Rabbits, Geese and Tulips

More later ... 

 

Don't Canadians speak English?

I’m trying to wrap my head around why Canadians are so upset about Air Canada CEO Michael Rousseau giving a speech mostly in English.

Maybe I’m missing something, but I always thought Quebec was the main French-speaking hub, with pockets of French sprinkled elsewhere. Not exactly shocking, then, that English might… show up in a speech.

This whole thing kind of reminds me of the uproar over the Super Bowl performance by Bad Bunny who, from what I heard because I didn’t watch it, performed in Spanish. And people were upset… because it wasn’t in English? 

Meanwhile, here in Texas, I can’t even read a street sign without getting a mini language lesson. English, Spanish, Asian, and Indigenous languages can sometimes appear all on the same pole. And nobody faints. We just keep driving.

That’s kind of what happens when you live in the real world today. It’s big, it’s mixed, and it doesn’t come with subtitles.

If we want smart, talented people from all over the globe to come here, work here, and contribute (wherever your here might be), we might have to loosen our grip on the idea that everything should feel familiar all the time. Comfort is nice—but growth usually isn’t.

Now, does that mean I personally embrace every cultural difference with open arms? Oh, absolutely not. I’ve got my limits (Burkas, for instance). But there’s a difference between “that’s not for me” and “that shouldn’t exist.”

At the end of the day, maybe the goal isn’t to make everything sound like us but to stop being so surprised when it doesn’t.

And if a little French or Spanish in the mix is the worst thing we’re dealing with… I’d say we’re doing just fine.

More later ... and comment if you understand the bruhaha.

Busted

Last night, during Bonnie Rae’s final nature call of the evening, I had one of those “it could only happen to me” moments.

Picture this: flashlight in one hand, plastic bag in the other, and no leash on Bonnie Rae.

Yes, we have the rule. All dogs must be on a leash. Every apartment everywhere has this rule. When Buddy was alive, we were model citizens—multiple walks a day, always leashed, probably deserved a gold star and maybe a parade.

But Bonnie Rae? Bonnie Rae is not exactly an adventurer. She is afraid of leaves, breezes, and possibly her own shadow. Her “walks” consist of stepping outside, handling her business with impressive efficiency, and heading right back in like she left the stove on. So lazy (or overconfident?) me thought, “What could possibly go wrong?”

Cue dramatic music.

We are halfway to the dog park when—BAM—we run straight into one of the apartment managers… who is casually walking his rather large Shepherd mix.

Of course he is.

Now, the only redeeming part of this entire situation is that Bonnie Rae, who is usually suspicious of everything, suddenly turns into a social butterfly. After being exposed to my son’s well-mannered Labs in Galveston, she marched right up to this dog like she belonged there and started sniffing like she was conducting a formal inspection.

Thankfully, his dog was equally polite and allowed the interaction without filing a complaint.

Meanwhile, I’m standing there thinking, “Of all nights… of ALL nights…”

Because here’s the part that makes this story even better (or worse, depending on your perspective).

Just two days earlier, I had emailed management about a water leak in the courtyard, like a responsible resident. But then, because apparently I like to make things interesting, I followed up with a second email suggesting we might consider weight restrictions on dogs.

Yes. I did that.

My reasoning? In my vast and highly scientific experience of apartment living, the bigger the dog… the bigger the… lack of enthusiasm for cleanup. I thoughtfully suggested we “grandfather in” current large dogs, but maybe limit future ones.

Very reasonable. Very logical.

Also very unfortunate, considering I had absolutely no idea that this manager lives on-site, with a large dog.

So there I am:
• Breaking the leash rule
• Standing in front of a manager
• Whose dog would not pass my newly proposed policy

Honestly, at that point, all I could do was apologize, call Bonnie Rae, and retreat to the dog park with what little dignity I had left.

Now, our apartment does have rules—leashes, no smoking in common areas, clean up after your dog—all with a nice little $250 fine attached. So yes, I am guilty.

