1. Who remembers the days of the manual typewriters? Clack, clack, clack. And, if you were a proficient typist, clack clack clackity clickclack clickity. . . ! 2. Anyone else glad he or she took typing in high school? Friends tell me we learned on electric typewriters. I remember the manual typewriters in journalism class. Yup, I felt like a real reporter when I composed my stories on a typewriter. 3. During the days of electric typewriters, a few of my friends typed 100+ words per minute and more with hardly any mistakes.  I dilly-dallied around half that speed with several mistakes. (I hated typing documents that required carbon copies.) 4. The fastest I could type was in the high 70s. I remember coming out of a job interview all psyched about that high score. I thought that I ought to insure my hands. They were, after all, necessary for my livelihood. hahahaha. 5. The other day the husband and I talked with friends over the phone for a couple of hours. That's al

The story I was told. She was a child. Ang ubing. Maybe three, maybe four. She had fallen ill. Masakit. Dakes. Terribly sick. "She pinched the air," said Lola Julia, "like she was catching butterflies." - 30 - Mosiac Monday at Letting Go of the Bay Leaf is where I'm heading now. Come join me.

"I want to be there," said the Husband. Me, too. The other day I was missing the sight of granite, miles and miles of exposed surface of batholith mountains. In particular, the Sierra Nevada mountain range. More specifically, Desolation Wilderness in the El Dorado National Forest, west of Lake Tahoe. Every year, for nine years, the Late Great First Husband and I backpacked the Sierras. At least one trip was to our favorite spot, Pyramid Lake in Desolation Wilderness, above Horsetail Falls, off of Highway 50. These photos are from my first backpacking trip up Horsetail Falls. The original prints were overexposed. Thankfully, I kept the pictures and was able to "clean" them up a bit in Photoshop. Talk about following the First Husband with complete trust while carrying 25 pounds, more or less, of food, gear, and reading material on my back. I don't know what it's like today, but back then, once you got to the base of the falls, the way

All of a sudden, Mama's roses are in bloom. Pop! Pop! Pop! I heeded the experts and hacked away at most of the rose bushes when it was pruning time. Mama liked to let them grow tall. So do I. It's just that the roses got to looking wimpy and straggly and all things not good. Pop, pop, pop. Pop! About two years ago, I transplanted this orange rose bush from the other side of the backyard. The butterfly bush had a way of hiding it away from the sun during the summer.  This year it looks so much happier than last year. Pop. Pop! Pop. It's time for Mosaic Monday . Click here to check out photo collages by other bloggers. Take care out there! Pop. Pop. Pop.

1. The Husband and I successfully fulfilled our monthly date for vacuuming, dusting, and mopping the house. Three months in a row. Definitely a whoop-de-doo! for us. The carpet feels so good beneath our bare feet. 2. Here's another thing I'm proud about doing today. I successfully pulled a curly dock weed, more than 60 inches tall, from the middle of a young butterfly bush. Poor guy. The two plants' roots were stuck together, but not entwined, so I was able to pry them apart. Hopefully the young butterfly bush was not too traumatized. 3. I need to go out and check the seeds I planted last week. They may need a drink of water. 4. But, first I need to go cook our main meal for us. I do miss not cooking. 5. Here I am again. The seeds got their sips of water. I saw two sunflower sprouts. Yippieeee. 6. After marinating locally produced grass-fed beef stew in a concoction of spices, vinegar, oil, and whatever else for a few hours, I sliced the meat thinly a

I finally got around to sewing face masks, two for the Husband and two for me. I only had one oopsie. The photo shows a collage of mask #5.   :-) I followed a pattern with straps, using bias tape to make the ties. The oopsie mask was made with elastic. Elastics elude me.  The elastic straps were like rubber bands. The mask flung forward each time the Husband or I put it on. The Great Elastic Escape.  Molly the pinky-nosed (wild) Cat likes to nap on the love seat in front of the patio window these past weeks. When summer comes, she'll scarf her last bite of breakfast, jump off her table, and scamper out the patio door, to come back for lunch or to use her litter box.  And, sometimes she'll wander back in to check on her humans. Sweet girl, her. Today I sat beside Missy, gazing out the window with her. I got to wondering how the world looks to her. Does she see the same thing that I see?  Perhaps the world looks like this. More than likely Molly w

1. What words convey the sounds of walnut shells ricochetting? 2. Crack. Obviously. 3. Zing. A shell flies into the air. 4. Zingg. A shell soars far. 5. Ping. A shell ricochets on something. 6. Thump. A shell hits something. 7. Tinkkk. A shell vibrates on a surface. 8. Crack. Thump. The shell hit a chair.   9. Crack. Zing. Ping. Tinkkk.  The shell ricocheted off the glass tabletop onto the floor.   10. Crack. Ping. Zingg. Thump. Tinkkk. The shell bounced off a chair and hit the wall. 11. Too bad we didn't have goggles. Across the table, the Husband shielded his eyes while he read on his iPad. 12. Could anyone intentionally hit someone with a walnut shell? 13. "A blue ribbon walnut cracker," said the Husband. Check out Thursday 13 for more lists of 13.