Sarah Lynn and me - Poem: Wheelchair - Dining at the Old Mill Inn (again)

You've seen them in the
supermarkets, the elderly
men and women, riding
in motorized wheelchairs,
"as a courtesy to our valued
customers." My left foot is
encased in an orthopedic
boot, the little toe broken
and weeping silently inside,

My daughter Sarah has come
to live with me and use my
home as a Writers Retreat.
"You can do it, Mom," she
says as I climb into the
wheelchair, unplug the fat
black plug from the wall
and cruise slowly into
the wall-to-wall traffic
of the Giant Supermarket.

Grasp the yellow handles
this is where the power
comes from. Why, it's
like a car or riding
a bike.

"You're doing great Mom,"
says Sarah as we glide
like a horse, me, and the jockey,
her, down the long produce aisle
for watermelon, broccoli, black
kale, zucchini and yellow squash
and all the other things she will
cook for me on her retreat.

Never a mistake I make, as I
navigate around the huge barricades
- o do not crash - of featured
products, potato chips of all
different hues - new beers they
now stock - and - what's this?
snow shovels already, though
it's still the dog days
of August.

At seventy years old, I am
proud of myself. I have
learned something new. No
cryptograms or crosswords
or learning Japanese for me.

Just the simple act of driving
in a car through the Giant
Supermarket on a hot August
day with my beloved daughter
and kidney donor, by my side.

***

With my driving glasses on, I inched my way in the dark to Louie's Old Mill Inn.

Whew! Found it. Hard to drive in the night.

Wore my small boot there but must change into my big boot tonite.

Megan was our gracious server. We were celebrating Sarah's trip to Rio. We did this with Pellegrino which she introduced me to when we went to Saint Martin's in the Virgin Islands.

Clams with thyme, I believe. Altho I said nuffin, I thought I might barf. Am not used to eating such rich food.

 My salmon, risotto and asparagus were quite good.

 Sarah had undercooked eggplant and spaghetti with tomato sauce.

The dipping of the charozit, I mean bread into olive oil.

 When they saw my Boot, Puss, they asked me what happened. One woman had an operation for the all-time painful condition Plantar Fascitis. I had it when Dan got married.

Here's Louie himself.

They opened last month, accdg to Patch. com.

Here's the last time I was there.

Time check:  10:02 PM

You have about two hours to contemplate the End of August, 2016.... how quickly times goes by.... are you living a meaningful life.... and what you would rather be doing AND why you aren't.

Upstairs Downstairs from British TV - Poem: Boredom does not become you

Sarah has the downstairs, I have the upstairs.

She made this unusual soup with sausage, mushrooms, split peas etc etc. I'm on my second helping.

Now she's left for the gym, which moved to larger quarters, near the Willow Grove mall.

"I don't mind walking," she said, when I offered to drive.

The original British production Upstairs Downstairss was fabulous. My dad introduced me to it when I moved back home from living in California.

  Remember the late Gordon Jackson who played the head butler. Like Mr Carson in Downton Abbey.

 

Am going stir-crazy bc of my boot.

Stir Crazy was one of the many movies made by the zany Gene Wilder, who died yesterday at 83. As I clicked on the obit, I hoped he didn't have Alz.  He did.

Look, I haven't anything to do now. So let's watch a couple of scenes - together - from Stir Crazy.

 Did I tell you how much I'm enjoying the film Inside Out, a Disney film.

Here's a few pix I took. I know, I know, always taking pictures.

Caramel Corn Curls - what a delicious cereal!

I like to sprinkle some extra sugar over the top.

Scott and I went to Staples yesterday to buy him a new computer. A Lenovo laptop. Same as the old laptop.

He set it up today, from about 10 am until 5 pm.

He wrote down all his passcodes, each one a variation on a theme, the way I do.

Miguel Gardel is a terrific writer.  Here's his sexy story. 

For those of you on Blogspot, they changed their format.



BOREDOM DOES NOT BECOME YOU

I thrust open the front door.
Boot and I step gingerly onto the front porch
as twilight slowly descends like a nurturing
mother.

So, it's true. Autumn's on her way. L'autumne, we
say en francais. The greenery has lost its
verve, and sits with silent tears,
knowing the next chapters to
come.

We all heave a deep sigh. Hot soups
will be on the menu. Tomato, cream
of broccoli, lobster bisque.

Classical music and jazz on the radio.
Masterpiece Theatre, we hope, will
dazzle us once again, as we lie in
bed together, side by side.

Everyday life at The Home

This is my fourth time there. The worst part is the drive down. Going home is easier.

     Got the job thru a woman named Natalia. She now works in the Memory Unit of this simply gorgeous place.

My boss is Joshua Mason. Everyone including me loves the guy. He and his wife have two sons. She's expecting any day now. They don't know if it's a boy or a girl.

Josh's ethnicity is Hawaiian and Samoan. On his iPhone he showed me photos of Polynesian wrestlers. I'd never heard of em before.

