My Hatboro Day - Meet your compatriots at Brooke Glen Behavioral Health

Traveled in my PJs to the Hatboro PO to mail 8 post cards. Tomro is The Blizzard of 2016, not to be confused with DQs Blizzard.
  Ours is closed for the season, thank god. It's always a temptation for this person with diabetes.

Received this hand-sewn poetry mag in the mail today.

Click to enlarge. 

Lovely! My poem they published was Turquoise Nail Polish. Coincidentally I had just gotten my nails polished at Strawberry in Hatboro. I do love the color which I dubbed Blood Red.

Will certainly write a poem about it and Pat who nailed me. She's from Surinam. First I asked if she was from Vietnam. No, she said. Pause. Where are you from? Then she spilled the beans.

Apres this, I walked over to Hatboro Jewelry to get two batteries for my two watches. When I visited Dan tonite he told me he ordered an implement to open his watch battery so he could implant it himself.

Then I ate at the Hatboro Dish. Delicious high carb food - grilled cheese bruschetta. Mike waited on me. Drank three cups of coffee while reading my library book club selection.



Isn't this the most fascinating blog you've never read?

My friend Rob no longer reads it. He's getting one of the postcards I mailed at the Hatboro, PO. The mail goes out at 11 am.

Here are some other people: Nancy, Sarah and ei, 2 mishpucha, HAR, Ellen R, The Sanders.

My friend Freda Samuels turns 90 soon. Photo above of her and Bernie. Drove to Hatboro to mail it this morning, part of my Hatboro Day. She'll love the poem.

Look at these Valentine stamps. They look like the heart of a ghoul. Dizgusting!

Freda told me about a column the Inquirer had about how you feel about having gray hair. Here's my response.

Am drinking Behavioral Health tea on the right, while writing with behavioral health pens on the left. Switched off Carly Simon's memoirs to listen to A S Byatt short stories. She had an unhappy childhood - what writer didn't? - and is the sister of Margaret Dribble Drabble.

Okay, ready to go to Brooke Glen Behavioral Health facility?

I think everyone loves Abby Grasso. I was sposed to get my paintings back from their art show but I forgot to pick em up.

Here's Missy, short for Melissa, who told me she thought I was cute.

Says I, You'll never guess how old I am.

I'm a poet, sez I, and I just wrote a poem called A Brief Panic on Turning Seventy.

Grace Catherine, my 5-yo granddaughter, knows my age and Mom-Moms age. When I was a kid, I was obsessed with ages. We had so many relatives at the time and I knew what years they were all born in. The late 1800s.

Abby with the very friendly CEO Neil Callahan. He actually remembered me from the art show, which they are not having again!

ND, however, is having our Second Annual Arts Festival on Sunday, April 10, Gramma Lily's 118th birthday. What a fashion plate she was! She did develop dementia at the relatively young age of 84 and off we finally whisked her to The Old Age Home in Royersford, PA.

Mom thought bc many of the employees were Mennonites or other rural folk, they wouldn't steal.

Wrong!

Mitch Goldfeder from Janssen. I'm pronouncing it the Belgian way - Yahnson. I told Mitch, whose full name is spelled Mitchel - that I wrote a letter to Paul Janssen thanking him for inventing Haldol, which quelled my first mania.

He wrote me back immediately. Here's an encomium about Paul.

 My talented tablemates.

 Talented, committed and lovely.

Pretty in pink. It was freezing. Ada parked far away as there were no closer spaces. She turned on the seat warmers in her car.

 The receptionist was very well informed about the goings on in the hospital

The hospital is tobacco-free. No smoking allowed. A condition of managed care. We all know that as soon as they come home from their stay - well, let's say as soon as someone picks em up to take em home - they'll say, Bring me my Marlboro Lights.