A mostly love-filled blog with the occasional backhand volley
Daffodils bring a splash of springtime color to our house here on the Central Coast. These beauties make an annual appearance next to a tree in the front yard. Stunning hues, yes, though actually the overcast skies here don’t seem to do the blooms justice, nor does the lazy photographer!
Daffodils flaunt their color in our Seaside front yard.
A slice of pinkness. Reminds me of grapefruit.
The wait is over. Brighter times are ahead, and today is a day to celebrate the start of a new era in this country. That should be the focus looking forward. But the blood-splattered stains of 45’s horrific reign of American carnage stretch from sea to shining sea — they cannot be so easily cleansed as this shredded country moves on.
So off to Florida with this serial liar — good riddance, and may justice deal him and his mobster family the fate they deserve.
And welcome, President Joe Biden and VP Kamala Harris.
The “Fuck Trump” rock: I came upon this at Fort Ord Dunes State Park near Monterey in 2019 — I was walking to the beach through the sandy trailed entrance (top photo) and as I got closer to the water, I looked left and saw the spray-painted messages of the big rock and its little sidekick stone glaring at me. Whipped out my cell phone and documented — it surely has since been scrubbed clean.
Another angle of the “Fuck Trump” rock.
https://postermuseum.com/products/the-official-nixon-countdown-calendar
There was another time, long ago, when many Americans were literally counting the days before a despicable tyrant would leave office — one way or another. I was 11 years old when the big event eventually happened: it was August 8, 1974, when Tricky Dick Nixon resigned.
The magnitude of the Nixon crisis was lost on me at that age, but not on my brother, Fred, who of course already knew Nixon was a nasty piece of work. Fred had a gargantuan wall calendar plastered with Nixon’s ugly mug, meant eventually to be covered with X’s as each day passed. I had always been amused by it, and wondered what it would look like when fully covered with X’s.
I do recall the feeling of relief when Nixon departed. I’m having flashbacks now with our current crisis. Old Tricky Dick didn’t make it to the end of his term as our current Satanic leader apparently will. But if he had, it probably wouldn’t have been even close to the total shitshow we’ve been forced to live in since 2016.
We have 12 days remaining with this menacing loser in office. Let’s hope we make it to the weekend.
Here’s an example of the Nixon Countdown Calendar showing the calendar’s squares X’d out.
Amid all the aches and pains that defined the year 2020, I came upon a critical outlet to help soothe my frazzled nerves: jigsaw puzzles. I know I’m not the only one who has turned to this childhood favorite and sentimental throwback mind-teaser to help pass some of the time at home while the pandemic rages all around us.
https://www.aarp.org/home-family/friends-family/info-2020/puzzles-sales-soar.html
While others may dabble in this trend, for me it’s become an addiction. It started when I found an unopened puzzle I had given my mother-in-law as a Christmas gift two years earlier: It was a Dowdle puzzle, the brand that Costco loves to sell by the pallet-fulls. An SF Giants puzzle, 100 pieces! (Oops, guess I didn’t notice that it was a kiddie puzzle when I bought it) Well, I knocked it out in about an hour. By then the bug had pretty much infected me.
I bought another Dowdle puzzle, then another, and another. Then another. Holy shit, WTF else am I addicted to?
So since just July when this bout with jigsaw madness began, I’ve completed 18 puzzles. And spent a crapload of money on them too. However, I’m working on a Where’s Waldo puzzle now, which just may cure my addiction as the atrocious beast is driving me nuts rather than calming my nerves.
Finished 13 puzzles plus five from the National Parks box — still have Grand Teton and Bryce Canyon to go.
Hi, I’m Christy Hoffknecht. My new blog, It’s My Serve, has arrived like a 129-mph Venus Williams ace up the “T,” and I’m pretty excited about it.
This site will serve as a place to post anything I want! Yep, that’s pretty much it … I don’t have a real specific focus per se. What does drive me is a desire to serve my immediate birth family by documenting its history, to write about some of my own life adventures, and to establish a home base to share news and serve up personal opinion.
Why the name It’s My Serve? It was a tough decision: I considered all types of names but none worked the best as this one because, well … read the previous paragraph. I used the word “serve” repeatedly for the purpose of illustrating my primary intentions with this blog. And it works as a cheesy way to work in my love for tennis as well (did you catch that one — love?)
I spent 30 years working in editor roles at Northern California newspapers … I know good journalism when I see it. That is not what you will find here! More like stories about my cat.
So expect the mundane, the hokey and the retro … it’s what I do best. Oh, and don’t forget the truth and a little verbal warfare at times.
Love and kisses!
It's My Serve 