After a bit of research, I found that collard greens in France are the cavalier vert type of cabbage. I found some seeds at the store today. Notice the package says it’s for animals.
I have said this before but each time it’s a shock—I don’t recognize that woman in the bathroom mirror. It’s not just the wrinkles and different hair colour. I think the shape of her face has changed, right down to the bone “struckcha”. They didn’t tell us about that in school. We learned some about child development, that one became an adult at age 21 and then that was it. There was nothing about jowls or flabby upper arms or bulbous noses.
Why do I expect to have learned everything in school?
At times I am so emotional I think I would cry at my own funeral except that I hope to be cremated.
The following thought has been deleted by the author. Or was it the preceding one? It was only half-formed, never materialized, aborted before it came to anything. Je déblatère. Eh, oui. A lovely word « déblatérer » for saying to run off at the mouth. Blatte=cockroach. Getting rid of cockroaches?
I happened to think I can’t remember the last doughnut I ate. I’m not even hungry for them any more. I wondered if I had known it would the last one, would I have eaten two? Only ½? None? What is this rejection of a middle balanced place, this constant seeking of extremes?
Now I know that what we eat cannot save us on the absolute level; Jesus did say it’s not what you put in your mouth, it’s what comes out of it that’s important. However, reflecting on the degeneration of the human race which has been ongoing since Adam (yes, Methuselah really did live 9 hundred something of our regular years and not moons or seasons as was suggested in Sunday school because no one talks about how our behaviour has influenced the whole of humanity) I wonder if we have not lost our intuition even on this basic level. There is a tendency to a sort of worship of tradition, taking it to be truth, but this has not led us to any semblance of the garden of Eden. Many of us are not even in very good health.
I have no conclusion so this will randomly end here.
We received a telephone call inviting us to le goûter du troisième age, an afternoon do for senior citizens. I said well, no one here has reached that age yet. The caller replied it’s according to the calendar year and your husband’s name is on the list. (I know that date is approaching but haven’t been dwelling too much on it.) When one member of a couple is eligible, the spouse is invited also. There will be an accordion player. —Thank you very much. Usually that day is one of my husband’s busiest but it is kind of you to invite us. (He works full time and has several years to go before retirement.)
It turned out that my husband’s schedule had a variation and we are going to attend this event. It makes me feel rebellious somehow. I started wondering what semi-outrageous thing could I do to prove that I am not in that category of the population, some of which may be 20 or even 30 years older than us. I never could do cartwheels or headstands. Still ruminating, I went outside.
Beautiful sunshine! Spring! My nut tree! I’m going to climb up there; it’s been awhile. I usually give it a bit of a rub to remove some of the moss and lichens growing on its bark. Today I got out a gentle brush and started to rub vigorously but that wasn’t very efficient, so I got out a harder brush and used a gentler touch. It felt like grooming an elephant, not that I have ever done that, but sometimes I think I see an elephant’s eye and trunk in this tree. I imagine it feels good to the tree—it makes me feel itchy to consider how it would be to have all that growing on me but is that necessarily how the tree sees it? How do I know if I am feeling intuitively or imposing my view of things?
As not very many of you may have the opportunity to enjoy the view from up in this tree, here is a photo.
I need to stop smiling when I’m outside—the wrinkles are staying white and showing up more on my tan face.
I only noticed this when I pushed my cheek out with my tongue. Tongue in cheek ?
Or else smile all the time so no one notices ?
Often when I am in the bathroom, I see a strange woman. My husband says this never happens to him.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh! It happened to me! We went to the movies and the cashier gave me the senior discount without me asking for it nor asking me my age. I read an article where that had happened to a woman and she didn’t know whether to be insulted that the person thought she was that old or to rejoice at the money saved. Those were my feelings also. My brother-in-law thought it was unfair because he is older than me and didn’t get the discount. Hmmmm – might be the silver hair.
I have seen references made recently to the possibility of humans living to be one thousand years old. They put their hope in medical research and technology to achieve this. None have said where they got this idea of one thousand years. It is the Creator Himself who said it in 1977 in “The Revelation of ArÃ¨s.”
“The brother puts the star in My Hand; (then) he can hear the rock,
he runs (al)on(g) his (own) arm (for) a thousand years.” XXIV/9
“(If) My Hand (and) his hand (together) hold the hoe,
man is a thousand years old, (and) can still bite.” XXX/7
The way to this lengthy lifespan must take into consideration our spiritual nature. We do not follow the plan God had in mind when He created us. He gave us gifts unique to humankind â Love, Speech (the Word), Liberty (Free Will), Creativity, Individuality. We can choose to use these for good or otherwise. If we would practice love, forgiveness, justice, peace, truth, recognizing each individual and encouraging creativity, renouncing what we know is not good such as greed, exploitation, hate, we would change this world down to our very metabolism. You are skeptical? Have we tried it yet?
It’s the time that got me! I never wanted an electric hedge trimmer until now. I liked the silence of the hand shears and the double advantage of working on the pectorals, not to mention it only cost elbow grease to use. Also the machine clipped ones have a, well, a machine look about them.
It ssems like I used to do all the hedges in one, maybe two days. Now it has been taking me several days just to do the bit that leads to the mailbox! As soon as I mentioned I might be better off with an electric trimmer, husband bought me one. This is the box:
The perfectionist bit made me laugh.
djd scissor hands
greenbird of happiness