Lately, I've been using a facial cream made up of tallow from grass-fed cows and organic extra-virgin olive oil. Every time I rub the stuff into my face, I think of fried steak. Yummmm. That's the smell of the cream. And, that's what my face smells like. The Husband has no sense of smell. Poor guy. He doesn't get to smell how deliciously like fried steak I am. Why am I using this yummy eau de fried steak ? I have a horrible case of facial eczema and experts say that tallow fat mimics human skin, has minerals that help heal and protect the skin, and has natural cleansing and anti-inflammatory properties. It's too early to say if eau de fried steak is working. No. I haven't been eating a lot of fried steak lately. But, I do think about it each time I apply eau de fried steak on my face. P.S. Tilda-Hilda and I did a quick pedal around the neighborhood this morning. I totally got myself out of breath. Maybe, I'll talk myself—and the Husband—into

Klunga-langa-tank. Klunga-langa-tank. Klunga-langa-langa-langa-lagna-langa-tank! That's the Husband's and my new song, based on the sound my purple pencil makes when I push on the end of it. Over and over. And over. And, over. Words are on strike in my brain today. Or, maybe it's my brain that's on strike. The words are simply in their cubbyholes waiting to be put together into a story. So, if you please, I hope you'll come back tomorrow for my Alphabe Thursday post about the Gilroy Yamamoto Hot Springs. Ciao. And chow, I would definitely like right now.

I've been seeing a lot of yellow vehicles lately—yellow sedans and sports cars, school-bus-yellow RVs and trucks, and bright-yellow vans and motorcycles. Yellow must be the new popular choice. I like that. My first car was a lemon-yellow 1971 Dodge Colt.  That was my high school graduation gift. I fell in love with it, at first sight. There were two colors available, and the Daddy liked the other one, which color I no longer remember. He was a great sport and let me have the yellow Colt. I think the Mama was disappointed that I didn't want some kind of flashy, sporty, or more feminine-looking car. The Daddy seemed to have no problem with the Colt being a boxy subcompact, as it ran perfectly and it was new. (The Daddy liked buying new vehicles.) It was also cheap. Very cheap, as I was happy with no radio, no air conditioning, no anything extra. Emeline is what I called her. We definitely had some great adventures. The first was learning how to drive her. She was a stick s

This morning, I got up before the sunrise to take a photo of a neighbor's Halloween decorations. My hardworking point-and-click no longer takes pictures well at night or very dark settings. Poor guy. Since I was out, I thought I'd wait around for the sun to show itself, so I walked a bit around the neighborhood. But, the sun didn't pop up until I got  home. Oh well. I did see some cool morning sights, including the bird of paradise hiding behind tall grass that look like cat tails. By the way, if you're interested, click here to see the neighbor's Halloween decorations. All Hallow's Eve to you, one and all.

Red Pallets Zipping Down the Highway . Sounds like a good title for something, don't you think? Yesterday morning, I saw a rig loaded with red pallets zipping past us at the traffic light. It was a poem in movement. "There goes a picture," I said to the Husband. "Too bad I didn't have my camera out." "What?" "That truck with the red thingies on them." "Those are pallets. What makes that a picture?" "Because they're red. How often do you see fire-red pallets? And, a lot of them piled high on the back of a truck?" About seven minutes later, the Husband said, "We're coming up to the red pallets." I fumbled for my purse, hoping the traffic lights up ahead would stay red. I got the camera out. The lights turned green. I rolled down my window. The husband pulled into the left lane to get around the truck.  I focused the camera. Oh well. I got a little bit of the red pallets, at least.

The ornamental pear tree in our front yard is totally mixed up. Flowers are blooming on some of its branches. They are definitely pretty, but that's not supposed to happen in October. Nor, for that matter in December or January. That was going on last year and earlier this year. Some branches bloomed in mid or late Spring when they are supposed to do their thing. I don't think it's because of the drought. This tree is said to tolerate drought conditions. I think it's the hot temperatures we've been having the last two months that's causing some flowers to bloom. We have yet to see flowers bloom on every branch at the same time. If it did, wowza, I imagine it to look like a tree full of snow.