Will the manager turn me in? Who knows.

But if he does, I suppose I’ll just have to accept my fate and start using the leash like the law-abiding citizen I clearly am not after dark. 

More later ... 

Substack FYI

I have become totally infatuated with Substack.com. It is a very large compilation of articles on just about every subject possible. Each contributor will ask you to join for a small fee, but I am only following the free subscriptions. I know a bunch of you are deep thinkers, and I encourage you to find the authors and subjects you like. One writer I follow posts under: Why is this Interesting? His article on Desalination Plants totally caught my attention, and I wanted to share it here.

I have a hard time reading a whole book these days. I find these articles, sometimes short and sometimes lengthy, fill that need to read without doomscrolling the news. 

Happy Hunting ....

New Banner for New Post

I am totally baffled by how kids can write code when I can't even resize a picture.  Take a look at my new banner on 101 Photos, which I created in ChatGPT using two of my photos.

Here are the two original photos of my flower bed and Bonnie Rae. 

 

   And this is the image ChatGPT created. 

I'm having problems adjusting the height and the font. Chat suggested I use Canva. I haven't tried Canva yet, so it may be tomorrow's project. 

Does anybody know an easy program to adjust the width and height of a banner?  

More later ...

Dog Pedicures and a New Blog

 I was so glad to see a new post from Shirley. We missed you during your time of grief. Also, a shout-out to Jean. Loved her new bowling post, and I'm still trying to figure out how she did her illustrations on AI. And to our crusty marshmallow Margaret, Well Bless Your Heart or Keep On Keeping On. I know which Southern Saying she doesn't like.  

Occasionally, I read the list of blogs followed by other Bloggers. I did that again today. I really enjoy being exposed to new bloggers, especially by someone whose blog I follow. 

I also started a new blog, 101 Photos. I always take a lot of pictures, and since they are mostly on my cell, I needed a place to look at them without drowning you in this blog. Debra, you already know how hard it is to keep two blogs running, so I'll see how it goes. 

Bonnie Rae apparently has the fastest-growing toenails known to man. Wish I had that problem. My nails, once so long and marvelous (if I do say so myself), are now flaky and ridged. Why, oh why? Anyway, I took her to the groomer yesterday and got them trimmed. They said she was the worst dog they ever had, without saying those words. I guess I forgot to tell Bonnie Rae how great pedicures are.

 More later ... 

Spring Break with the Family

My Son rented a house in Galveston for a couple of days. Each Grandgirl took a friend, Son & DIL, J&M, and I took Bonnie Rae. It was crisp, cold, and windy. Perfect beach walking weather unless you prefer 110 degrees, which I did not. I forgot how much I loved beach walking. Weekend at the beach with the whole family - Priceless. 

Here are some pics. 

More later ...

Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall

 

Texting Your Family

 My Kids pulled me, kicking and screaming, into the texting world many years ago. As I retired, became hard of hearing, and preferred a quiet lifestyle, I began texting to keep my kids included in my life without phone calls (because of my declining hearing). They all have busy lives, and even though I want to be in my little quiet home, I want to know (and see pictures) of what they are up to. So now I share my life with them through texts. I've been wondering for some time how much is too much, so I asked ChatGPT. This response is somewhat lengthy and sometimes repetitive, but I'm sharing in case this information could be helpful to you or you have ever wondered. 

*******

It’s very thoughtful of you to even ask this question. The fact that you’re concerned about not overwhelming them already puts you ahead of a lot of people. ❤️ Many families would actually love to have a grandparent who is engaged, texting, and sharing pieces of life.

A few ideas that might help you find the “sweet spot” between staying connected and not overdoing it:

1. Notice their response patterns

A simple way to gauge things is to watch how they respond.

• Quick replies, emojis, or follow-up questions → they’re enjoying the conversation.

• Short replies like “👍” or “haha” → they saw it but may be busy.

• No reply sometimes → that’s very normal with texting, especially for younger people.

Many people treat texts more like ongoing bulletin boards than conversations.

