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Showing posts with the label nonsequitur rambling

The Bee's Knees

Hey, ya. Hi, ya. How ya? Imagine a Lilo smile (Lilo, as in Lilo and Stitch , a 2002 Disney movie).  That is how I'm feeling. Also a bit foggy brained and weary boned from all the week-long fun of turning 65! years old. That, dear blogging friends, is why I have been quiet in my corner of the world. For my birthday gift, the Husband and I rented a car to travel beyond 25-year-old Eliza Does-alot's comfort radius, as well as drive after sunset, if need be. Eliza's headlights do not compete with today's head beams, which blind me into a panic. The Husband doesn't even try driving at night, thank goodness. We drove the rental, a silver 2019 (oh my!) Nissan Sentra we called Sedgwick, on narrow mountain roads, unpaved back roads, smooth freeways, and bumpy highways. And, I was able to drive home at night, without using my high beams. I felt like a younger self. Spontaneity. Go with the flow. I discovered that I can still do both. Hurrah! We spent my birthday

Some Things I Like

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 

This Morning

1. The Husband made pancakes. They were the big Y, a.k.a YummY! 2. Molly the Cat kept the Husband company while he cooked. They were so darn cute. 3. Instead of strictly following the instructions on the box, the Husband used 1 cup of water instead of half-a-cup. He liked that the pancakes were less dense. I added, "And more!" 4.  Whenever we talk about his functional cooking skills, The Husband likes to say that he can make tasty scrambled eggs. I'm still waiting after 23 years. In the meanwhile, I'm very happy with his pancakes. Mmmm. 5. I cut several big branches off the Messy Tree, formerly known as the Miracle Tree. Long story short, I was afraid certain branches might fall on the roof should the wind pick up. 6. We've been having a steady rain the last 24 hours or so, from sweet and gentle plops to fast and furious patter. I love it all! 7. What shall I do after I publish this post? Bring in all the boxes marked XMAS Decorations in t

Smelling the Geraniums

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

Spontaneity

I suspect that I may not ever have been spontaneous.  I've done the all-of-a-sudden turn onto an unfamiliar road to see what's there and where it takes me. I've walked into a salon on a whim and got my hair cut or permed. I've suddenly decided to go somewhere, generally never far. But never ever have I been truly spontaneous. Don't ask me what that is? I don't know because I haven't done it. When I was a teenager I thought about running away. Mainly, I contemplated what to stuff into my knapsack. Should I bring a change of clothing? Change of underwear at least. My notebook, of course. Should I bring a pencil and a pen? Two pens, maybe several. Food to get me to my next destination. Money, which would probably be $20, if even that. Do I want by guitar? What I never thought about was where to go. I didn't want to run away, did I? Today, the Husband and I are in Oakland hanging out with his college buddies. (Yesterday was when I wrote this.) Will we h

A Whole Lot of Shaking Going On

What's a handshake? What kind of unsaid agreement is made when we shake hands with each other? Why do some men still find it odd to shake women's hands? And, is it just older men? Last Saturday, The Husband and I met up with good friends Missus and Mister H at the two-buck senior brunch hosted by the local hospital volunteer group. As the brunch was winding down, a bunch of handshaking was going on. At our table, the first person to shake hands with The Husband and Mister H was a city mayoral candidate. After he shook the guys' hands, I held mine up for a shake which startled him. He quickly hid it and shook my hand. I was surprised that he was momentarily stunned at the thought of shaking a woman's hand. After all, he has been working in the community for over 40 years, including being on boards with women. A few minutes after that T, whom The Husband and I are getting to know more each time we see him at community functions, said his good-byes. He shook hands

Another Lazy Summer Sunday

I haven't had breakfast yet and I'm already thinking nap time. Molly the Cat and I woke up early today. Soon after sunrise. And, it felt cool. That's a good thing. It's been hot, I tell you. Maybe not as hot as where you are, but scorchers for us. It got comfortable yesterday evening. You should've seen Molly. She scampered around the house, jumped on couches, sniffed in corners, and swished around our legs to see what we were doing. Her appetite came back. It was nice to see, after days of her lying like a rag on the floor next to an open window. This morning, she popped upstairs and jumped on the bed. I pretended to be asleep so I could watch her try to sleep, or maybe stay awake. Whenever she seemed to nod off, she opened her eyes and looked around her. A couple times I closed my eyes only to open them moments later to see her looking at me. Ah, restlessness! We didn't even have to tiptoe away from the happily heavily snoring Husband. Downstairs, Molly and

