One Little Wordle

You may have seen strange little green and yellow boxes popping up on social media lately that 

look something like this:

If you’ve managed to stay above the fray—please allow me to change all that. Nothing makes me happier than to drag people down into the depths of my favorite obsession.

As obsessions go, Wordle is relatively benign. There is only one five-letter word, once a day, and you get six tries at it. Type in your word, hit enter. There are no clues to what the word is. Everybody gets the same word.  After the first try, the letters you used on the game board –and the keyboard—will show colors along with the letters. Dark Gray=wrong letter. Yellow=right letter, wrong place. Green=right letter, right place. Unless you are highly intuitive or super lucky, you now have five more tries to figure out the word. Isn’t this fun?!

Obviously, the key to success is having a good start word. Statistically, “ROATE” is supposed to be the most successful word. Yes, it’s a word. I looked it up. I still don’t know what it means—something to do with taxes and net earnings and my eyes crossed and I no longer cared-- but yes, it’s a word. If your word isn’t a word, the game will just “shake it off” and not let you enter it. The good news is it didn’t cost you a try. The bad news is you can’t deploy the Wheel of Fortune strategy and RSTLN the board.

Since I am all about those vowels, my favorite start word is “ADIEU.” I usually follow it up with “STORM” because—except for “and sometimes Y”—that’s the last vowel standing. And it employs some very popular consonants. In words, popularity counts. 

As do consonant blends: BL, CL, BR, CR, SPR, STR, etc. Getting the “wrong” answer can still be a clue, which is probably why I like this game, I am informed by my mistakes. 

I am often well informed. It is unlikely I will get the win in one or two tries—because the real guessing doesn’t start until round three. And yes, the game sometimes uses words with repeated letters. 

Sure, some people claim this game is highly addictive—BUT ---and here comes my rationalization--YOU CAN ONLY PLAY ONE WORD, ONCE A DAY—HOW COULD IT POSSIBLY HURT? 

Psst! You can find Wordle at powerlanguage.co.uk/wordle  

UPDATE: The New York Times bought them, so find it here:

https://www.nytimes.com/games/wordle/index.html

The NY Times is why we can't have nice things...

Procrastination, Eventually

 I can’t remember what my opening sentence was going to be about because instead of typing it, I got up and got a handful of peanut butter M&Ms. Buy the time I got back to the keyboard the idea I had had melted away...the chocolate of ideas melts in your brain... if you don’t have words in your hand-- worth two in the bush? Brain? ---strike that. That’s lame. Let me try again.

Every week I intend to write my column in a timely manner. “Timely” often ends up being one of those “eye of the beholder” flexible words; it means different things to different people. I have yet to decide on a final definition. Procrastinating on defining “timely”—classic Sue!

I’m also procrastinating in other areas. I’m rather embarrassed to admit that here we are, up to our eyeballs in April, and I have only purchased two—that’s right T-W-O—flowers. Usually, by the end of April, I have a couple of boxes full of tender blooms sheltering on my porch, waiting for the last of the frost to move on so I can safely plant them in my pots and baskets and beds. Two flowers—nemesia “Babycakes’; three tomato plants, two sweet peppers, one Poblano pepper, and fistful of seed packets for my straw bales comprises the totality of my plant purchases for 2021.

Sigh. I think I have Spring Fever. I can’t seem to settle on a task for long without wandering outside—between rain showers—and looking at all the growing things. It’s an on-going argument with myself not to hop in the car and go on an epic nursery tour...First I’ll stop at DeGoedes and wander thru the green houses, then on to Bennie’s Gardens in Chehalis/Napavine. Perhaps a quick stop at Adna Floral, before hitting up Sun Birds garden department...Any hardware store, 4H plant sale, or garden club I pass on the way by is also fair game. Please, take my money-- I must have all the pretties.

If my travels take me south, I’ll swing in to Tsugawa Nursery in Woodland. North, and I’ll find my way to Windmill Gardens in Sumner. But why go home yet—I’m this close to Flower World in Maltby, might as well keep on going. If you don’t know where Maltby is I’ll bet your Siri does. Ask her, she’s quite the enabler and Flower World is worth “getting around to.”