Have you?

   This might be the one that Josh said looks like his brother. Josh is the smallest of the brothers. At first I thought he was black, but he told me, blacks don't have hair like his.

I really wanted this job. It's awful for a grown woman to sit around every day doing nothing but answering emails and talking to Newcomers on the phone. I so wanted to work with the elderly. Plus making money was something I desperately needed.

 Lothario.

 Yum! The food looks great. They always offer me some but I always refuse.

Josh looks on. We've got baked fish, Raisin Brain, and manicotti.

 Cranberry juice. Just met the fellow on the right today. He's 89 and his parents are still alive!

eor

Would you like a cuppa tea?

Music was playing, courtesy of Josh, who thinks of everything.

I got there at 10:30. Took half an hour to get there. Wore my boot.

During the time we had together the best part was watching for the Meteor Showers.

I told them to look up at the ceiling and imagine we saw them.

AND they did!

I was so prouda them for using their imagination, which we discussed a bit.

Here's the poem I'd wrin for them a time ago. Best to keep things like a poetry monolog short. I always give them a chance to interact and use their brains.

TO MY FRIENDS AT THE HOME

Is it my imagination or is this

a palace meant for kings and queens?

We all were once young,

We loved, we laughed, we danced

we swam in the ocean at the

seashore

Now it's time to rest. To relax

to sit in an automatic wheelchair

it looks fun! I'd like to try

it sometime.

Monday is the day I visit. I drive

from Willow Grove, once the place

of the great amusement park, where

we screamed on the roller coasters

and ate pink cotton candy smooth

as whispers of love

Today is a new day, a gift from

The Almighty. We remember the past

and give thanks for the remaining

days of our lives. We all have

meaning and purpose. Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

My Neanderthal poem published - Wrote this poem last nite - New Drink and I Visit the Stars

   At last, after a dozen rejections this wonderful poem was published. Read it here. Name of lit mag is In Between Hangovers. This is the second poem they've published. The first one was Going Down about losing my job at Bristol Bensalem Human Services. They went out of biz possibly for Medicare/Medicaid fraud.

I got the poem idea about the lost tribe while watching a PBS documentary.

Am eating cold mashed potatoes now. Not too bad. Not too good either.

Just came home from the library with a new stash of materials including four films. Will take to Scott's when I finish up here.

On TCM it's Jean Arthur Day. My sister Donna said she's watching Shane right now and thinking of Daddy. His fave actress was Jean Arthur with her high sweet throaty voice.

Come back Shane! Come back!



Judy checked me out at the library.

We should get together some time, I said.

Silence.

You live in the township, right?

Upper Moreland? Yes I do.

Linda Jones I'm through with.

Me, always trying to make a new friend.

My daughter Sarah will be home on Monday, which is tomro. Here she is on her blog The Spiral Staircase holding - vat else? - a slab of bacon.

Watched the film The Spiral Staircase today on YouTube. Quite good.

  Very suspenseful with a great ending. Ethel Barrymore was in it.




At one point toward the end, I sat upright on red couch and stared in suspense. Not predictable at all.


So throughout the night I drank this fabulous concoction specially made for writers like me.

Oh, I spose I had two full glasses, with ice, and then adulterated the last glass so I'd eventually fall asleep.

Forced myself - and I do mean 'forced' - b/c of HEAT LASSITUDE - to finish


  THE TRAILER ON THE NEXT STREET or whatever I decided to call it.

My concern was to make it Unpredictable.

Twas very hard to judge if it was any good since I was drunk on coffee.

Marfa thought the pace was too fast at the end, so I rewrote the whole thing this morning, which only took about an hour.

Then Freda wrote she loved it. Whew!

As I told my neighbor Pete, who with Patrick, mowed the lawn, it's about Human Trafficking.

Garlic breath from the mashed potatoes. Very high in carbs which is why I injected 12.

It's got mushrooms in it, too. But where's the protein?

I slept in the boot. Easily. I simply turn on my fan and snore away. Nearly finished the great book that Scott loaned me months ago



Really exciting. Everyone gets beat up but there are no "rats" in it, the lowest form of human being, an informer.

Judy at the library asked me what happened to my foot as I marched into the library.

I'm so used to it now I don't even think about it.

No known reason, I said. The doctor told me most people don't even know they have it until it gets so painful they've gotta go to the doctor.

I'm so good at walking I could almost challenge Elaine Thompson of Jamaica.

0

NEW DRINK AND I VISIT THE STARS

Stepping out on the front porch
Darkness enfolds me like a cloak
The French Lieutenant's Woman

Once again on this clear night
with the crickets and locusts
for music

I stand on the sidewalk watching
for Meteor Showers
head upturned like the
Queen of the Nile

Two millennia ago
queens, butchers, lovers,
turned their eyes toward the sky

Everything remains the same
in the great eternity of Forever.