The first, okay, maybe it was the fourth, thing I did this morning before breakfast was write that To Do list. I did finish the mystery I've been reading at breakfast. I diligently stuck with the story although I didn't care for the protagonist who was too much of an insecure whiner. But once I learned who the suspect was, I skimmed through the final scenes. I closed the book and purposely went to complete something else. For about the next two hours, I topped off the Mama's outdoor potted plants with potting soil. It was something I had been thinking about doing for the last two summers. The other week, while the Mama was watering her plants, she mentioned that they needed more soil. "Uh-huh," I said, glancing at them and thinking I need to do that before she got to it. Fortunately, for me, a few days ago, the Husband and I bought three huge bags of potting soil. The Mama requested one, but I bought two extra bags. Not because I was going to add soil to

It was cold and foggy on the day of the club picnic. What better way to get warm than to play touch football.  That day, nearly 40 years ago, was the first time (and the only time ) I've ever played the game. We didn't even play it in girls PE in high school, which now when I look back, I wonder why. We had field hockey (loved those sticks), archery, swimming (my favorite), soccer (hated all that running), folk dancing, tumbling (aw, gee, again!), bowling, and an assortment of other sports, but no touch football. Not even flag football. Again, I wonder why since football was a big deal in my high school. Anyway, I digress. In case, you've forgotten, or are confused, this tale of my rare athleticism happened when I was still a not-so-petite, petite young woman in college. Everyone had traveled an hour or so to a park south of the city. I have no idea anymore where it was, but I do remember the large meadow where we played touch football. Always willing to try almost any

The other week, the Husband and I decided on a five year plan. First five year plan we've ever made about anything, too. The best part about it: We're already in year three. (By the way, did I use that colon punctuation properly?) What is this five year plan? And, how is that related to the photos of our hair? I'm glad you asked. This tale starts in 2010 when the Husband and I decided to go bald. The Husband also chose to shave off his mustache and beard. You can read that story here , if you're interested. In 2011, we shaved off our hair again. In 2012, we wondered how long our hair would get after two years. When 2013 came along, we got used to our messy look and thought about trimming it all once the temperatures got very hot. They never did. So, here we are again at our anniversary of shorn locks. The last time my hair has been this long was in my youth, albeit (oooh, love that transitional word) my hair back then was much, much thicker. The Husband says t

"Husband, what is my X-factor?" I asked, standing behind the Husband, who was at the kitchen sink. He was carefully prepping the dishes to wash. "X-factor?" the Husband asked. "What do you mean?" "I dunno," I said, trying to balance on one foot. "What is X-factor?" "It was a TV show** about aliens." "Cool! I've got my "X" post." "What?" "The letter X. You'll be featured tomorrow on the blog. Thank you very much." The Husband laughed. * Later, when I returned from taking out the garbage, the Husband said, "X-Files was the alien show. X Factor was a talent show." "Even better," I said, though I don't know why. I'm participating in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge this month. To check out other participants, click here . See you tomorrow.    

I knew the pet store was to the left, so I turned left.  "I think it's to the right," said the Husband, sitting in the passenger seat. "No, it's this way," I said, firm in my belief. "I think it's back that way," the Husband said, firm in his belief. "No." "Yes." "I'll bet you it's this way," I said. "I don't want to bet money," he said. "Jumping jacks," I said. "When you lose, you do 10 jumping jacks." "Okay," he said. Here, dear readers, you should note that the Husband does not bet unless he's 100 percent sure he's right. "And, if I lose. . .," I said. "What do you want me to do?" "Ten jumping jacks," he answered. Dear readers, you should also note that I do not do jumping jacks. "Fine. If I lose, I do 10 jumping jacks. But, I'm not losing." Half an hour later, the Husband stood ne