say I was traveling or wandering in wonder lust. Nope. Just getting on with life. Dusting and vacuuming a bit more often to keep my facial eczema from flaring so awfully awful that my eyes become swollen. How swollen? The recessive epicanthic folds of my eyelids show themselves. An advantage for me. Nobody thinks anything is wrong with my eyes. Celebrating the husband's 60th anniversary of being born. Every 60-year-old child should have a birthday party complete with bubble wands, darts, and other games. And lots of his favorite food. Finishing a deadline and starting another one. Sigh. I'm boxed in until 12/12/12. So, by golly, the world better not end on 12/21/12! Working on my 40th high school class reunion. The husband doesn't believe me when I say this is the last time I work on a reunion. "Absolutely," I say. "Uh-huh," he says. So, that what has kept me me away from writing

One: Slice a mango.  The other day, the mama bought a box of mangoes from a guy, who might not have a license for selling boxes of such beautiful fruit on the street corner. The mangoes are huge and delicious.  It's a pity, I mangle them when I slice them. Two: Uh, I forgot. Three: I forgot that, too. Slicing the mango? Definitely, should learn to cut one. But will I? Maybe if I say "Ought to learn to cut one." The way I phrase things makes a difference.  I may actually learn to slice it. This old dog can still learn new tricks. I learned for instance that if I had said this instead: "I might actually learn to slice it." I would not learn to do it at all. I'm not kidding. The husband gave me this link the other day so that I would understand the difference in usage of may and might . It's rather interesting. Did you know that might is the past tense of may ? I may have known that at one time. Yes, I just might have. Now, I should go look up how to s