12:59 p.m. Drats ! Lunch time! I meant to start making lunch half-an-hour ago. 1 p.m. Race down the stairs, into the garage, and pull out a bag of frozen organic tomatoes from the freezer. Rinse the tomatoes, then thaw them in the microwave, on high, for 8 minutes. Next, wash and thinly slice 3 stalks of celery. Dice 1 white onion. Sauté ingredients until soft in a combination of olive oil and not-butter. 1:07 p.m. Run upstairs to fetch camera. Take picture of tomatoes in microwave. 1:09 p.m. Dump tomatoes into pot. Stir. Take a photo. Cover pot. 1:11 p.m. Finish cleaning and chopping half a bulb of garlic (10 large cloves in this case). Add to pot. With back of spoon, smash down tomatoes. Add in several mean shakes of black pepper straight from tin and 2 healthy pinches (probably 1 heaping tsp. each) of dried basil. When it comes to spices and herbs, I'm not subtle. Because the hubby must restrict his salt intake, I rarely add salt to the stuff I make. 1:14 p.m.: Carefully pluck

One of my latest projects is divesting myself of stuff. See the photo of the snake pen. It’s inkless. Shall I: a) throw it away? b) toss it into one of my boxes of mementos, which I’ll open another day to decide whether I’m ready to dump what’s inside? c) keep it forever and let my executor dump it after I’m dead? I bought this pen years ago when I was going through a period of “Ooh, how cute. I’m a snake, I must have it.” Fortunately, that was a short phase and I have only a meager collection of stuffed snakes, snake figurines, and picture books featuring talking snakes. No doubt, unknown readers, you understand my snake reference, one of the 12 signs in Chinese astrology. According to the Chinese Zodiac.com web site , “…When it comes to decision-making, Snakes are extremely analytical and as a result, they don’t jump into situations....” Yep. This snake pen has been lying on my desk for several days, ever since I went through my cup of pens and threw away the inkless ones. But un

So, do you see Bart Simpson in that tree? How about a person in pants standing as he or she scratches his or her head? Perhaps, you see the back side of a deer's head as it gazes at the building. Or, do you see a mess of leaves that you're happy you won't be sweeping? That's imagining, too. (Click on the photo for a larger image.)

It started by me asking the husband at the dinner table last night, “What’s the longest that your hair has ever grown?” “About halfway down my back,” he answered. “Me, too.” I said. “I could reach behind at my waist and touch it with my fingertips.” “Me, too.” “Have you ever gone bald?” I asked. “No,” the husband replied. “Me, neither.” “I’ ve thought about it.” “Me, too.” The question popped out of my mouth, “Wanna do it?” “Do you?” “How long do you think our hair can grow in one year?” “Dunno.” Throughout last night and this morning, we asked each other, “Wanna do it?” "Shall we?" "What do you think?" "No haircuts for a year?" When we went out this morning to shop for groceries, that’s all we planned to do. Really. Then we saw the hair salon next to the market. And, yeah, we did it. The Shorn Husband. . . and The Shorn Wife

I've been thinking, wanting, and needing (yes, needing) to begin a new blog for several months, since the hubby and I finished our last writing project. I have been lagging in some tasks, such as updating my web site, because I was awaiting the start of this here blog. What has kept me from beginning is my vacillation about choosing the right title and the right look. That can also be another way of saying I’m simply mentally tuckered out from words. But, that’s if I was being honest...to myself. After all, the title did pop out of my cobwebby mind a couple months ago while gathering chestnuts. Really, I was. Gathering chestnuts that is, but that will be a tale for another day. So, here I am, a 56-year-old woman. There's nothing like blogging about this and that and about here and there to find my voice and rhythm. Again. Thanks for visiting. Please stop by often.