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!
Yesterday, I made bread. White bread, to be precise. I even followed the recipe, almost precisely, which is pretty good for me. I forgot to add the salt, but that's okay. We already finished one loaf. I thought about putting up the Christmas tree yesterday morning, but chose to bake bread and make carrot and leek soup for lunch instead. I had a yen for freshly baked white bread for the past two days. And, since I wasn't going to find what I wanted in the local grocery stores or bakeries, I might as well knead one to fulfill my need. Yuk, yuk . I don't make bread much anymore. Not that I was ever a bread baker. I just like pounding the dough. Okay, the kneading. Knead, knead. Pound. Pound, Knead. Easy pounding. Not like the first time I made bread many decades ago. Imagine me, a 20-year-old college girl living in a second-floor apartment in San Francisco's Richmond district. It's late in the evening. Because I'm either stressed or bored, or both, with
Plod, plod, plod. I jogged nonstop all the way around the block. Nearly one-quarter of a mile that first day. Yes, it was tough. On my lungs. On my knees. On my whole body. Lumber, lumber, lumber. The second day, I jogged, gasping, but nonstop, for half a mile. When I got home, I told the Husband that my jogging went from plod, plod, plod to lumber, lumber lumber . The Husband asked, "How is plodding different from lumbering?" The sound is different. It is. Pad, pad, pad. My gait sounded like Molly the Cat's when she scoots across the kitchen floor in search of something mischievous to do. I went three-quarters of a mile that third day. I remembered to breath in through my nose and not my mouth. I tried not to think of the twinge in my right knee. The fourth morning, I laid in bed thinking which route around the neighborhood would make one mile. And I thought about whether I ought to run at all. Maybe I ought to pay attention to the twinge that was now t
Once Molly catches that turkey, I will start cooking. I am grateful for many things. . . the Husband, the Mama, and Molly the Cat. the friends in my life. the ability to live the life I choose. the earth, the sun, the wind, and the water. the unconditional love of God. Peace, joy, love, and happiness to you, Dear Readers.
Lately, I've been helping the Mama pick up the leaves in the backyard. Even when it's about to rain or when the wind is being blustery. Why? Because the Mama is out there. And, she'll stay out there until she is a) satisfied that she has picked up as many leaves as she could before more fall from the trees, or b) tired and has begun ranting about the next door neighbor's dirty tree that sheds lots and lots of clusters of red berries and skinny hard leaves, which are quite difficult to pick up. After years of calling out the back window, "Come in, Mama, it's too cold!" Or, "It's windy! Just wait until the wind stops." Or, "It's raining!" I now step outside, followed happily by Molly the Cat who has been cooped inside because the Mama decided it's too cold, windy, and/or rainy for her to be outdoors. I usually head to the other side of the yard with my favorite rake. The sooner the leaves are picked up, the sooner t
Last week, I read a post by Manzanita at Wanna Buy a Duck about a blogger friend who was visiting her. She'd ended her post with a question: "Have you ever visited in person with a blogging buddy?" I thought that would be pretty cool to meet a fellow blogger in person. But, I figured the odds are slim since the bloggers I would love to meet one day live in such far away places as Montana, British Columbia, Hawaii, Australia, the East Coast, and Malaysia. And, these days, far-away traveling is not on the horizon for the Husband and me. Ha! Was I proven wrong. About meeting blogger buddies in person, that is. On Tuesday, I received an e-mail message from Courtney of Maui Jungalow . She and her husband were visiting in Silicon Valley for a couple of days and she wondered if I might be interested in getting together. Voila! The next day, the Husband and I met them at the motorcycle seat factory in our town where Courtney's husband was ordering a custom-made sea
Tomorrow, I start another 30-day challenge of keeping excessive, delicious carbohydrates out of my diet. It's called the Sweet Fire Challenge , lead by nutrition education Mary Toscano. I completed another of her 30-day challenges in August . My poor eating and non-exercise habits began creeping back a few weeks ago, so when I learned about this new challenge, I decided to jump in before I gain back the pounds and inches I've lost, as well as lose all the sensibilities I've gained. I'm doing the extreme challenge, which requires that I follow three simple rules from November 11 to December 10: 1. No food or alcohol after 7:30 p.m. 2. No foods with flour or with more than 20 grams of sugars per serving 3. Do 30 minutes of exercise, or do 7,000 steps, every day. Soooooo, today, I ate sourdough bread and a maple old-fashioned doughnut for lunch. I'll probably have a bit more sourdough bread for dinner, along with three or four mini mini-chocolate-chip-c
Today is all about Molly the Cat. The gorgeous girl has been shepherding us for two-and-a-half years. The Mama, the Husband, and I all agree -- how ever did we manage before she came into our lives? Sometimes I like to work on the computer before breakfast. On some mornings, Molly jumps up on the desk and stretches out. "Hurry up," she says. "How can I?" I ask her. "I can't see the screen. I need to use the mouse." "Mrrrr," she says. "That's your problem." Most mornings before we eat breakfast, Molly and I head out the front door. I fetch the newspaper while she checks the grounds. Some days, Stewie, from down the street, sits beneath our car. Molly scowls intently from afar and when she decides Stewie is too slow to take the hint, Molly approaches in attack mood. Stewie has learned from past encounters that it's best to just leave. After breakfast, the Mama opens the screen door for Molly to