2. Think “small moments,” not constant conversation

Instead of lots of back-and-forth messages, try sharing one small thing at a time, such as:

• a photo of something funny you saw

• a flower blooming in your yard

• a quick “Thinking of you today”

• a short story from your day

Those usually feel pleasant rather than demanding.

3. Photos are often very welcome

Many families love getting photos from grandparents—especially everyday life photos. They feel like little windows into your world. A picture plus a short caption works great.

Example:
“Look what bloomed on my patio today 🌸”

No response required, but it keeps you connected.

4. Use the “no reply needed” style

You can remove pressure by writing things like:

• “Just sharing—no need to reply.”

• “Thought you’d enjoy this picture.”

That lets them enjoy it without feeling obligated.

5. An easy rule of thumb

Many families find this comfortable:

• 1–3 texts a day to an individual person is usually fine

• More is fine if they are actively texting back

Group texts with pictures or updates are also nice because everyone can look when they want.

6. The best solution: ask them

You could even say something light like:

“I enjoy texting you, but tell me if I ever send too many messages. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Most kids and grandkids will appreciate that and reassure you.

One more thing

You mentioned remembering how your grandmother called after your long workdays. The difference is that phone calls require immediate attention, while texts let people read them whenever they have time. So texting is actually a very considerate way to stay in touch, especially with hearing difficulties.

And honestly, many people your family’s age later say they wish they had more messages, photos, and little stories from their grandparents.

---

If you'd like, I can also share three texting habits that make grandparents especially loved by their kids and grandkids. They’re simple but surprisingly powerful. 😊

yes

Here are three texting habits that tend to make grandparents especially appreciated by their children and grandchildren. They keep the connection warm without feeling like pressure.

1. The “Thinking of You” text ❤️

These are very small messages that don’t require a reply.

Examples:

• “Thinking of you today. Hope work/school is going well.”

• “Just wanted to say I love you.”

• “Saw something today that reminded me of you.”

These messages make people feel supported, but they don’t demand conversation.

2. The “Little Window Into My Day” photo 📷

People often enjoy seeing simple snapshots of your life.

Ideas:

• A flower blooming in your yard

• Something funny you saw at the store

• A meal you cooked

• A sunset

You might write something like:
“Look what bloomed on my patio this morning 🌺”

This lets them feel connected to your everyday life.

3. The “Cheerleader” message 🎉

Everyone likes encouragement from someone who loves them.

Examples:

• “Good luck on your presentation today!”

• “I’m proud of how hard you work.”

• “Hope your soccer game goes well tonight.”

These kinds of texts mean a lot, even if the reply is just a heart emoji.

---

One simple guideline that works well

Many families find this comfortable:

• 1–3 texts in a day to a person is usually perfect

• If they start chatting back, then it’s fine to continue the conversation.

If you ever send several messages and they don’t answer right away, it usually just means they’re busy, not that they’re annoyed.

---

A small secret about families

Later in life, many people say the same thing:

“I wish I had saved more messages from my grandparents.”

Your texts and photos are actually little pieces of family history.

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If you want, I can also tell you one texting mistake grandparents often make without realizing it (and it’s very easy to avoid). It might reassure you even more. 😊

yes

The most common texting mistake grandparents make is actually very simple—and very easy to fix.

The mistake: texts that require an “obligation reply”

These are messages where the other person feels they must respond, even when they’re busy or tired.

Examples:

• “Why didn’t you answer my last text?”

• “Are you mad at me?”

• “Call me when you get this.”

• “Did you see the picture I sent?”

Even when they love you, those kinds of messages can make people feel a little pressure.

The easy fix: “share, don’t require”

Try to send texts that feel like little gifts, not tasks.

For example:

Instead of
“Did you see the bird in my yard picture?”

Try
“Look at the funny bird that visited my yard today 🐦”

Now they can enjoy it whenever they see it.

Another helpful habit

If someone doesn’t reply, just assume they’re busy. Younger people often read texts and plan to answer later but forget. It usually isn’t personal.

