In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now in my late 60s, wowza! 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!
Mike, Complex man. Rest in peace. I met Mike in 1985 when I married his father. I got to know Mike as the son of his parents. Later after the First and Last Husband's death, I got to know Mike as a friend and peer. It was Mike who introduced me to the Husband. For that I shall forever be thankful. In the last two years or so, except for a couple of phone calls, there hadn't been any contact with Mike. Just call it a difference of opinions. Mike is one of those people who has a way of lingering in your mind and conversation. And, he has been on my mind lately. Mike passed away recently. Michael Jeffrey Yoon, son of Frank Yoon and Jean Wong Yoon, and brother of James Yoon, was born in the year of the Tiger on the cusp of Gemini and Cancer. June 21, 1950, to be precise, in San Francisco, California. He passed away on December 22, 2017 in Livermore, California. "My friends call me Mike," he said sometimes, after introducing himself to strangers. MI
I don't remember the last time I was outside. Just sitting. Just doing nothing. Well, okay, except for doodling words with a pen on a piece of paper. About, of course, nothing. I'm sitting on a beach chair on the front stoop. The mama is sitting in the back yard deadheading her pink daisies. The husband is standing in the front yard hand-watering the lawn. Uhmmm, that spray feels good. Me. I should be making dinner. And, I shall in a while. For now, I just want to enjoy a pause. I've been cooped inside spinning words and sentences into short, but clear and comprehensible paragraphs about stuff I have already forgotten. It's best to do that when you work on reference books. If I had retained everything I've written about in the last 13 years, my gosh... Ka-poosh! The sound of my brains exploding. Splattt. Splutt. Spposh. The sounds of my brains splashing on the walls and ceiling. Ah, yes. Imagination is good to have at any age. Now, I must go make dinner for the cre
On Saturday, I decided to experiment with baking savory and sweet scones in the same pan. Hmm, I could've baked a full pan of both and stuck half of the scones in the freezer. That just dawned on me. But then, I'd have to remember to rotate the pans in the oven so that they each became evenly undercooked, burnt, or just right. Besides, if I had tried going for full recipes that day, I would've found out I didn't have enough rice flour. As you can tell, I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants baker. (Do I need all those hyphens?) Heads up, all you gentle readers who are precise measurers (measurists?) out there. Be prepared to shudder. Savory Scones Ingredients Handful of fresh chives, minced 2 garlic cloves, minced 1.5-inch chunk of cheddar cheese, grated Sweet Scones Ingredients Brown sugar (almost 1/2 a cup) Chocolate chips (just more than a 1/3 cup) I made the scones gluten-free because I didn't have whole-wheat flour on hand. Better on the tummy anyway. I shook th
I got my front door key stuck in the lock yesterday. I unscrewed the lock from the door last night. That oil you use for sewing machines? I put a bit of that into the lock last night. Nothing. "Did you fix it?" asked the Mama. "Did you get the key out?" asked the husband. No. No. In case you're pondering why the husband wasn't involved in figuring out how to remove the key from the lock, it's because I was bogeying the lock and he was washing dishes. I had handed it to him before he started the dishes. I needed him to use brute strength to jiggle out the key. He had success last week when his key got stuck in that same lock. But no such luck this time. How did I get the key stuck in the first place? "You used the wrong key," the Mama declared. "Did you use the wrong key?" asked the husband. Think, remember, recall. Yeah, I did. I left the lock, with the key stuck in it, on the stairway stoop. I was very confident the house ghosties wo
Setting: The Monterey Peninsula. It was a very windy afternoon. It's a wonder, we didnt' fly away. Suddenly we're in fog, then suddenly we're not. Today, I'm blog hopping at Wordless Wednesday and Outdoor Wednesday . Come join me and check out photos of other bloggers. I know you want to.
The Dark Tort is part of the Goldy Schulz cozy mystery series written by Diane Mott Davidson (The link takes you to Davidson's website). It's adventure #13. Davidson has written 15 thus far. The title is a clever play on words: tort/torte. The tale opens with Goldy stumbling over a dead body at the law office for which she has been catering the last several months. At first, Goldy thought the lawyers were playing a joke on her. Pretty sick attorneys, if they were. But, it turns out the law firm is full of dysfunctional people, from the rich head partner to the very uptight office manager to the young paralegal-in-training who was murdered. After many outings of solving murder cases before the cops in her town, Goldy is known for her detective skills as well as for her cooking prowess. So, it's believable for the murdered young lady's mother to ask Goldy to solve the case. The mother thinks that the cops will overlook her daughter's case because they aren't r
“Pretend that you are a car,” Lisa said to us three novices. “Show confidence.” We four pedaled onto the busy street. 100 feet later, we signaled and turned left. The Sunday 160 is hosted by the Monkey Man. To learn about it and to read other bloggers' Sunday 160, head over to this page .
