I'm reading Under the Tuscan Sun right now. This is my third start (maybe fourth) in the last 10 years or so. I enjoyed the movie so I bought the book when I saw it on the "buy 3, get one free" table at a bookstore.  I finally got to a point that I don't recall having read. This morning I learned that the fig flower resides inside the fruit and a certain kind of wasp burrows itself inside the fig to lay its eggs. If it doesn't succeed, that's okay, it has at least pollinated the flower. If larvae has been deposited, ooh-la-la! According to Wikipedia (yup, I had to learn more), a mature male mates with a female then proceeds to peck its way out of the fig so that all the females can escape. The male, now wingless and, no doubt, quite spent promptly dies. May he forever rest in joyful peace knowing that he did his job well. Frances Mayes is the author of Under the Tuscan Sun . For those who never read the book or saw the movie, Mayes wrote about her exper

This morning I came across a banana blossom, the first one since the garden came under my supervision. The blossom is still young. Proof of climate change? Doesn't the blossom look like a goat's head to you? Baaaaa.

French presses don't last long in our household. It used to be we could go a couple of years before the glass container breaks. In recent years, nope. Three months, if we're lucky. Each time one breaks, we go back to using our makeshift coffee system—a 32-ounce glass measuring cup and a leftover plastic funnel from a legitimate coffee dripper that got broke who knows when. I can't bring myself to throw the coffee press plunger right away because I never know when it may come in handy. The problem is I put it away and forget where. It's not uncommon to reach deep into a kitchen shelf or open a box marked Kitchen Stuff , voila! there's a coffee press plunger. Last month I finally did something with a coffee press plunger. It so happened that I came across a  bunch of metal tubes that were once-upon-a-time chimes at the same time that I spied a coffee press plunger. Yup. The coffee press plunger chimes make a pretty sound hanging from the apple tree outside the

Today's movie was the first feature film ever shot in Saudi Arabia and directed by a Saudi woman. Purrrrrrrr- ty cool. It's an honest story about a young girl wanting things that she can't have because she is a girl. But, that doesn't stop her. The Missus Lady says she knows what that was like. She says the Mama knew it, too, and even more. The Mama loved to climb trees when she was a kid. One day, when she was 12 years old, an older brother found her climbing up a coconut tree. When she came down, her brother beat her up, saying "Shame on you! You are too old to climb trees."  Mewr. She never said if she ever stopped. Wadjda  (2012) Setting: Riyadh, Saudi Arabia Wadjda is a 10 year-old girl who lives with her mother in the suburbs. Her father lives there part-time it seems and now that Wadjda's mother can no longer bear children, he is thinking of taking a second wife.  Will he? If he does, what will happen to Wadjda and her mother? Wadjda is

Yesterday I celebrated my first day of being 64 years old. How did that happen? My body knows I'm old. Probably my brain does, too. I'm guessing all old people say that since I have no guidebook for getting older. Spiritually, I'm that five-year-old wandering in the fields surrounded by tall grass, wildflowers, butterflies, and sun bubbles. I'm also that young thing uncovering worlds and possibilities. I feel, again, a freedom to dream, to discover, and to do!

This rusty green wheelbarrow has been in the family for at least 54 years. It was one of the first garden equipment the Daddy bought for our new home way back when. We have used it to make cement, to carry bales of hay, and to move dirt, wood, and whatever from one side of the house to the other. Today it sings a loud, squeeky-squeek when rolled so we prefer to use a hand truck. I love its rustiness. Sharing with Our World Tuesday today.  Click here to check out the longtime meme. 

Georgy of Jubilee Street posted a video called "How to Draw Like Picasso", which I'm also sharing. Last night I gave it a whirl. I could've easily filled the pages with possibilities. That above is my first attempt with crayons that belonged to the Mother of the Husband, whom I wish I had the chance to meet. Thanks, G! Thanks, Betty! Before you go, here are three fun pieces of trivia about Picasso: His dad's surname was Ruiz, while his mom's was Picasso. Picasso's full name is Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Martyr Patricio Clito Ruíz y Picasso. In 1911, Picasso was questioned by the French police for the theft of da Vinci's Mona Lisa from the Louvre, although he wasn't in town when it happened. Sources: PabloPicasso.org and One Way Street: Picasso and the the Theft of the Mona Lisa

Switchplates? You know: the plastic covers for the wall switches. I've decided to paint the switchplates in this house, along with the outlet wall plates. Not all at once, but one at a time when the mood strikes. So far I've painted three switchplates. There are a lot of switchplates and wall plates in our home. I'm hoping the Husband will join me in painting some.

