Saturday, December 8, 2018

What's that great smell? Cornbread!

Remember that my oven was just fixed so I am baking again. Takes me forever as I wash everything as I go along.

The aroma of the cooling corn bread is so good that you may see my house levitating or circling the globe like Santa's sleigh.

Last night I want to start my story for Pure Slush. Matt Potter of Australia is covering the Seven Deadly Sins and this time we on Envy.

Don't we usually think of Snow White's Queen?


Yes, this is the picture I'm familiar of.

Several months ago I thought of an idea for a short story and it's based on that idea.

40 more minutes until we can cut open the cornbread.

As I was preparing the recipe I wished I had someone to call. No one. I can't just pick up the phone and talk to someone. I told you I haven't many friends. And I can't dial long distance due to the incompetence of Verizon.

Called Mom when I was done. Really enjoyed talking with her. She turned off the TV in her bedroom and she could hear most of what I was saying.

Aunt Hy liked cornbread, she said.

Then she started railing about Hy's son Ray who just died.

I lived with them a bit when they lived on Clinton Drive in Redwood City, CA. The letters she used to write me, pages and pages, impeccably typed. She was Mr. Atkinson's legal secretary.

Ach! Where do these people go? I'm not going there yet but I tell you - and I told this to the people in the writers' group when we ate today at Bonnet Lane Diner - I got an offer of life insurance - burial insurance - and it made me think, What if I have a stroke and am incapacitated?

That happened to my beautiful Aunt Marion and all her money was siphoned away by some jerk she married.

I wish you could read the ingredients on the cornbread. The label says No artificial flavors, colors, or preservatives. But when you read the ingredients, it's like reading Greek!

Tomorrow we're having our poetry reading at the Upper Moreland Public Library. I brought it a huge plastic-covered thing of water. Very heavy. Used the automatic doors to get inside.



After the Bonnet Lane meal, I stopped at the library and then couldn't find my way to B's house.

Grrrrrrrr!

I was on Davisville Road and pulled into a drive, rifled thru the direx I keep in my pocket on the door and FOUND THEM FOUND THEM FOUND THEM!!!!!

Finally, I was there. Walked inside. There was B (looking very pale and weak), Rem, Donna, Bob, Linda and me.

"I got lost," I said.

"We knew you did," said Beatrice.

Listen, I want you to stay with me when my timer goes off and I can taste the corn bread. It's a lovely golden brown, but I have no more butter to put on top. I could use peanut butter but that would ruin the taste.

Finally put my Xmas wreath on my front door. Got it a couple yrs ago either at Produce Junction or Primex in Glenside. It was covered over w a towel in the basement.

Was gonna show you a pic of it but instead



Here's my son Dan before he grew a beard.

Instead of saying I have miles to go before I sleep, I will bid you goodbye - we're down to six readers now - I'll simply say:

Try something new and bold.

Oh! During our writing group, I mentioned the book Winesburg, Ohio, by Sherwood Anderson. Do they read it today?

One of my favorites!



There's a boarding house in Willow Grove, which could be the new Winesburg, Ohio.



This was on the Internet but it could be my cornbread.

If you don't mind, I'll eat it in the kitchen.

Thursday, December 6, 2018

Books! Books! Books!

 Checked this outa the library today. Written by the mustachioed James Mustich, in 2018. It has a quote by Virginia Woolf:

The only advice, indeed, that one person can give another about reading, is to take no advice, to follow your own instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own conclusions. If this is agreed between us, then I feel at liberty to put forward a few ideas and suggestions because you will not allow them to fetter that independence which is the most important quality that a reader can possess. - How Should One Read a Bookalls
At 2:30 pm today I was to be at my book group at the Upper Moreland Public Library to discuss THEY MAY NOT MEAN TO BUT THEY DO by Cathleen Shein (sp) who is divorced from New Yorker film critic David Denby before they got rid of him.

