The Husband and I held a joint discussion (1) over the stool that was painted today: What's the best way to detach the cracked masterpiece of a seat? The painting of the stool, though, was not a joint effort (2); however, the Husband and I are joint authors (3) of four titles about various careers. Did my voice sound disjointed (4) in the previous paragraphs? Didactic, possibly also pedantic? That how I sounded when I wrote educational materials once-upon-a-time, except I wrote concepts in simple sentences, straightforward without any editorial commentary or unneeded adjectives, at a third grade reading level. I have digressed. Hope that astray didn't get anyone's toes out of joint (5). Jeeez, Jeeves, this joint (6) is jumping! Fats Waller had me dancing. My knee joints (7) are fine, as long as I don't do something silly like the splits or the Charleston. Until two years, when I consulted a joint specialist (8) I had no idea my legs are jointed

Once upon a time there were people who collected other people's trash and resold the items. Some of these early recycling entrepreneurs were said to go down the street calling out something like "I'm here for any rags, bottles, and bones." Rags, bottles, and bones. For me, it would be books rather than bones. But, I'm not looking to purchase any rags, bottles, or books. Not at all. I mention the phrase because the past week, I've been repurposing fabric scraps, wine bottles, and old books. RAGS The elephant scene (above) is my first try at fabric art. I machine stitched everything but the the red flowery thing, which is the top of a tree, onto a purple napkin. The zipper is the second, if not the first, one I've ever sewn. I have several more purple napkins and a whole bunch of scraps so I might experiment with more fabric art. We shall see. BOTTLES Last year I decided to make a garden border with wine bottles that I collected mostly from our

I hadn't planned on coming back to the blog today, but now that I've changed my header with my new title,  I believe it behooves me to write a few words. Or more. Before I ramble further, Midget the Turtle Elephant wishes me to write that she says, "Hugs, Everyone!" I've thought about renaming my blog for quite a while. Lazily thinking, I was. Then Sports-Editor Dude Friend, sporting a broken foot, tapped his cane as he declared (not in these exact words, but close enough), "No more ladder climbing, Susie. We're too old now. No more." Dear Dude broke his foot when he fell off a ladder while trying to get into his house.  That was several months ago; he is walking fine, the last I saw. Have I forsaken ladders? Shrug. I am the Mama's daughter after all. So, what do you think of my new blog title: Barefoot Susie ? I also considered Young Old Fart and Deadheading Daisies. FYI: I may be making more changes to the blog over the coming days.

The fog rushed back in after the sun said good morning. It was strange to watch it fill in the sky rather than fade westerly. Thick, too. So pea-soupy thick, the birds flew low overhead. If I hadn't seen them I would've thought they were bats by the sound they made. Plap, plap, plap.  The other day I mentioned that I was painting a rice dispenser, which can hold about 25 to 30 pounds of rice, maybe a bit more. A couple years ago I tried selling it at a garage sale. No takers. Earlier this week I decided it can sit in the garden rather than the garage. The Mama stopped using it a few years after the Husband and I moved in with her. She switched over to storing rice in big tins that once held her favorite crackers. I think she simply liked the idea of keeping rice in happy looking canisters rather than a dull plastic looking thing. The rice dispenser is no longer dull, and it no longer stores rice. Now, its job is to hold potting soil. Ha! Here's what the other

Meet Shelley. She's a little sprite who showed her shadow on a saucer plate beneath Avocado Tree Number Three. Shelley insisted that she be sketched. What could I say?