The birds would eat at Scott's - he spends almost as much money on birdseed as people food - and then they'd come over here for their morning ablutions.
After the bird bath spouted a slow leak, I went to Hatboro Hardware and the fellow sold me GOOP. Scott mended it in his basement, tested it out, and then proudly presented it to the world of birds.
Not a one came.
They needed a few days to get used to it.
Last nite I spoke to my friend Judy D from Niwot, COLO. She loves the chaos in the Republican camp brought about by Donald Trump. She's a "Bernie" person herself and is one of the smartest people I know. A political junkie as was my old deceased friend Bill Cardinale.
I still have some true stories I wrote about Bill that I never published. He picked me up in his white Caddy convertible and we drove to Ocean City.
"I'm a fast driver, Ruthie," he said. He was fast and good.
We also met in Manhattan where he took me to see Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street.
I knew Bill couldn't understand a word of it cuz he wore a hearing aid.
I'll tell ya, I have such good stories about Bill that maybe I'll do a first-person for our writing group on Saturday.
We're hoping the snow melts so we can make it.
WHAT COLOR SHALL WE CALL YOU
Or how about
The nail salon
Flora at the helm
tells me Nice Fingers
I hold them out
as if they were
feathers from a
A fresh coat of
Paradise for my
or this invention
of stunning color
in a laboratory
Makes of me a
new woman, who
looks good while
sipping tea, pinkie
lifted, and dunking
the last of the
Thin Mints inside.
Told Mom about the meal when I visited her today. Swiss cheese, she said, is very tasty. I sat near her as her hearing's not too good. I read from the autism book I checked outa the library.
These must be the authors.
Returned the book today to the libe. I was one-eighth finished and will request it again.
Donald Triplett was 20 in the part I read her. The town he lived in, a southern town, got to know and respect him. They called him DG and considered him a math wizard. Instead of calling people by their names, he gave everyone a number.
His friend on the football team he gave 179 (I think).
Later they learned that was what he weighed.
Mom really enjoyed hearing it.
I was so tired I took a nap on the purple couch.
Aunt Ethel's couch. The entire lower level is a museum to Aunt Ethel.
Wrote a letter to Judy Diaz this morning, trying to get it finished before Mailman Justin delivered his load of junk to me.
Decided to write a new poem.
Lemme run upstairs and email it down to me.
Before I post the poem, wanna finish this by 9 pm as there's a PBS show about astronaut Scott Kelly's year in space.
Watched part of it last night but fell asleep. He and his Russian colleague each had their own part of the capsule, which seemed pretty large.
When danger lurked, they got back into the 'driver's seat' for protections, in case they had to take off. Say, if they were attacked by Klingons or pieces of rubble from other space launchings, where the astronauts left their garbage in deep space.
I told Scott before he walked to the train station that the astronaut Scott Kelly said that deep space has a certain smell.
Metallic burning smell, he said. Probably bc of all the rubble from other space crafts.
What? It should smell like Manhattan Clam Chowder?
TRUCKS AND VANS
They arrive every morning when
the sun comes over the roof of
Trucks and vans of every kind
A white van brings home baby
Mirolee from the hospital
A dazzling white van with
orange sun announces
I'm coming to fertilize
that drab green lawn
What I want to see is
a woman's face on the
side, smiling at us,
earrings at a slant
The message is written
all in caps
Get it here
Get it now
From this moment
on, you can choose
you want to be.
Your pleasure, please?