I could not finish that damn book. Woke up late and could not get out of bed to read the book. Instead I had a very vivid dream about watching someone being hanged on a train, but then they were saved by a man who ran over to save him.

That's called a nightmare. Every time I read two three grafs of the book, my eyes closed and I fell asleep. This behavior went on for six hours.

The book was about getting older, getting forgetful, getting dementia, getting Alzheimer's. It took 200 pages for patriarch Aaron Bergman to finally die from Alzheimer's disease. He was very witty and even while dying made some hilarious references such as find me some corned beef hash.

What I wanna emphasize is the difficulty of reading the book. As my eyes started to close, I began thinking of all sorts of different things. It was like falling down, say, Niagara Falls, and not being able to stop myself.

It felt tragic!

Walked in late. The room was filled with people! This never happened before. I didn't tell a soul that I hadn't finished the book but managed to p'pate in the discussion.

When I was finished, I drove over to the Barnes and Noble shopping center, book in my backpack, cruised along, trying to find a SPACE all by itself, which I did, and then ordered a meal!here, thother I just finished now.

My fingers touch the touchpad and words skip all over. Not gonna fix things.

In the middle of the night, I wrote three poems on my upstairs computer that behaves.

One was about Aunt Ethel, not to be confused with Ethelred the wise king of England, another was about baking a whole wheat challah, and the third was about buying a pair of Red Nikes, as worn by the champeen runner of the world.

Point being, that it's okay for me to have all them books on the husband's side of the bed. In addition to 1,000 books, something else came in: Your Duck is My Duck. Such terrible titles! And these writers are famous, and I'm sitting here, in my PJs made in China, my warm blue diabetic socks, listening to WXPN's countdown of 100 best songs from the 1980s, and ....

Talk soon, Marce!

Oh, I had some ideas to write about:

Letters to Dr Foxhall

Can't remember the other 22.

We've got the color cover for the Compass.

Something like this, played to the tune of, oh, Appalachian Spring by Copland.

Pine Colorado, Bailey Colorado, Pine and Bailey Neighborhoods


Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Farewell Chez Ray Sewell - Poem: All She Needed was One Yellow Capsule and She'd Still be Alive

FAREWELL TO THE FAMOUS CHEF RAY SEWELL

Bullied as a young 'un, called stupid and illiterate,
you had dyslexia, a term unknown back then.
Revenge is not your way. Instead you opened
restaurants, fed the famous, Ken Kesey, The Grateful Dead,
not for the money, but for the fun of it, my Dear Cousin Ray.
On a video you talked about your special egg omelet.
Instead of crying, though I admit I was in despair,
I made the omelet in my copper skillet.

Sauteed in butter, I added two brown eggs,
what a sumptuous sound as each egg cr-acked,
added frozen blueberries, a touch of vanilla
and cinnamon, poured into a lovely bowl
and ate Chez Ray's omelet by the light
of the moon.

***

***
In my upstairs writing room, with the Persian rug I bought in Paris on the floor, I have a photo of Ray and his mom who we called Aunt Hy.

Her mom, Gramma Green, named her "Hyacinth" which she didn't like. So she changed it to Harriet.

Hmmm. If you didn't like your name, what would you change it to?

In a talk Ray did on You Tube, he describes her as a Bohemian. Fair enough!

On the video he describes how he got a job at the French restaurant "L'Auberge" in San Francisco. My ex-husband Mike and I ate there.

Possibly the best meal I'd ever had in my life. But since I don't remember it, I'll have to find another place with THE best meal.

And, of course, Millard G Deming, is no more. Even though we'd divorced after 5-1/2 years of marriage, I felt terrible when he passed. His mother, Margie Deming, was at his funeral.

***
Do you know what Tacrolimus is?

It's one of two of my antirejection meds and I got none left. Not a single one.

Called my nephrologist's office today and they said they'd call it in to the pharmacy.

Did they?

No. So I wrote Dr Foxhall a note on his health portal, asked that he call it in to the Giant Pharmacy, where it would cost a fortune, but he hasn't read my note.

