I feel better!

I feel much better today, possibly thanks to this video sent by a friend.

Oh, those years

I don't know why. But every once in awhile I have a day where I feel every one of my years. That's about a month shy of 70-and-a-half right now. No particular reason. Oh, I didn't sleep very well last night. And my morning paper wasn't in the driveway when I went out to get it. (That's the Sunday New York Times - the only paper we take and SWMBO is never happy when we don't get one.) But we went out for breakfast, which as it turned out, neither one of us really wanted. And I picked up a copy of the Times at a grocery store. So, no loss there.

But, I just felt kind of off all day. Creaky in the joints, sort of tired. A short afternoon nap didn't seem to help. I took a picture of myself a few minutes ago and it seems to tell the story.

That kisser ain't very young anymore. Lines in the forehead, bags under the eyes. The beard is nearly all white, though the gray in my hair still is fairly well disguised by the brown. I was in to see an eye doctor a week or so ago and asked her what color my eyes were. She looked and said they were hazel. Well, I always thought they were blue but I'd noticed recently that they didn't look a bit like Paul Newman's always did. I guess that's just one more part of me that's blanding down as I age.

This could get real depressing if I didn't remember what an old friend of mine used to say.

I'd say, "Aw, this old age is for the birds." He'd say "Yeah, but it beats the alternative." That always got a laugh. Up until the alternative caught up with him.

SEX!!!

I was out in the back yard checking on my tomatoes yesterday when I spotted a praying mantis and went to grab the camera.

I noticed what I thought to be a grasshopper clinging to her back and tried to remove it with a blade of grass. That didn't work so I continued snapping pictures.

The mantis maneuvered around the grasses and plant stems and finally got to the fence, where she continued to climb. When I got the photos uploaded to my computer I discovered, to my embarrassment, that the passenger was . . . er . . . rather firmly attached and that the twosome apparently had been caught in flagrante delicto.

All I can say by apology is "Oops!" Sorry, I'm a city boy.

For your holiday weekend?

A friend in California sent me this photo from Morro Bay.

I guess it's lucky I quit drinking before I got there!

New arrival

Many years ago, before e-mail, there was something called a "telegram". When I was born in North Dakota in 1940, my father sent a telegram to his brother in San Francisco to make the announcement. Like with another long past mode of communication . . "cablegrams" . . apparently the price of the "gram" was based on the number of words in it. Therefore, brevity was valued.

I was going through a file today and ran across the telegram my father sent about my birth. Brevity, yes, but wit too.

Rose of Sharon

My girls

Everyone knows that a cat will adopt a box. Any box. And the cat will adapt to the size and the shape of the box. Jazz has adopted this shallow box.

She has fallen in love with this box and spends hours every day curled up in it.

Then, there's another thing about cats. They seem to inherently know . . . what they look best on. They seek out a fabric, a color, a texture and seem most comfortable posing on it. Muggles has taken to this chair.

Does she look happy or not?

I think you can see why I love my girls.