Seventy-Three Years

I swore that I would never post again until I answered every wonderful comment on my last post.

I am still well, but I have had a few small complications that kept me from concentrating.

I apologize.

I just had to share this birthday wish with you.

I laughed and laughed.

A dear friend, who shares my macabre sense of humor, sent it to me today.

Many kind friends sent good wishes.

Glenda, a good friend of more than thirty years,

brought this beautiful orchid and some tasty pastries.

We had a wonderful visit as we always do.


My sister, Linda, sent these heavenly scented lilies that have just begun to open.

I love lilies as much as I love orchids, of course, and these are especially beautiful.

I had a great birthday.

I expect that it will be my last, but that’s good, too.

I have enjoyed a great seventy-three years.

I’ve done everything I ever wanted to do.

I’ve lived far longer than I ever expected.

And I am happy.

Blessings to all of my WP friends!


Last year, the poor little clematis managed to produce one tendril.

It made it all the way to the top of the trellis and produced one blossom.

During the winter, the plant turned brown.

I assumed it was dead in the pot until I saw a tiny green leaf at the top.

The rain came and she began to grow.


I am reminded of the children’s story book, The little Engine that Could.


Easter Eggs

Easter Egg

If I saw the little bowl by itself, I would think, “oh, that’s just precious!” It’s intricate, delicate, beautiful. But when the egg is placed on it, the beauty of the bowl fades into the background. The egg is infinitely more precious…intricate…and awe inspiring. We know that a human made the bowl and appreciate the talent it took to make it. The egg? Just wow! Made by God with beauty and intricacy that boggles my little brain. And planned to be life–something humans can’t give no matter how arrogantly we try. No wonder eggs are symbols of Easter. The more we contemplate the mysteries of creation and redemption, the more real–AND more mysterious they become.  ~Donna Pote Clark  (Twitter: @Donna Pote Clark)


Several years ago, a friend gave me several little eggs from her beautiful Silkie hens.

I kept three of them in the refrigerator.

I wondered if they would dehydrate (mummify) or simply rot.

After about a year, they began to rattle when I shook them.

I knew the yolks had separated from the shells.

One night, I decided to place one on an egg stand.

When I reached for the stand, I  felt my thumb break through the fragile shell.


I photographed one of the eggs that is much smaller than it appears in the photograph.

There was another, even smaller, green one that some culprit must have broken

Since it disappeared from the refrigerator…

The inside of the egg looks soft and fresh, but it is not.

It is as hard as a rock.


Charlie’s grandmother, MeMe, always colors eggs for the children

in the Easter tradition in which I grew up.

There is something reassuring about the keeping of the old traditions, I think.


This year’s eggs.

MeMe was kind enough to send a photo that I requested.

The kids always forget my request!


Alien Land



Nothing has changed.
The body is a reservoir of pain;
it has to eat and breathe the air, and sleep,
it has thin skin and the blood is just beneath it;
it has a good supply of teeth and fingernails;
its bones can be broken; its joints can be stretched.
In tortures, all of this is considered.
Nothing has changed.
The body still trembles as it trembled
before Rome was founded and after,
in the twentieth century before and after Christ.
Tortures are just what they were, only the earth has shrunk 
and whatever goes on sounds as if it’s just a room away.
Nothing has changed.
Except there are more people,
and new offenses have sprung up beside the one ones–
real, make-believe, short-lived, and nonexistent.
But the cry with which the body answers for them 
was, is, and will be a cry of innocence
in keeping with the age-old scale and pitch.
Nothing has changed.
Except perhaps the manners, ceremonies, dances.
The gesture of the hands shielding the head
has nonetheless remained the same.
The body writhes, jerks, and tugs,
falls to the ground when shoved, pulls up its knees,
bruises, swells, drools, and bleeds.
Nothing has changed.
Except the run of rivers,
the shapes of forests, shores, deserts, and glaciers.
The little soul roams among those landscapes,
disappears, returns, draws near, moves away,
evasive and a stranger to itself,
now sure, now uncertain of its own existence,
whereas the body is and is and is
and has nowhere to go.
~ Wislawa Szymborksa ~
(Poem shared by a friend)

Big Lucy  in showoff mode!

Both Dragons are trying to bruminate after making valiant efforts to attract each other through the glass.

They still come out of the caves to bask and eat veggies, but few roaches.

Big Lucy is particularly comical.

Little Lucy isn’t nearly as funny as Big Lucy

But, she’s the sweet one.

She’s decided finally to be interested in Big Lucy.

After a few days of trying to reciprocate his advances,

She’s retreated to her cave.

(I’ll drag her out tomorrow for her hot tub spa treatment…)


Thanks to Dennis

I installed the redirect to the WP classic editor.

