A Poem In Which We Once Again Talk About Fuzzy The Squirrel


The morning was beautiful, the sky was blue,

I glanced out the window for something to do.


Neighbor Kitty, most calm, asleep in the leaves,

While above him there plotted three sciurine thieves.


Their leader, a dickens, named Fuzzy by me,

Stared down upon Kitty, while perched in a tree.


I feared for them all should trouble arise,

But Kitty kept sleeping, there was no surprise.


The squirrels soon tired of barking at cat,

And decided to use the limb for a chat.


The photo you see makes it look oh so dreamlike,

But I swear to you here, it truly was scheme-like.


This post is now over, my rhyme will be ending,

But with Fuzzy’s approval, this poem I’m sending.

Yoga Lessons Revisited: She Like To Move It, Move It

I’ve stretched my body more lately.  To make my joints more flexible, my alignment more comfortable, my muscles more toned.  Doing yoga asanas, that is.  Or my middle-aged out-of-shape reinterpretation of them.

It’s been a little over 10 years since I stopped going to yoga classes on a regular basis.

• • •


“Keep on meeting the edge.”

~ said Kathy, who moved away from the city to live on an organic farm

• • •

I had always enjoyed taking yoga classes, but my favorite instructors, who each had her own way of explaining life on and off the mat, stopped teaching.

The only woman I could find who did not do hot yoga, which I think is nuts, was more about selling her book and CDs than teaching yoga.  She was quite the personality kid, which annoyed me.

So I stopped attending her classes, thinking I’d continue my practice on my own.

• • •


“When in doubt, don’t.”

~ said Donna, who got a newspaper byline and is living her dream of being a writer

• • •

But you know how things like that go.  Procrastination + laziness took over– and eventually the idea of daily yoga practice floated out of my monkey mind.

However, this fall I acknowledged that I’m getting older and that I’m beginning to walk more THUNK * THUNK * THUNK than flow * flow * flow.  Which is to say my daily walks are morphing into daily moseys because I’m going slower and slower.

Re-enter daily yoga practice.

• • •


“Well isn’t that interesting?”

~ said Cathy, who had a hip replacement then decided to retire with her husband to somewhere warm

• • •

I’ve yet to commit to a specific time and place for my stretching, but if memory serves, back years ago when I was really into yoga, I used the late afternoon as my practice time… which I suppose I could do again.

And that, my gentle readers, is what’s up with me today in my quest to age gracefully + not keel over by the side of the road.

Ever onward, I say.  Each of us moving forward in our own way.

• • •

“Fizz-a-cally-fit, Fizz-a-cally-fit…”

• • •

The Goofiness Of Girl Scouting & Catalogue Shopping Over The Years

• Never would I have figured out that I’ve lived a lie all these years if I hadn’t stumbled upon the mother lode of Girl Scout-ness, a website filled with images of all Girl Scout catalogs ever printed.

~ • ~

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I’m torn about what to buy. I want the Middy and Bloomer outfit for when I jump rope, but am equally desirous of the Zip-On Suede Jacket which allows me to hold a squirrel on my arm. [Catalog 1931B]

~ • ~

• Perusing these catalogs I remembered that in my jewelry box I had my official Girl Scout membership card showing me to be a member of Heritage Trails Troop 239.

~ • ~

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Although yellow has never been a flattering color on me, I’m taken with this apron, covered in proficiency badge designs, that would ensure I looked pretty as I worked around the house. [Catalog 1952S]

~ • ~

• My pin, the official jewelry of all Girl Scouts, was stolen when thieves burglarized our house when I was in sixth grade.  However, the thieves left me my card.  Jolly good of them, wasn’t it?

~ • ~

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No problem deciding what I want in this catalog. I’ll take a reversible caper cap and a pair of flashes to keep my knee socks up. [Catalog 1973]

~ • ~

• Looking at my Certificate of Membership Card, I see that I never signed the thing, which clearly states: “Not valid without signature.”  Obviously I’ve lived a falsehood when I say I was a Girl Scout.

~ • ~

Well, look at that, will ‘ya? I never signed my Girl Scout Certificate of Membership Card. Such a free spirit I am, even back then.

~ • ~

• The shame of not doing my best is almost too much for me, and confirms I don’t have the right to shop for any of the above items.  Pity that.  I just know I’d look fetching in that apron, while wearing flashes on my socks and a squirrel on my arm.  

Heebie-Jeebies Alert: Creepy Birds Here

GLANCING OUT INTO THE BACKYARD the other morning I saw these birds walking on the grass, wandering along the edge of the forest behind my house.


TO ME THESE HUGE BIRDS looked like gang members, in black leather jackets, up to no good, on the hunt for something.


HAVING MISTAKENLY IDENTIFIED BIRDS BEFORE [and having had approximately 3 gazillion + 27 people tell me I was wrong], I’m going to say that I don’t know what  gang these birds belong to kind of birds they are.


INSTEAD I’LL CONTINUE TO REFER to them as Creepy Birds, because they give me the heebie-jeebies and the name, you gotta admit, seems right. *shudder*

Of Wise Women, Broken Dishwashers & Lost Earrings

“You can put lipstick and earrings on a hog and call it Monique, but it’s still a pig.”

