Figs Anyone?

This is a tale posted by a friend and fellow blogger, Julie Cook.  I felt every bit of it in my own toothless mouth, having been there and done that .  What I didn’t know before was the origin of that little hand gesture….

“To eat figs off the tree in the very early morning, when they have been barely touched by the sun, is one of the exquisite pleasures of the Mediterranean.” Elizabeth David (this past summer’s plucking–a fig resting on a bed of fresh herbs / Julie Cook / 2017) There’s eating figs, figs stuffed with blue […]

via ode to a fig — cookiecrumbstoliveby


Wish I Could Be Samantha

Who remembers “Bewitched”?  Especially the character, Samantha, played by Elizabeth Montgomery, a beautiful modern day witch, married to a mortal who was kinda leery of her witchcraft.  Some days, um, make it almost every day, I would love to have those powers if only to make cleaning this apartment easier.  Just imagine — need the stuff I’ve been working (read: playing) with put away?  All I would have to do is wiggle my nose and POUF!  It would all be done immediately.  Same thing for bringing out the necessary materials for my next project.  The only real drawback I can think of for this approach would be trying to find the stuff again.  Lord knows I have enough trouble finding things I put away myself, so I shudder to think what would happen to things others, including witchcraft, put away for me.


This little character, one of my favorite visitors, is Tessa.  She has put a lot of my stuff away during some visits.  I’ve learned the secret of finding the stuff she helps me with though, I just have to get down to her level.  Since she is less than a foot tall I have to admit that is difficult, but on days I don’t really have to get back off the floor for an hour or twenty it is doable.  Once I could sit cross-legged on the floor for hours, guitar in hand/arms, pickin’ and grinnin’ with my sis, and then stand without using my arms for leverage.  My memories of those days is becoming vague now, but I do have photographic evidence some place in this apartment so I know it happened.  Tessa and I could have communicated well back then.  Even when my own little Max was still with me I could get down to his level while we played his idea of fun games, like chewing up my slippers or destroying my socks (the little stinker!)  but once again, even my hair roots protest when I consider trying that again.  At the moment I have a couple of trays of beads spilled on the floor that I keep trying to pick up by wiggling my nose, but there is absolutely no Samantha in me at all.  You just don’t know what futility feels like until you are staring down a string of unstrung beads, trying to will them back up to the work surface.  The same goes for my yarn, hooks, photos, colored pencils, even some kitchen utensils I knock over.   Hey, I never pretended to be graceful!  All I can do is stand there at times wondering how long it takes for some of the stuff to deteriorate and disappear while hoping it doesn’t develop an odor on the way out!  Just for the record — I try to pick up all spilled food and drink as soon as I find it, but there have been a couple of times — well, let’s just say they weren’t pretty and let it go at that.

Okay, so now since I can’t wiggle my nose and make the groceries I need come to me, the only recourse is to drag out my coat, and hat, and scarf, and gloves (I hope to find two of the same color someplace eventually), grab my bags and climb aboard my chariot for the two blocks to Kroger’s — in this horrible cold snap.  None of that four letter white stuff to navigate though and for that I am very thankful.  Love looking at pictures of it but sure hate looking out my window and seeing it.

Y’all have a Happy, Healthy, and most of all, SAFE and Peace-filled New Year. A