 The dried remains of persimmons on the branches looked like ballet dancers. So, of course I had to take a photo of the branch and play with it in Photoshop.  Below is the original shot.  

Today I'm sharing a couple of pages from my art journal which I started a few months ago. I keep this journal and a box full of colored pencils and pens and a heart-shaped box of crayons near my seat in the living room. The journal gets opened at night when I'm not interested much in what's on TV or when I suddenly get a yen to draw and color something. Lately, for reasons unknown to me, elephants have been finding their way out of my imagination. I draw them on paper . I paint them on plates . I'm considering creating an elephant figure out of some of the chicken wire in the backyard. Freida is the name of the elephant up there in the photo. The Husband named her. Freida is a cutie with her curly bangs, red hoofs, and red ribbon. I wonder what kind of adventures she has been on. The singing gourds in my drawing were modeled on two dried gourds that Godmother Pat and Darling Jenn painted for us at our #21 anniversary party in September. See the lovely gourds

Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Crackle. Chirp. Chirp. Little brownish birds with yellow beaks landed on the persimmon tree branches above me. Hop, hop, hop. Chirp. Chirp. "Is it time for lunch?" I stepped away from the ladder. "Okay. I'll do something else until you're done." Right after the birds had their fill, the Husband came outside and he kindly picked a basket of persimmons for me. A wonderful day.

The Missus Lady told me that Groundhog Day solidified her as a Bill Murray fan. She stops and watches the movie until the next commercial anytime she comes across it on the TV. Myself, I have yet to watch the movie all the way through. Meeew. Some people may think Bill Murray plays himself in every role. We don't think so. Playing a character loose as a goose is a talent and skill. Both the Missus Lady and I like Bill Murray in Rock the Kasbah, The Monuments Man, The Man Who Knew Too Little, Larger than Life, Olive Kitteridge, Hyde Park on Hudson, and today's movie. St. Vincent   (2014) Setting: Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn Vincent, played by Bill Murray, is an ornery old soul who gambles, drinks, smokes, and lives alone. He regularly visits his wife in a nursing facility. She has Alzheimer's and stopped knowing Vincent years ago. One day Maggie (performed by Melissa McCarthy) and her young son Oliver enter Vincent's life. Their first encounter is Vincent findi

Today is shameless promoting of us, the Husband and me, and our art work at Happy_Macs , a Zazzle.com store. When you click on that link, you'll find our first products for sale—two 2018 calendars featuring the cartoons of the Husband, a.k.a Arrmac. For those who didn't know or had forgotten about Arrmac, he was in a cartooning frame of mind from 1998 to 2007. I pulled them out of the archives to produce two calendars of his awesome work. Said Arrmac in words similar to these: I created these cartoons years ago, but the Wife continues to promote me. Well, yeah.

"'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free. . ." ~ Joseph Brackett

I need a broom to sweep the dirt off the sidewalk in the front yard, which means a slow walk around the house to the shed in the backyard. I push apart the rusty sliding shed door and immediately spy the broom in the filled, and so far neat, interior. The broom, mind you, is not pristine. It looks a little frayed. Still, I find myself say, "I can't use you." Oh no! That's the Mama in me speaking. A broom lasted literally forever for her because she let it sit for many months before using it, and when she did, it was sparingly. I shook off the Mama's voice.  The broom in the shed is solely for outdoor purposes, including sweeping dirt from the cement. So what that we bought the broom within the past year or so. So what that the broom will get more bent out of shape because I really need to sweep with extra muscle. It's not going to put us in the poorhouse if we need to buy a new broom. (At least, not yet. Maybe not ever if the current GOP tax bill loses

I had it in my mind yesterday afternoon to pick more persimmons, rake the leaves, and clean up the canna lilies I dug out before breakfast.  It was a gorgeous autumn day, the sun's warmth keeping the  chill at bay. Before I knew it I had painted those plates up there in the photo. Maybe today, I might get to those tasks. This was my second adventure with plate painting. This time I discovered some things about me: One, the plate is my canvas, I say with dramatic relish. Two, a plate's design, such as a border of faint red and blue flowers, can be painted over, with abandon. So much for the Mama's chinaware that she only displayed. It's not like I'm doing anything different other than displaying them, with new faces, in the the yard somewhere. Three, painting the whole canvas is cool. It was with much restraint that I didn't paint a background behind Konnie, the small rambunctious elephant. Four, mixing colors is the same joyful sensation I got when