In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now approaching 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!
The Husband. . . and the Me As you can see, the husband's and my hair (hairs?) are now back to being normally short. Click here to see our original state of baldness. As for that bald oval spot on the side of my head, it's almost hidden now without me even trying. But then I wasn't even trying when I didn't have enough hair to cover it. Check it out. That there is a natural comb-over. Any bets on how long the husband's and my hair (hairs?) will get by next January? Or, whose hair will be the longest?
My dad didn't advise me much when I was growing up. When he did, they were humdingers, and usually they were one-liners. For instance, on the day of my senior prom, he told me rather placidly, and unexpectedly, "Don't go f***ing around." The idea hadn't even entered my mind. And, when I was attending community college, Daddy pronounced suddenly in his usual unruffled way to me, "Don't be a hippie." Nothing more. Probably the most profound guidance Daddy gave me was when, as a teenager, I decided to check out different churches. Not because I was looking for a church to join but because I was curious about how different churches worshiped. I didn't know that Daddy had noticed what I was doing. Even if he had, I didn't think he would've cared since we were not avid churchgoers. But before I went on my fourth Sunday outing, Daddy said, calmly, as always, "I don't want you going to any other church as long as I'm alive." H
What a ditz I am! What a dope! I could blame it on my progressive lenses that give me trouble finding the sweet spot in which to read my computer screen. Yeah, I can blame my glasses. No personal responsibility here for reading $.045 as 45 cents instead of 4 1/2 cents. What a big difference that is! Last month, I contracted to write three articles for a reputable publisher based on $.045 per word, which I read as 45 cents a word. I would've been none the wiser if I hadn't received an e-mail yesterday from the editor seeking writers to complete a few rush articles. He wrote that the pay would be the usual "4 1/2 cents per word." What? I quickly looked up the initial query I received and my contract. The wording was "$.045 per word." Such a dumbo, I am. Sigh . Now I could turn my frown upside down by saying that 4 1/2 cents per word is better than the zero cents per word I give myself for blog posts. Four and a half cents is better than nothing, right? So
I learned recently that the Pulitzer people give out an annual prize for criticism. The mama would win one if she was a journalist, or if the prize was for the most, best, and consistent criticizer around. That doesn't sound good, does it? On a positive note, she is less critical than she was in our younger days. That could be because I am just as less critical about her. Ah, the joys of this daughter-and-mother relationship. I digress, as bloggers are sometimes meant to do. According to the Pulitzer Prizes Web site, the winners in the criticism category are awarded for their " distinguished criticism." In other words, they have written in print or online acclaimed, celebrated, esteemed, respected, important, and influential words of assessment, appraisal, judgement, disapproval, condemnation, and/or censure. Imagine. Some winning critics have offered their opinions about movies, books, music, art, architecture, or media. Others have commented about social, cultural, ec
Whoo-hoo! It's the fourth day of the 2010 WordCount Blogathon, and look, you're reading my fourth post for the month. Today, I thought you might enjoy checking out some blogs of the other participants in the blogathon. So, here you go: Rebecca I. Allen 356 No More A journey from couch to fit. Christa Avampato Christa in New York Curating a Creative Life. Anjuli bhulbhulaiyan A complicated entanglement of zigzag pathways. Joan Lambert Bailey PopcornHomestead Gardening, place and my life in Tokyo. Karen Bannan Natural as Possible Mom Because natural isn’t always possible—or easy. t.a. barnhart Left Coast Foodie Damn, that’s good: a foodie blog by someone who knows what he’s doing. June Bell Enough is enough! Advice and support. Athena l. Borozon Altar Valley Daily Orb The Desert Rat Dialogues. Jane Boursaw Film Gecko Cool movie news and reviews. Alisa Bowman Project Happily Ever After Marriage advice from a recovering divorce daydre
Pancit, which I pronounce as pawn-sit , is a Filipino noodle dish. Until I was an adult, I thought pancit was made only with translucent mung bean noodles. Then I learned that many Filipinos make pancit with rice noodles or wheat noodles. It was a rude awakening for me. Still, to this day, I make pancit with clear mung bean noodles, the way the mama showed me. Always will. Preparing pancit isn't difficult, just labor intensive, especially if you want to add a variety of vegetables to it. While growing up, the mama cooked pancit for parties or other special occasions. After I got married, the mama would make a huge pot full of pancit so that I could take leftovers home to stick in my freezer. Now that the husband and I are living with the mama, I like to make pancit for her now and then. Like all my recipes, many of the ingredients vary each time I prepare pancit. The ingredient that stays the same is mung bean noodles. You can find it at any Asian market or at the Asian section i
New Mexico Clouds Three autumns ago, the husband and I traveled through New Mexico. One of things that awed me were the fat, fluffy clouds that danced across the long expanse of deep blue sky. I hadn't seen these kinds of clouds since I was a kid 500 years ago. I don't know if it's because, as an adult, I was living in the foggy and (when the fog burned off) smoggy Bay Area. Still, there were no clouds to speak when the husband and I moved to my hometown, away from the fog but not the smog. When I saw the clouds in New Mexico, I didn't know how much I missed the sight of them. Since the trip, we have been seeing New Mexico clouds moving across the sky, especially when the area is about to get a good rain, or after one. I like to think the clouds followed us back home. Do you see that terrier laying on his back? Clouds kissing? Anyone else see a skull up there?