(re-run) I saw a coyote yesterday during my strength and training class at the senior center. There are so many people in the drop-in class that I have to stand right in front of the glass doors, with a view of the hills filled with wild turkeys, birds, and now Wiley Coyote. My back hurts… Continue reading It’s a Jungle Out There
. . . .you planned on driving an hour to hear live music for two hours, but now you’d rather sit home and watch the news and the PBS country music special. . . . you decided to sort out all of your framing supplies and halfway through, you thought to yourself, what have I… Continue reading You Know You’re Getting Old when . . .
Every other Tuesday I treat myself to a full-hour massage at my chiropractor’s office. Curtis is awesome. He can make this senior citizen feel almost 50 again. Curtis asks lots of questions while he is working on me. For the past several months I haven’t been able to talk, have barely been able to lie… Continue reading Massage Talk, Otter Card, and Scavenger Find
Four helicopters flew overhead. Big ones. Flying in formation. These were not Action News helicopters. This was different. I was walking my sister around the back yard of her board and care home. She had her walker going, the scrape of the legs against the concrete. Still, the noise of four helicopters drowned out everything… Continue reading Helicopters, the President, and Facebook
When I was young, the one black boy in my elementary school was my classmate. His name was Teddy. This was white-white-white Iowa in the 60’s. My first grade teacher, Mrs. Van Cura, got angry at the class one day for misbehaving and said, “Whoever doesn’t behave will have to play with Teddy at recess.”… Continue reading The Racist and the Ficus Tree
They met online through a singles website (not the swiping one). Tom lived and worked in Napa. Carin lived less than an hour away in the San Francisco East Bay on a horse ranchette with her seven horses. She ran a small upscale hair salon. After much texting and talking, they got together for dinner… Continue reading Mr. No Class
This is my week for antiquated language. Here is my tickled-pink story. For you young’uns, tickled pink means you are really, really happy. OMG! Do I have some news today! For thirteen years next month, I have owned a beach house in Monterey county, at first with my husband, now by myself. It sits just… Continue reading Tickled Pink with my New View