I was sitting in front of the computer about to start today's post when I heard it.   Pop! Huh? I looked over to the left where the sound came. What do ya know? A California poppy pod makes a sound when it opens. Pop! And, the seeds go all over the place. Yesterday, I harvested a pocketful of poppy pods and left them all on a small oval plate on top of the radio.  The poppy pod that popped was not on the plate.  Did the pod jump off the plate as it opened? So it seems. That's my story for today. Much more interesting than I was about to write. Pop! I wonder if that's how poppies got their name. All Seasons is where I'm heading now. The meme is hosted by Jesh at The Jesh Studio . Come join me if you like.

1. What words convey the sounds of walnut shells ricochetting? 2. Crack. Obviously. 3. Zing. A shell flies into the air. 4. Zingg. A shell soars far. 5. Ping. A shell ricochets on something. 6. Thump. A shell hits something. 7. Tinkkk. A shell vibrates on a surface. 8. Crack. Thump. The shell hit a chair.   9. Crack. Zing. Ping. Tinkkk.  The shell ricocheted off the glass tabletop onto the floor.   10. Crack. Ping. Zingg. Thump. Tinkkk. The shell bounced off a chair and hit the wall. 11. Too bad we didn't have goggles. Across the table, the Husband shielded his eyes while he read on his iPad. 12. Could anyone intentionally hit someone with a walnut shell? 13. "A blue ribbon walnut cracker," said the Husband. Check out Thursday 13 for more lists of 13.

Sometimes I just got to shake my head and roar with silliness. I like retirement. My smiling thanks to these meme hosts: Jesh at All Seasons , Angie at Mosaic Monday , and Jeanna at Say Cheese!   P.S. The photo of me was taken by the Husband.

It's Sunday. I'm not going to do anything," I said to the Husband, invoking the rule of Mama.  Sometimes after Sunday breakfast, Mama  talked herself into not feeling guilty about taking a day off from working in the garden. So, I think. Why did I even say that? Every day is a day off. And, most days feel like a Sunday. As it went, I chose to rake leaves in the South Room.  Molly couldn't decide if she wanted to sit in the sun outside while I worked or sit in the sun indoors. She eventually settled for the latter. The Husband came out to help move, fetch, toss, and pick up in the yard. We also surveyed the best locations to grow our crops of a single this, a couple of that, and a few of these vegetable or herb plants. I'm looking forward to that. The last time the Husband and I took care of our own vegetable garden was in the late 1990s, and that was for only a couple of years. As some of you know, the backyard has naturally divided into four rooms

1.  Sweet Pea Song, my iMac, is 10 years old, more or less. Unfortunately for Sweet Pea Song and me there are few, if any, updates available for her system, as well as for the applications I use. 2.  She fooled her developers with their planned obsolescence. She continues to be a song of a sweet pea. 3.  Lately I've been tippy tapping on typewriters at garage sales and thrift shops. Will I buy one? 4.  Smith-Corona Coronet. That's the kind of portable blue electric typewriter on which I tippy-tapped during my 20s when I was into writing short stories. It gave out a comforting buzz that complimented the tip tip tip tap tap tip tip tap tap of the keys. 5.  I miss inserting paper into a typewriter, rolling up the paper, pushing the carriage back, hitting the space bar three times, and pressing the keys. Voila. Magic words on paper. 6.  Older Brother gave me the used typewriter in exchange for babysitting two-month-old Eldest Niece so her mom could go back to work.

Back in November I opened a box. Lo and behold, my favorite dinosaurs of old smiled up at me. In this house full of stuff, they chose to hang out in the guest bathroom. I'm glad to see them again. I'm hanging out at Say Cheese! Tuesday , hosted by joyful Jeanna of Ched Curtain . Check out all the cheesy stuff here .

At yesterday's white elephant Christmas exchange, I scored the gorgeous green, multipurpose ballpoint pen that you see in the photo.  Its tip acts as a stylus. Unscrew the stylus cap to reveal a flat screwdriver head, which you can pull from its housing. . .voila, the other end is a Phillips head. Wait, there is more. Along one side of the pen is a ruler that can measure up to seven inches and the equivalent metric units. In the middle of another side, oh my gosh, is a level! Whenever we sit at a crooked table in a restaurant, I can whip out this pen so that we can wedge the right amount of napkin under the table's leg. Ooooooh. Over the last three months, I have come into possession of—count them in the photo along with me—uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque penne! All free. Heee, heee. Beneath the multi-purpose green pen is a fountain pen that I discovered in one of the Husband's parents' boxes. Technically, it belongs to the Husband but he doesn't seem to mind

Molly and I are joining forces today because of whatnot and this. Maybe it'll be a regular thing. We shall see.  Missy Girl wants you to know that today's post is also her Molly's Monday #15. Molly the Cat: Speaking of seeing, Missus Lady watched a hummingbird in the front yard yesterday. Szzzzz. Szzzzzz. I love watching hummingbirds, but I missed out because I was napping. "You snoozed, you lost," Missus Lady said when she wouldn't let me go out as she was coming in the front door. Speaking of snoozing, this is what I found when I got back to my desk yesterday evening. The Husband wondered why Missy Girl just didn't go under the table if the light was too much for her. Zzzzzzzzzzz. Did I Say You're a Troll? Molly the Cat: The other day I overheard Missus Lady telling Hero Man about a post she was following at a local Facebook group. There was one part that was miao, miao.  Human #1: Of course you won't believe me. You already think

A ne'er-do-well left a message on our phone (land, if you must know) saying he is from the IRS and if we do not respond to his call within 10 minutes, a warrant for our arrest will be issued. The call was left about an hour ago. The voice left his message in a very brusque, rough tumbling threatening manner, so I can see how the gullible may believe he was from the IRS and sadly give the scammer money. After we erased the message, the Husband and I thought about reporting the call to the police or the IRS. The voice had left a number to call back, so it's possible an investigator might check. Who knows? Next time.

