Monday, July 16, 2018

Swimming at Ada and Rich's

Wrote this poem about swimming for Facebook.

I used to attend lectures at Abington Library, which they still have. Richard Tyre, an expert on Robert Frost, would give lectures. Somehow I learned of the suspected murder of his daughter.

Read about it here. Her name was Shelley Tyre.

SWIMMING LAPS

The breaststroke's my favorite
You can see where you're going

Then Ada told me to do the elementary backstroke
I flipped on my back and felt at peace with the world

As I looked up at the sky a silver shiny plane
flew by, with all them people aboard

Where to? Your choice of a window seat
or an aisle seat.

Do the back crawl, suggested Rich.
My arms, unaccustomed, loved the feel

Water splashed in my face
and I giggled.

Swimming! The best the world
has to offer. Forever and beyond.

***

Image result for sour orange pie  Our dinner consisted of a big fat hot dog on a toasted bun, slices of fresh veggies - peppers, etc. - Ada's fantastic carrot pudding (get recipe for Mom and Ellen) and Rich's Sour Orange Pie with a dollop of whipped cream on top.

You use a can of frozen orange juice. Remember when that's how we used to make orange juice?

I keep OJ in my fridge in case I go low.

***
Gonna ride my bike now to keep the Complications away. Yes, I have feelings in all 12 of my toes.

Annual Arts Fest - Part Four

What! It's Monday already!
We often schmooze afterward in the Starbucks Cafe, aka The Beer and Wine Shoppe of the OK Corral. Ellen Rosenberg is with her BF Saint Anthony. Terry Livorsi came late and said our door upstairs was locked. He's in the Recovery Business.... Drug and Alcohol.

Remind me to tell you later that when I first went to Goddard College in Plainfield, VT, I had my first drinks of liquor, other than the Manichevitz Wine on Jewish Holidays.

Here I am again sitting next to Sharon Quinn, who got my name for FB, where I snatched a photo of hubby, Ed Quinn, who took all the photos.

Image may contain: 2 people, people standing, suit, flower, plant and outdoor

And, as Columbo would say, One more thing!

I wanted total audience participation, so I wrote a list of questions to ask the audience. Got the Q idea from Toastmasters.

I did mention I'm a member of Affinity Toastmasters, which meets at the Giant Supermarket every Thursday night from 6 to 8.

Questions included:

... Think about the last expensive item you bought, whether it's a new watch or new stove. What made you buy it?

... I live on a street where nearly everyone has a pet. Anyone here have a pet? Helen Kirschner, who runs our daytime meetings, used to have wabbits!

... Who's a favorite singer of yours, be it Renee Fleming, Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins, or Steely Dan, tho Walt Becker died last year.

... What are you addicted to? Suggestions: Coffee, Facebook, Netflix.

There's so much more to write but my fingers are getting tired and my bed with 15 books is calling me. I'll pick up the Jack Reacher book. Janet Maslin said it's one of the best books of the year. I find it repetitious and very slow going.

But I do have to finish it.

Annual Arts Fest - Part Three

I always bring flowers to our Giant Programs. Hard to see, but on the table behind me, is a vase of a Stoat Beer Bottle with the violet tops of hostas inside.

Can't stand the looks of those tops, but they look great all by their lonesomes.


 Crowd shot:  Linda is sitting next to her mom Jane. Ken Ivins sits next to his wife Dot. Rem, back row, is probably thinking up the next chapter of his Randy Package scenario.

After the program we met downstairs to schmooze in the Starbucks Cafe aka Wine and Beer Shoppe of the OK Corral.

Ellen Rosenberg came with her BF Saint Anthony. Terry Livorsi missed the program. He said the door was locked upstairs, so I lassoed him in, and he spoke a bit about his work as a drug and alcohol counselor. Sharon Quinn took my name to 'friend' me on Facebook.


Annual Arts Fest - Part Two




Here's one of Rem Murphy's poems.


              Your Fancy Coffee Table Book

You’re living it up, dear reader,
I see you’re really enjoying your coffee table book,

There you are, re-visiting the high Sierras,
Courtesy of Ansel Adams,

Pondering the mysteries of ancient Egypt,
With its mastabas and mummies,

Marveling at vintage John Deere tractors,
Nomadic peoples of the Middle East,

Poring over the Great Big Book of Taxidermy,
Gaping at underwater dogs,

Gazing starry-eyed
At Frauen auf Baumen, Women in Trees.

