Thursday, May 19, 2016
Howdy Brandy and mom Shelly Quigley - We meet at the Willow Grove mall food court - Poem: Peanut Buster Parfait
I was actually at the orig Nordstrom's in Seattle when I visited my cuz Mark Greenwold and his first wife Barbara in Seattle, where they used to live. That's where he met famed artist Chuck Close, whose book I've been trying to sell on Craigslist for years.
Special price for you, Dear Reader, $25. It's en espanol.
Every woman in Seattle was beautiful and wore b'ful shoes.
Shoes are my favorite part of my body.
Arts Fest on Mother's Day. Martha Hunter from our Writers' Group made it.
Oh! Thanks, Mr. Buffett. He famously said, it's OK to make mistakes, just make sure they don't outweigh the correct things you did.
Look no further, I quipped. Give her the doll!
We chatted a while and then I drove to the libe to return some books.
Am listening to a good one in the car.
Katie the Upper Moreland librarian, recommended it.
It didn't dawn on me until Disk Two that it was based on the story about being kept in a room by a dreadful man until Mom figgers out how to escape.
I know I parked at the sign that read Nordstrom's Rack.
Where the hell was it.
I actually climbed up this steep hill and then jogged to where I'd parked my car. There it was. Locked up.
Perfect weather to plant my bulbs which have been sitting around for months.
When I finished planting, I spent 20 minutes answering emails, and then the obsession began. It was
9:34 when I left home. The place closes at 10.
Where is it? Aha, I remembered. Head for the Giant. It's across the street. There it was. A line formed while I studied the menu.
Something new caught my eyes.
PEANUT BUSTER PARFAIT
The Robert Mapplethorpe of ice cream
photographers posted a salacious photo
of a parfait - what a word! - and I was
mesmerized. Peanut Buster Parfait
I said to myself, as I inched forward
I looked at the madame behind the counter
and said with a question in my voice
A Peanut Buster Parfait?
Vanilla? she asked.
Yes, I said, and looked around to
see who else was there on this
moonlit night in May.
It was as beautiful to behold
as a polar mountain cap in
Nepal, where the Sherpas
led us through the pass.
Breaking away from the
others, I took my prize
over to my faithful steed,
as I call my car, and began
Buttery, nuttery, chocolatey
crunchy, smooth, going down
easy, it's the stuff dreams
are made of. Good night
I ate part of it at the DQ but wanted to finish it at home. I have two cupholders in my car. One had water so I put this in the other atop some buckeyes I found at a park.
While driving home, I felt something fall onto the floor on the driver's side. Hmmm, I thought, what can that be?
When I got home, I found out.
What a stink it made.