My latest thing is to nurture succulent cuttings in glass containers filled with layered colored sand. Coloring sand is also a new thing I tried this year. It’s easy-peasy to do. Mix acrylic paint little by little with sand until you get the hue you want. 

Double ugh. That was my first two hours this morning. Double ugh.  When I got out of bed later than usual, I decided to get my Medicare card ready to go for tomorrow. Be efficient, you know. I was going to say “anal retentive” but I couldn’t remember the term so had to do a Google search with keywords anal and efficient. And, what do you know, I am not anal retentive at all. After what I learned, thank goodness.  The Medicare card was not where I thought it was in the office, which took me half an hour to find that location and another half an hour to find out it was not there. I looked elsewhere. Nothing. Over there. Nothing. There. Nope. All the while, I took deep breaths to keep the panic away. Ugh. Then, I thought, maybe I could get a copy of my card at the Medicare website. Yes, you can, stated the site. You need to provide your Medicare number. I needed my card to give it. Medicare offered an alternative avenue to get my card via an online Social Security account.  Ok, I have an

Mama’s dream, when I was young and single living in San Francisco, was to purchase a two-story house that had been divided into two flats. “You can live upstairs,” said Mama.  Whenever she mentioned her dream, I responded with reality, “It’s too expensive.” That didn’t ever make her dream any less. Back then, the thought of living with Mama again, even in a separate apartment in the City, was not what I wanted. So, ha! on me. Fast forward to the summer of 2003, I find myself living with Mama again. Not in the city but back in my hometown of Hollister, which was transitioning from predominantly farmland to a sea of residences. We can thank the Husband for agreeing to move away from the San Francisco Bay Area where he had lived most of his life. By the time we moved, I had lived longer up there.  Not any more. This year marks our 20th year living in Hollister. I doubt we’re going anywhere. We’ve paid off the mortgage so we’re sitting pretty in that way. The Husband wanted to get far

Monday, Monday. What scintillating things did I do today?  A pearl choker wrapped around a wooded bracelet…voilà, a Christmas ornament in the making. The Husband and I moseyed down to the hardware store to purchase a package of packing tape, one six-outlet power strip, one surge protector, a bag of cactus and succulent soil, and a bag of orchid potting mix. When did the employees get so young? Even 30 year olds look like babies to me.  I finally read the operating instructions for our new washing machine. Nothing fancy, nothing smart. Simply turn dials, press button, and walk away knowing the machine will do its job correctly just like the old machine had for 18 years. With good fortune, this new machine will last for my forever. How was your Monday? 

Pareidolia is defined as the brain seeing a pattern in randomness, such as seeing a man in the moon or a face in a tree. I don’t see a man, or a bunny, in the moon, but I can see faces in trees. Some experts say pareidolia is normal, while other experts say otherwise. Seems like you can say that about nearly anything.

Today’s adventure was creating a space in the front yard for tulips, freesias, hyacinths, and lilies of the Inca to pop up come Spring. Our yard is clayish, so we shall see what grows.  Dig, grunt. dig, groan. . . . I double dug the ground along with working in potting soil. It is, and will be, so very worth it. The tulip and hyacinth bulbs are guaranteed to grow, according to the package. I wonder what the company pumped into the bulbs to make such a statement.  Imagine, red tulips and red hyacinths mingling with yellow and blue freesias and pink lilies of the Inca (aka alstroemeria and Peruvian lilies).  Although, the lilies may bloom way after the others are done for the season. I’m fine with that.

Crunch. Crunch. A couple of sparrows have found the basket of sunflower seeds I forgot to put away.  Crunch, crunch, crunch. You’re welcome.