This time, however,
We’re going to turn the tables,

All that fabulous artwork,
All that pinkish sunset scenery,


Vivid enough for the ViewMaster
Your mother threw away,

The hooded Bedouin herding his goats,
The icy black and white photography

Riding the wave of your palm,
Shooting the curl of your fingers,

As they glide, let us say nimble
As a pickpocket’s

Through the thick glossy pages,
Like I said, we’re turning this around,

This time the fancy coffee table book
Is going to look at you.

Look at the nerdy suburbanite,
Exclaims the soaring Douglas fir

Alone atop its mountain ridge,
Look at the lady in curlers, says the goat,

Look at the guy with the five o’clock shadow,
Remarks the woman in the sycamore.

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More photos, including some repeats
 Donna Krause read a couple of honest, poignant short stories. Hey, where was her pipe-smoking companion, Denny?
 Oh, c'mon, I can't really be that petite. Next year I'll probably be as small as Thumbelina. Wouldn't it be funny if people kept shrinking until they were as small as a grasshopper.
 Gianni has a nice look about her with blond hair and a flush of pink on her forehead. She showed us a tattoo on her bony chest of roses. Ouch!





Sunday, July 15, 2018

Annual Arts Fest - Part One - Held on July 14, 2018 at the Willow Grove Giant Superstore, large room at end of hall - Big thanks for Robin Franklin and Sandie for their help, and in getting us healthy refreshments

 Gianni talks about her anime illustrations. Her wish is to go to Japan to study the art of anime and produce her own films. View anime here.

Gianni and peer counselor, both from Project Transition in Warminster PA.

Below, Bob M read some of his work from our Beehive magazine. Many of our performers are from our Beehive group, which meets at Beatriz Moisset's home in Abington, PA.

Since B couldn't be here due to serious health concerns, we wished her the best.
Ken Ivins combines storytelling with recorded music. Very clever!
Prolific poet Linda Barrett read three poems, including one she composed earlier today. She likes doing fresh work.
Rem Murphy dazzled the audience with his admittedly strange poems. Gianni said she liked the one about UFOs.

I will see Rem on Sunday for New Directions' Lunch Bunch and the Grub Burger. We couldn't go to Burgers and Shakes as it's closed on Sunday.
I made a sculpture on showtime morning. As I walked around our hilly block, I met bushy-bearded Kyle, working overtime on installing sewer pipes on our street. He said it's OK to remove the yellow plastic flags that tell where gas lines are located.

Many jokes about my house now exploding. Hold on. Lemme check if I'm still alive. Yes, pulse is there.
Ruth reads two poems graciously given us by David Subacci, a Facebook friend. One about a





Friday, July 13, 2018

Uber - Terrible medicine for mental illness - Poems: The Importance of a Window Sill - At the Compost Heap

Image result for over the river and into the trees


Figures! I have an opportunity to publish my first novel and can't find the darn thing. Got a new HP Laptop and it's not on there.

Stayed in bed this morning until about 9 as I was deliriously happy reading in bed. Of course in the supine position it's easy to fall back to sleep.

Read Midnight Line, a Jack Reacher book, which Janet Maslin declared one of the best books of the year.

Also read one of the 24 short stories of Haruki Murakami. It was called Nausea. Yes, I felt a little nauseous when reading it.

Let's see what Sartre's Nausea is about.

Google! Here I come!

Image result for sartre nausea
 It's his first book, published in 1938.

Spoke to a woman on the phone I'll call Jean. She called thru the New Directions line. No meds work for her. She's even had TMS.

She's estranged from her family b/c she has a mental illness. Disgraceful.

It took her 8 months to see a psychiatrist who takes Medicare.

She took a med called Rexaulti and ended up nearly dead at the hospital.

This is true! Read about side effects here. Scroll down.

*

Got a phone call from sister Lynn. Tonight I'm going to New Hope to see a play. At 6 am, while I was asleep, UBER arrived outside my door. Then he drove off. It cost $6.

Lynn said the Uber may come again around 4 but ignore him. She will drive me to New Hope. Am really excited about this night on the town.

*

THE ZEN OF GARBAGE MORNING

Twilight twinkled in my eyes
as I set out 'round the block
garbage cans purty as fine
china in the old widow's window

My sneakers hopscotched down
Cowbell, up Greyhorse, where I
snatched up stray bottles,
paper plates and a smashed
something that lost its shape
and stuck em in open containers.

There! I'm glad I did dat!

A fast-moving jogger and I
waved and there was Sue,
walking sweet Sydney, as
I trotted toward home,
Poland Spring water bottle
in hand.

I found it on a Greyhorse curb
and emptied it into my bird bath
went inside for my gardening gloves
and sprinkled our crops.