"And that's how our generation does it!" exclaimed one of the rocking band members, who was in his early to mid-60s. "Whoooo-hoooo!" shouted the Husband and I, clapping wildly on the dance floor. We'd been dancing our hearts, souls, and bodies out for the past three hours to soul, funk, and good old rock 'n roll. That last dance—Johhny B. Goode. Whooo-hooo! Most of the evening, we shared the dance floor with a few other old fogeys and one younger couple who had sweet technical dance moves. During the last hour, young men and women of the reunion Class of 2005 streamed into the lounge. But, it was not until the last two songs that they had enough liquid courage to get out on the dance floor, and finally get into the music of their grandparents generation.  What a fun night! The band even dedicated a song to me— Cinnamon Girl . First time, ever. 

The fronds kind of form the letter E. Roger Green of Ramblin with Roger did this fun game for his post on ABC Wednesday some weeks back. When I read the post , I thought I'd like to do the game one day. You're in luck, this is the day. Directions of The Last Name Game: Use the first letter of your last name to answer each of the following questions. They have to be real places, names, things, nothing made up. 1. Last name?  Echaore-McDavid.  Yup. That's my legal surname. Some people file me under E, while others file me under M. 2. An animal? Ewok. Okay, that's made up. Or, is it?  Emu, then. 3. A boy’s name: Evan, the coffee guy at Vertigo Coffee who can make amazing designs on coffee drinks. 4. A girl’s name: Edith, as in Edith Bunker and Jenn's sister. 5. An occupation? Event Coordinator is a real job, which I think would be fun to do. My first thought though was an Eagle Tamer, which is probably not a real thing. 6. A color? Ecru.  Is th

Three days later, I'm ready to brag about my county fair ribbons. For some of them, I don't know if I would've won if there had been a lot more competition. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for all of them—four blue and one red ribbon in flower arrangements, one blue and one yellow ribbon in photography, and a white ribbon in wearable art. Whooo-hooo! My most unbelievable win was the blue ribbon for my dry floral arrangement in the Country Road Treasure class. You had to use objects found along the road as containers or accessories. I found a broken piece of PVC pipe with jagged edges along the road while the Husband and I were walking home. It was perfect. When friend Kathy saw my arrangement, she described it as modern minimalism. I was told that the arrangement received a lot of comments. Good or bad, I didn't ask.  You saw my Eiffel Tower martini glass arrangement already. If you haven't, click here .  These were my other flower arrangement entries.

I simply stood there, mesmerized by the yellow duckies floating in a carnival booth at the county fair. I had no idea what the game was. I didn't even care since it probably meant having to pay five bucks to play it. Then I noticed a guy taking a photo of the duckies and walking away.  So, of course, I took a photo. Quack! Quack! That reminds me of when I was younger thing. A friend and I paddled a patched up rubber raft in a rubber ducky race. We were fortunate to make it to finish line without sinking.

My Alphabe Thursday theme: Places I've Been The Husband and I drove over to the coast this afternoon to buy food for Molly the Cat. It was something neither of us wanted to do, but Molly ate her last can of food this morning. Yes, we have a very particular cat. She would rather go hungry then eat something that doesn't taste or smell good to her. But, Molly the Cat is not the story today. The clouds are the story. They were swimming, running, tumbling, dancing, and singing across the perfect blue sky. You see, it rained last night. Hallelujah! It rained throughout the night. Whooo-hooo! And it rained some this morning. Yippee!   All that wonderful rain left us with clear blue skies and whipped-cream like clouds. And, because the Husband was driving, I took photos. I was good at first, sitting primly (I heard that snort of a laugh) in my seat shooting photos through the passenger window and the windshield.  Before I knew it, I was leaning out the window.

Hurrah, I went beyond the neighborhood today. Tilda-Hilda and I pedaled 3.33 miles in about 18 minutes. Going up slight inclines was a challenge, but, oh so good for me.  We stopped at Sunnyslope School for a picture. That's where I went to 4th and 5th grade. The door on the right was my 4th grade classroom, where I suddenly went from being one of the tallest kids to one of the shortest ones. The door on the corner opened to my 5th grade classroom. I loved going into that door. So much imagination went on in there for me. I was introduced to writing make-believe stories and buying my own books through the monthly Scholastic book club. Mrs. Patterson, our teacher, calmed us down from lunch break by reading to us. Freckles , The Girl from the Limberlost , Anne of Green Gables , and The Secret Garden were the ones I recall. My world opened up in 5th grade.

