(re-run from 2019) It’s Sunday evening, the dogs are snoring, and I reflect on my awesome weekend. Nothing monumental happened. It was your run of the mill event, with a return trip from Monterey, a potluck party to attend, a visit to Sis, lunch with my son, a couple of dog walks, and an afternoon… Continue reading Wrapping Up the Weekend
Category: memoir
Freaky Friday
(re-run) It was a beautiful day in Monterey County. I got up early, ate breakfast, showered, wrote a blog post, and stuffed more branches (blown down in the last storm) into the green can. Then I left for Carmel to be there when the thrift stores opened at 10:00 a.m.. One of them was having… Continue reading Freaky Friday
The Scars of our Lives
(re-run) When you get to be my age, you’re bound to have a few scars. I haven’t had any big surgeries, but I have scars from burns, bumps, and scrapes along the way. Right now it’s my thumb that is most noticeable. I broke it by pulling down a three-piece sectional garage door an sticking… Continue reading The Scars of our Lives
A Different Kind of Fall
(re-run from 2018) In my 33 years in California (one and a half down south, the rest up north), I can’t remember a fall where we have not had a drop of rain by mid-November. I also can’t remember ever having three big fires in less than two years that have burned down whole communities… Continue reading A Different Kind of Fall
The Holidays in October and Angry Stalker Dude
(re-run) I heard Christmas music today at Costco while I watched people putting pumpkins into their shopping carts. Ah, it must be fall. In California, the leaves don’t change into beautiful reds and oranges until November. It doesn’t get cold enough until then. We have Halloween first, then fall color, sometimes coinciding with Thanksgiving, but… Continue reading The Holidays in October and Angry Stalker Dude
The Racist, the Ficus Tree, and my Garage Sale
(re-run) When I was six, the one black boy in my elementary school was in my class. His name was Teddy. This was white-white-white Iowa in the 60s. 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… Continue reading The Racist, the Ficus Tree, and my Garage Sale
Bucket by Bucket
When you wait for the termite guys to come fix the dry rot, and they don’t come for 2.5 hours, you get a lot of yard work done as you wait. Since I’m old and can’t move a heavy 66-gallon can full of yard waste, I park it on the street and then fill it… Continue reading Bucket by Bucket
Day 2 at the Beach
Normally, on Day 2, I spend the whole day thrifting and doing yard work. But today I wrote in the morning, had a nice chat with a college friend now in Georgia about her son’s wedding, took Pepper for a walk, played ball with Daisy, and then talked on the phone with a friend going… Continue reading Day 2 at the Beach
First Dog, Lost Dog
(re-run) After moving to farm country to teach high school Spanish, I watched my roommate Kristy come home one day with a German Shephard puppy. “Meet Shane!” she said. She hadn’t asked me. She hadn’t asked the landlord. When she did ask him, his response was, “Not in the house.” Kristy made Shane a bed… Continue reading First Dog, Lost Dog
You Know It’s Fall when . . .
(re-run from 2020) The summer concerts have ended, except for one. The sleeveless cotton dresses are packed away, along with pairs of shorts and sandals. It’s jeans and long sleeves now, with the occasional hot afternoon where I strip down to my undershirt. Fall has arrived, not so much with leaves changing colors. We don’t… Continue reading You Know It’s Fall when . . .
FIRST DATE, WORST DATE EVER! 