S'mores are always the finale at our Bonfire!Helen called me from home. Her husband Larry was at Tamanend Park. The fireplace gate was locked and the overhead lights were not turned on.
I'd called the park the day before to remind them of all this.
Sure, they said, we'll get it done.
They had an emergency no. for park director Marion. Left her two messages. She never called me back.
Marion! We're thinking of letting you go.
Not Officer Costello tho.
As a last ditch effort - hey, remember the TV show The Court of Last Resort - I phone the Upper Southampton police and got a dispatcher. He said to call back when I got to the park.
Fortunately I had my pockets stuffed with phone numbers.
So Costello makes a phone call and within 10 minutes, Ray of Tamanend - is out there with the keys and his tiny little dog.
Grace, how'd you get in there. Was lookin for a photo of my camera and up pops Grace when she was about 4.I could not find my pink Nikon to take pix with.
Scott came over and within 4 minutes found it.
When he came over I was upstairs in bed watching the rock band No Evidence of Disease. Here's their website. They're all specialist cancer docs. Their field is GYN cancers.
One of the docs moved to Anchorage AK where there are exactly zero gyn doctors. In the documentary she was driving her car and said to us, I just diagnosed a 13-yo with cancer today.
I did take great pix at the Bonfire on this camera
en oIf you turn up your volume you can hear what the photos are saying: Hey we're trapped and can't get off cuz, ahem, the owner of the i Phone - no names please - doesn't know how to upload them despite talking with her son.
I brought a pound of shrimp with cocktail sauce that drilled a hole in your brain.
Jonathan brought chili with just the right amt of spice.
I brought many different flavors of olives. When huge gusts of wind swirled periodically into the sides of the Pavilion, the olives jumped into a salad Helen had brought.
Ada brought a huge salad. I brought the extras home and noshed on them while watching the final episodes of 11-23-63 by Stephen King and friends.
Watched nearly three hours today as it was due at the libe by 5 pm. Very enjoyable but a bit long, as I told my mom.
Now I don't wanna spoil the plot for you, so close your eyes as you read.
When Jake, our time-travel hero, returns to his town of Lisbon, ME, there's been a nuclear disaster. The world is in ruins.
So he's gotta go back down the rabbit hole and let everyone die that he'd saved, including JFK.
Okay, open your eyes.
Jonathan, in addition to the chili, made gorgeous cupcakes with peanut butter banana icing. I ate half a one but an entire Ada's brownie. I was really stuffed bc I had two delicious Hebrew National hot dogs on toasted buns.
Plus Brandy's pizza slice with spinach and - was it goat cheese? Mmm mmmm good.
When I got home my sugar was a whopping 404. If you looked closely at my veins n arteries, this was swirling around
Shelly brought her guitar and we sang along.
Should I sing? she asked. She was afraid of chasing people away and having them go home.
She and Larry were the main singers. I was surprised I remember the words to some Peter Paul and Mary songs.
Larry's part of a chorus who's gonna sing a dissonant piece The Requiem by John Rutter, born in 1945.
They're gonna play at Upper Dublin High School and I'm gonna go!
Some of Brandy's friends came. Sweet kids.
One guy Jeremy, 18, laffed when I said The park should paint the chain that prevents cars from driving up
to the pavilion WHITE. It's invisible.
Good idea, said Jeremy.
Well, Jeremy, they don't give a shit about what Ruth Z Deming thinks.
Shortly I'll gather my Trail Mix and head over to Scott's for a marathon Hitchcock night.
For my Facebook Poem o The Day I wrote
THE COLORFUL CARPET
We were all once new
Once bright and shiny
Sandy's blanket which I
brought to the Bonfire
last night- cold winds
had no mercy - was once
being woven in her
husband's carpet shop
And now I must relinquish
a many-colored carpet
Mom, once a preemie, bought for
my living room. The carpet
voyaged throughout my
house, woven on a loom
we know not where.
With teary eyes I told her
I am selling it. She bought
it at Lord and Taylor, she
remembered, in the days
before old age stole
her finer points.
Here's to the many-colored
carpet. I lift up my cup o'
tea and sip longingly lovingly
to the carpet of my middle years.
Then I emailed it to Debi who is picking up the carpet on Tuesday.
She wrote back and asked me who wrote it.
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