Adrian and Sue directed me to the easy two-step link on Dennis’ blog.

I doubt that Dennis is going to be Freshly Pressed for that invaluable post,

but I nominate him anyway!

Thank you, Guys!

Status Report

Rose-WinterWinter Rose

I feel a bit ridiculous sharing my health status, but I wanted to share it with all of you who have been so supportive and kind to me for all of these months.

You and I thought I would be dead “within six months to less than a year” according to the official prognosis.

I had an x-ray last week to rule out a pneumonia.

The radiologist could not figure out what he saw on the x-ray.

My internist sent me back to the pulmonologist who diagnosed the lung cancer.

A new x-ray ruled out a pneumonia.

What it did indicate was that the lung tumor has grown very little since July.

I was not surprised since I am not sick.

I am as fat and sassy as ever.


Thank you for cheering me along.

It seems that you are in for a few more posts from me, after all.

I suppose I am as unpredictable as this winter’s weather!


Whoever is in charge of the Climate Control Dial

Has turned it in the wrong direction.

If I thought it might work,

I’d do a sun dance in the street.

Instead, I offer a few photos of my Valentine’s Day flower from Charlie.

Here’s to warmer days ahead!


Family Holiday

Family in Steamboat Springs

This is my family.

My daughter, Kelli, her husband, Jeremy, and my beloved grandson, Charlie.

They are on holiday in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, where they go every year

for the end-of-the-season town festival.

steamboat springs_Saddleback Ranch Kids

Charlie and his friends who live down the street.

The kids have kind of grown up together.

This year, the two families went together.

The group

Photo of both families

ready for a snow mobile ride.

Snow Mobile adventure

Lined up and ready to go!

Charlie and Mom on snowmobile

Charlie and Mom rode together.

South Texxas kid in the snow

One of Charlie’s friends.

All of these kids were born in South Texas,

So, they do not see snow often.


When they arrived at Houston International Airport on the way home,

Kelli discovered that she had lost the car keys!

There was a slight delay while they waited for a locksmith to rescue them.

But, they all had a wonderful time!


George Weaver:

I never reblog a post from any other blog. But this photo fascinates me. When I saw it, I had absolutely no idea what the heck Dave had found. He’s a farmer, a scientist, a professor, a superb photographer, and heaven only knows what else.  The professor in him explains more than you probably ever wanted to know. But, if you’re interested in almost anything, you can probably find it at Farmer’s place. Guess what this is, and then read what it actually is! Chuckle…


Originally posted on Welcome to Pairodox Farm:

I don’t often think of water as having texture. The picture shows a little flume, at Ravensburg State Park, where the stream was directed through a channel formed by large rocks. If the water had been higher, the flume would not have been there … if it had been lower, the flume would, perhaps, have been even more dramatic. I could discern eddies, cascades, and turbulence. I could also see evidence of uninterrupted flow. Where water pitched down over one rock or climbed another, turbulence drew air into the mix. If I fixed my graze on a particular spot, the pattern of splash and bubble was chaotic. Other areas were perfectly smooth and seemed unchanging. Something of a paradox, since water continued to move through such areas. Like a standing wave, there was movement without apparent movement until, of course, a twig or piece of ice or slush was caught…

View original 161 more words

The Boys

The time has come to plan for homes for the animals.

I got to know Ed Kammer and his family when I bought Hugo from them some months ago.

They are Panther Chameleon breeders at Kammerflage Kreations in Corona, California.

When I called to tell Ed that I had to find homes for Hugo and Sammy,

he generously offered to take the chameleons to find homes for them.

He arranged for the shipment, sent the shipping container to me, and handled every single detail for me.

He has been in the reptile business for 34 years.

And, he is one of the finest people I’ve ever met.


Those are the last photos of Hugo.

He is a Kammerflage Kreations Panther Chameleon.

Ed Kammer and the Kammer family breed beautiful chameleons.

And, of course, Little Sammy whose dubious pedigree is PetSmart!

Although the Krammers don’t breed Veiled Chameleons,

Ed has years of experience with them and is prominent in the chameleon world.

So, he knows lots of folks who would help to place the boys.


As soon as Sammy and Hugo arrived,

Ed’s delightful daughter, Briana, took these cell phone

photos to send to me.

They wanted to reassure me that the boys were fine!

Their flight took them through Memphis and on to Corona, California.

There was a little hitch when the FedEx driver missed the arranged hour and went on toward another town,

But Cheryl got on the phone and convinced the driver to turn around and bring them back!

The shop manager has already adopted Little Sammy!

Thanks to Ed and the entire family of Kammerflage Kreations,

the future for Sammy and Hugo is assured.

My gratitude and blessings to all of you!


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