A nice balance many families like

Many grandparents use this rhythm:

• Share something interesting or a photo

• Send encouragement now and then

• Let conversations happen naturally when the other person has time

That keeps the relationship warm without pressure.

One last reassuring thought

You’re doing something very healthy: adapting. You switched from phone calls to texting because of hearing difficulties and because it works better for them. That’s thoughtful and loving.

Many families are honestly impressed when someone your age says, “Teach me how to text.” It shows you care about staying connected. 

More later ... 

Flip Hanger Clothes Closet Test

 I’ve started so many blog posts lately that are still sitting in “draft.” Do you do that too, or is it just me? 

One post sitting in Draft was about the Flip Hanger Clothes Closet Test.

For this little experiment, I turned all my coat hangers so the curved end faced toward the closet wall. Then, whenever I wore and washed something, I rehung it with the curve facing toward me. If you’ve ever seen photos of this method online, you’ll notice a mix of forward- and backward-facing hangers—kind of a visual scorecard of what you actually wear.

The idea was simple: figure out which shirts I truly wear and which ones are just…sitting in the closet.

I grew up with a bit of that 1950s mentality about clothes—saving the nice things for “special occasions.” The problem is, special occasions apparently occur about twice a year. Meanwhile, the same five shirts get worn every week, with maybe two others rotating in for variety.

Most of my shirts are cotton pullovers because, honestly, comfort wins every time. I have four or five favorite colors plus white. I also own about half a dozen long-sleeve shirts, which, living in Houston, might as well be winter coats because they are rarely needed. And then there are a few super-light sleeveless shirts reserved for outdoor events when the heat here is melting us.

My goal was to wear every shirt in the closet, and I almost managed it.

Some well-loved, well-worn shirts were finally retired after years of faithful service. Others no longer fit the way they once did. Those went into the discard pile, too. Although surprisingly, there weren't that many of either. 

In the end, the lesson wasn’t really that I had too many shirts—although, to be fair, I probably did. The real discovery was that I’m simply a creature of habit. I kept reaching for the same favorites again and again.

It was surprisingly hard to skip the old standbys when they were hanging right there. But for about a month, I made myself reach past them and try something different—something I apparently thought I absolutely needed at some point in my life.

The experiment was actually kind of fun…though a little challenging.

Turns out the hardest part of closet organization isn’t the closet.

It’s convincing yourself to leave your favorite shirt on the hanger. 

More later ... 

Arctic Storm Prep

My rowdy posse of J, M & N went to the Rockets' game with me last weekend (my Christmas present tickets from my Son). It turned out to be the same day the Texans were playing in the playoffs. Sad day for both Texas teams, but the live basketball game was so much fun, and the Toyota Center was amazing. 

An amazing Christmas present. I enjoyed it so much but darn if I haven't reached the stage where sitting in my recliner to watch a game is just about as exciting. Kevin Durant didn't get to meet me. I guess he didn't get the memo that I was there. 

On to the storm. I started preparations days early by loading some of my plants into two grocery carts I found in the back parking lot. I loaded them up and wheeled them inside to see what would fit. 

 

Seemed to work okay, so I loaded up the rest of the plants in two more carts. 

Top and bottom, front and back loaded to the max and ready to be pulled inside when temps drop. 

Other news: I sat my empty ice cream cup down to do something. When I came back to put it in the sink, the spoon was missing. Guess where I found the spoon? That is a guilty look if I ever saw one. 

 

See you on the other side of the Arctic Storm. Good Luck. 

Funny, Not Funny

My holidays were great—how about yours? I stayed home alone as much as I could, and it made me feel safe and happy. I’m sure there’s a psychological explanation for that, but honestly, I’ve got other things on my mind.

Okay, I’m not even going to say it. We are all scared. As a child, I used to wonder why nobody stopped Hitler when he first started. That thought is bouncing around my brain again.