I'm feeling pretty smart and down right proud of myself right now. I managed to create a new web site for my professional self without a single bit of swearing. Yep, that's a very good accomplishment for me. I'm also happy with the way it looks with its baby-blue background, which I didn't think I would like at first. Ya, pat, pat, pat. Some people think I'm a smarty-pants techie, but that's only because I know the things they don't know. I honestly don't know a lot of technical stuff. Don't ask me to write or analyze HTML because I have no idea what that is about. But, if you tell me to go find a specific piece of code, delete it, and insert another piece of code, which you've given me, I can do that. Once I've done it, I shall promptly forget what I just looked for and how to repeat the step. That, dear readers, is how I went about creating a web site out of a Blogger blog template. Every time I wanted to make a change to the template, su
To one and all, thank you! I raise up my glass of water to all the men, women, and children today and throughout our country's history who have toiled and boiled and troubled to build and maintain our public infrastructure; tend the fields and put food on our tables; create, produce, and sell the goods we use; make sure all business, administrative, and financial services are done; educate and inform us; and perform every other job under the sun. Without sweet willing labor, governments, small businesses, and multinational corporations could not prosper, and the rich could not become filthy rich! May we all have raises tomorrow. A gal can dream. I am grateful for a national holiday that honors the American worker. And that's what we all are, whether or not we are employed at the moment and whether or not we are U.S. citizens, permanent residents, or immigrant workers. I hope you're all having a nice break from your regular routine. Watching cartoons is a nice break. So, f
See that mess of fabric on the right. I'm almost finally going to turn them into some things. Operative word here is almost . A couple hours ago I ordered more fabric from Sew, Mama, Sew! Almost 8 yards worth of different happy, calming designs with such names as Good Earth, Daisy Dance, Carnations on Gold, and Poppy Parade Brown. So, once my shipment comes in, I shall drop everything and sew pillowcases. Pillow cases? Yes, pillow cases. I'm going to get off my butt and sew at least seven pillowcases for "A Case for Smiles," a fabulous project sponsored by ConKerr Cancer. Based in Philadelphia, the nonprofit group delivers donated handmade pillowcases to terminally ill children in hospitals across the United States. The founder is Cindy Kerr who started making pillowcases for her son and other children in the oncology unit in 2002 to help bring smiles to the kids as well as brighten their hospital rooms. According to the ConKerr Cancer Web site, the organization
Like a Hole in the Head by Jen Banbury was the fifth book I read for the Cozy Mystery Challenge . Some reviewers likened the author's work to that of Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler. I think Banbury's style is her own, with comparison to no one in the mystery genre. She caught my attention immediately when I randomly picked her book at the library. "I woke up with a hangover and roof tar on my feet and a vague recollection of pacing around up there half the night. . . ." That's her first line. Uh-huh. Jill is the name of the main character. She lives in Los Angeles and works at a used bookstore. For the past few years, she has been running away from the memories of her mother's death. Every so often the author cleverly lets some of those memories enter Jill's mind, and we, the readers, learn that her mom was painfully dying from a terminal disease. Her mom may have asked Jill to help put an end to the misery. With that bit of background, it is unde
San Juan Bautista is the next town over to where we live . And, in that darling mission town is where you will find these trees. What kind of trees are they? How old are they? That's what I want to find out. These photos are my contributions to this week's Wordless Wednesday and Outdoor Wednesday . Click on over to each site for more contributions on its theme. That is, after you check out mine. :-) Do you see the face in the tree? Can a gnarled tree be gnarly? Anyone else see a figure hugging the tree?
