Coffeeshop Writers' Take over Front of Coffeeshop - Dinner with the Demings

Here's Max Atticus Deming, quite the eater. He's eating lunch, on view on FB.

Here's a portrait I did of him. It's about the size of a large envelope wanting you to give to the Nature Conservancy.


Here's Grace Catherine, who thrillingly calls me Bubby.

Here's a portrait I did of her last nite at 2 am.

So, I went over for dinner. What a thrill it was walking in and seeing Max and Grace playing in the living room while Mom was making dinner. She had the gates up so Max wouldn't come in and disturb her.

I sat down and showed Grace Max's picture. She loved it.

"Who dyou think this is?" I asked, showing her the painting I did last nite.

"It's me," she said, "but...."

She WOULD have to say but.

"But I don't have those kind of sandals. Lemme find my sandals on the shoe rack."

The important thing was they all liked the paintings. I was telling the Writers' Group about the paintings, how difficult it is for me to make them.

I had so much delicious food for dinner. Brought my own

Dr Praeger's veggie burgers - I ate one - plus his spinach patties. Scrumptious. Also had the remainder of Grace's no-nitrite hot dogs, mac/cheese, & applesauce.

For dessert, I ate

A new Lemon Shortbread, which I highly recommend, and that striped one above w chocolate and coconut.




Here's dtr/law Nicole in her smashing new haircut she got at LOVE in Warminster.

I went on bike for half an hour b/c of all the carbs I ate. Insulin-diabetes ya know.

WRITERS' GROUP

Record turnout.

Turning once again to Social Media, Martha, My Dear, put this on FB (two people didn't wanna be on FB). Linda Barrett left to go to work and Beatriz was recuperating at home.



I drank a new tea - Tropical Green Tea. Excellent. Conversation with Kiana: Oh, there's so much paperwork involved. Can't find my bonus card! Where is my Coffee Club Card? There were three people behind me.

Gee, I hadn't noticed Linda's nice T-shirt. That's cuz I sat next to her.

I had everyone introduce themselves b/c today was Linda Murphy's first time. She'd emailed us two stories, both well-wrin and very descriptive... perfect "show don't tell."

Linda lives in Wyndmoor, Wyndmoor, Wyndmoor, and kindly drove Mary Brucker home. Mary and her guide dog Garland.

I put my hand under the table and Garland, a black lab (?), licked it.

One story Linda wrote was the sad tale of a slave, whose teenage son had been flogged to death. The slaveowner had to pay $9 for killing "his property." And, no, Linda hadn't seen the Academy-award nominee for best pic this year - "12 Years a Slave."

This very compelling story was joined by one about a cat stalking a bird. You were there every minute with the cat, hoping he gets the poor birdie.

The law of the jungle.



Why do we like cats so much! My son Dan has three of em.

Mary Brucker's laptop wasn't working so she was unable to read her poem. She told us she began writing poetry after 9/11. She's such a natural poet I thot she'd been writing her whole life. She's also involved with an environmental group.

When Carly Brown introduced herself, she said she was retired - ah bliss! - from sales at Lazy Boy Furniture. I did not know dat!

What a great salesperson she'd be with her terrific personality and laffing ways.

Carly read two poems. "I am a Cheerleader" was about her cheering us on, thother called "I Am," about her desire to write and blow your mind!

Carly had emailed us a list of writing ideas from the Writer's Digest, which, Marf, in particular found very helpful.

Allan Heller brought this week's issue of The Public Spirit of Hatboro, PA. The Spirit, btw, is the first paper I ever got published in when I was 34.

Allan - who's written for newspapers, has had a couple of books published, and had his poetry and fiction published online - read a moving rhyming poem in memory of the late Poet Laureate of Hatboro, Ed Galing, who died at 97.

Allan was the last person the ailing Galing spoke to. Two days after his death, Allan received a letter from Galing in the mail. It's all in the poem.

"God is in the details," said Mies van der Rohe, German-American architect, who died in 1969.

 Donna Krause wrote a stunning poem "My Friend Catherine." Donna was a volunteer at St Joseph's Manor, an old age home, and was a special friend of Catherine, who was eventually transferred to the Dimentia Unit. 

Donna Krause on left. Tatiana Heller on right.
Donna went with Catherine to the Dimentia unit. I believe she visited three times a week. Catherine's family was very grateful. Donna chose exquisite details in her poem, such as the wrinkled hands that Catherine couldn't stand and liked to wear gloves to hide them.

How unusual! 

Scarves hide wrinkly necks. 

Martha's poem "Mars and Venus" explored the differences on how the sexes react to pain in the dental chair. Women have a higher tolerance for pain. My BF takes a Valium before he goes, as prescribed by the dentist.

I'm tempted to abuse it, but don't have the nerve. I took psych meds for 20 years and don't want anything to interfere with the finer workings of my mind. Do Girl Scout cookies count?

I told Linda Barrett to sit still and not pose for the photo. We all read the last 3 pages of her Mr Cat's Revenge, excellent of course. She knows how the story will end, but hasn't wrin it yet.

Mon dieu, the cat - who was really an evil man - had changed himself into a cat. Now he's been neutered but hasn't yet realized it since he's doped up. He wore a yellow cone around his neck when coming home from the vet.

Linda is sooo good with details. She doesn't even own a cat, yet figured this out.

Oh, goodie! I'm almost done with the blog! Sadly, I've gotta get on bike again. My sugar was 193.

Back to Linda Murphy. She told us how she wrote her two pieces.

"I sit down in a quiet room in my house." That's in Wyndmoor. Wyndmoor. Wyndmoor.

"I get in touch with my feelings and write down random vocabulary words," she said. One such word was "deliverance."

And then she weaves a story from all these words. Out came "Freedom Community," one possible title she's considering, plus the stalking cat poem.

And as for this woman in her warm gray sweater she loves from her shopping spree before she and daughter Sarah went to London and Paris in November

Hey, your neck doesn't look too wrinkly, Ruthie. Anyway I brought in a 6-page story I wrote in two hours this morning, a true story about my friend Wendy Davidson, who was rumored on FB to be dead.

I solved the mystery by calling her at her home in Burlington, Vermont.

When 11 o'clock came around this morning, I knew I would write about Wendy. Am looking f/w to revising it and coming up with a good product. Marf wrote and said the flashbacks of my past history "worked."

How bout one photo of the great Goddard College in Plainfield, VT? I went for a year, then dropped out and moved to San Francisco where I had more adventures than a tree has leaves.