This is one of the Barnyard Races at our county fair last month. The cute piggies soared around the track. If you blink, you miss them running by you.

Yesterday I was listening to my humans talk about people who believe our world is flat. Astounding, miao! About 2% of Americans are flat-earth believers, according to a 2018 study conducted by YouGov. Miao. Last year the population in the U.S. was about 326 million. I'm saying that everyone counted is considered an American. No arguments, please. Purrrrrrrr. Two percent or about 325 million people in our country believe the world is flat. Miaaaao! I wonder if the flat-earth believers have another name for Earth. After all, the word earth means globe, sphere, orb. Round, for pity's sake. If we lived in a flat world, I don't think we would have balls or anything round. What kind of shape is the flat world? Is it square? Rectangle? A triangle? Diamond shaped? Miao, a shape with 12 uneven shapes? Where are the edges of the flat world? Yawwwwwwwwn. Nap time. See you next Monday. Miao.

Gulp. I don't know. Would you climb up those ladders? I rate that climb as double-sweaty palms, five gulps, and one big shudder.

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

  Two prized finds among the Mama's stuff were the Daddy's eyeglasses and my middle school eyeglasses, which I hung on the hallway wall with a couple of old sunglasses. Because I lost a screw on my red Hollywood sunglasses, I was checking those on the wall. They didn't work. Oh, well. For the fun of it, I tried on my middle school eyeglasses. What do you know? I can read with them! Waaaaay better than the reading part of my new progressive lenses.  I haven't tried my middle school eyeglasses with reading paperback tiny print, but they are so far so good with magazines and newspapers, as well as with books that have 12-point type or the illusion of 12-point type. The Mama held onto things because, she said, you never know when you may need them. With these certain eyeglasses, it only took 52 years, more or less.

A police officer knocked at our door over an hour ago. Through our black steel security door, he asked the Husband questions about recent events on our street. Ten minutes before the officer's knock, the Husband came upstairs to tell me that he hadn't notice the heavy traffic on our street before. (He had been sitting in the kitchen doing the bills.) I shrugged and said, "Sounds normal." The Husband told the officer about the traffic and a police cruiser going by, but there weren't any sirens. The Husband didn't realize he was talking to a law enforcement officer until he asked, "Do you live nearby?" That's when the officer mentioned the police was pursuing a suspect in the area. And, that's when the Husband noticed the officer's badge. When I heard about the pursuit (the Husband didn't mention any police cars to me), I knew then that the Husband was most likely seeing a lot more than the normal number of cars zipping by.

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

Back in March I thought this volunteer plant in the front yard was a celery plant. As it grew and developed, it no longer seemed to be celery. The one stalk remained solo. When the flowers bloomed, dill came to mind, but there was no dill aroma. Hmmm. The Husband thought it was hemlock. I thought hemlocks were trees. Was I curious to look it up? Of course not. Last week, friends came over and concurred with the Husband. Hemlock.  Yup, that's the stuff Socrates drank as punishment for being found guilty by 280 out of 500 peers of not believing in the government's gods and for teaching his students to question authority. Interesting. It got me wondering if people could be put on trial for doing something similar today. For a poisonous plant, hemlock certainly is pretty. I suppose I ought to pull it out soon. Update: Thanks to Colleen of Loose Leaf Notes commenting that the plant reminds her of Queen Anne's Lace, I did more research. The plant does look like it,

That's the foot of our new acquaintance Steve, a storyteller of a guy, who we met at yesterday's two-buck senior citizen buffet hosted by the local hospital's volunteer group. Steve was wearing python-skin cowboy boots, and was kind enough to let me take a photo of them.  Both the Husband and I wondered if he called his boots Monty, but neither of us asked him. We just thought it. Ever heard a python snake? Me, either. Good old friend Google coughed up a video sound bite of a python. Its hiss brought to mind of a flushing toilet. The Husband remarked that would be an awful quiet toilet. He thought the python's hiss is more like the sound of spraying water on leaves. Maybe. My second thought was that the python's hiss almost, almost, sounds like ocean waves. Click here if you want to hear a python's hiss. What does it sound like to you? It's time for All Seasons , a weekly meme hosted by Jesh at Artworks from Jesh St.G . Click here to check

We've been hanging around downtown a lot lately because Eliza the Car has been needing repair work.  Last week she got a tune up, this week, a new brake master cylinder. Next week, she'll have her timing belt and accompanying parts replaced. She's worth it. For being 25 years old and way over the 100K milestone, Eliza continues to be a sturdy, steady, and reliable gal. She may not be as fuel efficient as the electric and hybrid cars, but she still gets better mileage than some SUVs, minivans, and pickups. When Eliza's in the shop, we treat ourselves to breakfast, after which we walk around town, entertaining ourselves with the little things such as the business signs that we see. The Husband and I got a kick out of the above sign. Who doesn't want positive vibes?