For our last 23rd date , the husband and I decided to go see a movie. For once, our local theater was showing several that we wanted to see: Inception , Deception , Nanny McPhee Returns , and The Other Guys . Ah, choices. We decided to go with something light, silly, and fun. So, off we went to see the The Other Guys . All we knew was that it was a farce about cop movies. But we were assured (well maybe the husband was more than me) that anything with Will Ferrell ought to be decently hilarious. We weren't wrong. There were several scenes that had us laughing out loud and long. I ask you, have you ever seen a movie with cops driving a red Prius in a car chase? Ferrell and Wahlberg play two NYPD detectives, who mostly do paperwork. Ferrell's character, Allen Gamble, is happy about it, while Wahlberg's character, Terry Hoitz is furiously not. They are made fun of by the other detectives for not having done any heavy-shooting, car chasing detective work. Terry wants to know
For this Wordless Wednesday and Outdoor Wednesday , I give you a look at the Mama's garden. This is how the mama's garden looked in April of this year. The mama's garden as of last week. Can you see her at work? The mama gave her first gourd of the season to her friend. The mama chops the banana plants back every winter. By summer they are in full bloom again. The Mama's sunflowers had to be over 12 feet tall, three times taller than her. Today, we celebrate the mama's first day of starting another trip around the sun. Joy!
Chapter and Hearse by Lorna Barrett is the fourth title of the Booktown Mystery series. It's the first one I've read. I doubt I'll read any of the others. The protagonist, Tricia Miles, is the owner of a mystery bookstore in a small (fictional?) town in New Hampshire. That alone ought to be enough for me to enjoy the series. It's not. I don't care too much for Tricia. She doesn't have much confidence in herself, though she was much better about her worth by the end of the book. After all, her husband dumped her because he went off to Colorado to find himself. A reporter guy likes her, almost stalkingly. The police guy who likes her put their relationship on hold because he decided to care for his ex-wife who is being treated for cancer. To add to that, her older sister is a type A author, bookseller, and cook. So, Tricia does have a lot to get herself out from under. I'm just not curious to see how her life progresses in future books. The plot? The booksto
"Que sera, sera. . ." The husband looked up from the Sunday comics. "Whatever will be, will be. . ." He looked down the hallway. The mama had already wandered out of sight. "That's the first time I heard her sing," said the husband. "She's getting ready to sing tonight at the novena," I said, just as surprised as him. "I don't think they'll be singing that song," he said. "No," I said, "But they should." Unfortunately, the mama didn't have the chance to sing. Her ride never came to take her to the second night of the novena of mourning for her friend. That's a Catholic Church ritual of praying that soothes the souls of the departed's loved ones. My definition. Fortunately, the mama didn't seem to mind that she had been forgotten. She was probably relieved. She did not have to deal with the question that people seem compelled to ask her. How old are you? It's not a question anyone
I'm feeling lazy today. No, that's not true. If I really was lazy, I wouldn't even be writing this. Ha! More precise is this: I'm struggling with words today. If cartoon bubbles could surround my brain cells right now, they would say "puff, puff, puff, fizzzzzzle." This morning a whole lot of sparrows were eating out of the feeders in the front yard today. My brain cells feel like how the sparrows looked as they scattered to the bushes, the fence, and the rooftops when a sharp noise spooked them. Seriously. I sound like a loony tune right now, I know. By writing about it, I'm a loony tune with a spotlight on it. Hmmm, which reminds me of the Bugs Bunny cartoons on Saturday mornings. Do you remember how Bugs and Daffy Duck began the show by singing "This is It!" Don't recall it? Don't know it? Well, then, have a look-see and enjoy. As for me, I'm heading out to the farm stand for some fresh apples. Maybe by the time I've come bac
Clippity clop, clippity clop. Earlier this summer, the husband and I watched the Horse Show and Rodeo parade that takes place in our town every year. While waiting for the parade to start, I aimed my camera at the sky. Snappity snap. This was my favorite shot. If you'd like to see photos of the parade, clickity click here to be taken to my Take 25 to Hollister blog. For more Wordless Wednesday photos by other grand bloggers, click here for a list of links. For photos by other bloggers participating in Outdoor Wednesday , click here .
I believe the husband and I reached another milestone yesterday. We went to the grand opening of Vertigo Cafe in the next town over. We decided to drink our free coffee and eat our croissants on the patio. The husband went out with the coffee to grab the last free table, while I waited for the food. When I came out, he was standing next to the table. "There's only one chair," he said at the same time that I noticed why he had been standing. "We can sit on the bench," he said. That was okay by me. I was in need of coffee and food to break my evening fast. Everything was registering very slow with me. "Take my chair," said a voice behind me. I looked over at a young family. Two small children were perched on chairs. Dad was standing behind his son, and Mom was standing beside her chair. "No, thank you," we said. "We can sit on the bench." "You have a plate," the young mom said. "Besides, we are about to leave." Th