 Eventually.

Medicare

 I was in a hurry to leave the house one morning when my phone rang. When I said hello, a voice declared “This is Robert, from Medicare.”

 I hung up, as one does, because unless it’s the Robert from Medicare, I’ve got stuff to do today. I’m sorry I don’t have time to play, Robert. No time to ask you if your desk is next to Becky from Medicare, or if you ever get together with Jake From State Farm, and does he really wear khakis? Also-- I AM FAR TOO YOUNG TO HAVE MEDICARE, YOU EVIL PERSON. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME??? WHY??

Oh, sure—maybe you, Robert, were just innocently trying to scam my social security number. Maybe you heard from the other scammers about all the fraudulent activities my SS number was getting up to and wanted in on the action, I don’t know. What I DO know is that bringing age into the equation is the cruelest thing ever. Possibly in the history of ever. And I will never forgive you for that casual cruelty.

Take my credit card info, steal my identity, co-opt my tax refund—JUST DON’T CALL ME OLD, capisce?

 

Want to scam me by pretending to be a Nigerian Prince? Fine, bring it. I probably deserve a Prince or two. Want to convince me that several Doctors on FaceBook suddenly want to be my friend? Ok, fair enough, somebody has to be friends with Doctors, it might as well be me. But to try to trick me with something involving Medicare—which, as we all know—IS FOR OLDER PEOPLE, is the biggest sin imaginable! SHAME ON YOU ROBERT!

I miss the days when people would call my landline—yes I still have a landline, how else can I find my cell phone—where was I? Oh, right, landline. People used to call me up and offer to sell me aluminum siding. Or a surefire cure for septic tank troubles that also doubles as a preventative measure. I miss that.

I miss the days when you could prank call someone—not that I ever did of course, but I know people who did. You could ask them if their refrigerator was running, or if Prince Albert was—what was his deal anyway? Something about a can...Anyway, my point is this:

Whatever. I had a point. Which is I’m not old. Even if next year’s birthday is one of those that ends in a zero—I’m still not old. Robert from Medicare can go get stuffed. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go yell at some kids to get off my lawn.

Write It Down: Day One of LockDown by Any Other Name

Now is a good time to keep a blog/journal/diary of current events from your perspective. Keeping on in your own handwriting is a bonus--I'll award extra credit points for hand written entries. And the end of this project you may cash in those extra credit points towards a toaster oven.
Editor's note: there is no toaster oven, but please feel free to play along.

In case you are wondering WHAT in the heck you're going write about, I've compiled this handy-dandy list of writing prompts:

My must haves--plus tea.

1) Describe your living situation: who/what/where/how. Be sure to include a tally of available rolls of "bathroom tissue."

2) Biggest fear. Might as well haul it out into the daylight and take a look at it.

3) Thing you miss the most.

4) Dumb thing you miss.

5) Something you don't miss AT ALL/A.K.A. a good thing that has come from this.

6) What is your daily routine like? "My New Normal."
6b) Revisit this topic every 10 days and track the changes.

7) Are your meals/meal times different? Describe a meal you just had.

8) Imagine a Post-Virus Cookbook--what would the recipes have as a main ingredient?

9) Crafts using T.P.: will we wallpaper with it?

10) Celebrity you would most like/dislike to quarantine with.

11) Write a Covid-19 Haiku. (5/7/5 if you've forgotten)

12) "When I realized this crap was real"--day/event.

13) Turns out, this was all a dream-- like that season of Dallas with Bobby in the shower. Here is how my friends reacted when I told them my *dream.*

14) Is the POTUS a Zombie Creator? Discuss. Outlandish claims welcome.

15) Make a list of all the positive outcomes: i.e. birdsong, cleaner air, etc. or relate a positive story you know about.

16) What is your go-to stress reliever? Before/Now. Same/Different? Personally--i'm all about the bubblebath.

17) Write a Covid-19 Cinquain. Google cinquain. I'M NOT DOING YOUR HOMEWORK, BOB!