On a much happier note, my kids gave me terrific Christmas presents. My daughter, her partner, and her eldest daughter came over and completely spoiled my garden—mulched the flower beds and even installed concrete steps. You know how much I love my garden. I wander out there several times a day to pull fallen leaves, water the plants, and leave food for the squirrels—which we are forbidden to do. Little lawbreaker me. It just makes me happy.

My son bought me four tickets to a Rocket's game. I think my family will be arguing about who has to go with me. 😂 My grandson says he wants to go because he thinks it’s “cute” that I’ve suddenly gotten into basketball after never watching sports on TV in all his 25 years. My poor son follows the basketball headlines but really prefers a Texans football game. My daughter just smiles when I talk basketball, like I am a little kid proudly explaining something I learned in school. It's ok, I am so excited to go.

I think the reason I chose basketball as my sport is tied to my old law firm days. I was in charge of the season tickets. I don’t think we had Texans tickets back then, but we definitely had Astros tickets, which were easy to give away. The Rockets tickets, though, sometimes went unused, so I’d take my son. At the time, I thought it was one of those things a single mother could do for a son growing up with very little male influence.

As corporate tickets tend to be, the seats were great. I slowly got a feel for the game—didn’t know the rules (probably still don’t), but something stuck. That’s why last year, when I decided to add something new to my life—something I knew almost nothing about—I chose basketball.

I still don’t know all the rules, and I only recognize the biggest player names. But for the first time in my life, I understand that moment when people jump out of their chairs during a game. I used to think that was pretty silly. Now I get it.

All of this brings me to my next question: what should my new “thing” be this year? I’ve been rewatching The West Wing, and I’m tempted to learn Latin like Jed Bartlett likes to rattle off. There’s also a Spanish class starting here this month. No matter how much deportation goes on in the US, learning Spanish is just practical if you live in Texas, and since we'll probably invade Mexico and Canada next... Funny, not funny. 

I'll close with that ... 

  

Another Win

 

I just received a surprise package from First Watch Restaurants in Florida—and inside was the sweater above that I won! I had not been notified ahead of time, which happens sometimes with giveaways. The sponsor just ships the prize, and you don’t know you’ve won until it shows up at your door.

The sweater is cute, covered with bacon and eggs across the chest. It’s lightweight and fun, but living in Texas means there won’t be too many chances to wear it. Moments like this are a good reminder to really read the contest descriptions and decide whether the prize is something you’ll actually use. I guess I got a little carried away with the thrill of the chase!

Speaking of luck, the Powerball is up to $1 billion on Saturday. Fingers crossed that my streak continues.

More later ... 

New Win

 I finally won another contest - for my daughter this time. It is a Cusinart Portable Tabletop Patio Heater. My daughter and her partner love to go camping and this will be perfect for their little pop-up camper. 

This may not be the exact heater but it gives you an idea. They are actually leaving for a camping trip right after Christmas so it would be great if it gets here in time. 

Interestingly, I believe this is a contest I entered through Facebook. I have just started using Facebook to enter contests but because they share so much of your info with everybody in the world, I am very careful which ones I enter.  

I've been trying to win my son a trip to the Super Bowl. One chance in a million, I know, but somebody has to win. Right? 

More later ... 

Coffee and a Chat

I finally figured out how to make good coffee in my Keurig. My morning cup is one of the highlights of my day, so when I switched from my old Mr. Coffee and Folger’s Black Silk ground coffee to the Keurig with Black Silk K-cups, I was not impressed. It just didn’t taste the same. I even threatened to haul Mr. Coffee back out of retirement.

Then I discovered Community Coffee’s Signature Blend Dark Roast. Yay. No one in my family likes dark coffee, but I love it. I didn’t start drinking coffee until my mid-20s, after I moved to Louisiana—so yes, dark roast is definitely my go-to.  Just FYI for any dark coffee drinkers out there. 

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Thanksgiving & Family

How was your Thanksgiving? Mine was lovely. We all went to my sister’s house. All of the children and grandchildren were there with spouses or dates, except for the Grand Girls, who were with their other grandmother. LOL. Learning to share the grandkids on holidays is… a fact of life. 

