Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Switcheroo: From Comcast to Verizon - Poem: The Potbellies Storm the Jenkintown IHOP

Each claims to be faster than the other. But now that my Verizon has been installed, I can say it's definitely faster than my old Comcast, which, if you remember, used to be

Joe from Verizon was here for a couple of hours.

Image result for fios truck

My new email is Ruth Deming at It's not activated yet.

BUT I don't know how to get it on my Inbox, the way I have my Comcast emails right now.

Joe the Verizon man didn't know but showed me the long-winded way to get it off

At the last minute when he was ready to go, I remembered I needed another account for New Directions.

As I told our support group last nite, I had jokingly put the names "Barack and Michelle" into a CC, but they kept coming up. So when I sent out emails from New Directions people did indeed think I was in touch with the Obamas.

Hey, I'm good but I'm not that good.

Of course, the New would be taken. Joe suggested I use the same Compass123 but I wanted something more identifiable, so I selected

Feel free to email me something!

While driving this morning, before the rain began, which it did late, around 2, I knew I was gonna write a poem about our late night trip to IHOP.

Image result for ihop


All across the nation
the International House
of Pancakes opens its
loving blue arms
a shelter from
the dark chilly
so brightly lit
we blink our eyes
as Brittanie leads
us to our seats

The endless pot
of coffee is brought
out and I fill myself
with the soothing
hot liquid I desire each
time I pass a
Dunkin or a Starbucks

Does the coffee have any
flavor? Not really but
it sure looks good in the
white IHOP mug

My potbelly could hold
a two-month-old baby
were my nubility not a
thing of the past

My friends
Harriet - Karen - Christopher
Brett - Ron and Elissa have
smaller bellies than mine and
order up!

Suddenly we are transported
to the African desert where
Mount Kilimanjaro soars
in the distance. Inside our
flapping tents, Brittanie and
a young Ernest Hemingway
with mustache and piercing
black eyes all women dream of
march in with our order 

Blueberry pancakes with a
side dish of sweetened blueberries
French toast with banana and
“A favorite of mine,” says Papa
and Brittanie nods
For Karen, both pancakes,
eggs and hash browns
Christopher goes for the
piles of whipped cream
“My second wife Pauline
ate too much whipped cream,”
said Papa, “but by then I had
fallen for Martha”

The only potbelly who did not
drown herself in pancakes
was Harriet, not Tubman,
of the slave revolt,
but Harriet, president of
our Flat Tummy Club

Elissa has a cat to come home to
Brett a dad
Christopher a madhouse
Harriet a Steve
Papa a shotgun
Karen a man
Abrams a bike
Deming a red couch

Where she dreams of an eternity
sipping hot coffee
and eating reams and reams
of whipped cream on
chocolate chip pancakes
up to the sky.

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