Sighting of Mailman Bob - Herculean task of typing up 10 pp of Notes for Upper Moreland Hysterical Association

No, Ruthie, you are not allowed to eat. It's 1:08 a.m. You weighed-in yesterday at 135 at Kidney Clink and still have the belly of a 2-month pregnant woman.

Donna calls me up. "I keep thinking about that Italian Stew with Sausage you made. Can I come over?"

Both she and her grandson Tyler came over and we all feasted.

What fun it was having company!

I showed them FB photos of


Max, of course.

My g'daughter Grace pays no attention to me. I bought her a terrific book for her third birthday.

She was totally uninterested. Author Peter Spiers is a concentration camp survivor.

I'm a survivor of Grandmother neglect.

After breakfast of a Kale-Raspberry-Peanut Smoothie, made with
Chocolate Soy Milk, Scott came over for our morning walk before he goes to sleep.

We're on Davisville Road, passing Tires-Plus, where I was ripped off royally, and a good-looking tall guy is striding along, coming toward us.

He stops.

Don't you recognize me, he says.

Mailman Bob! I say.

He's having his own car inspected at REMS Automotive. They're honest, he says.

How ya doing? I ask. How's Doreen? (his wife)

Dyou still drink Folger's Instant every day?

Doreen left him after he retired.

Nuff said.

We must've stood there at least half an hour chatting. And would've stood there longer except I had a therapy client coming over at 11.


What the heck?

Oh, we're fast forwarding to 8 in the evening. Donna and Tyler are here. We've finished gorging ourselves on my delicious food. I insisted they finish the stew.

Since I'm gonna stay up late typing up my notes, I ask if they want coffee.

Sure, they say, and I make 8 cups of Giant Breakfast Blend, which Donna likes, but then they leave early b/c her stomach is upset.

Is it something she ate? My stew?

I walk them outside. Tyler wants to drive b/c it's dark and he doesn't trust Donna.

Ty, I say, do not 'baby' older people. We are responsible and need to have your trust. It's fine that Donna is driving home.



Jayne Mansfield and famous boobs.

I love the programs at the Upper Moreland Historical Assn. This one was about famous graves in the Keystone State. I'm a natural teacher so I asked Tyler if he knew we were the Keystone State.

Mansfield was born in Bryn Mawr and buried in Pen Argyl, PA, Chester County.

She was a brilliant woman, but boy oh boy, was she screwed up.

Her death, in Biloxi, Mississippi, was from head trauma. Everyone in the front seat was killed. Her children, in the back seat, sustained minor injuries.

She was not decapitated, as popular mythology has it.

So, Allan Heller and I arrive at the Upper Moreland Township Bldg to listen to the talk by Joe Farrell and Joe Farley who have wrin three books about PA graveyards. Allan Heller has also wrin a couple.

After I sit down, Jack Houriet comes over and asks me to write about the program for the newsletter.

I protest.

And then agree.

I have 10 pages of illegible notes like this.

It takes me, oh, maybe 8 hours to type up the notes.

They're fascinating. Now I've gotta write the story.

Is this where you work? Donna asks me.

Shot of my living room work space.

No, I say, but I can't SEE in my upstairs office.

I hate writing on my laptop. With the wrong touch of a key, I erase entire paragraphs. 

I print out my notes, 11 pages. The next step is to go upstairs into my Upstairs Office and start writing the story.


Harry Kalas, the voice of the Phillies. I'm a total fan of his voice, but not of the Phillies.