So, my 20 readers, there may be no tomorrow for your Ruth Z Deming.

Oh! I just posted my story BIRDLAND on a huge website where it's free. Thing is, there's so many posts, my audience may not see it.

And so like the auteur of Confederacy of Dunces who did himself in bc of all the rejections, your lovely host, Ruth Z Deming, may be no more.

Shall I write a post-mortum for yours truly?

ALL SHE NEEDED WAS ONE YELLOW CAPSULE AND SHE'D STILL BE ALIVE

Her nightly snack of pretzels and peanuts couldn't save her
Nor could the Israeli Coffee she bought, smooth as the sands
on the Golan Heights
And certainly not those clanking green bracelets foraged from
the remains of the Ryesky estate, though Ryesky is very much alive.

Permission hereby granted to take all of my organs
My heart that no longer thumps with joy and those
big brown eyes of mine, hazel, really, said Dr Vu,
and take whatever you please from this house
of many rooms, all of them empty now, as the
stars shine down with total disregard. 



Sunday, November 25, 2018

Poem Garbage Night - Remembering Ronald B Abrams




When I went to find a pic of the moon, which I called Big Moon, I did find the pic and it was called BIG MOON.

Before you read my poem, let's examine those shadows on the moon. What must they be? I give up. Read about them here.


GARBAGE NIGHT

Beneath Big Moon
Black Sunday Sky
Constellations
hang like puppets
eons above us.

Containers of garbage
line our quiet nine o'clock street.
For ten years in my crawl space
baby clothes lie awaiting movement.

When the furnace man checks "whazzup" under there
I ask him to drag out the plastic bags. I will not look,
but carry them, with St. Scott's help
onto the curb to await morning.

It's like babies have died.
Have been aborted.
Milk dried up in withered breasts.

Sometimes Death is the only restorer.
Death and the silence of the moon
and the magic sparkling lanterns
hung there since time immemorial.


PURSUE THE WONDERFUL is a new column in the Compass. Just sent out a notice asking ND folks to tell us something you're looking f/w to OR that you're already doing that is giving your life an extra boost.

I said I'm looking f/w to taking piano lessons with Joanna, since I bought an electric keyboard on Friday night.

Tomro, I swear I'll practice. Really?

Those darling puppets were on again tonight. The Mabel Beaton Puppets. Let's find them now.

Ready?  Aim?   Click onto Youtube?

Mabel Beaton Marionettes.

Scott remembered that the late Ron Abrams got into puppetry and showed us a video of his puppets. I'd forgotten all about it.

NOTE TO RON: We still remember you, RBA.

REMEMBERING RON

Ron, of the great laugh, the snazzy clothes, the oyster soup you once served at your apartment, how did you make your decision to be no more.

Did you tell anyone? Benfield, your doctor? Or did you simmer with it every night, putting forth the
pros and cons, like which laundry detergent to buy,

I'd call to check on you, ordering you to get on your bike and ride to the end of the world to keep yourself alive.

Such courage it took! An explosion like fireworks raining down, beautiful to see and hear, but making you, Ronald B Abrams, no longer here.













Thursday, November 22, 2018

Happy Thanksgiving! Poem for Thanksgiving - Hello Mr Turtle - Shoes

Perhaps a month ago, the gas company came out and turned off my oven.

Gas was escaping. I may be a poet, but I'm not Sylvia Plath.

Dave's Appliance came out and fixed my oven.

I was terrified to use it. Honestly. What would I bake?


Made a whole wheat challah this morning. This is a photo of a previous one.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

In my green file cabinet
I have a much-folded drawing
of the Pilgrims and rapacious
white men celebrating
Thanksgiving.

Today, November 22, 2018,
the day John F Kennedy was shot,
we celebrate once again on this
chill but sunny day here in PA.

So much to be thankful for!
Gramma Bernice, her sense of
humor intact, gently cared for by
Sister Ellen, is still Matriarch
of our ever-growing family,
hello young David and Kaia Rose
added to our Family Tree,
the Tree of Life!