18) Write a short story about a person waking up with amnesia and trying to go about their daily "before" life. What do they tell them selves to explain all the differences?

19) Write about Food Banks in a time of Covid.

20) What color would you repaint your shelter-in-place surroundings if you could?

21) Re-name the color rainbow--think fingernail polish names or paint colors. What would you call beige?  What would you call__________?

22) Weirdest thing you bought on-line.

23) Weirdest food you purchased in a grocery store.

24) What/When was your last day of "normal" life like?

25) Dream location to shelter-in-place?

Feel free to share these prompts with others, kindly give credit here to #OverMyGardenGateBlogger.
Thanks, and stay safe!

Updates, with Only Minor #@%$!!#!!! Words

I tend to procrastinate—at least I do, once I get around to it. I usually write Over My Garden Gate right ahead of the deadline, telling myself that, in this fast-paced world, that is my way of ensuring you-- Gentle Reader-- the freshest content available. Also, Twitter is highly addictive, but that’s not the point. My point is, writing OMGG ahead of the deadline—which is what I did four weeks ago on The Elk Ate Everything Day--- means I need to play catch-up and bring y’all up to speed.

In Sugar News: Lil’ John-John is beautiful, and funny, and much adored. His parents have decided to keep him, even though they still have 63 days left on the 90-day warranty, and I think that’s the right call. I can just tell---he’s a keeper.

 
In Stinky Spray News: I got a refund check and I feel kind of bad about that---but not bad enough to not cash it. Stupid elk.

In Fence News: The sympathetic Wildlife Conflict Specialist came with a helpful volunteer named Jim—or Ron? I don’t remember his name now, since I called him both—but by any name, he was very helpful and they installed my loaner electric elk fence. It goes up in a jiffy and looks a lot like I’m starting either a professional sock laundry, or that I can make you a sweet deal on a low-mileage vehicle with zero down, or that I’m a piñata short of the Best Birthday Party EVER. But, after I got over the initial “THERENESS” of the fence, I appreciated waking up to a backyard that looked exactly as it had when I went to bed the night before. I took some of the flowerpots I had barricaded on my deck for safe keeping and tucked them among the stumps and stubs of my denuded flowerbeds, and the result could almost fool one into thinking that an Elk Disaster Worthy of FEMA Response hadn’t happened. Almost. 

In Elk News: Post fence installation, things were proceeding smoothly in my backyard, no elk—only signs that they had approached the fence and been, shall we say, “deterred.” Flowers were beginning to make a comeback, I was getting used to the waving flagging of my fence, all was well that ends well----
Well, it didn’t end. At six o’clock this morning the four-legged vandals trashed my fence in a brazen attempt to eat my quaking aspen. I woke to the sounds of elk outrage, “HOW DARE YOU?!! THIS! WILL! NEVER! DO! WTAH?!!” 

By the time I got my eyelids pried open and the door unlocked, the band of miscreants were standing in a huddle, complaining loudly and planning a second assault. The flagging was stripped from the poles, torn in two, and drug halfway into the neighboring field, and the elk—based on body language and my understanding of elk-speak—were planning on calling both their lawyer and the SPCA. Possibly the ACLU, acronyms are hard to translate.

In Property Values News: Real estate values on the Cline Road took another dip today. There was some chasing of elk, whilst improperly attired in pajamas—me, not the elk. There was some shouting of earthy, Anglo-Saxon vulgarities—perhaps the elk were guilty of this as well? There was some throwing of pink Crocs at retreating rumps---that one involved all of us, but it was my footwear aimed—poorly—at their hind-ends. 

In Other News: The smoke from the fires seems to be clearing; Happy Labor Day; and remember to lock your cars, it’s Zucchini Season

No Words

Due to circumstances beyond her control, Sue will not be writing a Garden Gate for this week

When she went to bed, her gardens looked like this:

When she woke up:

Check back next week to find out her thoughts on the matter. Hopefully, by then, she will have formulated a response that consists of more than sobs and four letter words. However creatively strung together her words currently might be, few of them are fit to print.

