Sunday, February 19, 2017
Scrabble poem - Writer's Group - Purple Crocus - Hobbies
Mom and I Play Scrabble
The first thing you gotta do at Mom's
is eat. I proffer a Cinnamon Raisin Bread
I bought at the Giant after Lauren from
the Lancaster Company makes an irresistable
pitch. I bring it home and have two sinful
pieces with whipped cream cheese.
What? Wanna go blind? Lose your toes?
The curse of Diabetes.
Mom can eat as much as she wants, so
Ellen makes scrumptious toast. I toast
them with hot water and have one more
The Scrabble pieces clatter on the Board.
Mom can barely remember what it looks like.
All those colors that mean something. Best
of all is navy - like our gym clothes at
Shaker - TRIPLE SCORE.
Couldn't you just kiss those little
wooden racks that hold the letters?
I tell her I used to beat my former
boyfriend, Paul Surovell, whom she
couldn't remember, damn, before he
studied the ways of the Board and
whipped me silly
Yes, I said, "tine" is a word but
I can't remember what it means.
"A sharp point," she said, "like
on a fork."
The clock ticked on. I've gotta
leave before it gets dark, I say.
It's getting darker for me, said
Mom, and I haven't very much time.
Earlier that day, Ellen drove Mom to the funeral of Margie Bellamo at Goldstein's. Read about it here. My spelling was all wrong, even tho I was spelling champ at Mercer in the Fifth Grade.
Margie died on her 95th bday. Mom had actually called her on that very day, but got no answer.
Scott and I celebrated Valentine's Day at Bonefish Grill. We arrived early and when we left there was a huge line waiting to get inside.
Waitress Caitlyn was very helpful and I commended her on FB.
Scott and I had planned to go to 56 York Road but I learned it had closed its doors at our Writers Group. Judy L and I visited there awhile ago. View my blog here.
We had a full house at our Writer's Group.
Rem, Donna K, her bro Bob, Linda, Marf, Judy L, Bea and moi.
I had no idea what to write about, unusual for me. But then decided, Look, Ruthie, you were just on a Jazz Cruise to the Caribbean, write about it, before you forget the details.
I called the story THE INVISIBLE SHADOW, which has nuffin to do with the Caribbean and I - I - need to remember what the story is about.
A neighbor, Jolie, was passing by with her two adorable girls, Ava and Izzy, short for Isabel, and I told her the name of my story about buying this house is called SPANISH ARCHES, which has nuffin to do with same.
Wanna submit it to the Montgomery County Community College Writer's Contest IF two of my fans endorse it....sister Lynnie and Scott.
Did I tell you the incredible amounts of work I had to do after my cruise?
The worst was submitting many stories to Bella Online. Lisa Shea, the owner of this "charity project" as she calls it, said to take my time.
As yet haven't yet wrin my daily FB poem. Some of my "friends" on FB write vituperative comments. Next time I read one I'm gonna 'unfriend them.'
Why saddle yourself with unpleasantness in this short life of ours?
Amidst the detritus of mud, twigs,
and dead leaves, you wend your way
unstoppable to view the world and
show us the courage to face life
anew this spring.
Remind us, Dear Crocus, that every
day is precious and new. As I brew
my coffee from Iris, I view a red
wagon on the sidewalk and run
out to greet them.
Jolie towers over me, a tall goddess.
Her little ones ride the red wagon.
But you, O Crocus, remain tiny
and give me strength to carry on
until evening when I will step
outside to view the van Gogh's night sky.
These are the last remaining
days of your life.
Find a hobby before you croak.
Canasta? Mah jong? Dominoes?
I've taken up Scrabble again
with Mom. Netflix is no hobby
it's like snoozing your life
What about singing? The Gallagher
woman in Hatboro next to the diner
awaits my call. "Lullaby of Birdland"
is my next onstage solo at
Carnegie Hall. Perhaps I will
tour your city. Free tickets