Hell-o Baby - A Walk in the Park / Poem: Backseat Motel

Dan took a self-portrait of him and Grace, 18 mos. Mom Nicole was sitting on the floor in the b'ground. We're all floor-sitters when Grace comes around.

Portrait of socks. Since Dan works at AWeber, he's wearing their socks. Nicole works there too in the customer service department.

Grace's heritage: Irish, German, English, Jewish. Her paternal g'father was a decorated Philadelphia cop.

Nicole never used to get speeding tix. She'd pull out her license which read Nicole Toohey and they'd say,,,,Are you Tom's daughter?

Dan in my wig. He's gonna wear it to work tomro. Don't ask.



What are the odds that you'll blink when someone takes your picture?

After they left, I went upstairs to read on my new couch. I had a few more pages of The Call of the Wild by Jack London. The end is very exciting. While reading, I nodded off. "Why am I so tired?" I asked myself.

When I'm doing nothing or relaxing, I get tired. I finished the book and then lay right down on the couch and slept for 20 minutes.

I had the most wonderful dream. I dreamt I moved into a beautiful house w/rooms spitting out of other rooms. I invited a couple people - including my sister Ellen - to live w/me b/c the house was so spacious.

Of course, I love mine own house but I don't want anyone living w/me.

I love living alone. Everyone says, well, that's cuz you have Scott right next door. It has nothing to do w/Scott. I just like the peace and tranquility of being by myself and doing what I want.

Then I got ready to go on a walk with my friends. Much of it involved planning now that I take the needle.

Three of us got into Katy's car. I sat next to Greg, who I hadn't seen in a long long time. He's a very talented wood-worker. BUT, at 31, he can't decide what to do as a career. Finally, we came up with the idea of Park Ranger.

The park we headed for was VALLEY GREEN along the Wissahickon River.

The lucky seven! Plus Andrew would join us shortly.

The Magarge Dam. Bruce told us there were once many paper mills along the path, which used to be an industrial road.

Since the City of Phila can't afford to pay a large staff to take c/o Valley Green, which is part of the Fairmount Park system, they rely heavily on volunteers.

Many stone quarries supplied natural rocks for the houses in Germantown and Mount Airy, said Bruce.

No more public drinking water. Toxic. For one thing, said Bruce, the Merck drug company of West Point used a creek or river nears its facility as a personal dumping ground. They settled with the government to donate hundreds of thousands of dollars to help clean up the water.

What would Chief Tamanend think?





The only remaining covered bridge in Philadelphia. And the only one in a major US city.

New TV show: The Lucky Seven. Tonite's episode: The Lucky Seven Storm the Covered Bridge.

Before they get to their most difficult battle, first they must storm this wasp nest in the rafters of the bridge.

After our two-mile walk, we sat down and ate at Bruno's in Chestnut Hill, near Chestnut Hill College.

These three people were the only other ones eating on the glassed-in porch at Bruno's. One of the women looked like Elizabeth Taylor, only not quite as fat. I wasn't quick enuf get her in my lens.

Our waitress Allison. She surprised us when she said today is her first day waiting tables. She's a student at Chestnut Hill and lives in the dorms. She enjoys singing - especially gospel.

Speaking of first days, on Monday Joe will begin work as a therapist at Project Transition. Tomro will be training day.

I'll always remember my first day of work as an Intake Specialist at the now-defunct BBHS near Bristol. stomp stomp. I wrote lots of prose and poetry about my clients and for your delectation, Dear Reader, will print one of the poems at blog's end.

Olds Cutlass w white wall tires.

After we ate, we decided to go for ANOTHER WALK, a genius idea, to help us digest our food. I had a delicious grilled cheese, tomato and bacon on rye, w/mayo and moutarde, which was so good it almost tasted like dessert. The latter of which consisted of a D+ blueberry pie w/vanilla ice cream.

Chris, at my table, asked the waitress, What are your specialties.

When she said Cheesesteak, that's what he ordered. Delicious, he pronounced.

Bruce, sitting next to me, who I introduced to the waitress as my husband, got chicken steak.

Northwestern Equestrian Stables, which we passed on our post-prandial stroll.

Gazebo on large grounds of the house below.



When I pass by nice houses I fantasize what it would be like if I lived there. Where would I read? Where would I write? Where would I sleep?

BACKSEAT MOTEL

Your not quite clean
white hair
falls without enthusiasm
to your shoulders
but then the March nights
are still chill
ripple with winds that lash
an unprotected body
who has no home.

Last night, you tell me,
(your intake worker
at the shelter)
you passed an auto body shop
and found an unlocked Mustang,
crawled into the cold fury
of the backseat, slick as a frozen crick.

God, it was cold, you tell me
expecting neither pity or human kindness
And in that moment
because nothing was asked for
I looked at you from the niagara span
of our bodies
and saw a man sitting there.

If I would have come upon you
this early morn
outside your backseat motel
I would have seen you
gulping in the fresh light of dawn
- o, rather it were tongue-sweet wine –
readying yourself like an ancient warrior
for the rigors of the street
another pitiless hegira.