If you've been following the saga of my telephone, here's the latest installment.
"I have bad news for you," said Scott. "Your phone works. All it needed was a new battery."
Got back on the computer where I'd placed an order on Amazon and found how to cancel it.
What will I do with the extra $50?
The fifty must be something for YOU.
What would YOU do with $50.
Don't need no clothes, just bought a watch on the cruise ship, have enuf plants and flowers, I don't buy books - I just rent them - I think I'd go to a live performance at the Keswick Theatre. And I'd sit there with a mixed drink.
I stopped drinking when I was diagnosed w bipolar d/o which I no longer have.
So I can drink a bit.
Scott and I napped to a wonderful documentary about Abraham Lincoln. His father was brutal to him, often slapping or beating him. When the dad was on his deathbed and asked to see his son, Abe refused. I believe tho he wrote his dad a letter.
Scott just left for work. As you know, the SEPTA de-railing was in the national news.
Scott forbad me to blog about it.
THE OTHER GIANT
On the way home from the bank,
I stopped at a different Giant.
I entered in the Do Not Enter door
and scratched my head.
I'm not in a hurry, I told myself,
but couldn't find a thing. Where
are the mushrooms, I asked Eric,
telling him this not my Giant, the
Willow Grove one is.
It's so much bigger, he said.
And better, I thought.
The salad bar was the same. You
weighed it on a high-up scale, Jack and
the Beanstalk tall.
The place was not crowded. At check-out I put my
box on the conveyor belt like they
had at Majestic, the warehouse where
I worked as a young lass.
Marcy, a honey-blond, put my purchases
in the Dole Produce Box Jack gave me
the other day.
I paid with cash, peeling off a
ten and a one. It was so nice being
taken care of instead of doing Self-Serv.
I felt pampered. Loved. A child of God.
My original poem was longer and worser.
I think it's better to stop where I did.
You know about The Seven New Planets that Could Host Alien Life.
I'm gonna go offline and write a poem about it.
I've gotta submit both a short story and a poem to the Montgomery County Community College Writer's Contest.