What a family we have!
Irish fleeing the potato famine,
Ecuadoreans searching for educational
opportunities
Hungarian Jews needing succor
from the pogroms

Free! Many of us arrived through
Ellis Island. Our names were often
changed. We're survivors, though
we remember our beloved David Richard Greenwold,
lover of striped shirts and his ever-
present camera. And the man I can never
call Dad again.

Educators, boxers, computer experts,
therapists, coffee drinkers, vegetarians,
believers and nonbelivers, what a tasty
stew we all make.

My wish for all of you is a Happy Thanksgiving
full of joy and surcease from sorrow, just this
one day. And why not perform a random act of kindness?

Amen!

***
I ordered a new Casio Electric Keyboard from DeLuca's Music in Hatboro, PA.

$140.

Bruce couldn't find my house in the dark.

He was at the Willow Grove Giant.

With immense difficulty, I guided him to my house, beaming with lights so he could find me.

He was trying to see what I looked like when he came inside.


Minus the gator.

He was going to Doylestown to rehearse with his music partner, a hairdresser, for a gig today.



Scott took the old one home with him.

I was so excited to see him this morning. We must love one another, huh? Twelve years we've been going together.

I brewed Dunkin Donuts Coffee this morning.

It's best STEAMING HOT !

Scott and I attended Pennypack Trust the other night to hear a lecture on turtles.

They've been on earth for 250 million years.

Many people see them lumbering across the road or a path and think they're lost. They pick them up and return them to where they think they belong.


HELLO MR TURTLE

Skippy was the turtle I owned
when I was a child of 8. Oh,
how I loved that peculiar creature.

I'd pick him up and watch him
wiggle his legs, turn him over
like a doctor might, and examine
the tiny "bricks" on his back.

One day Skippy was dead. I buried
him in the backyard on Glenmore Road.

When Sarah was home she rescued a turtle
at Pennypack Trust, caught in a fisherman's
net.

Our turtle legacy continues.
Lovely shell of abstract art
Legs like Busby Berkeley dancers
A tail like an upraised lab retriever.

Live on, our Darlings, live on
despite what we're doing to
our Planet.

***

When I made the challah, I listened to Gregg Whiteside on WRTI-FM, the classical music station. When the horrible news came on, I shut it off, and turned on my audio book

RED MOON RISING by Matthew Bryzinski.



Highlights include General Dwight D Eisenhower's difficult decision to run for a second term as president. I LIKE IKE, was his slogan. He was in delicate health, with a heart condition - imagine! He led the USA to victory in World War Two!

Khrushev was the one to tell his country that Stalin had done terrible things during his reign of terror. Nikita was always embarrassed by his lack of formal education. Even Stalin had gone to seminary.

When I first woke up this morning and it was getting light, I went outside in my Starbucks apron - thank you sister Donna - and held my cup of Dunkin Donuts Coffee - and yelled:

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE.



Wanted to wear a pair of new shoes to the dinner.

Instead I returned em to Nordstrum, orig in Seattle.

When I visited Cousin Mark Greenwold and soon/divorced wife Barbara in Seattle, I saw that everyone wore b'ful shoes. He treated that woman MEAN.


NEW SHOES

Coach, a name brand.
Searched all over town for you
till I found you at the Willow
Grove mall. How the mall's
changed with time.

Before Coach, I bought some shoes
that pinched, no, squeezed
so I brought them back
to Famous Footware.

Finally at Nordstrum's Rack
at the mall I ducked into
the shoe aisle in my usual
open-toe sandals with
thick navy socks
and got to work.

On with this,
off with that,
now for the next aisle.
What's this? Silver shoes?

Slipped them on, for
the Duke in the Cinderella
tale. "They fit! They fit!"
I screamed, as I walked down
the carpet like a princess.

I brought them home, and watched
them widen and shut like
a baleen whale sucking krill.

Aghast, I watched again and again.
The prince will never marry me now,
I wept, and put them back in the
Nordstrum bag.