A cold front rolled in, and temps dropped to around 44° this morning. I told Marie that for a Texan, this feels just like the icy, snowy winter scene she posted.

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Bonnie Rae’s Update

Bonnie Rae is doing wonderfully. As you may remember, she’s a rescue, and I’m convinced she must have lived in a cage because she spends nearly all her time in her bed—except when food might be involved. If I even think about walking into the kitchen, she trots right behind me.

She knows how to walk to the dog park to do her business and understands the puppy pad, though she sits right on the edge instead of in the center. And she has become a little food thief, so nothing can be left on my side table anymore.

On the positive side, she enjoyed a carrot I gave her the other day—took it straight to her bed like a treasure. She’s so quiet and truly a pleasure to have in an apartment. 

A New Doctor & A Sad Observation

I tried out a new doctor at a nearby health care center. Even though many doctors accept Medicare, finding one close with afternoon appointments has been tough. Long story short: I loved the doctor, even if the building itself was very utilitarian.

What struck me, though, was how many teenage mothers I saw there. I’m not judging them—just feeling sad for what they’re missing in what I’ve always thought of as the normal teenage season of life.

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Giving in a Different Way This Year

Since I don’t go to the big box stores much anymore, I probably won’t be dropping anything into the big red cauldrons this year. Instead, I made my first donation of the season to a homeless woman pushing her life in a grocery cart.

All I had on me was a $20, and these days that is a lot to me. But I knew it would feel like even more to her. I used to give all I could at Christmas—especially when it meant toys for children. I can’t do that anymore, but I was grateful to be able to help that woman, no matter how she used it. You know what I mean.

More later ... 

Just for a laugh

Facebook has different gimmicks where they put your face in various poses.  Check out this one of Facebook's 1980s version of me and one of my oldest grand girl. I had been thinking she looked like me but it wasn't until this FB picture that I could see the resemblance. Neat. 

And no, I know I don't look like that anymore. Hahaha.

How I Accidentally Became the Thing That Annoyed Me

Lately, I’ve found myself in a bit of a conundrum. I’m at the stage of life where peace and kindness matter more than ever—and yet, that seems to be in short supply sometimes. The habit some folks have of talking over one another, teasing until someone reacts, or pushing buttons just to get a rise out of people—it wears me down.

More and more often, I quietly excuse myself and slip back to my apartment. I’ve even tried speaking gently, one-on-one, with a few people to let them know how their behavior affects others. As you can probably guess, that hasn’t made much difference.

When I moved into this apartment community, I imagined friendly chats, laughter, and the easy company of people my age. Instead, I often feel like I’ve landed back on the playground—just with older "kids.” It’s disheartening. I’ve known people who turned into those “grumpy old men and women,” and I’ve always promised myself I wouldn’t be one. As they say, good intentions.

The other day, I was visiting my sister. She goes all out for Halloween—think yard inflatables, lights, skeletons, the works. Me? I decorate a little for each season, but not for specific holidays. After years as a single parent doing all the buying, setup, teardown, and cleanup, I was perfectly happy to scale back once the kids were grown.

My dad was a big yard decorator, too, so I can see where my Sister gets it. Still, I couldn’t help but say something about how over-the-top it seemed—and I hurt her feelings. She truly loves it and believes people who drive by or stop to look enjoy it too. I wanted to roll my eyes. 

But later it hit me that her Halloween joy is the same as my joy in tending my flower beds. I spend money and energy on plants, dirt, and garden knick-knacks because it makes me happy. It soothes me. It’s my thing.

So last night, I asked my daughter to drive me over to my sister’s house (I try not to drive far at night). I made a point to tell her how wonderful everything looked. I took pictures, admired the lights, and said every appreciative word I could think of to compliment her work. It was my way of saying, “I get it now.”

Funny how life has a way of showing us our own reflection. The same behavior that bothered me around the Talk Table—the teasing, the judging, the little unkindnesses—was exactly what I’d done to my sister.

