Knots on Top

There appears to be a new men’s hair fashion.  I happened to notice, as I was sipping a cuppa this morning at my local and things got a little loud and I left the book I was reading to see what was happening, some non-related guys that had the same hairdo.  A topknot.  Long hair pulled straight back from the forehead and tied into a knot at the top back of the head.  Actually rather impressive.  Reminiscent, I think, of samurai?  Or something similar.  Anyway, when I got home, I tried pulling my unfortunately short hair back and making a tiny knot, but I think I will have to grow it out for a few years to make it work.  Probably not worth the hassle of dealing with growing-out hair, and anyway, this seems to be a guy thing.  I found it interesting, and slightly adorable (probably not the reaction the guys were going for, but oh well, I’m sort of old).

Just saying.


So last night, I watched the movie  “The House of the Spirits” (based on Isabelle Allende’s book).  And today, a ghost spoke to me.  Perhaps there is a connection?

I was napping a bit this afternoon, and I woke to a very familiar voice telling me that I am sleeping too much.  I replied that it is just because I am so tired.  As I awoke, I felt joy, because I had thought I had forgotten that voice, would never hear it again, yet there it was admonishing me (with a smile that I could also hear) for wasting my day in sleep.  Thank you, ghost, for giving me back that wonderful voice!

When next I need  it, I shall watch that movie again.


Nowadays I seem to be repeating repeating repeating, which seems  appropriate for a blog called echoes of the mind.  I do wonder if I am a bit mad, sometimes, or going around in great circles, although I’ve no real idea of what it is that I am going around.  My little world is twirling, and while I am quite enjoying it (seems like a May pole), I wonder what the rest of the world is seeing.

Perhaps I just need a bit more coffee.  Sorry.

Flower Moon

So the Flower Moon is out tonight, and it is really gorgeous.  I could weed by its light. Which is why I think the flower moon ought to have been named the Weed Moon.  Yes, my flowers are flowering, or at least some of them are, but a whole ton more weeds are weeding than flowers flowering.  I almost missed my tee time today, because I started doing just a little weeding and ended up trying to finish the whole back yard.

I don’t mind weeding, really.  It is like ironing–you don’t really have to think about what you are doing as long as you keep moving.  So I set about solving all of the problems of the world, except the big ones:  why I can’t break 100, or finish a knitting project, or put away chocolate forever.

Enjoy the Flower Moon!  Before you know it we’ll be looking at the Frost Moon.


Yesterday, I had a dog for an hour or so.  I must admit that there was a wonderful feeling of contentment when my dog came up to me and followed me into my back yard.  I have never “owned” a dog before, but now I see the attraction.  Here’s the story.

I drove home after picking up books at the library to take to storage for our library book sale and was organizing said books into various boxes (fiction, nonfiction, kid books, etc) when I looked up and saw this beautiful dog staring at me from my neighbor’s yard.  These neighbors are also cat people and I had never seen this dog before.  He was a very large dog, and to a non-dog person looked like a giant husky.  Black face and white body with other markings.  He and I looked at each other and I swear the dog smiled.  He moved slowly toward me and I saw that his hips and legs were not completely under his control.  I thought immediately that he had been hit by a car.  I looked up and down my street as he came forward and there was no owner in sight.  So I said “hi, babe” (even though for whatever reason, I call him he”) and smiled right back at him.  He picked up a little speed and before I knew it, he and I were best friends forever.  I rubbed his brow and he rubbed my leg. Still no owner, but this was clearly an old dog and very infirm.  Up close, his legs did not show evidence of a recent accident, but were more like advanced arthritis that had caused the legs to turn inward.  Anyway, we smiled at each other and rubbed, and I started walking around the side of my house toward the gate to my back yard, and this most marvelous creature followed me closely all the way back and through the gate into the yard.  I went in and got him a big dish of water and he drank a bit as I watched.  But, now what?

I belong to Nextdoor, a computer thing that allows messages to be sent to surrounding neighborhoods, so I posted a message that I had found a dog, and included his picture.  No responses came in, so I called SCRAPS, our local animal protection group, and explained that I had found this dog (actually, he found me) but that I could not keep him and could they help him?  Yes, they could.  A super lady came within an hour and she and the dog walked happily off to the truck (after she was able to get him back on his feet–he had decided to lay down for a nice nap and could not get up).  And just like that, my dog was gone.  I called later and was told that SCRAPS was taking my dog to the vet to see about fixing up his rear legs.  Perhaps his owners will think to call them.  The super lady had said that he might have been frightened by a severe thunderstorm we had the night before and worked loose.  If that is not the case, then it is my hope that the dog will find a new home where the people will take really good care of this marvelous creature.

So, now I know a little bit about life with dog.  I simply cannot forget that peaceful feeling of having dog keep me company on that short walk.

20170427_104340    Here is Dog.

Getting Older

Yesterday, I had a conversation at my eye doctor’s in which I mentioned that I am getting old.  The nurse said that, well yes, everyone is getting older.  Sparks went off in my aging brain (admittedly, it took a little while for each spark to spark, but they did).  I cannot recall ever thinking, while I was young, that I was actually getting older every single day.  Yes, of course on birthdays, I knew I was a whole year older than I had been the year before.  But even that knowledge, if it was indeed really knowledge, did not bring to mind the idea that every single day since I had been born, I had actually been getting older.  Really getting older.  Young people, if I am or was an example of young people, simply do not realize that they are aging minute by minute.

At one of the jobs I worked at over the years, my boss was a forty-something sort of hunk who had an eye for younger ladies (and who was virtually knocked over onto his ass when my very good-looking gentleman friend [yes, just a friend, that’s all] came to pick me up for lunch one day).  So, upon my announcement that I had just “celebrated” my own fortieth birthday, said boss noted that I was certainly now on the downward slide.  Sexist pig, I thought (to myself, since I liked my job), why are women sliding down when you aren’t?  I am not sure why I brought this up, but it sort of relates.  He was not aging, but I was?  Except that I wasn’t even aware, even as he said that and even as I had just had a birthday that should have reminded me that I was one whole year older, that I might be “getting older”.  Aging does not happen to the young.

So, when does aging happen?  Is there really a point in life when we look around and note that we have gotten older and can say to ourselves that we are in fact getting older all the time?  Was the sexist pig actually on to something?  I seriously hope not, but yes, maybe.  When did I look in the mirror and see an old(er) lady?  Is it when I started feeling old because my old body has begun to betray me?  I know it was not when the hair turned silver,  because I figured that was due to fright when I tried to hit the golf ball and it hit me back.  (Don’t ask.)  Yes, I have told you about the sagging and etc., but even that didn’t bring on the actual real belief that I AM getting older, have in fact gotten old(er).

I wonder now if the lack of realization in the young that they are aging is not set into our DNA, helping us to avoid thinking or worrying about the fact that from day one we are falling apart.  I mean, who would do anything at all if that were the known case?  Is that what brings about that group of people who live only to party, like my boss?  Why not, if the downward slide actually begins at birth?

Ah well.  So much for thinking about aging.  It doesn’t stop it from happening, and can bring misery.  Let the fun begin.  Finally, I shall wear purple.