The 4th of July is not what most people think it is.  Nevermind.  Just wear red, white, and blue and celebrate.  I think a couple of you paddled with me one 4th of July many years ago, taking out at Independence, Oregon, where they celebrate everything “Independence.”  

I intend to celebrate with these one day very soon.  Love those Walla Wallas!



Not today,  however. It’s going to be too crowded at Burgerville with a parade through Monmouth.  

Speaking of Walla Wallas, here is my garden buddy’s crop.  I’m sure to receive one or two pretty soon:



Today I will have “Southern Seafood Boil,” whatever that is, down in the dining room with Barb.  Billed as a “celebratory meal.  Then later, the ice cream truck is driving through.


Do all ice cream trucks play “Turkey in the Straw”? Asking for a friend.

Here is Barb’s new device, a 90th birthday gift from her kids who are taking her up near Mt. Hood to celebrate this week. This is supposed to be just the thing for trail walking.


Looks like it’s pretty handy for walking from Barb’s place to the community garden too.  It gives new meaning to the word “independence.”

In closing, let me add my all-time favorite patriotic picture.  “This land was made for you and me!”

The 4th of July is not what most people think it is.  Nevermind.  Just wear red, white, and blue and celebrate.  

I think a couple of you paddled with me one 4th of July many years ago, taking out at Independence, Oregon, where they celebrate everything “Independence.”  

I intend to celebrate with these one day very soon.  Love those Walla Wallas!

Not today,  however. It’s going to be too crowded at Burgerville with a parade through Monmouth.  

Speaking of Walla Wallas, here is my garden buddy’s crop.  I’m sure to receive one or two pretty soon:


Today I will have “Southern Seafood Boil,” whatever that is, down in the dining room with Barb.  Billed as a “celebratory meal.  Then later, the ice cream truck is driving through.


Do all ice cream trucks play “Turkey in the Straw”? Asking for a friend.

Here is Barb’s new device, a 90th birthday gift from her kids who are taking her up near Mt. Hood to celebrate this week. This is supposed to be just the thing for trail walking.


Looks like it’s pretty handy for walking from Barb’s place to the community garden too where I spotted it very early this morning.  It gives new meaning to the word “independence.”

And, in closing, here is my all-time favorite patriotic picture. “This land was made for you and me!”

It’s unlikely in the unlikely event that I should be tried for a crime, that a jury of my peers would be seated. Old, white, middle class women? I think not.

First of all, in this state if you are my age you are excused from serving on a jury. I think that’s a huge mistake. Here we are: experienced women, wise, learned, retired, former nurses, teachers, secretaries, having raised many children, available and willing.

Originally, the “founding fathers” envisioned old, white, wealthy men making up juries. Today, that describes Donald Trump’s peers.

The judge set to try his case was appointed to the bench by him.

And in Dade county, who will make up the jury pool? I am thinking more of a sampling of that population rather rich, white men. I hope so.

Trump’s attorney Alina Habba, who is not part of the team representing him in the classified documents case, told Fox News on Sunday that Trump would not plan to seek a plea deal — “especially when he’s not done anything wrong,” she added. “He would never admit guilt.”

People who cannot see that they ever made a mistake, small or great, terrify me. There are always extenuating circumstances, rules that make no sense so they need not be honored.

“Honor” is a meaningful word here. Every screws up. Owning up is the honorable thing. Saying sorry is the automatic response for most of us.

When a boy grows up never having had his errors pointed out to him by loving parents, he becomes a narcissist. A colleague who is a narcissist is damn annoying. When it’s the most powerful man in the world, it is literally earth-shaking.

American English dialects are very rich.

My Oklahoma forebears used a number of expressions that are sort of “black.” A’hm fixin’ ta fix dinner. “Liable,” came out lobble. You’re lobble to git in trouble.” Directly” pronounced d’recly and meaning immediately or soon. Ah’ll be there d-recly.

I had a terrible time learning how to spell in school because of such pronunciations.

My maternal grandmother used the expression, “Different ones say,” to mean she had heard some gossip. My Aunt Caroline’s favorite exclamation was, “Well, ah’ll swan.” I have no idea where that came from.

Mother used to say, “It’s a loblolly out there,” meaning it’s a muddy mess.” Turns out, that is an acceptable expression and I have taken to using it myself.

I would love to read a book on the history of some African-American pronunciations and phraseology. Fascinating. And neither right or wrong. Ask. Himself. I think they are based on what they heard their slave owners say. “My mama she come home late.” He hurt hisself. “Gwine-uh” for going to.

It’s interesting to me that I can often tell the color of a customer service rep’s skin when we’re talking on the phone. Does that make me racist?