How come running errands is more fun when you ride bicycles? At least it is for the husband and me.   Swoooosh! Even riding against the wind is fun. Pedal, pedal, pedal. Hope you can get out and cruise about on your bicycle soon. Until then, enjoy yourself some Queen.

That's right, I admit it. I'm a craftsgal wanna be. When I was younger and lived in San Francisco, I thought it would be so cool to sell my handcrafted wares on the sidewalks. It didn't matter that I had no wares or skills.  I've been daydreaming again about selling my handcrafted wares, but this time at farmers markets and online at etsy.com.  Still, no wares and no skills. When I get tired of writing, I visit crafts blogs. Sewing, knitting, beading, whatever. I especially like the blogs by crafts ladies who repurpose old stuff into fantastic things that I want to make, such as clutch purses out of used skirts. Last fall, I finally had the space and time to try my hand at crafting. My first attempt was a hedgehog. That's it in the photo. It only has one eye. Next, I made was a pinwheel. I go gaga over pinwheels. They're what I associate with Fourth of July and family picnics. One day, I would like to learn to weld so that I can create one crazy gigantic pinwhee

Senryu, what?  It's a type of Japanese poem that is similar in format as the haiku. Haiku, huh? Okay, this is not English class, but I know you wish to be enlightened. If not, you will, by golly. Or, you can simply scroll down to the poems.  My education of all things haiku came last night when I finally wrote the last line to my haiku-in-progress. I felt that it wasn't really a haiku. So, off to Google my questioning mind and tippity-tap fingers went. In short, the haiku and senryu are three-line poems composed of 17 syllables. The pattern is five syllables in the first line, seven in the second, and five in the third. Haiku poems are about nature; no mention of human foibles allowed. Senryu poems  are about  human nature; no reference to the natural world at all. Now, you know. It didn't hurt, did it? Here's a true haiku by Basho Matsuo, who is said to be the first great haiku poet. He lived during the 17th century. An old silent pond... A frog jumps into the pond, sp

Back on the first of May , I wrote: "Can I think up something to post everyday for the next 30 days?  Will I miss a day or two because I've forgotten? Shall my slacker self balk at the discipline? Stay tuned." So, here we are, dear readers. Thirty-one days later. To sum up: I wrote a post a day in May. I  almost forgot to write something for the 30th. The slacker self would've probably balked if the anal-retentive self hadn't written two or three posts at a time to stay ahead of the game. Now comes the big question: Shall I continue writing and posting daily? Here's my roundabout answer. Once upon a time I used to jog regularly and got to the point where I entered fun runs for the t-shirts. The longest run I did was the crazy Bay to Breakers. I ran, well jogged, all  8+ miles. It took me about 50 minutes, I'll have you know. Pretty good for a fat chick. When I crossed the finish line, I was exhilarated and numb. I just had enough energy to walk another mil

Today is Memorial Day. Here, then, I share with you two poems from the public domain.  Be forewarned: The poems are graphic. They are ugly. They are painful. As they should be. These poems give us a glimpse into the world of  men and women who live and risk dying in war, any war, so that corporations, businesses, churches, and other institutions may continue. I am not advocating for or against war by presenting these two poems. I'll tell you this though: I would love the ideal conditions that beauty contestants want, "World peace." This first poem was written by Alan Seeger , an American poet who joined the French Foreign Legion in 1914 so he could fight in the war against the Central Powers. He was killed in action in France two years later. Rendezvous by Alan Seeger I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air - I have a ren

The mama is a professional reuser and repurposer, and she doesn't even know it.  See the photo of different types of containers. I picked all those things up from behind her seat at the kitchen table the other day so I could mop the floor. That box is not empty. It's loaded with empty peanut butter jars. I'm sure I could find at least a dozen boxes full of empty jars stashed in the garage and the tool shed. Maybe one of these days, I'll take some of the boxes down to the recycling center. For as long as I can remember, the mama has saved jars, worn out clothing, boxes, paper bags, bread ties, containers and trays that food come on, tree branches, wood, linoleum tiles, and so on and so forth. She turns them all into functional things such as dust rags, garbage bags, seed containers, and plant saucers. The mama has a lot of soft kitchen towels that she made out of rice bags when rice was sold in white cotton sacks. As for tree branches, she keeps the sturdy tall ones that

The blogathon is a few days away from being done.  Hooray. I've decided that my daily posting experience would be incomplete without a mention of sweet baby Cu'Pie. Those who knew Cu'Pie would agree. Cu'pie stands for Cutie Pie and he was a bright (as in color and intelligence) little budgie that flew into our backyard in another place and time. He hopped into our house and lived with us for the next 11 years. Cu'Pie first hung out with the husband and me, then the mama, and finally with all of his three humans together.  He taught us many things, including unconditional love. We taught him how to say "Chirp. Chirp." So, dear readers, today I give you a post previously published on June 12, 2007 in my first blog, Cu'pie Baby Bird Says "Chirp. Chirp." (Yes, I like long titles.) Cu'Pie Speaks Cu’Pie was a bilingual baby bird. He spoke his brand of parakeet as well as human. When he hung out with Greening, another parakeet of a different br