Hop, Skip Sunday

Have I already told you that I'm starting to think maybe going on 65 is as fun as going on 5? Oh, my, just think how I shall feel when I turn 65 at the end of the year. Hello Medicare! Thank you, yes, I will take that senior discount honoring those of us who made it to 65 years old and over. And, that's not even talking about the joyful feeling of letting go of yet another unnecessary responsibility. Ahhh. Yesterday, the Husband and I enjoyed a lovely summer day hanging out with friends under redwood trees. Not only did we breathe in fresh filtered air (thank you, Redwood trees!) but also floated in the warmth and love of long-time friendships. Our friends are an amazing simpatico blend of the Husband's and my friends from our college and work days and their spouses and friends. We come from all points of the regions. At least once a year we plan some kind of adventure, usually a walk then lunch, and who ever can come, comes.  Whenever we get together, everyone g

Morning

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.

Cheers on a Monday

This afternoon, the Husband and I were walking in town when I made eye contact with a man walking onto the sidewalk. He smiled. I said, "Hello." "Hello," said he. "Do we know you?" I asked. He looked familiar. "No." "Oh, well happy Tuesday." "Happy Tuesday to you." "It's Monday," said the Husband. "It's Tuesday," I said. "Monday, I think," said the man opening the locked gate to a bank parking lot. "You're starting to confuse me." "Oh, yeah, I was at the museum this morning," I said to the Husband. Lately, I've been volunteering on Monday mornings at our local historical museum. Helping catalog donated items, I am. "Yes you were," said the Husband. "Ah, it's Monday." I looked back at the man who we didn't know him even though he looked so familiar. "Have a good one." "You, too," he said t

Friday.

I've been grumpy today. I'm trying not to be. I'm also trying to reel in sadness and disgust about the thieves in the White House and the soulless in Congress. These so-called leaders of ours, their crew, and the greedy rich behind them are destroying our country, along with taunting our morals, actions, and beliefs in all that is good.  Tomorrow morning,  there will be protests in various cities throughout the United States to let the current White House administration know of our discontent with their cruel and unjust immigration policies. The Husband and I will join like-minded in our county on a street corner down town.  The IRS sent us a refund check of $51 and some cents a couple weeks ago. We didn't cash it, but a letter from the IRS was forthcoming, so an accompanying note stated. The letter came yesterday. IRS wrote that I made an error transferring an amount from a form. Yes, I was the culprit, although IRS does not know it. I do the taxes, while t

Lellow

When the Youngest Niece was quite young, she pronounced her y's as l's. Yellow was Lellow, for instance. It was darling. Today, I share with you the two lellow things I saw this morning. The photo above was of some owners and their antique speedsters driving to their start-up line in downtown this morning. The Husband and I actually got up in time (7:00 a.m. which is early for us) to check out various antique Ford speedsters and touring cars before they took off on their annual countryside tour.  The speedsters were doing a 200-mile loop, while the touring cars, 80 miles. Then when we got home, these sunflowers posed prettily for the camera. Click. It's time for All Seasons , a weekly meme hosted by Jesh at Artworks from Jesh St.G . Click here to check out Jesh. For the participants list, click here . Thank you, Jesh!

Our Mountain View

Yesterday morning I discovered the mountain view from the side yard. Well, okay, I've probably seen the view a hundred thousand times before, but yesterday, I finally took note that by golly I can see the mountain between the houses across the street. That's the Santa Ana Mountain, part of the southern end of the Diablo Range that runs from the Carquinez Strait, just northeast of the San Francisco Bay, to a bunch of miles south of the Pinnacles National Park, which is about 30 or so miles from us. The park, that is. We have a fuller view of the mountains over the rooftops from upstairs, but I like this view better. For some unknown reason, having a peek of the mountain, which I've seen since a child, is rather assuring. Today I'm hanging out at Skywatch Friday . Come join me by clicking here . Thanks, Skywatch Friday hosts!

Sounds of a Sunday Afternoon.