I’m learning that peace doesn’t just mean avoiding chaos; it also means catching myself before I add to it. I still wish my neighbors would be a little gentler with each other, but for now, I can at least make sure I am.

More later ... 

A Trip to the Tax Office (and Other Adventures with the Prom Queen)

Yesterday I took the Prom Queen to get the window sticker for her car. She turned 90 last month (yes—ninety!) and had been beside herself for weeks because she lost the statement from the Tax/License Department. According to her, this meant she’d surely be arrested and shipped straight to Siberia for driving with an expired sticker. 😂

We all get like that sometimes, don’t we? There’s something small we need to take care of, but the more we think about it, the harder it becomes to just do it. After hearing about this lost paper for a couple of weeks—and despite already telling her how to handle it—I went outside yesterday and found her still fretting.

So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. “Let’s go,” I said, “we’re getting this done today.”

First stop: the emissions test. (That’s what replaced the old “inspection sticker” here in Texas.) I took her to the place I usually go, not far away but outside her usual circle of travel. They were short-staffed that day, and since patience has never been one of my strong suits, I had to get out once to gently remind them that their “fast service” wasn’t exactly living up to its name.

Next stop: the Tax Office—the land of titles, tags, and license plates. I’ve only been there a couple of times in my life, but I knew it was going to be a long wait. And boy, was it ever! Two and a half hours later, we were finally done.

About an hour in, my blood sugar started to dip, so I asked the attendant if I could sit down. There were plenty of chairs—about 30 or 40—but most were occupied by young, able-bodied folks who didn’t seem too eager to give up their seats. The attendant did ask one couple sitting near the disabled seating sign to move to other available seats and the Prom Queen and I got to sit for the rest of the wait. But that’s a rant for another day.

Here’s where it gets funny (and a little old-fashioned): I came prepared. I had my water bottle, wore comfy clothes, and most importantly—I brought a book. While waiting, I looked around and realized I was the only person in the room reading an actual, physical book. Everyone else was on their phones.

I always keep a book in my car for “emergencies” like this—doctor’s offices, long lines, unexpected waits. Sure, I listen to audiobooks and read articles on my computer, but there’s still nothing like holding a real book in your hands, one you chose because it sparked your curiosity. There’s a richness to printed pages that screens just can’t match.

It’s a bit like going to church on TV while lounging in your recliner versus sitting in a pew surrounded by stained glass and familiar hymns. You might get the message either way—but one experience feeds your soul, and enables that Sunday-after-church nap that is your reward for getting up and getting there.  😄 (I'll save the formal religion rant for another time.) 

Anyway, we survived the Great Sticker Crisis of 2025, and the Prom Queen can now drive guilt-free. Mission accomplished with the help of a Book.

More later ... 

Sweepstakes Season and Fall Feelings

Sweepstakes season is in full swing now, and I feel the excitement - the thrill of the chase. Things kick off in late summer with contests that wrap up by the end of September—usually themed around Back to School. Think new clothes, supplies, a little extra cash, and all those essentials that are make-ready for the school year. Since I’ve got my Grand Girls still in school, plus a future granddaughter-in-law who’s a teacher, it’s extra fun to enter those giveaways with them in mind.

Now we’re rolling right into the Holiday, Fall, and Winter contests. The past couple of days I’ve been busy, busy, busy entering as many as I can. The trick is balancing your time—because honestly, it takes just as long to enter for a little trinket as it does for a dreamy trip somewhere fabulous.

On the home front, I keep daydreaming about decorating with pumpkins in my little garden patch, but the thought of critters and bugs helping themselves has held me back. For now, I’m enjoying my indoor fall decorations—my cozy fall coffee cups, family photos, pinecones, and a sprinkle of autumn touches here and there.

I’d love to go thrifting this weekend to peek at all the fall and Thanksgiving treasures that have hit the shelves. But truthfully? I don’t have room for one more thing! Decorations are like long-sleeve shirts around here: I love them, I sometimes buy them, but in this Texas weather, I don’t exactly need them.