Saturday, November 17, 2018

A bit about Diabetes and Parkinson's disease - Poems: Standing Under the Stars in Helene's Boots - Squirrels - Chrysanthemums


Image result for furry boots




STANDING UNDER THE STARS
IN HELENE'S BOOTS

Are they really that far away?
Seems like I could stretch
my arms and scoop a handful
to play with or sleep with
in my lonely bed.

Who knows? Perhaps if I do
I would ignite and you'd see
me no more.

Or my house would light up
like the manger and we'd all
be born again, given a second chance.

SQUIRRELS

A city of squirrels
have found peace
tranquility and food
in my yard and with
their queer language
have told their friends.

How can I hate them?
They are clever
bear children without
anesthesia and
are cuteness incarnate.

Ever seen their fluffy tails?
Before the snow arrived
a squirrel greeted me
on my back porch steps.

Methinks he was thanking
me for being his
unwilling host.

***
Just ate breakfast with Scott.
How come you're not eating eggs, he asked.
I wanted something quick, I told him.

A bowl of pumpkin spice oatmeal dotted with fresh blueberries from the freezer and a scoop of peanut butter.

He told me what he heard on one of Dr Gregor's healthy talks that he'd missed.

There's a contaminant in milk that is responsible for Parkinson's Disease later in life.

That is one frigging disease you don't wanna get.

Lobbies make sure you will never hear about it.

***
Tom Sanders will pick me up at 11:15 to drive me to his wife's assisted living home in Lansdale, PA.

Image result for dock woods nursing home

Since I'll be gone much of the day I'm bringing food as well as my drug paraphernalia.

As I said yesterday, Cecilia, gave me a good report. My next visit is in March.

Told Cecilia that instead of injecting, I let my blood sugar drop naturally.

Case in point. Last night Scott and I were napping to the news.

Image result for pbs nightly news

Judy mentioned it was the second anniversary of Gwen Ifill's death.

My sugar was 220 when I went over and normal - 105 - when I came home.

Image result for yellow chrysanthemum

THE DUTIFUL CHRYSANTHEMUM

On my winter lawn, strewn with dead leaves,
she winks toward the sun. We know not
how she do it, but her yellow blooms
flirt with passersby:

The dogs who cannot reach her to tinkle on her blooms,
Bill's white truck next door,
Me, shoveling the walk, bent over double,
She awaits the dawn and the loving
Mother Sun.

I am here, I am here,
Chrysanthemum hears
her call.

Proud Winter Soldier
stay alive while you can.

Friday, November 16, 2018

Letter to Dr Desmond - Didn't die from driving in the snow bc it was all plowed

Yes, the spotted lantern fly is a real beauty. She is also a supreme destroyer, like a B-52 bomber in World War II.

Sorry about the dreadful distortion. J'ai confiance en vous and think you'll figure it out. But my poems, my poems, how shall I float them onto here.

This alert is from the EAC in Abington Township, PA.

Spotted Lanternfly Alert
The Spotted Lanternfly is in Abington.  Learn more HERE.
Perhaps you have seen it already (see attached images), perhaps you have heard about it in the news. This invasive pest has been spreading throughout Southeastern PA. The Spotted Lanternfly was confirmed in Abington.
Why these insects are a problem:
In other areas of the world, this insect has been found to be a pest to grape and tree fruit industries having the potential to cause $18-$20 billion in damage to agriculture and forestry just in the state of Pennsylvania.
What this means:
We are in a quarantine area, which means you should check your vehicles, equipment and anything that has been outside for egg masses and live insects prior to driving anywhere and especially prior to leaving the quarantine area.
What You Can Do:
If you find it at home, after positive identification, you are encouraged to kill the Spotted Lanternflies. If you have confirmed their presence, be sure to look for their egg masses, which they lay in the fall, and scrape them away. They will lay their eggs on any flat surface.

