Thursday, May 19, 2016

Howdy Brandy and mom Shelly Quigley - We meet at the Willow Grove mall food court - Poem: Peanut Buster Parfait

Camera in hand, I entered thru the same door as when we used to hold Mornings at the Mall. Now it sez Nordstrom on it.

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.

 Congrats to Brandy, who won the Emerging Poet Award from our Arts Fest on Mother's Day. Martha Hunter from our Writers' Group made it.
Proud mama Shelly Quigley.  I first met Shelly and Brandy right here when we had Mornings at the Mall. Helen, who ran it, said it was too noisy, so now we meet at - where else? - the Willow Grove Giant.
At Starbux, I got a cuppa java and a chocolate croissant, so I could feel like I was in Paris, with Sarah, as we were before my kidney transplant.

I love older adults. I better, I'm one of em now. My fondest desire is to run a group with them. After all, that's what my MGPGP degree is for. Group process and group psychotherapy. You've got a lot on your mind as the specter of dying approaches.

 Shel offered Brandy something to flavor her water. Dyou think it was brandy? The first week I was at Goddard College I drank apricot brandy, which made my head spin. I'd never drunk before othan Manishevitz wine for Passover.
 We went for a walk outdoors. Bravo Restaurant with lovely fleurs.
Cheesecake Factory with its nice doors I will never enter again unless someone pays for me.

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.

 Variegated whatcha-ma-callit.  Prize of dinner at Bravo if you know the answer. Of course, you'll pay the tab.

Brandy needed a gift for a baby shower she's going to.

Look no further, I quipped. Give her the doll!

My 3yo grandson Max would love seeing this. A broken-down escalator.  A woman used to come to our mall meeting. She was ascared to ride escalators. I'll help you, I said. She didn't want any help. Her name was Phyllis and we published a poem or two of hers in the Compass.
Three floors. When the mall first opened, I wrote an article for one of the local papers about the Carillon Clock.
Clark shoe store. To me, these are the most gorgeous shoes but they KILL your feet.

When Scott and I fell in love we took photos in a booth. It's been 10 years now.  In fact when I came home tonite from Dan n Nicole's I drove up to the Willow Grove train station where he was waiting for the train to whisk him off to work.

We chatted a while and then I drove to the libe to return some books.

Am listening to a good one in the car.

Image result for room book  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.

 Okay, I'm trying to find my car after saying bye-bye to Shel and Brandy

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.

Darkness came but I lit up the space - with a solar light - near the bird bath to plant lillies of the valley cuz they like shade.

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.

Okay, lemme write a quick poem here.


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
in line.

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
to dig

Buttery, nuttery, chocolatey
crunchy, smooth, going down
easy, it's the stuff dreams
are made of. Good night
sweet stuff!

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.

Cleaned up the car real good. When I used to haul my kids around, we used to drink milk in the car and spilled it a couple of times.

What a stink it made.

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