In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm 65, the magic age for Medicare, thank you very much! I tell you a lot of creativity is still to be found in this old young self. In you, too, whatever your age. Welcome to my barefoot world!
coffee. This morning the Husband and I shared a chocolate
old-fashioned doughnut to enjoy with our cups of black coffee. Happy smiles all
Cable. I want us to get rid of our
cable subscription. The Husband agrees it's too expensive for the few
channels we watch. Will we? you ask. We will, I'm sure we will. The
bigger question: When will we? Procrastinators are us.
ceramics. When I was 19, my big dream was to own a bookstore with a ceramics workshop in the back.
Cute. The Husband says I'm cute. I tell him it's because he loves me. He says, "It's because you are cute."
chicken. There are times when I think our representatives at the local, state, or national level of government are too chicken to make a stand one way or the other. Bwak, bwak
cooking. I do that once a day, at least, most days. I like when it's a some day.
Coast-co. "We're going to Costco," I would say to Mama.
"Where?" she would respond.
I came across a fun meme today. It's called Sunday Stealing hosted by Bev Sykes of Funny the World. Every Sunday she posts a bunch of thoughtful questions that she has "stolen" from elsewhere for participants to answer. Who doesn't like to answer questions, especially about themselves? Intrigued? Check out Sunday Stealing here, after checking my answers, of course.
1. The strangest place you've ever been.
The strangest place I've ever been is a thinker. Shall I consider a place itself as being strange or a place where I encountered something weird? Better yet, the unfamiliar concept of being in a certain place, and it still feels unfamiliar (thankfully) after I leave that location?
My answer. . .Thummm tha tha tha Thaaaaaaaa! . . .the hospital last year. From the moment I entered that hospital near dawn to the moment I stepped out the door the following afternoon was surreal. My gosh!
2. Unusual food combinations you enjoy.
Pancakes, syrup, and several dabs…
Two Fridays ago, the Husband created an Xmas tree out of Xmas lights. All I had to do was find the lights and point out the spot for him to make it. Sparkle, sparkle.
The other day I was helping undecorate a small Christmas tree at the local museum where I volunteer. I started to unwind a garland made of small colored glass balls when Head Volunteer said, "Susie, take the tinsel off first." She proceeded to quickly pluck and pull the silvery strands. I imitated her.
The tinsel off, I went for the garland. Said Head Volunteer, "Susie, it'll be easier if you take ornaments off then the garland." Okey-dokey.
As I finally unwound the garland, Head Volunteer reminded me that it was old, then kindly remarked that she had already broken three vintage decorations. Sometimes I can be like that bull in a china shop.
Several hours later while reading Christmas posts by blogger friends, I realized that I'm out of practice when it comes to decorating/undecorating Xmas t…
Hi ya! Hey ya! Hope all's well with ya. All is well with us. I'm still playing catch up so I'm back to reaching into my archives for a while more. Have fun out there. Today's post (edited) was first published on April 11, 2015. = = = = = = = = = = = = = Knock, knock.
The Mama opened the kitchen door, which was the back door at our house on
44 Shore Road. I sat at the kitchen
table, keeping her company as she prepared dinner.
Uncle Frank! The Daddy's younger brother. He carried a tree stump in his arms.
"I cut down a tree in my back yard," said Uncle Frank, putting it down next to the kitchen counter. "I thought it was the right
size for Susie."
I was four. Either Uncle Frank or the Mama held my hand as I climbed onto the stump. Yaaay! I had a wonderful view of the counter.
I don't remember much of those very early years. But, I must've been in
the kitchen a lot with the Mama. Enough so that Uncle Frank thought I ought to have so…
Paula sighed as she pulled back from her living room window. Curtis Warren, her middle-school English teacher from decades ago, had lost his wife to a drunk driver less than a year ago. Paula heard that his family was concerned he would take his life. She knew the feeling. When her husband died from cancer five years go, Paula became a vagabond. She came back home a few months ago to be with her dad in his last days. She didn't know how much longer she would stay.
"Oh, no!" Paula rushed out her front door and down to the sidewalk where Curtis lay sprawled. She helped him up and held onto him until he was steady on his feet.
"My mind was thinking of other things," the 70-year old man said. His voice rough as if he hadn't spoken in a long time.
"It happens," said Paula. "Come up to my porch, Mr. Warren, and sit for a while. I have fresh lemonade."
“Panties!” the middle-aged woman exclaimed, working her way against the stream of incoming buyers and gawkers. A couple stepped aside when she grumbled, “No respect at all!”
The petite woman carefully placed her estate sale purchases in the back of her prized green 1957 Chevrolet truck. She flipped open a velvet blue lace fan and cooled herself. She wondered who in her right mind would want to buy a dead lady’s panties.
“Hey Midge!” shouted her friend who called herself Lara today. Midge strode over to pick up the bags and baskets beside Lara.
“Lots of great stuff,” Lara said. “Did you see that Whitman copy of Spin and Marty?”
“I would've bought it, if it wasn't falling apart,” said Midge.
Lara nodded. “They should’ve just dumped it. Quite a lot of stuff they should’ve burned or taken to the dump.”
“No kidding,” said Midge. “They were even selling. . .”
“You’ll never guess what I bought!” Lara said at the same time.
I Want Her by Su-sieee! Mac
"Mom, you're not going to ride the back roads, are you?"
"Hmmm," the grey-haired woman said.
"Mom!" said her son on the phone. "It's dangerous riding alone out there. Remember last year when that runner died...."
"Son, you're channeling your grandmother." She laughed. "I'll be fine. I'm not riding anywhere new. And, I've got the phone."
"Mom, please just ride around your neighborhood."
I can feel her coming.
Leave it alone. Mike's already married.
She's the one I want.
The woman pedaled along the shoulder of the two-lane highway. She almost heeded her son's fears. Silly. Nothing happened at all to her on the back roads. But, the highway was getting her nervous. She was riding later than usual, which meant more cars on the highway as she headed homeward. Were the big rigs speeding by faster than usual? She scooted further to the right.
Ago (Ah-go) watched the water slowly run towards the end of the bittermelon row. When he was finished watering all the rows, maybe he would drive to the Senior Center for lunch. The food was okay. The best part was talking with his friends.
Someone was bound to ask him about Song. "Have you heard from her?" "Where is she now?" Although it has been weeks since she left, a few of his compadres still shook their heads in disbelief that his single daughter was criss-crossing the United States in her small yellow car. Young, unmarried women don't do that, according to them. Not in the Philippines. Not even in the United States. "Times are different," one friend, usually Danny or Pablo, said. "Song is tough and level-headed. She can handle trouble."
Level-headed, yes, thought Ago, pulling up a weed between the vegetable rows. Tough? Her mother, the Old Lady, thought Song was tough because she talked back. He didn't see it that way. Song de…