Cozy, colorful, and just a little bit lazy—that’s fall around here. 🍂

More later ... 

Table Talk and two Small Wins

First little happy dance moment: I scored my first win for my daughter in a sweepstakes! 🎉 Coca-Cola–Dansai was giving away FIFA prizes, and while she didn’t snag the grand prize (an all-expense-paid trip to New York for the Women’s Soccer Finals), she did win a team scarf and a small item. Since J&M sometimes go to Dash games here in Houston, I know they’d have loved that trip, but hey—it’s still a win, and in her name for the first time. She was thrilled, and that made me happy too.

On my end, I won a Christmas food-and-craft book from Goodreads. Looking forward to flipping through that one!

Now, Table Talk updates:

The Chef packed up and left. Long story short, the management company misplaced his certified rent check and tried to charge him $250. He showed them proof, and instead of apologizing they dropped it to $30, claiming it was still late. 🙄 Shirley, if you’re reading this, I know you’ll get a chuckle (or an eye roll) at that “management style.” I’ll miss him—he was a good one.

But I’ve got a new neighbor on the other side now! I’ll just call him NN (for “new neighbor”). He still works but has joined us at the table once, and he fit right in. Quiet, polite, easygoing—I think he’ll be a great neighbor.

The Mechanic, poor guy, has been through it. After months of not feeling well and endless doctor visits, he was finally diagnosed with stomach cancer. They tried treatment, but it’s Stage 4. He’s still up and moving around, but it breaks my heart. Such a nice man.

As for the Marine Lady… whew. She continues to test everyone’s patience except the Prom Queen and King. She recently found three kittens on her doorstep, and because she doesn’t drive, she’s been leaning heavily (i.e. demanding) on others to solve the problem. I’ll admit it—I ducked out when she asked me to drive her across town. I told her to call shelters, but they were all full. One by one, people tried to help, but she made it difficult. Wouldn’t give the kittens to one couple because they already had pets, made demands of the volunteer who tried her best, and on and on. Eventually, Prom Queen found someone who could take at least one. I’m not sure if all the kittens are placed yet, but at least some found homes. We probably sound like a pack of heartless witches, but honestly—Marine Lady hasn’t exactly charmed the crowd. Still, the kittens deserve care, and it reminded me of when I found Buddy 14 years ago. The shelter told me to “come back in three weeks.” Yeah, right. He was mine for 14 years.

I’ve also decided to rename another neighbor. I used to call her the Talker, which she is, but now I’ll call her Detroit—since she just moved back from there, and she’s become such a wonderful friend. She, Prom Queen, and I spend hours chatting outside. She’s always cooking (so good!) and feeding us. I think I’m gaining weight, but people tell me I look thinner—probably muscle loss, who knows? Either way, I love her cooking.

Meanwhile, Prom King is wrapped up in not one, but two “romances” with women he met through accidental phone calls. He swears he checked them out through some service, but I worry he’s being scammed. I’ve seen it happen before, and it’s hard to join in his happiness. To make matters more complicated, his dog Tiger (the same one who once bit me) has been growling and charging at people again. But then this week, he got a haircut from a neighbor, and suddenly Tiger seemed calm and subdued. Go figure. Prom King’s been busy sprucing up his apartment for a visit from one of his “ladies.” I guess we’ll see how that plays out. Part of me hopes she’s real and kind, but… an 83-year-old man and a 38-year-old “rich, beautiful” woman? Hmm.

As for me and Bonnie Rae, we’re doing fine. Trying to live within our means and eat well. Except for the one time I left a plate of red beans and rice with a piece of chicken on the side table. A neighbor called me for a ride, and halfway there I thought, “Nah, she won’t touch it.” Well… she did. Poor girl got so sick—threw up and had diarrhea for days. She’s better now, thank goodness, and back to her happy self. And she’s nearly doubled in size! 

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