***
A real menace!

***
Lemme tell you about this blog post.

Thankfully, I was able to get on here. My damn HP computer, which I bought 2 yrs ago, allows me to send and answer emails, but I'm usually unable to go on websites.

***
Yesterday we had our first snowfall. Maybe 4 inches. Roads were a mess. I stayed indoors. Wasted the day. Scott walked to the train station at 7:10 pm in all the slush. Waited for the train for 90 minutes and made it to work on time by a little over a minute.

They wouldn't have counted him late but he does like to clock in on time.

His feet were cold and wet and he couldn't wait to change into his uniform.

Today I had a dentist appt, which I canceled, but was determined to make my Diabetes appt with Cecilia.

The appt was for 1:45 pm. I couldn't figger out what time I should leave. Wanted to give myself 35 minutes to get there. Finally I figured it out. Leave at 1 pm.



Interestingly, this blog uses the Yahoo search engine.

Hold on.... need anudder pretzel fix.

Snyder's mini's. Snyder's since 1909.

Don't worry, I'll be on my stationary bike when I finish dis.

***
The fear of death.

Yes, I was afeared that when I left home I would crash on account of the snow and die.

Yes sirree!

I shoveled for about half an hour. Very heavy snow as it was moisturized w wetness.

But the sun was shining which began the melting process.

Even tho I was afraid of dying, I mailed out many cards.

Using a plain manila folder, I cut out two cards.

Matisse did paper cutouts as an old man.



Click here to learn more. I certainly will!

Isn't this world a wild and wonderful place?

Sadly, not for everyone.

A wonderful psychiatrist suffered a massive stroke and can no longer treat his patients. I was so moved by this that I wrote him a
 note on New Directions' stationery.

Dear Dr. Desmond –

How life surprises us without our consent!

Yesterday I spoke to Donald about your wonderful treatment of his daughter Ivanka. (These are fake names.) No one could be as understanding and compassionate as you are, Dr. Desmond, spending as much time with her as she needed.

And you helped other members of our support group, New Directions. There is only one Dr. Desmond and you leave a wonderful legacy for other psychiatrists to follow.

May God or whoever it is who rules this capricious universe of ours heal you in your hour of need.

We at New Directions are forever grateful for your judicious use of medication and talk therapy.

Warm regards,

Ruth Z. Deming, MGPGP 
Founder/Director

New Directions, founded in 1986       

***
One of the cards I mailed out was shaped like a fish. Sent it to Grace and Max. Grace has a fish bowl with one lonely fish in it. 

My November novel is called Katy and the Goldfish. I read it to Judy over the phone. She liked it and gave me a couple of good suggestions.

***
As I began to drive, going downhill on Cowbell, the streets were simply great! Yes, they had plowed, but they had not prepared like they usually do, by lining the streets with - salt?

Second to thinking I was gonna die, a thought that vanished quickly, is my fear of getting lost.

I had terrible direx, which I will rewrite, with "Make a Right at the CVS."

After getting a fine review with Cecilia my confidence soared and I did all my errands. Returned a pair of ill-fitting shoes at Famous Footwear, checked out three new audio books.

In the kitchen I'm listening to.... hold on, it's right here next to me.... I'm the one in the gorgeous made-in-China jammies sitting on the red couch...

Red Moon Rising: Sputnik and the Hidden Rivalries that Ignited the Space Age
The two poems are impossible to post. They came out all over the page as if in cryptic language for fighting a war.

Help! What shall I do?

Relax, we'll simply wait till tomorrow!

Did I tell you I made hot cocoa? Delicious. Drank it from my Prince Harry and Meghan cup.

Image result for prince harry and meghan cup
I think she has African-American blood in her.

Yahoo!!!!


Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Magic Show at the Upper Moreland Library - Oven is fixed! - Poem: What's that man doing down a hole?

Image result for photo of many keys

Keeper of the Keys. Wrote this true story several years ago. Click here.

Tonight at the Upper Moreland Library was a Magic Show at 7 pm.

Read this story about Dick Gustafson and wife Joanne.

