The annual Greenwood Garage Sale day was this past Saturday.  I didn’t get to see much of it because I participated in a Garden Mart sale –all things for (or from) the garden—at Broadview Church.  I got together some garden-themed gifts (probably purchased at past yard sales), my watercolor cards (some of which are of  Read the Rest…

I sent some marshmallow Peeps to my cousins in England.  It was partially to reciprocate the chocolate Tiddly Reindeers they sent at Christmas, partly to contribute to good relations across the pond and partly because Peeps don’t weigh very much so the postage isn’t twice the cost of the item.  Well, actually it is but  Read the Rest…

I just finished a book set in Yorkshire.  You don’t need to know its title because it wasn’t very good and I’ll recommend a better book later on.  The point here is that it got me thinking about Richmond, a splendid market town in North Yorkshire which I visited a few years back.   I am  Read the Rest…

Okay, we’re back. I use the third person royally because I actually live alone, not counting the three cats to whom I pay rent.  However I am more introverted than not and I feel like I almost died of people this past week.  I ate lunches, dinners, and high teas such as I don’t believe  Read the Rest…

I’ve had a pig at my table for two weeks.Actually a boar, not a pig.And only the head.A boar’s head.OK, it’s paper maché.I wanted one so the OK Chorale could process singing “The Boar’s Head Carol.”One of our altos, Gail, who teaches kindergarten at North Beach Elementary, volunteered her class to create a boar’s head.  Read the Rest…

It’s Christmas time in Bartell Drugs, the only non-grocery store I will set foot in after Thanksgiving.  I know this because all the Russell Stover chocolates have been re-packaged in green and red colors and the motion sensor Santas accost me when I walk by them. In addition, someone is whining a Christmas song through  Read the Rest…

With Halloween appearing a full month ahead of itself, I’ve been thinking about Margaret of Clitherow’s hand.   I saw The Hand when I traveled in England in the year 2005, in the city of York, of a good family, though not of that city, my father being a foreigner of Cornwall.  That’s for you English  Read the Rest…

A few posts ago, I wrote Whining Helps.  I now want to announce that Groveling Doesn’t. Genevieve came in the other night, apologizing for the second week in a row that she hadn’t practiced and would it be all right if we did sight reading again this week?  The week before she had read through  Read the Rest…

You know what I don’t like?  People who say, “Can’t complain,” and people who wear those buttons that say “No Whining.”  Of course you can complain.  And whining helps. The British say “whinging.”  Isn’t that a great word?  It’s got the nasal irritation of the word whine, the messy soft g; and in addition, you  Read the Rest…

I am an Anglophile.  It started early in my life and was enhanced by finding an address for my Cornish relations in my great Aunt Ann’s address book after she died in the 1970’s.  I wrote to my distant cousin Hazel, then 68 years old, and we began to correspond.  Since then I have made  Read the Rest…