Barry Bush, what are those huge
leaves that look like elephant
ears? Kale?

With arf an hour to go, what
shall I do till the Garbage Men
come?

*

AT THE COMPOST HEAP
My bright yellow pitcher
I hold by the arm
spills out egg shells,
lemon wheels and cherry pits
Stay here a while, an inner
voice says, on the day when
my father died 38 years ago.
(He could do numbers in his head)
A canopy of leaves grows over Scott's
property. Members of little civilizations
- hundreds! I'd say - buzzed around.
Honeybees, though I couldn't see what
they were drinking.
Dad wished he had been a rabbi. His
favorite was Lelyveld at Fairmount Temple.
I hurried inside to eat a few more
cherries and spit the pits out the
back door.

You can find Arthur Lelyveld here.

Went to the Upper Moreland Library to complain about not liking The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, which I listen to in the kitchen, while preparing meals.

Katie told me the evening group, which read it, offered many different opinions.

I gave it another shot this morning and actually enjoyed it. So I'll keep on listening. I'd told Katie is didn't have any likeable characters.

Actually we just met dictator Rafael Trujillo, a truly horrible person, but he   is    fascinating! So I will carry on.

This informative link talks about the years of the South American dictators.

STAY STRONG, STAY TRUE TO YOURSELF. 

Monday, July 9, 2018

So long Ray from adult daycare - Thailand soccer team rescue - Poem: Ron cuts to the chase

I dressed in what finery I had - some very fancy trousers I bought at Bloomie's - as I was going to present a poem I'd written to Second Home about saying goodbye to one of our cherished clients.

I asked boss Boris if he'd like a copy. He took it and I never saw it again.

HELLO NO MORE

His earthly form will
no longer pass through
the door

Still I will look
pretending he will return

So handsome, so debonair
dressed like a
country gentleman

Remember his neatly tied
saddle shoes?

His crew neck shirts
with the white-pointed
collars jutting out just so

The ribbing he'd take -
and enjoyed - from our
table mate Ken?

Lunches made especially
for him, this special man
who had his own medical practice

I envied his crustless sandwich
of ham and cheese, a bag of
chips on the side

His darling wife Ellie
has moved him to a forever
home, where he will stay
until the angels call him forth

Ray, Ray Schwiebert, 83 years old,
his earthly run was fairly long
but not long enough for a man
who so loved the world.

***

And, darn it all, Table mate Ken wasn't there, as he's on vaca with his family. And R wasn't there either as he family was on vacation and they sent her to respite care.

***

My yard looks fantastique! Ron Moran and his sidekick Dan Alexander, mowed down the high shrubs, so tall a mean old witch could've clumb right up to my bedroom window and forced me to give up my first-born child.

$175.

***

Vat else? Scott's off. Cauliflower crust pizza was delicious but I injected too much insulin, he pointed out, and we don't want his Ruthie - c'est moi! - to go low. So I'm munching on - guess?

Snyder's pretzel rods, of course. When I finish writing my progress notes for the adult daycare, I'll go back to his well A/C'd house and we'll watch a film about a Paris train.

Oh! On Facebook, I wrote an imaginary poem about how it might feel to be rescued in the Cave in Thailand. Click here about rescue, wrin an hour ago.

A truck carrying oxygen tanks arrives outside the Tham Luang cave complex, where 12 schoolboys and their soccer coach were trapped inside a flooded cave, in the northern province of Chiang Rai, Thailand, July 8, 2018.
As we know, the first diver ran out of oxygen and perished.

My poem was dissed by a know/all woman, so I erased my poem.

Hmm, how to get it back?

God will provide.

RON CUTS TO THE CHASE

He came three days early
as I dilly-dallied at
the supermarket, their new
asphalt finally as smooth
as butterscotch pudding.

Pretending I was a grownup,
again, I told him how short
I wanted the shrubs. He
introduced me to his pardner
Dan Alexander, who said I can
call him Dan, but I prefer the
entire name, the way you refer
to a Toyota Camry or Prius.

Waiting inside in air-conditioned splendor
watching The Break en francais
on Netflix, I wondered how the shrubs
would look when I emerged from my
hermitage.

It was like a new home. A new yard.
Everything was visible. A green frog
from my sister Donna. A tiny deer
I'd bought on a day trip. The bird
bath where birds come to drink, bathe,
and altercate.

Now, I needn't worry. When the wicked
witch would climb up to my bedroom
window via a stepladder of a vine
she willna find it. I am safe in
my bedroom, drowning in sweat.