Don't those shadows look like astronauts wearing their bubble helmets? Sure, they do. Okay, maybe not. Did you ever see the TV comedy My Favorite Martian in the 1960s or as reruns later on?  It starred Ray Walston as the martian who lived on Earth and his disguise was Uncle Martin to reporter Tim, who was played by Bill Bixby. It was a silly and very likable show. At least for me. I always enjoyed it when Uncle Martin's martian antennas popped out of his head. Guess what the Husband and I saw yesterday on our hike?

"Take my picture, please," I asked the Husband in the mustard field. I walked through the tall mustard to hand him the camera. I wanted to see which was taller -- the mustard or me. What do you think?

This morning I crushed my own myth that I need a bicycle with a bunch of speeds to ride on Lone Tree Road, which is one of the foothill roads several miles from our house. Tilda-Hilda and I traveled 3 to 4 miles up the road before turning back. My goal was to get to the gate that either the county officials or residents close when they think the road is too dangerous to travel. Once I reached that gate, I pedaled a half-mile or so further to find a spot to take a photo of Tilda-Hilda. You're so lucky that I just thought about taking photos of where Tilda-Hilda and I have been around our county. I promise though that I will show only photos of our toughest feats. But, then, what constitutes toughest, eh? It's about another seven to nine miles to the end of Lone Tree Road (where the public can access it). Once upon a time, I said pedaling the length of this road is on my bucket list. But, that's when I thought I needed a 10-speed or 7-speed bicycle. No more! Pink cruis

Whooooooooooooooooo-hooooooooooooooooo!  Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwessommmmmmmmmmme! Awesome, awesome, awwwwwwwwwesomme! Everyone in the valley below should have heard me as I coasted down the hill this morning. Whooooo-hoooooo! Once a week for the past four weeks, I have been pedaling up Cienega Road, going further each time. I have yet to make it to the very top, but after today, I know that one day I shall. I managed to pedal about three-quarters up what I thought was the first incline, only to look up and see it was one long continuous incline. When it got too steep, I got off Tilda-Hilda (I think she may be partial to Tildy-Hildy) and walked her up to my first goalpost. Once there, I decided to walk a little further. Why not? I thought, I'm here. When it no longer seemed steep that I would fall trying to engage the pedals, I hopped on the pink cruiser and pedaled up the hill for a couple more yards. But, instead of turning around, I chose to walk Tilda-Hilda a few more yards

A Happy July First to you, Dear Readers! And, because it's July first, I'm going to tell, and show, some of the firsts that the Husband and I experienced in June. Bottom line: summer is definitely here. Whooo-hooo! As some of you know, I do another blog called Take 25 to Hollister , which is all about where we live in California. Yup, Hollister, California. Our history and culture is not at all like the fictional Hollister, California of clothing fame. If you're interested in knowing the difference, check out this post . But, I mention the blog because our first-time experiences took place in Hollister and nearby locations. You'll also probably notice the watermark on some of my photos. Now, on with the show and tell. Hollister Airshow   Have you ever seen an air show from the flight line? It's definitely a different experience from suddenly stopping on the side of the road and peering up into the sky at the planes. That's how I've seen air show

The other day the Husband pushed my pink beach cruiser along the highway while I walked slowly behind him. Is that a sweetheart or what? I'd ridden nearly 8 miles when I heard POW! My rear wheel shook like something got caught in the spokes. A few minutes later, the bicycle was not going as fast as my feet were pedaling it. Hello, Flat Tire. Grrrr . Thank goodness, I had the camera to distract myself as I pushed the bicycle beside me. Want to see the photos that I took of cows & horses , grass , palm trees , and yellow barn ? And, I had the cell phone. Pshew. It was days like that I was glad I paid attention to the Husband when he asked, "Do you have the phone?" It took a couple of tries before I got hold of the Husband to tell him what happened so he and the Mama wouldn't worry. "Would you like me to come and walk with you?" he asked. "You don't have to," I said, "But, that would be nice." About 40 minutes later,

