Of course! She was on her iPAD and was so engrossed she could barely speak to me. She knows every program on there. Her favorite is Bert and Ernie's doll David, who is learning to use the potty.
She plays it over and over, from the sitting down, to the wiping - You don't have to use too much, counsels the narrator - and then the FLUSH.
To hear it again, she's gotta push about five buttons but does it very quickly. I sat in amazement.
Her favorite line, which I've wrin about, and which she says to everyone, is "I don't know" following by their name, but pronounced "I no-no."
Just darling.
Five came to our poetry group today. My poem will follow at the end. We always have a great time. When I finish my tasteless hot decaf, which I sprinkle w lifesaving cinnamon, I wait until there's an inch of coffee left and then I get more hot water.
It's not that I'm cheap, it's that I can't stomach a second cup of bad coffee.
Came home and drove to Jack's Deli for our picnic tomro. More pictures please!
Since I spend hours and hours alone by myself, writing mostly or watching movies or reading, I'm often amazed that I remember how to string a sentence together and speak.
I realized how forward that sounded, even tho I wouldn't have minded.
"Well, not your tongue," I said.
As soon as I saw it I knew I'd like it.
Quarter of a pound, abbreviated lb. Lb Lb Lb What other words can you make from this? I'm seeing Librium, Library, Libertarian. LBJ. Lebovowitz Jews.
Then I spotted some Red-Bliss Potato Salad, skins-on.
May I have a sample of that, Mark? I wanna see if it's as good as mine is.
WOW! I said. This is reeeeel good. I'll have a lb. container.
Mark makes all the food. He wouldn't tell me how he made the potato salad. It was Stanley's recipe, the old man, who went into the back.
If you think that's good, said Mark, wait'll you try the chopped liver.
Out came another black plastic fork and a heap of chopped liver.
OMG! I said. It's as good as mine. I'll have a small container of it. I thot it was pretty cool a black guy liked it. Curtis Branch, my black BF from Clarksdale, MI, did not.
In addition, they had all sorts of Jewish melt-in-your-mouth pastries which I forbad myself to look at. Diabetes, you know.
As you know, traveling is one of my hobbies. A trip to Jack's in the Northeast is the new trip to a foreign land. Strikingly different than my neighborhood.
Great story about Walter Hagosky. When I worked at Bristol-Bensalem Human Services, I recognized him. He was the maintenance man. It was his retirement job.
I sat down next to him in the waiting room. Good looking man. Sexy as hell. Knew it too. You should've seen him dance at our Xmas parties.
"Does the name Harold Greenwold mean anything to you?" I asked.
"Yeah, my ex-wife used to work for him," he said.
"I'm Harold's daughter," I said. Proudly. Proudly.
In case you're wondering what I'm listening to, it's Johnny Meister's Blues Night on XPN. I can't believe I remembered JM's name.
Boy, did we ever talk about this at the funeral of a foreman at the Budd Company. Mike Fanelli raised 6 kids on his union salary, sent them all to college, very smart talented kids. His schizophrenic wife had been in a nursing home for years. He visited her every day. He used to make me pizelles and send em over with Jack. Son Gary was a marathon runner, a cut-up.
.jpg)
Edward G. Budd (1870 1947) founded the company, famous for its invention of the 'shotweld' technique for joining pieces of stainless steel without damaging its anti-corrosion properties.
In 1985, 40 years after his death, Edward G Budd, the "father of the stainless-steel streamliner", was inducted into Dearborn, Michigan's Automotive Hall of Fame.
They are insectivores.
He came back with the info!
I have one more great story. I'll enjoy reading this post when my mind is really going and I can no longer remember Rob Lokoff.
I loved my job. The receptionist was a lovely drunkard named Jackie Smith. She only got drunk when she went home to her very nice husband Ken and their two children, Kathy and Kenny.
I adored Jackie. Great personality. Sweet as pie. Tigner was going out of business - he owned mortgage companies where they scalped poor people who couldn't afford mortgages or insurance - and now he was going bankrupt.
I liked him very much. He was slowly losing his mind he was so upset. So I used to doctor his letters up. I used to write them anyway after taking dictation.
Oh, and that lawyer friend of his, Mr. Grantham.
One day I brot in Hemingway's stories to read to Jackie Smith, the lovely drunkard.
I just stood by her desk and read the whole Macomber story in an hour. When the phone rang, I'd stop reading, so she could get the phone.
I stayed overnite at her house a couple of times. As soon as she got home she'd pour the wine. We'd eat dinner and go out to the pool. We'd bring our wine glasses. Her kids hated her. Thought she was a drunk. But how do you look up Jackie Smith if you wanna get back in touch?
There is something about the Texas culture that fosters drinking. Plus they have their Bible belts where you cain't drink.
THE LONGING: REFLECTIONS ON "THE GREAT FIRE" BY SHIRLEY HAZZARD
Finally they must come together.
and I must find a good seat to
witness their reunion.
Where shall I sit to bow my head before book
and enter the landscape?
I traverse the house
the red couch is too dangerous
views of playful children outdoors
My upstairs bedroom
armed with a television
has too many memories
did Randy Johnson ever visit me there?
Of course I am no longer young, not yet in my dotage
like Julia Child hovering over the cutting board
while Jacques Pepin pretended not to notice
When have you felt that way,
how Aldred feels for Helen
a longing that spans the lonely years
once, I paced outside a house on Easton Road
across from the post office
awaiting the sound of his motorcycle
a soft-voiced cop who didn’t mind if he did
An entire three hundred pages have passed,
my longing may be as great as theirs,
Helen and Aldred, not reunited, but feeling like one smooth soul
the way I felt as a young mother,
I was myself plus my girl, who lives so far away I wonder if
she still thinks of me,
we worry too as we near the end of this story
twenty years in the making, replete with death from the Good War,
who else will fall, like the worm-ridden apple from the tree,
how surprising to find brave Exley infected with the polio virus
-I prefer the scientific “poliomyelitis” – and so did he
shooting himself in the chest but missing
I would have taken the bullet for him
now that I’m older and not of much use anymore
But I jest, infinitely, for I am sitting out on the back porch
oblivious of the too-lool of the bluejay
the songs of the crickets coming in from the grasses
and for certain I cannot see the moon as it rises over Charley’s dogwoods
near full, but not quite, I can always spot its platter of perfection like
a high note in a lullaby
The shiny library cover rests on my lap
my head bowed as if praying over The Great Fire
Shirley Hazzard has written for me
As I consummate our relationship on
my white wicker rocking chair on the back porch,
wailing with happiness
as Helen and Aldred touch faces at the London airport.
A little over a year ago, I stayed in a small house with few amenities in very remote Arctic Village where a little boy of three or four years lived. I had my iPad with me, and on it was an interactive children's book. The little boy had never handled an iPad before, but he figured it out...
ReplyDeleteINSTANTAENEOUSLY!!!!
maybe my granddaughter can teach me how to use the iPad, whose name i finally memorized.
ReplyDelete