“Alice asked the Cheshire Cat, who was sitting in a tree, “What road do I take?” The cat asked, “Where do you want to go?” “I don’t know,” Alice answered. “Then,” said the cat, “it really doesn’t matter, does it?”  ~ Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

The Mama loved to sew dresses for me in pink when I was in elementary school. I didn't care too much for the color, but because I wasn't interested in looking at fabric back then, she bought what she liked. Long story short, once I got to a point where I began choosing materials or ready-made clothes, I avoided pink. Then somewhere in my late 40s, I thought the color pink is fresh. It's bold. It's got pizazz. It's joyful. It's happy. Again, long story short, I think I'll put some pink in the tunic I am going to sew soon.

Lately, I find myself whispering, "I'm an old person." I snicker. I chuckle. I laugh out loud. I shake my head. Am I not dreaming? I shake my head. I am in awe that I'm actually old. I shrug it off. I put it in perspective. The Mama is over 30 years older than me. And, you know where she is right now. Playing in her garden.

"I seem to be doing everything at the last moment," I said to the Husband, while we stood in line at the post office. I was sending a gift for a baby shower happening on Saturday. "Why is that?" he asked. I shrugged. "I don't know. I'll probably die at the last moment." "They'll ask you 'What happened?'" said the Husband. "'You should've been here last week.'" What can I say? That's life.

I walked into a woman's boutique shop in Santa Cruz to check out a very cute East-Indian style top that I saw in its window. It was similar to ones I wore when I was a very young thing. I thought if the cost was right it was going home with me. I was even willing to pay $45 for it, although I thought it was worth $20 bucks. I have no sense of how much clothing are worth these days. Twenty bucks was how much I paid for eccentric stuff, which the the parents called hippie clothes, at import shops when I was a very young thing. The East-Indian tops of yore were made of a thin cotton. This modern version was made of a smooth, rich-feeling fabric that turned out to be rayon. Not being silk, I figured the top would be very affordable. Then I finally found the price tag. One hundred ninety-eight dollars! Shall I say that again: $198.00!! Seriously. When I got home, I looked up the designer online. Maybe I'd find the top for cheaper. Ha! $218.00!!! I saw several

Sounds like a nice title for something -- Peppers & Persimmons. Or, perhaps, Persimmons & Peppers. Maybe without the ampersand, and italicized: Peppers and Persimmons ; or, Persimmons and Peppers. The pepper plants have been kind to us this year. Three of four fruits every couple of weeks. The persimmons are slowly ripening on the tree. We're going to have an extra good crop this year.  See you tomorrow.

Molly the Cat is about to run out of food. That means we need to drive over to the coast today. Yay! It'll be a bit cooler. We've had two days of 100+ temperatures. Today is supposed to be the same. The weather guys say we may have a thunderstorm this weekend, possibly without the rain. Since we're over there, we'll also go on a quest for grass-fed beef liver for the Mama. Her doctor has been monitoring her blood count for the last few months. Yesterday, he finally got worried and has referred her to a blood specialist, which got Mama wanting to eat liver. She's willing to eat beef liver from any market. Not anymore for me. If we have time, I would like to stop at a Goodwill or another thrift shop to check out old, funky jewelry. I haven't found the beads I want for my county-fair bracelet entry. What kind of beads, the Husband asks? I shall know when I see them. Off we go!

This afternoon, I shut the car door while I kinda stood between it and the car. The edge of the door jarred my jaw on its way to its destination. Kinda made the nerves in my skull sizzle. I'm very talented. Fortunately, nothing other than a tiny bit of pain in the jaw for a few minutes. "I don't like it," I said to the Husband as we drove to the produce stand. "You wouldn't like being a boxer then," he said. DAYS 47 to 60 with TILDA-HILDA Did you wonder if Tilda-Hilda and I had stopped riding for the year? Not at all. We're been doing things a bit differently. Three Saturdays ago was the the last time Tilda-Hilda and I went out on the back roads.  Since then, we've been sticking to our neighborhood and an occasional ride to downtown, as my left knee recuperates. Most of our riding had been pedaling three blocks back and forth to Godmother Pat, once or twice a day. She had a horrible accident in July that resulted in the loss of t