In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now in 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!
A few weeks ago Saturday Night Live featured a video about two women talking about their hobbies. Oh my gosh, I recognized myself. When I was a young single thing living la dolce vita in San Francisco, a guy I met for coffee asked, "What are your hobbies?" "Hobbies?" "Interests. What do you like to do?" Totally stumped, I was. I liked to read and write, but I didn't consider those activities as hobbies. They were simply a part of what I did. Without trying, in the last three years, I've embraced hobbies. Sewing, drawing, painting, gardening, and crafting are what have showed up at my door, thus far. That guy at the cafe 40 years ago? I never saw him again. SO, MOLLY DID The other day I didn't feel like folding the pieces of fabric I laid out on the bed in L Studio. It wasn't going to bother me if Molly the Cat felt like lying on top of the fabric. I told her so, too, before I sat down to contemplate how much of the vari
Thirteen years ago, I would've replied "Nooo. Really?" should future me had reached into the time spectrum to tease me about my today. Never ever would I have thought 13 years ago that I would actually do these things. One. Taking 15 years for us to move the Husband's parents' belongings from a rented storage locker to our garage. Two. Buying artist's and crafter's paints. Three. Tending to all sorts of flowers on what was once Mama's lawn. Four. Mulling over the possibilities for curtains I'll sew for the bedroom, L Studio, and living room windows. Five. Interrupting a task to play Scrabble with the Husband, and knowing that I'll finish the task when we're done with the game. Six. Painting a mural. Seven. Being told by a specialist that he can't straighten my leg. Crooked? That was news to me. Eight. Receiving my social security benefits! Nine. Being loved by Molly the Cat. Ten. Meeting many ki
Dear Blogging Friends, I appreciate your concern to what Jeanna nicely asks, ". . .where the hells are ya?" Time flew. Words stuttered. Thoughts blocked. Fog erased sentences. I shrugged it off by becoming a mad demon downsizing the stuff in the garage and house so that all the stuff that has been in storage for 15 years may get shoved into the garage. Of course, the decision to make this happen was three weeks before the Husband had his first cataract surgery. Once that happened, he won't be able to lift, carry, and manipulate heavy objects until June. (He has his second cataract surgery in May.) Success! Everything got moved and fit in the garage. Success! The Husband was able to read 20/25 on the eye chart with his new left lens less than 24 hours after his procedure. Pretty good from 20/800. "Keep busy" is the advice some people like to give those who recently lose someone. I didn't understand that when the First Husband died in 1995 nor
The other day, friends (whom I've known since elementary school) and I were kidding about not knowing what we want to be when we grow up. Then I realized that I did know and that I was doing it: Playing at being an artist. And, not just with words. Whooo-hooo! A couple weeks ago I finished my first painting. It's on the concrete step outside the patio window. Some of you may remember the bottles I painted earlier this month. I let a few of them dry on that concrete step, which left paint stains. I decided that painting over the stains was the best way to get rid of them. And, so I did. BOOK PLANTER I made one! It was easy-peasy. If you want to give it a try, do a search for "book planter" in your browser. One of these days, I'll share my method once I've got it down. I have another book ready to be planted and four more prepped to carve. My first book planter became a housewarming gift. The yellow glassy thing (in the middle photo above) i
1. "Caramel corn would taste good right now?" I said to the Husband. "Yeah," said he. "I wonder where we could get some." "Bertuccio's has some," I replied. "Or we can learn to make caramel corn." 2. The Husband and I have been moving and switching furniture in the house. 3. The old bureau now sits in the front yard waiting to be stained and turned into a big happy planter. 4. Our clothes now rest in the Husband's more narrow dresser that his parents gave him over 50 years ago. 5. The late 1800s parlor organ sits in the foyer waiting to be dusted, photographed, and sold to someone who would enjoy owning it next. 6. The TV, modems, and such now rest on a 1950s dresser rather than the organ. The dresser's name is Roy Rogers because of its cowboy look. At least in my mind. 7. The creamy leather recliner now sits in the living room. The Husband took his first nap on it last night. 8. I love coming home to s
Don't these daisies look like space aliens of some kind? That's what came to my mind when I saw them at the farmer's market last year. So, of course I had to buy a pot. For two bucks, I couldn't go wrong. ARUGULA PESTO Arugula is my new favorite vegetable right now. I like its kick. So far, though, I make a pesto out of the bitter greens. As with any dish, there are different kinds of arugula pesto recipe out there. Here's the one I made up yesterday: I grinded and blended a batch of arugula, a handful of parsley, 8 big garlic cloves, olive oil, a bit of water, Parmesan cheese, and salt and white pepper to taste. I loved how green the concoction looked. A perfect Spring dish. Maybe next time I'll think about taking a photo. Also next time I'll add a lot more shredded Parmesan. (I only had 1/4 cup in the fridge.) A Glorious First Day of Spring, One and All! I'm linking up to two fun memes today: ABC Wednesday and Say Cheese! Come check out
Caw. Caw. Caw. Caw. A flock of crows have been hanging around the neighborhood lately. I've watched some of them fly through the backyard, coming to rest on the tall, leafy skinny tree (possibly a birch) next door. Caw. Caw. Caw. Caw. I never paid attention to these birds until one Sunday afternoon in 1994. The First Husband and I lived in an apartment building on the northwest flank of Mt. Sutro in San Francisco. That afternoon I was home working while the First Husband was attending a powwow. While I was looking out the window, a crow landed on our balcony. I moved closer to the window. It didn't faze the crow. That crow and I gazed at each other for a long while. I felt the crow was assuring me all would be well with the First Husband who was diagnosed with cancer. Until a few weeks before he died, I saw and heard crows often. There were afternoons where I'd see a crow circling above the trees near our carport. Same crow? Maybe. Hearing or seeing a crow mell