A Hornet With My Toast

The amount of people promoting their expertise online is staggering. From writing books, creating paintings, selling on social media, doing better business, to cooking shows now that everyone is home and needing to eat. I’m tempted to say yes to everything. But then I’d be up most nights watching their videos. I’d be making bagels at 2 am, pizza at 3, and marmalade at 4 am. So I decided to chuck it, and go to bed. I’ve lived with less than stellar meals for years. Beans and rice is a favorite dish of mine. Half the world lives on it, why not me? I’m a tea drinker and I discovered several boxes of English tea in my pantry I forgot I had. I’m good for a few months. Fresh veggies and fruit are quarantined in my fridge. I’m well stocked.

I did try making lemon marmalade and it turned out better than my orange marmalade. It’s tart and sweet, a combination hard to beat. Of course I need lots of buttered toast for that, and my cup of English tea, and then I’ll eat and sip in my rose garden, dreaming of Scotland.

“Watch out for the hornets,” Alf said.

“They don’t like lemon marmalade,” I said.

“Yes, and much more. They’ll take a bite out of you if you’re sweet enough.”

“Should I put on my bee outfit?”

“Might be smart.”

“But then I can’t eat my toast or drink my tea,” I said.

“I can cut a window straight to your mouth,” Alf said.

“Don’t bother. I’ll just sit here admiring my roses and watch the ravens nose dive the squirrels.”

Calvin says, “No hornet will come near me, I smell, I haven’t had a bath in months.”

A Little of Nothing

On our walkabouts, we see things that capture our attention. Here are a few you might enjoy:

The bed lives at the entrance to a B&B in Half Moon Bay. It’s covered in pink flowers and crawling vines. It’s not a sample of what you’ll find in their rooms. In them it’s down quilts and naked geese quacking their complaints.

The nymph statue is perched on top of water fountain in Lithia Park in Ashland, Oregon. It’s an escapee from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Puck harassed it so much, it fled.

The sun hugs a fence to somebody’s garden in Half Moon Bay. It’s Picasso-like expression was the reason it was rejected during auditions as an understudy for the real thing.

Charlie spends his time walking the streets in Niles reminiscing about his earlier movie making days. He’s the silent type. You won’t get a word out of him, but he’s hoping to be spotted by a talent agent who is out antique shopping.

I think the price of a therapy session has gone up since then, but Lucy is one of best. She’s irritating, impatient, and you’ll get what you pay for. If you’re desperate she keeps office hours at the Schultz Museum in Santa Rosa.

Calvin says, “That nymph’s spray rivals anything I can produce.”

Plush or Not

I’m old enough to remember my grandparents’ sleeping arrangements.

They each had separate bedrooms. It worked well for them. Neither one asked the other for a divorce.

I’m convinced it was because they got a good night’s sleep.

Life goes better with 8-9 hours a night.

Every morning they were happy to see each other at the breakfast table.

My parents followed suit, but not entirely. They slept in twin beds, but in the same bedroom.

They too didn’t get a divorce.

I’m beginning to wonder if it’s sleeping in the same bed that is the cause of so many busted marriages these days.

When was the last time you saw an ad for twin beds on TV?

And have you noticed the changes in mattresses lately?

Manufacturers have shaved off the width on the queen size and re-packaged it.

You can no longer flip the mattress to evenly distribute your weight on the bed.

Everything now has pillow-top-softness, but the mattress is still guaranteed to break down in 5-7 years no matter what the warranty says.

And the prices! Some kings are the price of a trip to Europe.

When did a mattress become a luxury item?

When Hollywood started featuring sexy scenes with the stars in the same bed together.

I remember Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn in separate beds and they were still funny.

Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore slept in twin beds and we still laughed.

Today everybody’s in a king-size bed and grumpy.

Calvin says, “If everyone slept in a lambskin pet bed like me they’d be delirious.”