Ah, to be as productive as they are at EIGHTY-FIVE years old.

Here's his website.

I invited Eileen next door to go with me. I successfully drove in the pitch dark night, wearing my driving glasses.

Dick was a riot!

When he called for volunteers from the audience he said, Don't go turning your head to avoid me. I'm gonna call on you anyway.

He did call on me to look into a deck of cards, a quick peak, and remember the card I saw. The card arrived in a green bucket, from which we plucked the card.

King of Spades.


Wonder who designed playing cards? The Answer Man says... Click here.

Dick kept saying Find everything you wanna know in the public library!

The audience was laffing and applauding. Eileen enjoyed it immensely.

***
Finally decided to get my oven fixed, IF, that is, it can be fixed.

Teddy from Dave's Appliance was here and repaired it in about an hour an a half. Didn't need any parts. A bunch of pipes were clogged up and he thoroughly cleaned them with rags and dishwashing detergent.

Cost about $221.

Teddy remembered me from fixing my fridge. He's got five kids and lives in Hatboro.

My oven is an old fashioned Caloric which they don't make any more.

Then I wanted to bake something in the oven. My first thought was Davey Ire Pancakes my friend Helene used to make when I'd visit.



Following a recipe, adding ingredients, measuring, and using sugar was positively frightening for me to do. Swear to God!

***

Was helping a family find another psychiatrist as Dr Robert Desmond of Lansdale had a stroke and lost many of his cognitive abilities.

How tragic!

He was on our Top Doc List.

***
Wonderful show on PBS


Description: Discover the cosmological 
secrets behind America's ancient cities.
 Scientists explore some of the world's largest pyramids and 3D-scan a lost city of 
monumental mounds on the Mississippi River; native elders reveal ancient powers of the 
sky.

Followed by native Americans parading in their ancient clothing. Both surreal and magical to see them.

It was a weeper.

Over and out for today. I did send out an email alert which goes something like this, ladies and gentlemen:

Hi everyone,

Thanks to Nancy for these suggestions.

The Benefits of attending group when you are well.

Many individuals only come once, when they're depressed and rarely show up again.

The group is too depressing, they say.

We're trying to remedy this.

Would more guest speakers help? We're in the process of scheduling someone to do mindfulness and yoga.

Attending when you're well will help you stay well and you'll help others stay well.

Alcoholic Anonymous promotes this.

If you're 'slipping,' you can ask for help. Call us! Many folks have frequent or daily phone calls to lift the spirits of others.

As a subscriber to the NY Times, I don't read news that will bring me down. Same with watching films on YouTube or Netflix.

Like it or not, these penetrate our psyches and we may review them over and over again.

No matter how bad you feel, challenge yourself to do something fun.

Of course, don't go overboard on these.

Suggestions include buying something online or in person. Marshall's has great clothes at reduced prices.

Caffeine, as we know elevates our mood, tho if you drink too much you'll feel bad.

Visit Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts and order coffee, tea, or hot chocolate. Chat with the Barista (coffee-seller). I also like Starbucks' chocolate croissant, not surprising for a diabetic with a sweet tooth.

In these dreary days, keep the lights on in your home. Use a light box if you wish. Check with your psychiatrist to see if this is a good idea and go online to find the best one.

Play rousing music to lift your mood.

WHAT'S THAT MAN DOING DOWN A HOLE

They're here in front of my house
every single day. A dozen or more
no matter what the weather. Fixing
the sewer mains, in their coordinated
clothing - yellow hard hats, orange
safety vests. Do they buy them at
Marshall's or Target?

Friendly young fellows talking
their man talk. They just helped
my electrician get through.
Go now, while you've got the chance
they said to Teddy.

It's a wonderful world when you've
got a job, friends from work,
and a reason to get out of
bed in the morning.

AND DON'T FORGET TO SEND IN YOUR IDEAS FOR OUR COMPASS.

FEEL FREE to email me at RuthDeming at Comcast.net with any suggestions you have about this email or anything else.
               
