It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

August. There are only two days with NOTHING written on them on this home calendar. Oops – one day. I forgot to ink in one day.

Luckily, I have the Bic Crystal pens. They are multi-colored, thus quite cheerful. During the pandemic I had to order them from Amazon, whereas normally I could acquire them from the grocery store for $.99 a six-pack during school supply stocks. My favorite colors are the teal, hot pink, lime green, and aqua blue. They actually make my hand-written wall calendar quite attractive.

My dream is for technology to allow me to raise my phone to my mouth, speak the words, ”Hot pink pen, August 9th, bridge at 1:00.” Automatically, that note is on my wall calendar in the appropriate color.

Oh, it’s probably already achievable, I’m just old-school. There is something quite satisfying in using a colored pen to delineate time.

Bronze age treasures were discovered at a burial site in Hungary. It was in my news feed. I’ve been unearthing artifacts, too.

Last night my son and I worked on the greenhouse decor, adding a cupola to the top. Traipsing back and forth to retrieve tools took me through the burial ground of past airsoft bbs. They bubble up after the rains and snow. That plastic will never disintegrate! There are probably 100 visible ones, slightly faded, but all jammed in one area. They evoked fond memories of young men blasting bbs at each other and me yelling at them.

Who’s to say you can’t travel through time in your own yard?

Well, it is August, and retail has us thinking Thanksgiving already. In that light, I share one of the most unattractive appetizers? desserts? that I found in my Pinterest perusing. Miniature chocolate-covered turkeys with a strawberry base.

Someone had too much time on their hands.

When my husband left on his motorcycle adventure two weekends ago, I spent the first evening binge-watching some show and polishing my silver tea service. I know how to have a good time.

Thus, with dear friends visiting us this past week, we ramped up the excitement and checked out the new Trader Joe’s and local Costco. (Although we also threw in a complimentary e-bike tour of the state park.)

Entertainment at a certain age.

Even my spellcheck is confused. It’s another term for the pound sign key. (#)

“Word Genius,” is the daily email I receive, often with strange new words. I have no idea how I got on this list but for the past two years I could have committed all of those oddities to memory. Sigh. I could have learned a foreign language, too. This one was too fun to forget.

# Octothorpe. # Use sparingly!

Wednesdays are meant for music with my little charge. She plays with the musical race track by the piano as I belt out, ”O Mio Babino.” She listens without complaint or wincing. She often correctly points to ”Middle C,” and she pounds away for a minute or two with me. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.

When I was in Junior High and sleepovers were the fashion for a 13th birthday, the highlight of a night at the girlfriend’s house was the call to the big radio station, WOW. Yes, it was a long distance call and we only got to make one. Yes, we got to request a song and ”dedicate” it to a boy.

All of this came to mind with a friend’s birthday being today and the reminder popping up on my I pad. Her family had a finished basement, so parties there were great! And if Carly Simon is singing, ”You’re So Vain,” I’ll bet every single one of us girls would travel back in time to those parties.

What fun to listen to the DJ spell out the request and dedication. Simple thrills.

Early morning hair appointments are the best, as no one can delay your timing other than yourself.

I have followed my stylist from her beginning days at Great Clips some twenty years ago. For a few years I lost her and took on the cut and color myself, employing the skills I learned in college when ”Pindy” had me cutting and layering her locks! As you may recall, I have been cutting hair ever since.

So today, once again, I found it amusing that my stylist asked, ”Now which way do you part your hair?” For over twenty years, I have answered, ”The same way you do.”

Instead of being frustrated I am happy to oblige with that answer every seven weeks. She is younger than I and she can’t remember twenty years of the same response. It’s a little reassuring.

It is the dregs, the last of the wine, soda crackers, pickles, whatever is left. ”Bottom of the barrel” is not the barrel of a gun. I suppose that popped into my head recalling the two times I’ve had a gun pointed at me. But that’s another story.

The list grows shorter and I know you have been thoroughly invested in my efforts and idioms. Happily, I shall now allow my appliances to do some work – baking bread and washing clothes. They need a little boost in morale.

Years ago I recall taking a tour in an historic village, the name of which, of course, I cannot recall. The actors were dressed in early American garb, working with rustic tools, and explaining life of yore. What I vividly remember is the explanation of the phrase, ”from top to bottom.”

Dirt settled through the floor slats of a two-story building, so women would clean the upstairs to allow for the dust to settle downstairs. You always cleaned, ”from top to bottom.”

Thus, I employ that principle. Good news! I’ve made it to the bottom. Perhaps we shall explore, ”bottom of the barrel,” next? I think that refers to the barrel of a gun? Time for another historic tour!