It was cold and foggy on the day of the club picnic. What better way to get warm than to play touch football.  That day, nearly 40 years ago, was the first time (and the only time ) I've ever played the game. We didn't even play it in girls PE in high school, which now when I look back, I wonder why. We had field hockey (loved those sticks), archery, swimming (my favorite), soccer (hated all that running), folk dancing, tumbling (aw, gee, again!), bowling, and an assortment of other sports, but no touch football. Not even flag football. Again, I wonder why since football was a big deal in my high school. Anyway, I digress. In case, you've forgotten, or are confused, this tale of my rare athleticism happened when I was still a not-so-petite, petite young woman in college. Everyone had traveled an hour or so to a park south of the city. I have no idea anymore where it was, but I do remember the large meadow where we played touch football. Always willing to try almost any

Free! That's how I feel when I pedal my clunky bright pink bicycle. Being short, I've got a lot of power in my stubby legs, so says the tall Husband, who sometimes huffs and puffs after me. "That's okay," I tell him. "I can't keep up with you when we walk. Since December 31, 2013, I've pedaled nearly 320 miles on my pretty cruiser.  I'm rather proud about that. Several days a week, I take off before breakfast and pedal up and down and through the flat and hilly neighborhoods or trace a perimeter around town. Because I'm alone, I generally follow the streets and roads. Now and then I forge quickly across a field or ford the dry riverbed. The Mama is almost used to me going out on my own early in the morning. Just when I think it's not a big deal for her that I'm out roaming alone, she'll say something like, "Do you go far away?" "What takes you so long?" or "Aren't you afraid to ride by yourse

I'm not much into walking, but walking I must if I want to stay up with the Husband and the Mama. Those two plan on not ever dying.  Fortunately, the walks go down easier with the camera in my hand and the occasional shadow sparring with the Husband.

Today I discovered a talent -- and a natural skill -- that I have. First, let me put it all in context. I decided to enter the Country Roads Dry Flower Arrangement category at this year's County Fair. It'll be my first time. The requirement: I must make a dried flower display using a receptacle that I have found alongside the road. So, this afternoon, the Husband and I decided to walk on the street that's next to the last small open field in our neighborhood. Unfortunately, a chicken-wire-type cyclone fence blocked us from wandering in the field. Still, I lucked out. Just on the other side of the fence was a broken toy rocket and a small kinda flat rubber ball. Bingo! I was able to pull the rocket through the fence without busting it. Whoo-hooo! Now to get the ball that was further away from the fence. The Husband and I found a stronger and larger stick, but that, too, was on the other side of the fence.  That's when I learned about my talent. I was able to

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 letter P ! I crumpled up three ideas for that proud, pretty letter P . Figuratively, that is. I'm not going to crush my computer just because I don't like what I wrote in a Word file. What? You don't know what crumple is? Egad, I'm that old. Get a piece of scratch paper and write half a sentence. Now, scrunch up the paper. There, you've crumpled up an idea. Check out other A to Z Challenge participants by clicking here . Anyway, the letter pah pah pah pah P . It's perfect that procrastinate starts with the letter P . Oh, and then there is perfect. . . . Perfect procrastination prances prickly for Poseiden. Huh? No, I'm not deleting that. This post has taken possession of my fingers upon the keyboard and clicking keys per its bidding. Anyone else like the combination of parsnips and potatoes? Okay, okay.  Third paragraph and I have yet to bring up a topic. Poor writing on my part. Perhaps. The other way for me—and you, dear readers—to look at

A couple weeks ago, some of us young "old fogeys" took our merry selves to the Black Diamond Mines Regional Preserve in Antioch, California, about 45 miles northeast of San Francisco. This park overlooks the Carquinez Strait, an estuary of the San Joaquin and Sacramento Rivers, which drains into the San Francisco Bay. It is a beautiful place to picnic, hike, and check out nature. Once upon a time, hundreds of millions of years ago, the area was under an ancient sea. And over millions upon millions of years, wondrously wonderful earth changes built up the sandstone hills as well as crushed living matter between layers of rock to form black diamonds. During the last half of the 19th century, the Black Diamond mines were the largest coal mines in California, and from the 1920s to the 1940s,  white silica sand was mined out of the sandstone hills for the Hazel-Atlas Glass Company in Oakland.   We, young "old fogeys" took a tour of the Hazel-Atlas Mine that aftern