Mom's Party a Rousing Success

Everyone came!

The photos are on Facebook. I don't know how to get them on here. Am I getting dumber with age?

This morning, before my appt at Endocrine Specialists, I prepared a dozen thank-you cards and postcards.

The mailman showed up at 5:15 pm.

It was Glenn, who served us when I had the outside office for ND - New Directions - not North Dakota or Nancy Drew mysteries - on Davisville Road years ago.

Glenn said the cards will get to their destination if the first three digits are 190.

One of those is to Scott! I thanked him for all his awesome help. A special thank-you to my sister Ellen, who is mom's second in command.

Sister Lynn's matzoh ball soup. I sat at different places at the table and helped myself to what was there. For dessert I had half a cupcake from Weinrich's Bakery.

Red Velvet. Way too sweet. What the hell's the matter with me.

Wrote cards to Grace, 6, and Max, 4.  Zip 19038.

Sister Donna lives in N J - 08020 - or some such.

Cousin Lloyd's wife Kate sent some fragrant flowers. Pink roses that looked pretend but were not. And some lilies

  I can still smell them miles and miles away.

I was so pissed at the online mag Mad Swirl I unfriended them on FB. Hollow words: We read your three poems carefully, but decided they are not for us. Do continue to submit....

They, did, however, publish The Pope Comes to Visit and Love of Moon.

Was just on Facebook, where I was apprised that they noticed I'd unfriended someone but not to worry, they won't tell.  HE, Matt or someone, I don't even know his name, NEVER reads my stuff. 

Not to worry, I have a bunch of poems for you, Dear Reader! Or have you rejected me, too!

I made fabulous chili for the party that no one ate.

Why? It sat on the stove the entire time.

I brought it next door to my friend Eileen's. Saved some for her and her son, Bill Adams, for later.

It rained as I walked over with the heavy pot.

And what did the Adams family have on the counter. You will not believe this!

  My first piece was delicious. The second I wanted to spit out.

The pie was from Lexington, KY.  I have no explanation for that.

STOPPING BY THE WOODS ON THE
WAY TO THE COMPOST HEAP

After depositing the latest
detritus from my chipped
yellow pitcher

I stood and stared. So much
to see and hear!

Hear hear!

The cicadas sang their
mating songs from high
in the trees in the
little woods behind my house.

Tufts of onion grass swayed
in the breeze and smelled like
a fine English onion pie

I peeked through the netting
to see how our peaches are doing
Nothing can stop them
All half grown, waiting
to end up in a latticed
peach pie, with a butter
pie crust, from one of
Mom's recipes

Life has so much to offer
Who am I to complain?
Savor what we've got
in the time that remains.

***

LETS MAKE A BIG DEAL ABOUT THE RAIN
AND GLOOM OF THE DAY

After playing the Brandenburg Number Three,
the one with the strings, my morning guides,
the gravy voiced Gregg Whiteside
followed by his sidekick Jack Moore
lament about the rain and if you look
out the window, they say, there's nothing but
gloom out there.

Gloom! Imagine.

Are we gonna blindly follow their lead?
Are they our parents? Our mentors? Our guides?

In my shorts, tank top, and China-born shoes
that let in water at the bottom - in other
words, they friggin leak -
I step into the wonder of the new day.

Brightness nearly blinds my eyes
The jungle grasses in the front yard
gulp in the rain drops
And rivulets of rain water float swiftly
in the gullies of the road, waiting for
the young uns to float origami boats
downstream. Look quick, before they
capsize and disappear.

***

I have until midnight tomro to submit to Bella Online. So, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta get going.

Let's finish up with a lovely picture.



Matisse, of course!

Just discovered this stupendous writer from Johannesburg, South Africa. Presenting for the first time on this stage, Miss Abigail George. Clink here.