Part One - Writers meet at B's Comfy Condo

Excusing himself, Rem said, "I have to go to an oil change."

Wha? We'd been talking poetry and food and black cats (Rem had one) and suddenly he surprised us by talking about an oil change.

As a worker at the Roslyn post office he said the strangest name of a town he ever saw was Jackass Annie Road, ME. Shall we see if it still exists?


If you want, you can buy this house at 201 Jackass Annie Lane.

If you decide to buy it, please send me a $100 commission. Thanks in advance.

Stopped at Mom's on the way home from Beatriz's where our group met for a couple of hours.

Mom is doing fantastic! At 93, her mind is quite good.

Excused myself and checked my blood sugar in the dining room as I ate two scrumptious pieces of Jewish Apple Cake, B's friend Lorraine brought over. Lorraine, it seems, had over-bought for a party she was going to.

We were the joyful recipients. 

My sugar was over 200, but it's settled down and is now normal.

For dinner, I finished out my soup

Onions, zucchini, mushrooms and two handfuls of spinach I added, with grated Swiss cheese for protein.

And, now, as you can see I'm eating my fave snack

Mom talked to her friend Lenore who moved to Arizona. Lenore's two daughters are visiting. Neither have children. One is an expert equestrienne and is giving a talk somewhere.

About a year ago, Lenore's husband, Nate, got dementia. Suddenly. And died.

I had said to Mom, you've passed the point where you get Alzheimer's.

She corrected me.

After her nasty fall, she is now walking all over the house. Up the stairs and down the stairs.  I'm so proud of her. And of Ellen for caring for her.

Ellen said she liked my haircut from the Willow Grove Hair Cuttery.

Mom said she's losing her eyesight, her hearing, and her mind.

Well, you're still alive, I managed to mumble. 

My sister Donna told me she didn't like 'animal prints' like my leopard-like blouse. Why would she hurt my feelings like that? That's my sister. 

Well, let's get on with some poetry.

Donna wrote two excellent poems. Rem, whose car is running very efficiently now that his oil has been changed, said he liked her honesty. She writes what she feels.

In "Suzanna" (great name, tho fake), she wrote "I cried my last tear.... you're pulling away from me I can feel it deep in my soul."

Who among us, I said, hasn't felt the pain of heartbreak. One woman named Mona broke my heart. At the time I was obsessed with manic-depression, couldn't stop talking about it, so she ended our friendship w/o a word. Am not in the least bit interested in her now.

Time heals.

Also catharctic for me was writing about old boyfriends. Here's one I wrote about one of my fave boyfriends, Chris Ray. Of course, I used my imagination, so it isn't really true.

Donna's open-toed spring shoes - luv em! - her next poem was

Carrie.... I thought you were sweet when I first met you.

Lemme tell you something. Carrie is a real creep. Stay away from her. Her brother Bob agreed.

Again, the group loved her "bluntness," said Rapid Eye Movement Rem.

She'll never change, sez Ms Smarty Pants. 

Allan said that tomorrow is Forgiveness Day in the Russian Orthodox Church, of which he and his wife are members.

Some religious holidays make a lot of sense. A friend of mine, who recently lost her husband, said a friend from work recently asked her to attend church with her.

"What a waste of time," she said.

My sentiments exactly.

Allan, please ask my forgiveness tomorrow.

  Allan was online thother day and up pops a vacation rental in LA.

From that, he wrote a fantastic rhyming poem.... The King of France.

I wonder if by chance, you've come across the King of France
No, not the one who lost his head

Don't tell Allan, but I'm gonna pretend I wrote the poem and submit it online.

Today I was rejected by Goblin Fruit. Seems to be an excellent lit mag. Hold they fold soon.

Allan, please pray for my forgiveness.

We talked a bit about the Reign of Terror where 'off with his head' was the operative word. Even Robespierre's head landed in a bucket.

I watched the musical at Town and Country Players in Warrington.

Look who just stopped by! He said Keith Emerson of Emerson, Lake and Palmer just died at age 71.

Cancer? I asked.

Yes, said Scott. Don't know what kind.

  Allan said that Napoleon was basically a good guy and gave Jews and Protestants citizenship in the mostly Catholic France.

When Sarah and I visited about five years ago, we found it antisemitic. She and Ethan just celebrated their 10th anniversary there. Have things changed for the better?

Beatriz had the strength to write something and to brew coffee. That's why I'm wide awake now, having walked up n down the street and biking for half an hour.

Caffeine! A writer's best friend. Better than booze.

Can you see "the back" Beatriz is using? A calendar!

"The Girl Who Loved Books Too Much" was about Jenny, a lovely young lady, with the bad habit of never returning a library book.

Why, we wondered, would a nice girl do dat?

In fact, the basement flooded and library books were scattered all over the floor, ruined.

Her dad brot her to the library and payment arrangements were made.

After that, the poor girl never set foot in a library again.

Someone said there was a Seinfeld episode about a library book overdue 20 years.

Forgiveness!

The Master Letters of Emily Dickinson I checked outa the Hatboro Union Library. It hadn't been checked out in 10 years. Who would miss it?

Turns out I lost the book, but found it beneath my bed covered in a furball of dust. Returned it cuz I'm terribly honest. Dreadful habit.

Did you get a new jacket, I asked Rem?

No. At the post office an old man asked Rem "What does Sales Associate mean?" It was written under his name Rem Murphy.

So now, says Rem, "At work they call me Sales (pronounced SAH-LEEZ) Associate (AH-SO-SEE-AH-TEE), which I consider my Italian name. My favorite town name is North, South Carolina. It's a Charleston suburb, so it's actually in south South Carolina.

He read us Chapter 13 and 14 of his novel Today's the Day, after a song by America.

The chapter, No More Mr Nice Guy - a song by the Alice Cooper Band - talked about a rhesus monkey locked in a cage.

He would be experimented on. They'd remove parts of his brain. "We just gonna make a little incision here," they told him. He protested fiercely, but all they heard were his screams.

"You won't have any more fears, but you'll be randy as a goat."

Good term "randy." So many synonyms for horny, and I'm not talking about psychoanalyst Karen Horney.

Then we switched to the main character and his relationship to his counselor, Mr. Flecks.

Please turn the page - zzzz - oh, wake up for chrissakes - and go to Part Two of z blog.