~Ann Richards, former governor of Texas and wise woman


About two years ago our dishwasher started leaking water and making odd sounds as it attempted to clean our dishes.

I was sad because even though I didn’t grow up with a dishwasher in the house, unless you consider me to have been the dishwasher, as a homeowner I have come to like dishwashers.

Dandy machines.  When they work.

Being us, we ignored the dishwasher and rarely used it.  But last year when a plumber was here for a different reason, we had him replace the leaky hose under the machine and the dripping stopped.

However, the noise within the dishwasher continued, and even got louder as the days went on.  So we stopped using the dishwasher entirely and resorted to *gasp* washing dishes by hand.

[Oh the inhumanity of it all!]

Fast forward to last week when the appliance repair guy came to the house to fix the recently broken clothes dryer– and to take a look at our sad, almost useless, dishwasher while he was here.

Whereupon, after taking the dishwasher apart to the tune of $99.00, he found an earring in the dishwasher that had caused the motor to stop motoring smoothly– and subsequently ruined the motor.

Not so dandy.

As you, gentle readers, can readily understand from the above quote, I’ve now taken to calling the sad, officially broken, dishwasher: Monique.

She still looks good, and matches all the other appliances in our kitchen, which makes me happy because for the first time in my life our kitchen, remodeled seven years ago, has had the same brand and style of appliances in it.

Pretty, pretty. 

But Monique is a useless trophy appliance now.  So, with a heavy heart, but a practical mind, we’re going to buy a new dishwasher.

Which I shall love, regardless of how she looks.  And promise that I will, to the best of my ability, keep earrings away from her.

Meaning the only question left is: what shall we name her?

If We Were Having Coffee On This November Morning…



We’d be sitting in my living room, staying dry, looking outside at the Halloween decorations still on display. 

We’d be drinking cafe mocha that I made for us.

We’d be listening to the local classical radio station because it makes for a laid-back atmosphere– and it’s fun, once in a while, to let a radio station pick your tunes.



√  We’d be chatting… about how this week, after weeks of trying, I won Level 90 in AlphaBetty Saga and how I believe there’s no disgrace in giving up on a game when it becomes too challenging for you.  Bye, bye, Betty!

√  We’d be sharing… our latest TV obsessions, which in my case is Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, made in Australia and set in Melbourne in the late 1920s.  I’d recommend them for the sheer entertainment of seeing a smart + sassy + stylish flapper detective, named Phryne, show the boys how it’s done.

√  We’d be talking… about how I’m trying to decide if I’m going to continue on blogging, or if I’m going to let it go.  I’d be saying how this hobby has become a part-time job.  And while it’s good that it keeps my brain clicking and my heart open, I’m finding that I’m unsure about who is following me– and why.  Which makes me a little uneasy.

√  We’d be laughing… about how the Bengals, our local NFL franchise who used to be called the Bungles, beat the team from the Mistake on the Lake.  And we’d wonder, chuckling at the old-time Ohio insider joke, if either of these NFL teams could beat OSU!

√  We’d be planning… when we could get together next, knowing our December holiday schedules were already filling up.  And lamenting, but in a good way, how every year the invitations come earlier and earlier.



We’d have to part after about an hour or so because weekend obligations are just that– things that must be done. 

We’d hug and promise to get together sometime after the holidays when life returns to normal.

And we’d thank each other for listening to & commenting on our joys and woes.  Like friends do.  Everywhere.  Over a mug of coffee.

• • •

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Idea for this post came from Diana at Part-Time Monster.

• • •

Hello Red Heart Emoji, Bye-Bye Mary Jane

YESTERDAY PEOPLE IN MY WORLD talked about two diverse topics: 1) Twitter icon, acceptance of new “like” paradigm and subsequent “heart” emoji;  & 2) marijuana, legalization for all uses of said within our state.

# # #

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Screenshot from my Twitter feed.

# # #

ALL DAY WHEREVER I WENT, online or in real life, I read or heard a variety of points of view about the above two issues.  Everybody had a strong opinion, sometimes logic-based, often loudly stated, but freely given.

Thus in the spirit of being a transparent blogger, and a pleasant real life human being, I’ll tell you what I think about these two topics.  That followed me like a lost puppy everywhere I went yesterday.

I don’t really care.

I have no strong opinion about either of these issues.

# # #

WHICH IS NOT TO SAY that I’m ignorant nor waffling under the strain of deciding what I think.  No, it’s just saying that because something happens in my world, does not mean that I have a strong opinion about it.

I have preferences, but being an introvert I often keep them to myself.  Or only share them with people close to me.  Like you, my gentle readers.

To wit, here are my preferences about yesterday’s topics: 1) I’m not thrilled to be an adult using a cutesy emoji to communicate that I like something a fellow adult has said on Twitter;  & 2) I’m not for the carte blanche legalization of marijuana sold through ten monopolies.

# # #

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Story here.

# # #

I GET THAT PEOPLE ARE frustrated by intractable problems in this world, so they overreact to smaller issues believing they have control over them.  But yesterday, y’all outdid yourself dithering and worrying about icons and pot.

Kind of gave me a headache, if you want to know the truth of it all. 

And I have to wonder, once again, why I bothered to pay attention to the people spouting off about these issues.  Will I never learn to ignore the babble?