Up to Date and Totally Relevant

In these perilous days, when journalists and writers face charges of “Fake News,” seemingly every time they write something unpopular, I thought it best to go on record with my Beliefs, Mission Statement and Code of Conduct.

Which means I must write one, a Mission Statement that is. My “Beliefs” I’ll happily yammer on at you at length, week after week. A friend once told me I was the funniest person I know, and I had to agree with him. I never fail to laugh at my own jokes. Even though most of the jokes I know exist only in the form of punch lines. They’re the most memorable part to me. I may no longer remember the joke*, but by golly “Gramma made it for me!” or “...And set your clock back!” never fail to make me laugh. (*if you happen to remember these jokes please tell it to me. I’ll supply the punchline. And I promise to laugh.)

My Beliefs, in a nut shell: 1) I’m convinced I’m funny. 2) Elk are evil, yet delicious. 3) Whatever topic I’m currently yammering on about. 4) Don’t read too much into the phrase “nut shell.”

 My Code of Conduct is that I will never to push a belief on you that I, myself, haven’t held. For at least twenty minutes. Promise.

“For only twenty minutes?”  I imagine you asking, “That seems—rash.”

No, not rash—relevant. Fresh, if you will. Fresh from my brain to the page in front of you, with very little time for those pesky rewrites. Usually written in those creatively charged hours RIGHT BEFORE THE DEADLINE, OH DEAR HEAVENS WHY DIDN’T I DO THIS YESTERDAY? I THOUGHT I MADE SOME SORT OF NEW YEARS RESOLUTUION TO--- oh. Note to self: actually make New Year’s Resolutions final.

"Not throwing away my SHOT"

Sometimes life comes at you fast. I didn’t write this week’s column ahead of time because I was too busy practicing showtunes –specifically those to Hamilton. If you’d like me to perform them for you just ask. Better yet, if given the chance, sell your kidney and go see it. It’s playing in Seattle thru the middle of next month and I only need one kidney anyway...totally worth it.

Next week: more fresh relevance. Possibly a Mission Statement. Maybe Resolutions.  Whatever. Guaranteed** funny or double your money back.

**This offer only available to The Shopper readers

One Little Word

Once upon a time, in a Life I used to live, I was a Scrapbooker. I was a Taker of Pictures –the real kind, not with a phone; the kind you get printed out and place in an album. I was a Keeper of Memories, writing things down, a Curator of Life.

Funny thing, Life. It often changes. Sometimes when I’m not paying attention, sometimes even when I am. So, for a variety of reasons, both the expected and the unexpected, my life changed and I’m not much of a Scrapbooker anymore. At least not actively.

I’ve mentioned before that I’m great at making New Year’s Resolutions and sticking to them—provided I don’t make them right around New Years. My resolutions seem to have better staying power if I set with them awhile first, think about them, try them on for size. For that reason, I’m nowhere near ready to commit resolutions to paper—or to whatever the internet is made out of-- either.

I am ready to commit to One Little Word however. According to fellow Scrapbooker Ali Edwards, (Ah! THAT’S why she was blathering on about scrapbooking!) One Little Word is a word chosen to “focus on, to live with, to investigate, to write about, to craft with, and to reflect on as (one) goes about...daily life.”

One little word. That concept really resonates with me. After all, it’s on a single, highly personal word. How hard can it be? That’s the beauty of it. It can be as simple or as complex and you make it. The further you go, the deeper you dive, the more you explore the word you’ve chosen-- the more life changing it can become.

Sit down with a pencil and a piece of paper and make list of words that inspire: Action, Breathe, Connect, Discipline, Engage, Flourish, Gratitude, Heal, Joy, Listen, Mindful, Nest, Pause, Quit, Routine, Soar, Thankful, Whittle, Yes. Find one that resonates with you. In the past, I’ve chosen Attitude, Rise, Savor, and Discover.

This year, the word that is speaking to me is More. I want more; to appreciate more, to give more. To write more love letters, to savor more sunsets, to walk more, dance more, create more---I want MORE. My resolutions—when I get around to making them-- will have “more” in them.

Who knows? Perhaps I’ll even scrapbook more.