Happy 65th Martha! She was home celebrating. Marf, great photo I stole off FB.
And there he was, sitting and eating a chocolate cream-filled donut.
We met at an acrylics painting class a few years back at Abington Adult Evening School.
His son Steve just started a landscape biz. So my problem is solved. My teenagers - Tommy and Timmy - vanished.
Alien abduction?
Undoubtedly.
But the Archduke Trio had a wonderful time.
First order of business.... sipping on tea or coffee.
Such a little thing that can bring so much joy!
Donna wrote a "flash fiction" piece that was very imaginative. The title was something like "Stanley Does His Job."
Why, I asked her, did you choose that name.
I wanted a "dorky" name, she said.
Well, the name hit the nail on the head, said Carly. I was reminded of Carly's short story, "Nails."
Should I give away Donna's story? Stanley is a for-sale sign. Donna is selling her twin home, since she lost her husband John and needs to move out.
Personifying the for-sale sign was a brilliant idea. Kym Cohen who used to attend our group did that in her San Francisco earthquake poem.
Donna named some apartments to look at.
I told her Meadowbrook Apartments are simply awful. Paper-thin walls, shabbily built, you can hear every word of your neighbors. I've known four people, including Scott, who lived there.
Here are the dismal ratings on the Internet.
Carly read an essay "Slipping into Old Habits," which was a great concept - about self-sabotage - all's it needs is to be shortened.
Carly had to leave early to buy some gifts for her dtr/law. They'll celebrate her b'day at KitchenBar in Abington, a really fun place to dine.
Told the girls I just celebrated my 68.5 birthday on June 25.
I also shared my 13-page short story "An American Love Story" that I began last night and finished off this morning.
I told the girls I never feel like writing, but force myself to. Donna said the same thing, but not Carly. Carly said she does all her stitching outside of her home, but loves writing at home.
Problem is, the woman has a face like a standard poodle
The story is based on a true story about a man from my support group who was introduced to a fabulously wealthy Chinese woman.
Or so the tale goes.
The people who introduced him were a married couple who I kicked out of our support group.
When we all left our table, I went over to the corner and meditated for 20 minutes.
Just remembered.Wrote an Amazon review about my Cooktop Stove. I gave it the worst rating possible. A man I don't know emailed me and offered me $1,000 for it. Hey, move the comma over and it's yours, Richard.
FIREFLY WALK AT THE
NATURE CENTER
It
was like a dream, a hallucination,
a
marijuana reverie, a psychedelic
experience,
walking along blind trails
following
the leader, a man in black
glasses
named Brad, watch your
step,
he’d say, as night descended on these
hilly
meadowlands which rose and
fell
like heaving bosoms, don’t get
your
foot tangled in a tree root
and
at first we saw nothing
the
land was black
a
despairing Mark Rothko painting
and
I too began to despair, sorry I
had
come all this way, my sciatic leg
feeling
numb and then suddenly the
rip
of pain going up my leg, a veritable
rape
of my innocence
when,
like a switch turned
suddenly
on, the land was overtaken
there
they were
swarming
unstoppable
blinking
in hieroglyphics
I
want you!
I
want you!
My
joy was boundless
as
I surrendered and
let
myself fall to the earth
I
lay there stunned as they
found
me and covered my
body
with light
I
raised up my arms
to
the heavens and
light
as a creekstone
felt
myself carried up
to
the stars, blinking
and
tireless, spending
the
night near the
smiling
half-moon
and
the day after
found
myself home
in
my bed, exhausted,
sleeping
it off, telling
no
one, as my belly
blinked
on and off
on
and off.
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