Visit to Walmart - Scrabble Night - Another Good Day of Healthy Eating - Firefly Poem

          Am sure my millions of fans are wondering how I spent my day.

Hold the image of the Parliament with its recessed filter in your mind a moment while I go over my day.

Scott and I think differently. Neither of us will change.

His answering machine broke, so he traveled to five different stores to find a new one.

Walmart would be his last stop, I discovered.

Scott, I'm gonna call Walmart and ask!

Yes, said the woman, we have two left and I'll hold them for you.

So, for $15 apiece, he bought the last two.

I'll leave you a message I told him after you get set up.

My message: Two things, Scott. Watched the rest of the X-File episode - it's too scary to watch after dark - it was really good and reminded me of Alien with Sigourney Weaver. [He doesn't like horror movies so he never saw it.]

  Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny.

 Second, I finished up my story for Graze Magazine and submitted it. I titled it The Diva of Diabetes.

Readers, send out your good vibes that it gets in.

Bought a $12 watch at Walmart, since the "pin" fell out of my main watch. Do I like it? No, it takes too long to make out the time. Will I return it?

  Rachel and I played Scrabble at the Giant Supermarket. She's a pro who could see my letters and told me where to put them.

She's gonna help me write a Guest Editorial to the Intell on June is Brain Awareness and Alzheimer Month. Wear purple to show your support.

"Oh, The Things that I Did" is the tentative title of a short story about a beloved family physician who molests and gropes his patients and is given seven years to seventeen.

Based on the story of my former board of director you can read about here. 

However, my main character is totally different. He's already got a personality on the first page, where he describes his wife as a nag and a harridan with her witchy-white hair.

He smokes Parliaments per above.

I have my timer set for an hour.

  I'll work on my story for an hour. Used to set the timer when I wrote my novel which I finished in 2008.

Tonight's Frontline, coincidentally, took place in some Kentucky prisons. Unremittingly depressing. I biked for 10 minutes while watching, then got the bright idea to shut it off.

My friend, Bob Wolfe, was the assistant superintendent of Graterford, when a hostage situation occurred. Read about it here.

I called his home yesterday to say I was thinking of them since the death of their son Frank.

Frank used to read to his parents. I'd watched the film How Green Was My Valley on YouTube and wondered over the phone, if Frankie had read it to them.

What a wonderful film, directed by John Ford. It was about Welsh coal miners, what happened when they went on strike. Boy could those miners sing!

        That's Walter Pigeon, a stubborn old man, with his youngest son, listed in the credits as Master Roddy MacDowell.

I'd say this movie should be on the "100 Best" List. 

I put an X on my kitchen calendar to denote: Good Girl! Healthy eating.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll reset my timer and work on "Oh, The Things I Did."

BTW, I goggled pennsylvania prisons to find out where my groper and fondler might be sent.

Then I sent an email and got the following response... very quickly.

Wish me luck with my story. People have many facets to them.

We have 27 state prison facilities, and he could be sent to any of them.  We do not keep groups of offenders in certain prisons based upon their crimes.

Our inmate uniform color is called "cocoa brown" but it's more of a maroon color.

Was talking to my friend "Didi" on the phone. She runs a writer's group and wants me to be a guest reader in September.


Peripatetic moi, wandered downstairs and stepped out on the back porch.

It was dark.

FLASH

FLASH    FLASH   FLASH

Couldn't believe it! Saw my first lightning bugs - fireflies - on June 9.

THE VISITOR

When I looked in the mirror
in our nation’s capital
I saw an American girl
with the same Jewish eyes
I wore back home

puffy now
from an unknown allergen
don’t tell me I’m allergic
to all the people mine eyes did see
Mr Bezwada on the Amtrak going down
- a “polymer chemist” – what’s that? -
oh, you’re traveling to the Patent Office
for an inner body contraption
to mend our bones.

Do we really deserve it?
Your wife keeps the books
and cooks with curry
I lick your patchouli smell off my tongue.

Have you seen the tall postal museum?
Or know there was one?
Security guards thick as pigeons
on the sidewalks of DC
Paranoia come home to roost.
Hello, sir, where’s the ladies room?
Make a u-turn, he says, doffing his cap,
go under the arches, you’ll see it then.

Take care, he says, seeing me off from his podium.
I wave when I come back
drying my hands in the air
a confessional poem?
what’s to confess?
my intense love for Thee?
the moon enters my bedroom at night
makes my swollen legs
light up
suddenly I remember
an email from Neighbor Bill:
there’s an orgy of lightning bugs
in the backyard

I slip on my robe and stand on the backporch
late for the show
they don’t mind
I go out to meet them on the cold
wet grass
cascades of them
passing like nations across the sky
crisscrossing like planes in the
Air and Space Museum
missionaries of higher truths
I still aspire to

I hold out my arms
Americans all of us
stung deep and hard
with the imprint of Liberty
blinking
all thousands of us
on and off
on
and off