Stephanie says

 And bought an exercise bicycle Mine looks like this. Moose's seal of approval.

I was having dinner at McGrath’s Fish House in Bend one evening; it is a small Oregon chain with three or four restaurants throughout the state, a place where I’ve dined many times.   I was using the toilet when I noticed very mannish shoes pass by the opening beneath the stall door.     “Odd” I thought.     I emerged from the stall and it struck me that the floor plan of the restroom seemed slightly different.    A Nano-second later, as I passed a man standing at a urinal, the realization that I was in the men’s room became obvious.   Ya think?   Well that wasn’t a bidet and there was most definitely a man peeing into the urinal.     Keeping my composure and with eyes straight ahead, I made for the door.   Which opened just as I reached it.   The man opening the door did a double take at the sight of me, then peered around to the other side of the door, (I assume to verify he was not entering the lady...

Peonies are in bloom here.  I stopped at a friend's house today to view his peony varities.  Once home, I cut my few stems and plopped then into the customary ancient blue mason jar.  Then recalled the massive flower arrangement I photographed long ago.  It was too enormous to effectively capture all the flowers, (peonies, red lilac, honeysuckle, curly willow) - so I moved closer and focused on smaller frames. See, the basket is way too big - but I had to try. Some shots are very similar but I just could not choose. This is the one I had enlarged.  Amazing.  Wish I could capture the aroma.

“Falstaff” is the only comic opera written by Giuseppe Verde, (his last opera as well,) and is based on Shakespeare’s “The Merry Wives of Windsor.” The Portland Opera at Keller Auditorium, a smallish venue with 2,992 seating capacity, staged this performance. My charming companion and my seats were Row F on the center aisle, not far above the orchestra pit, a very good vantage point. It is a lively opera with a sizeable cast performed in Italian. I recognized random words from a long-ago “Conversational Italian” class, but focused mostly on the music and body language, with the occasional peek at a reader board with English subtitles. I seemed to absorb the music more fully not caught by the actual words, though of course missing nuances of the storyline. It was disconcerting for occasional English names like “Thames” and “Windsor Park” or “Garter Inn” to break into my reverie. The cast was superbly talented, the music wonderful and not at all familiar. A solo by the young gentl...

Today’s been a leisurely paced and entirely enjoyable day of futzing about the yard. I discovered six burgeoning blossoms on a much transplanted peony, next to a bed of far more prolific Siberian Iris. I adore peonies. And Siberian Iris. I’ve sworn off hanging baskets for my porch as they just don’t thrive in that location (one must water…) but I’ve been successful in the shade of the grape arbor with fuchsias and petunias, which promptly wither when moved to the porch. I planted all my hanging pots with a variety of flower seeds just last week and germination is in progress. Mystery is all because I don’t use markers in my self-entertainment quest of identifying plants as they leaf. Yes, I am admittedly dull. I aced botany though. University of Hawaii – home of astonishing plant life. So there. I managed to make time for a nap during the late afternoon. Is there any better kind of nap than a summer day snooze, (even though it’s technically spring,) when the afternoon heat lu...

What is it about guilt? Here I am, three days into a cold; stuffy nose (unless it’s running,) chills then fever, and a very addled brain. Poor me. Have I mentioned that I’m an absolute baby if I’m sick? To the extent that last night for dinner I ate a Stouffers Mac & Cheese, a sacrilege in this house, (can’t vouch for the flavor of course but the texture was surprisingly good,) and I experienced an intense hankering for SpagettiOs briefly. How very strange. And now I’ve got this chatter in my head; two voices carrying on a ridiculous dialog about mowing the grass. Slave Master: “The lawn needs mowing. It’s a sunny (though windy) afternoon. The grass is perfectly dry. You could just do the front and side; 30 minutes tops. Waiting another day will just mean taller grass and more work.” Baby: “But I don’t feel good. The house is so warm and toasty. My hands are cold. I don’t want to work outside.” Slave Master: “What, are you nuts? You love to work on the lawn. Your hands ...