When my sister Donna arrived, she asked, Is this BYOB?
Yes, said Hic, so Donna went to her car and brot in a bottle of red wine.
L'chaim we said touching glasses many times. Donna is expecting her first great grandchild.Gee, said our waitress, you hardly look old enough.
We all grinned.
We arrived at Lemon Basil shortly after 5 pm. Dyou think anyone else will be here? I asked.
Yes! They had a nice crowd this Wednesday nite. Everyone was celebrating Ellen's 63rd b'day, unbeknownst to them.
Hello! Ellen called to a tall, jeans-wearing guy.
Here he is, Chuck Carr, retired postmaster at the Bryn Athyn Post Office, 19009.I took a photo of him but the flash didn't go off.
Aargh!
You know how much I like to talk, right? Well, I have never told anyone the story about Maria's ticks or her treatment with antibiotics.
Ellen ordered Thai Iced Coffee. It's made with sweetened condensed milk. I took the teeniest sip imaginable, person with diabetes that I am.
In fact, I just got off my stationery bike.
"What's that noise?" said Rhona, who was on the other end of the phone. It sounds like a saw mill.
We also discussed the unseasonably cold weather. Look, the weather can do what it wants, not like you and me who must follow orders.
Shall I turn up my heat?
When I climbed into bed last nite I was shivering uncontrollably. But, six hours later I was fine.
Earlier today Scott heard a CRASH in the little woods behind our house.
Remember the wind storm we had last nite? A tree fell down, severely blocking the path to get to the train station or the high school.
We packed up some left-overs for Mommy, as we call her. "Marmee" they call her in Little Women.
I heard a wonderful poem on the radio. I knew it was Walt Whitman. Here's the whole thing. It's from Leaves of Grass.
When I was at Winterthur Museum in Delaware, I went into the gift shop. Looked at the half-price shelf and bought Ellen some beautiful place mats which she really liked.
We need to feel special and appreciated more than just once a year.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ELLIE BELLIE - A Cinquin, 2-4-6-8-2
Zev, the
man with the pig
valve caught her but she pined for
her kin. Devoted, she flew home
for good?
Stopping by after way too long. I don't really have a good excuse, since I very much enjoy your posts. What a diverse, interesting writing group you have there. It always makes me jealous to read about it, but I haven't done anything to begin one here. I have thought about it. There always seems to be something else going on, though.
ReplyDeleteI love the Rhodos poem..some really lovely lines. I like the Manuel poem too and it's good that you treat yourself to something that brings you such pleasure. My gardener's name is Art, who hails from Chester, and plants what he wants, rather than what I want, but that's ok!!! He says he doesn't like doing it anymore and is sick of it, but then he goes out and works on the yard obsessively anyway. Your plants are way ahead of ours, being that much further south. Our peonies have just begun to bud a couple of days ago, but aren't open yet.
I've got a guy like your Art. He's Scotty, my muscle-man. We do our planting bit by bit and are almost finished. Best of all, our crops are in. Tomatoes have fleurs and the sweet taters - yes! - bear their leaves to the sun while magic goes on underground.
ReplyDelete