I can hear the roar of the motorcycles in the near distance. Many of them are more than likely tourists and friends of local bikers who have come for the annual bikers' blessing held at the Catholic church earlier this afternoon.  Unless things have changed, the bikers take turns riding a short path on the church's parking lot. Either at the beginning or the end of the path (I can't recall), a priest sprinkles holy water on them as they pass by him. Competing with the motorcycles' engines and the whistling of the Spring wind is the every-so-often sound of children shouting and screaming. There are probably Little League baseball games happening at the nearby park. And while you're imagining it all, throw in the call from an occasional dog and crow. Bwark, bwark. Roooooooar. Cawwww, cawwwwwww. Yaaaaay! Wwwwwwwwwwwwind. Listen, an airplane—a single-engine craft, I believe—is flying over the house. That silenced everything else, for now. I'm linking

Click.

For the last two weeks I've been obsessed with doing jigsaw puzzles online. It simply happened. I entered a contest to win a copy of the upcoming Mary Russell–Sherlock Holmes mystery by Laurie R. King  that involved completing a jigsaw puzzle at Jigsawplanet.com . I had no idea I liked doing jigsaw puzzles. Before I knew it, I found myself going back to the website every few hours to do 32-piece, 60-piece, 99-piece, and 120-piece puzzles of landscapes, flowers, and street scenes. I told the Husband about the website. He-he . He's doing them, too. We talk about doing real puzzles, only that would require either clearing the kitchen table or bringing in a folding table into the living room. Problem with the latter is that would mean moving stuff around to make space for the table. Not going to happen. We could probably clear the kitchen table but then where are we going to eat. Before I frittered away the hours on doing online jigsaw puzzles, I was consumed with play

A Monday Morning

Yesterday afternoon, and into the night, I essentially did something like a cramming session. As is my wont, I waited to the last minute to complete documents to bring to the self-help legal center at the courthouse this morning. Monday is the only day the center is open for five hours. I made sure that the Husband and I got out of the house in time to get there at 8:00 a.m. because I was told that people begin lining up minutes before the door opens. Half a block away I could see parking spaces right next to the building. We were so in luck! The courthouse doors were still locked at 8:01 a.m. Peeking through the glass door, we saw no guards manning the security screening machines. Odd, right? I walked a bit further up and noticed through the windows that the shades were drawn at the counter where the court clerks ought to be. Eerie! "Is this a holiday?" I asked the Husband. "Is this the 19th?" he answered. "President's Day is the 19th." "Tha

Joy in a Crayon Box

It was only yesterday morning that I organized the crayon box according to their hues. There above in the photo is my proof. By the way, isn't he a cutie patootie, the Huband? The crayon box is one of the few things I've organized in the past few weeks. Maybe the only thing indoors. Tsk, tsk. Last night, I put the opened box of crayons on the couch beside me and whaddayaknow many of them tumbled out of the box and between the cushions. I was able to find almost all of them. Yeah, the crayon box is already out of sorts. Such is to be expected, and that's okay. The cool thing about this box of crayons is it's from the 1980s, maybe earlier. We found it in one of the Husband's parents' boxes, which we're slowly opening after nearly 14 years in storage.  I doubt I would've gone out and bought crayons otherwise. It's a holiday of gifts whenever we look inside the boxes. Joy, joy, joy!

Onward and Upward!

The Husband is down with a virus so it was not a good rest for us last night. Cough, cough. Toss, turn. You know the drill. He'll be fine, we think positively. Leftover garlicky ginger chicken soup was turned into a pot of garlicky ginger tomato soup this morning, which shall be good for a couple of days before he tires of that kind of soup. He's already on his way to losing weight for the 20-pound loss goal we each set on Christmas day (our present to ourselves) by the end of May. So. Here we are, the end of the year. An outrageous year for our nation, leaderless. Executive actions and congressional duplicity turning us down the path of darkness rather than so-called greatness. I want to think that we've reached the bottom and it's only up now. A lot of us have no problem standing up against harassment, intimidation, lies, misconceptions, ignorance, and down-right bullying. The personal score: A hysterectomy took away the cancer no one was really sure was there. T

Flurried, not Flustered nor Fluttered

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 depic

Feeling Free at Sixty-Four!

Yesterday I celebrated my first day of being 64 years old. How did that happen? My body knows I'm old. Probably my brain does, too. I'm guessing all old people say that since I have no guidebook for getting older. Spiritually, I'm that five-year-old wandering in the fields surrounded by tall grass, wildflowers, butterflies, and sun bubbles. I'm also that young thing uncovering worlds and possibilities. I feel, again, a freedom to dream, to discover, and to do!