***
I am wearing my new $14 pair of PJs I bought at Walmart. They are warm and soft as silk.

Will poetate about em the morrow.



Sunday, November 11, 2018

My life just changed with my announcement we'll do another Compass - Poem about Nancy -

The Times had a magnficent essay with film clips about Freddie Mercury at the LIVE AIDS CONCERT back in 1985.

Watch it on YouTube here.

I was so energized by his 26 minute performance, I decided to announce we're gonna do anudder Compass magazine. At first I thought it would just be online, but that's no fun. You need to hold it in your hands like a book and turn the pages.

B/c November 11 is the 100th anniversary of the Armistice of World War II, loads of war films are shown on TV.

I watched Bridge Over the River Quai - can you hear me whistling the famous tune? - and William Holden was ready to go home since he'd finished his tour of duty BUT he was bamboozled into blowing up the RR bridge in Burma.

Image result for blowing up bridge of river kwaiAlec Guinness gave a superb performance of a captured British officer who is helping the Japanese win the war. That's called a traitor, but he is so dedicated to his mission, he has no idea.

In the car I'm listening to THE HOBBIT.  I have no idea what it's about, yet I keep listening and listening. They just sang their second song, well done, for sure, but what the hell is it all about, Alfie?

Should I "wiki" it to find what it's about?

Watched THE GUNS OF NAVARONE with Gregory Peck.

Imagine me lying there next to Scott and watching film after film.

He slept thru every one. Weekends are his time to catch up.

Also began watching THE LONGEST DAY with an all-star cast starring John Wayne. Went home after an hour. Very cleverly done with little snippets of conversation between different groups of Americans.

And now I've just biked 25 minutes while watching MAGNUM P I

Scott opined that women wanna see sexy Tom Selleck so that's why he wears shorts and shows his manly hair. Funny how women are attracted to hair in a guy - I am! - but a woman with orangutan like hairy arms is a turn off.

Image result for tom selleck

He turned 73 in January of this year. I'll be the same age on December 25. Wonder if he's still in BLUE BLOODS.

Here's a few poems, but first I wanna share wid ya what I'll be reading in bed tonight. New sked for Pennypack Trust, Hagy's one-day trips (can't go on any as I cain't drive to Sellersville to catch the bus) and a library book about female artsts like

Helen Frankenthaler-1956.jpg

Helen Frankenthaler (1928 - 2011)

Holy Cow! She was married and divorced to Robert Motherwell.

***
WE ALL HAVE FRIENDS NAMED NANCY
I SAID TO JANICE FROM VERIZON

Nancy, they've been trying to
fix my long distance dialing
for more than a month now.

That's why I haven't called you,
Nancy, in my childhood home of Ohio.

Nancy from across the street
needs no phone call. I just
run up her huge hill,
dodging the dog poop
and ring the bell.
Bark! Bark! Bark!

There was a Nancy from Shaker
a lovely wide girl whose dad
drove us to the three-ring
circus downtown.

How we craned our necks
to watch the high-wire walkers
as the elephants marched in
smelling of, well, elephants.

A single elephant foot could crush us all
Nancys or No Nancys, like many
of us, already dead.

***

DRIVING TO OUR WRITING GROUP

I wrote something good
yes, very good, the words
flowed out like coffee
from a pitcher.

Why, then, was there only
one copy in my bag?
Printer jammed!
Printer jammed!

A worse obstacle I faced
when I got on the main road
my car shimmied and danced!

Sidled from side to side
as if I were at a country
and western dance

Titanic winds assailed
my car as if it were
nothing more than a
piece of Kleenex

Relax, I said. Relax.
Either you'll get there
in one piece
or you'll be buried
in a plain pine box.

***

SHOPPING LIST OF ANOTHER IN VERY NEAT HANDWRITING OR IS IT HANDWRINGING

tape
creamer
lactose free milk
dinner
baby dinners & fruit


Her stationery was ringed with watermelon.