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The Siren Song of Jelly Beans

April 4, 2018

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Classic jelly beans are one of my all-time favorite candies.  I usually only eat them around Easter, and even then, a solid handful is about all I can manage before a sugar coma sets in.

I have fond memories of when I was a very young teen and my mom would deposit a couple of friends and me at the local shopping mall, where we would spend the day trying on clothes and creating wish lists.  One of the highlights was visiting the candy counter at J. C. Penney’s department store and treating myself to twenty-five cents’ worth of jelly beans.  Back then, that amount could fill a bag.

 

Groom, Fancy, Sneeze, Thorny

April 2, 2018

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My husband has been working the Jumble for half a century.  Within seconds of glancing at the classic puzzle, he has untangled the letters and moved on to more pertinent news in the paper.

A few months ago, I announced at breakfast that I wanted to take on the Jumble and instructed him not to tell me the answers… how hard can it be?  I quickly found myself begging for hints.  It’s a real game with us now and part of our morning coffee time.  I’m happy to announce that I got all four of these words.  In the meantime, H had almost finished reading the paper.

In Transit

March 30, 2018

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Out on our back porch, this traveler found the shortest path from Point A to Point B.

Bunny Droppings

March 28, 2018

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Tonight was the Easter Egg Scramble at our church.  Three thousand eggs were scattered across the landscape, waiting to be “discovered” by happy, squealing kids.

Location is Key

March 26, 2018

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This was grocery shopping day for H’s ninety-seven-year-old mom.  Every four to five weeks she sends him to the store with a full list, coupons, and specific instructions on brands and sizes.  Over the years, H has created an index of where items are located, but sometimes cross-referencing is necessary to speed up the process.

Greeting the Day

March 23, 2018

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Here’s some morning sunshine to start your day.

Ironing Out My Thoughts

March 21, 2018

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Many years ago my dear friend K told me that she found ironing to be meditative, a quiet space to think and daydream.  I couldn’t relate to her perspective, but nowadays, I wonder if K was simply ahead of her time.  I don’t iron daily, or even weekly, but when I do, I find it very relaxing.  The repetitive movement of pushing the iron around, watching a wrinkle dissolve, and even listening to the steam hiss all lull me into a thoughtful moment.  I’m pulled into the rhythm.  I solve problems, envision creative projects, and generally slow down to a quiet pace.  Who would’ve thought?