Saturday, April 24, 2021


Recently, I had a conversation with a fellow hearing aid wearer. I was both reassured and disappointed to hear that we're similar in how we limit our time spent with soft talkers or mumblers. <sigh> Because (damn it), it's tiring of asking people over and over and over, to speak up and enunciate--even with our hearing aids.

It seems so simple, from our point of view, to talk at a slightly lower pitch with spaces between the words. I did it, as a middle schooler, when my father lost a good share of his hearing. I may have been overly proud about that accomplishment, but I had a good view of how frustrating it could be for him (over and over and over again).

It's important to note: WE WANT TO HEAR YOU. We're not doing this to antagonize or humiliate or for pleasure. Believe me, there's nothing pleasurable about sitting with people, who are conversing and enjoying themselves and only being able to hear half of the words. It's a lonely, isolating feeling. I can handle it for a certain period of time, and then, exhausted and sad, I'll just sit back and watch and try not to look at my phone.

Something I might be thinking about again, now that it's getting a bit closer to being able to get back out and about. Thanks for "listening". 

Love, K

Monday, April 19, 2021

Bonding With Fiction

I have little doubt I've been bonding with television characters over the entire course of my television viewing life. As an example: Bill Bixby, will always be in my head, along with Ray Walston, thanks to watching, My Favorite Martian, as a young child. 

You'd think with all of our options, the bonding wouldn't happen in the 2020's. But there it is--every stinking time we finish streaming a series. N's mildly amused, though I'm glad he's happy to discuss these thoughts with me. It's not that I want more episodes, I just want to savor or perhaps give tribute to the writers/actors/directors/producers/financiers who have brought the joy.

Do you have characters, you've collected from television shows or books or movies, who still reside in your head after decades have passed? Did those characters resonate a feeling deep within your bones? Or just feel familiar and likeable? Yes, I truly want to know. Love, K

Friday, April 16, 2021

Gaia's Art

I'd forgotten a bird feeder's plastic cover in our cherry tree, for a handful of years. Today, I spotted it, while looking at the cherry blossom remainders. 

And now I want to clean it, put it back onto its branch and wait (another handful of years) for Mother Nature's art to appear again. She's awesome, isn't she?

Oh, and the cherry blossum remainders? Here ya go . . .


Wednesday, April 14, 2021


This year's compost has an ... equine odor that's tough to miss. The dogs are pleased and I'm sure the flora will be, too. But manure will always remind me of Seinfeld: 

"George Costanza:

Oh. It's just horse manure. Horse manure's not that bad. I don't even mind the word 'manure.' You know, it's, it's 'newer,' which is good. And a 'ma' in front of it. MA-NURE. When you consider the other choices, 'manure' is actually pretty refreshing."

Saturday, April 10, 2021

Blue Eyed Boy Gone Too Soon

 Your beautiful boy

Still lives in my head.

Running free

Across the blacktop.

Easy going


Sharp eyed

Quick smile.


You keep watch

Over all of his years

I tend his fifth.

~kgm April 2021

Wednesday, April 7, 2021

As the Wheel ... Stops Turning

Sometime during the late eighties, before the bicycles involved were left ruined, when (tragically) we hit and killed a doe on Diamond Lake Highway, our small clan was on one of our many camping trips to Diamond Lake. The girls and I, had taken the lake trail for a bike ride to the resort. Once we had accomplished whatever we had set out to do (mail postcards?), we turned our bikes around and began pedaling our way back to our campsite. 

About a third of the way back, the rear wheel on the old Schwinn I was riding (purchased from Auntie Helen) froze up and refused to rotate on its axle. I checked for an easy/obvious fix, but couldn't figure out what had caused things to seize up.

I scratched my head and tried to keep the girls calm and near, when an idea popped into my head. I was wearing my belly bag and remembered a small spool of Glide floss was inside. Would it be possible to use that floss, to create a "sling" I could loop around my head and arm, to lift up that back wheel enough for me to wheel it back to the campsite? Can't hurt to try.

A path, usually traveled via bicycle, can seem to take forever when on foot and carrying an awkward load. And I knew that Norm would soon be driving past on the nearby road, returning from taking a shower at the resort. So, a hopeful gaze at the road, as I made my way back to the campground. And then ... there he went, without a glance towards the lake trail.

Like many creative ideas, this one had its issues. One of which is the ability of that thin floss to cut into things--cheese, clay, skin . . .  And so, instead of helping me get that bike back to the campsite, that floss became a good story. Glad I stumbled upon it. Oh and, just so YOU know, too much WD-40 can loosen bike parts enough, they'll shift. Love, K

"Do You Have ... Oatmilk?"


Saturday, April 3, 2021

Rabbit Holes?

 Okay, not a great rabbit hole example, but I think it does earn the mini-hole award ... in my opinion. After watching the last, latest serie's episode of the evening, a song played that sent us searching.

"I think that's Kenny Rogers, when he was with The First Edition", mused N.

"No way! Kenny Rogers was in the First Edition?!", I reacted.

And off we went to our phones/encyclopedias . . .

I scored the first found youtube vid. Yep, there he was, with his long purdy hair, in The First Edition. And then he does the song intro ... where he says, "here's a song I sang with The Association", and begins singing with The First Edition. 

Then it starts anew:

"No way! Kenny Rogers was in The Association AND The First Edition?!", I interjected.

And off we went . . . one video and article after another. Twas a good moment. Truly.

Love, K