Thursday, June 8, 2017

Coconut Soup with Eileen - Postcards - New pants from Sri Lanka - Poem: Taking a Walk Around the Block Before Breakfast

The whole town's talking about...

Former FBI director James Comey! Even I am interested. Read more about The Predator in charge of our country. This is very very good!

If you're Ernest Hemingway, you never discuss your work with anyone.

Ernie: show yourself.

Image result for ernest hemingway  If you're Ruth Deming, you discuss it with the world.

My friend Hazel will have bariatric surgery.  I asked her permish to write a short story about it.

Was gonna write about a very fat person at Symphony Manor, where I used to work. Lorraine had legs like tree stumps and diabetes.

Nah, I said. I don't feel like revisiting the place. I did start out, tho, by writing, It's a fine place to die.

Then, while eating breakfast outside on my front step, an Upper Moreland police car passed by with a female cop inside. It gave me an idea.

The protagonist is the female police chief of the Willoughby Police Department, in a suburb of Philadelphia. She will have the surgery.

Was just talking to Ed and realized I'd written anudder story about a cop. My former client was suffering from an unrequited love affair. I made him a cop in the story.

Read "David in Love" here.

There are two comments to my story that are really really weird! Seems to me they think they're big shots and are judging my story from that supercilious vantage point.

I've been biding my time in order to make Coconut Soup. Was gonna look online for a recipe and then I thought, Hey! I don't need any suggestions. I'll figger it out meself! 

 What a great time I was having as I cooked. Listened to a CD of Allison Krause that Bill, next door, made for me a couple of yrs ago. 

Coincidentally, it was his mom, Eileen, who I ate with.

Since I don't use salt, I flavored it with Tarragon, which has a licorice taste, and nutmeg, using a nutmeg grater Sarah gave me years ago.
The dog Daisy does not eat table scraps.  I told her that I was working on my short story called Flab. She said she wished she had a creative mind.

You do, Eileen, I said. You have a great creative sense of humor!


I told Eileen that I mailed postcards to Grace, 6, and Max, 4, this morning.

I make them, I said.

Little does Eileen know that she'll be getting a p/c tomorrow. Ada bought it for me at the Whitney Museum in NY.

Yesterday I received a packet of info about taking a cruise. Such b'ful photos. I HAD to use them!

See the second robin's egg I found this morning? A poem awaits LUCKY YOU at the end of this blog post.

 This pile on the floor does not move until I complete my Kronic Renal Application. All I need is a letter from IBX telling me the start date of my insurance.

When you give away money, like Kronic Renal - aka PACE - you want proof of everything.

Do I really exist? I could be a figment of my imagination.

Just got an email from Walmart that my new $64 printer will arrive tomro. Luckily Scott is off so he can put it together for me, as he did my new Water Pik.

Which is the better pic of my new pants.

They're both pretty terrible.

Got em at Bloomie's on sale for $40.

They are so comfortable I never wanna take em off. 

Made in Sri Lanka. Bassist Reid's wife Midori is from Sri Lanka and also Japan. Got to know her on our Jazz Cruise Ship.


In a moment of despair
when my leg hurt like
a burst appendix with
every step I took

I thought I'd never take
the long way round the block.
Past the Twiskis house
George Schuler's old house
with two rockers on the front porch
- goodbye George to wherever
Einstein's theory sends
darling old men

But here I was, head swiveling
like a top to look at all the
sacrificial lambs put out
for garbage day.

Deviating from my path I looked
at cartons of pure junk and two
clean mattresses and a sofa bed
that deserved its place in
the ruins.

A female jogger and I said hello
she, with tremendous unenthusiasm,
me, for the first words I've spoken
this morning

O! Sole Mio!

At Don's home, the man with the
three garages, who told me to spray
the grass between the sidewalk with

I begin to spring home. No stops

But there it was in the grassy gutter
near my house: A blue robin's egg,
the baby awing.

Careful, careful, I said sheltering
it for my windowsill

Blew into the house, well before 7,
when the Trash Men come,
and deposited the reminder
of the ever expanding universe
onto its new home.

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