Great turnout for Writers' Group - My poem: Adam's Novel Writing Group at the Library

As I often do, stopped at Mom's house for dinner. She loved my challah with the cream cheese spread. I brought my own salad and partook of her fabulous walnut sticks. Ellen made them and used less brown sugar than ever.

Fantastic, Ellen!

How bout this cuppa coffee in the photo. I even got the swirling steam. Used a cinnamon stick to enhance the flavor. I'd used it in my tomato veggie soup but it's got loads of flavor left. Comes all the way from Vietnam.

The Vietnamese are one of our most successful refugees.

Judy! Judy! Judy!

Wonderful true story, Judy, about a childhood adventure called Captain Hook. A friend insisted she play Captain Hook while the friend played Wendy.

Surprise surprise! In reality, Judy was really the woman who played Wendy and insisted Giggy -a  nickname -play Captain Hook.

Bob, the brother of Donna K, hand-wrote a story called "My Next Chapter." We already knew that Bob's best friend Joe moved to Ohio. Now we learn that Bob's son Brad has moved in with him.

When one door closes.

Donna is Bob's sister. Lovely in the royal color purple. My mom's wedding dress was purple. It's still upstairs in the closet. Perhaps at 93 she'll remarry.

Anyone want her? For sale to the top bidder.

I love my mom and kissed her goodbye but an hour ago.

Nice robe, I said. It's Eileen's, she said. And then opined that Eileen might still be alive if.....

I think it was Rem who commented that Donna addressed a difficult subject in her true story. Thoughts on her death bed. The story was called "A Posed Question," which her buddy Carly asked her.

She said - and I condense - she will not remember the horrible way her daughter/law treats her. I'm certain the woman can't stand anyone with bipolar disorder. The list of talented bipolar folks goes on and on.

Look at our compatriots here.

Dude, you can visit us any time you wish. My phone number is......

BTW, a woman in our novel-writing group this morning made a slur about bipolar folks. Natch I didn't let her get away with it. I should've given her my memoir Yes I Can.

Donna also mentioned in her story that she wants her BF Denny to remarry. Good for you, Donna.

I want Scott to throw himself into my grave and be buried with me.

Allan read a poem about Veterans Day which he read at the Hatboro Library and other places.

He also read the next chapter of his novel  "Village of Blood and Stone."  It's a fantasy novel which reminded us of.... of.... of...

Tolkien and C S Lewis.

We loved the names of his characters and places.


Older photo of Linda Barrett.

Her poem "Night Flight" began with "Drink a toast to the Big Dipper."

"Giant pearlship of the moon." 

Stunning imagery. " Hunt alongside Orion with his three-star belt."




Never knew it's

Wiki - a prominent constellation located on the celestial equator and visible throughout the world. It is one of the most conspicuous and recognizable constellations in the night sky.

Excuse me a moment. I saw the pearlship of the moon and Orion, I believe. Soon I'll visit Scott, an amateur astronomer with his own telescope and we'll take a peek at the night sky.

Told Rem I almost emailed him b/c Michael McDonald -- ooh, said Judy - of the Dooby Brothers - was on the Tavis Smiley Show. Watch him here.

Like pulling teeth getting the man to say something interesting.

WATCHING THE DETECTIVES was Rem's poem with many great lines. He spoke about Dungeons and Dragons and The Rockford Files and Mannix, played by Mike Connors, piped up Judy Judy Judy.

Mary Brucker showed up with her guide dog Garland.

  She read an excellent poem called TIME. "How is it that half my life is gone. Time is a sneaky thing / a fleeting thing. I thought I held the bridle and reins... now add health and approaching retirement... will I have enough?"

I certainly identify with her. Especially b/c so many people I know have life-threatening illnesses or life-altering illnesses.

Here's a photo of me. I always print the photo even if it's lousy.

Look, the Giant is all dressed up for Christmas. The gas fireplace was on. The group thought I should send the poem to Adam, but I think not. I'd written a short story called "Suite 1003" - one of my best  - which concerned the library but knew enough not to send it.

ADAM’S NOVEL WRITING GROUP

AT THE LIBRARY

Starbucks in red holiday cups

Careful not to spill, I wend my

painted sneaker self to the long

table, proud of the novel I’m

creating, whose characters I

write down on a Habitats for

Humanity tablet.

Marie and Nancy are back

plus a new woman whose

placard reads “Louise.” A million

ideas swirling in her head, she has

yet to write a word.

Marie tells us the title of her book.

Awful, I think. And tell her. Why not?
As my friend the late Stephen Weinstein

once told me: Friends help friends.

Last night I attended a social

at a nearby church. Plied

with coffee, I go home ready to write.

Quickly I fall into a dreamy sleep

while watching “Wings of Desire” a

pastiche of angels here on earth. None

can see them but they lay helping hands

on victims of the Holocaust or the trapeze

artist who thinks she’ll die from a fall.

Nancy, a teacher at Holy Family, creates

characters who constantly surprise her.

The unfaithful husband turns out to

be surprisingly deep. And why not?

Cats are deep. Why not men?

The founder of November is Novel-

Writing Month is a caffeine addict.

I follow in his footsteps, drinking free

cups whenever I can. Does it really

focus the mind and cause heightened

perception?

Nancy slurs bipolar folks. Will I sit

like a lump – as my Aunt Hy

once did when Jews were slammed –

or will I speak up?

Adam wears a striped sweater. Scott

asked me why I always wear stripes?
Louise wears a flowery top. So, we

have choices.

Stripes! My barnyard animals outside

my front door know me by my stripes.

Only this morning a squirrel sat atop

the birdbath looking shyly at me.

I thought he was a cat. Hello, I meowed.