Nearly full house at writers' group despite the melting 2 inches of snow - Poem: My Writing Desk

My neighbor Patrick came around to many of the houses with his snow plow. The neighborhood kids accompanied him. I thanked him on FB.

Green bean salad. My sister Ellen bought about 5 lbs of beans at Produce Junction. I took a lot of em and made my delicious Potato Salad sans potatoes. Taters are incredibly hi in carbs and beans are not.

Had two bowls for lunch. Cheddar cheese is the protein. I also added sunflower seeds. Mayo, moutarde, and apple cider vinegar as suggested by Scott - Scott? - yes and it was a great addition.

The driving was fine. Floyd and I both mentioned that when we shoveled, the snow was very heavy.

Martha read a lovely piece. She also said that when she walked into Upper Moreland H.S, Brianna yelled "Grammy!" and everyone looked at her.

Donna wrote a poem "The Mirror Doesn't Lie." She probly doesn't realize what a beautiful woman she is but of course she notices the inevitable aging taking place every day.

We spoke about how to write out poem titles. I suggested googling AP style rules, which is what we used when I worked at the Intell. (Googling should be capitalized but I don't do it to save time.)

You ought to know that I'm waiting for 6 o'clock when our pizza is ready.

Donna was eating a vanilla pudding at the table with heaps of whipped cream.

She highly recommended it and said it did not taste artificial at all. She knew pudding was my favorite dessert.

I bought a cup and it couldn't have been more delicious! I scraped away all the whipped cream and threw the entire thing away after eating half of it.

My sugar was 151 when I got home. Over 120 is not good.

So I hopped on my bike and read

  Thing is, I can't confuse it with the John Sanford book I'm also reading.

 Carly rewrote "No More Devices" - wait a minute! - I think she should call it "No More Hearing Devices."

It's better than before. We suggested she add dialogue. Great story.

Carly is being trained as a copy-editor. She's learning a lot. Her husband Charlie is volunteering at a Philadelphia school, tutoring kids.

What a great idea!!!

Beatriz, who has limited energy due to chemo, told us she expended a lot of it shoveling. Yet this trooper still made it to group.

I met my friend Bill Babb who was buying coffee and invited him to come sit with us. He and I will both be taking an acrylic-painting class at Abington Adult Evening School.

He spoke right up during our group. Good for you, Bill! I first met him several years ago in the same art class. He and his son Steve are now my gardeners.

Doesn't matter what B writes, they're always fascinating and skillfully written.

Oh, they're playing Mose Allison on XPN. "We play him often," said Ben Vaughn, "b/c he's great." I used to have his vinyls.

"Earliest Pollinators: Beetles and Flies" were the sole pollinators of foliage like tulip trees and magnolias. Look at the lovely flower of the tulip tree


In a marvelous sentence, Beatriz wrote that pollinators arrive at a "singles bar, they stay for hours, eating, drinking, mating and making a mess of things."

Who do they remind you of?

Jan. 31, a week from today, is the deadline of a contest I'm entering. Hektoen International published my ALS story.

The contest is called Physicians of Note. I emailed em and they said, Yes, I can write about a fictitious physician.

The first one I wrote was called The Unlikely Psychiatrist, but I don't wanna submit it.

So an hour before our group - which met half-hour later - I began the new story. I was on my bike and read the words, "Was he drunk?" and thought, that's it. The physician, female, will have problems with alcohol.

A story must have conflict.

Everyone thought I'd wrin too many words. I was sure I hadn't and came home and checked. 800-something. Word limit is 1600.

So, as Floyd said, we've gotta get her out of jail and get up to the present time.
In the story, Laura and Lisa start off as best friends. Laura, who will become a drinker, is only 8 years old and sits in the family room with her dad, who smokes a pipe. Lisa, who is visiting, thinks that if he were her own father, she'd ask him for a puff.

"Denny smokes a pipe," said Donna about her BF.

"I took a puff on it," she said, "and it burned my throat."

Jeez!

Floyd said his own father caught him and his bro smoking cigarettes and decided to teach them a lesson.

He made them each smoke an entire

Sometimes, you know, a cigar is just a cigar. Who said dat? 

 I found a photo of James Michener's typewriter online. Guess whose blog it was on?

MY WRITING DESK

I am not famous like James Michener

whose office is on display in Doylestown.

The centerpiece, a golden crown,

an Olympia typewriter with pop-up keys

I can hear them tapping

a furious Beethoven quartet or a slower

Debussy waltz.

How we loved our typewriters

back then

Not like now

I do not love my Dell keyboard

our relationship is like that of

the cold moon, half her face

buried in darkness.

My office, where I compose in

my pre-owned striped pajamas

and chipped nail polish

is a haven of light.

Huge bulletin boards hang

above though I see them not

And I am forced to read my

work on a huge screen that's

always in my face.

Do better, it says, like

Cinderella's mean

stepmother.

Do better!