Our fantasy football league held its draft the other night. I’m glad that’s over.
Now that it’s not raining every hour of every day (a refreshing change), I’ve been getting outside more. And I’m finding this summer’s mosquito population to be over-represented and extra blood-thirsty.
I’m not addicted to constant sound. It’s just that if I have to endure more than 30 seconds without it, I get antsy.
It’s too warm and humid to knit right now. But that hasn’t stopped me from browsing for knitting patterns online.
I’ve been playing a fun new game almost every day this summer. I call it Clothesline Chicken.
In 2022, I took a gap year in the vegetable garden. In 2023, I’m coming in hot.
Mark and I first got basic cable TV when we moved from Weybridge to Middlebury in 1994. Suddenly, we had dozens of channels to choose from. We paid around $30 a month for the privilege of not watching most of them.
In his 1922 poem “The Waste Land,” T.S. Eliot said — if I recall correctly — “April is the cruellest month / But May is, like, amazing.” Boy, was he right.
“No offense,” Mark said, “but you look like you’re wearing a tablecloth.”
In daily life, I hide my awkwardness well enough. But I have to be honest: I can barely swing my arms properly when I walk without whispering “left, right, left, right.”
Traveling by air is speedier than by covered wagon but, I think, no less grueling.
Last week, I decided to turn our adult daughter’s childhood bedroom into a combined craft room and guest room.
Several years ago, I started making birthday cakes for my grandson and his baby sister. Soon Mark joined in, and things escalated.
As an older adult, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, asking myself life’s big questions. For example: What is a six-letter word for “scraps”?
I recently started keeping a journal, thinking it would be a good exercise in slowing down and reflecting on my daily life. My first entry, on Feb. 4, said, “Found a dead spider in the bathroom sink.”
