Saturday, March 31, 2018

New Pope Elected in the Book I Just Finished - catching up on Daily Poems - Readying for Kidneyversity

What a great book! Quite long. My daughter Sarah reminded me that it was her husband Ethan who recommended it to me.

Was in a foolproof cocoon as I read the book. First, tho, I danced to my new favorite band, Six O'Clock News

How I enjoyed my instant coffee. Managed to take a nap with Scott as we watched the evening news. El presidente is doing very cruel things to our immigrants and to our environment. Cruel is the right word.

Theories, anyone? Undoing Obama's legacy? Showing his autocratic Putin-esque power?

When I saw the moon out tonight I knew I had to write a poem about it. I left the door open so I could bask in moonbeams. See the tiny moon above?

My neighbor, Zeke, 5, knows I love the moon. He asked me if I look out my bedroom window at it?

I certainly do, Zeke. Left his dad, Pete Lytle, a message on FB. The family is moving out on April 3. Will miss them!


You bet it is. Caught on the topmost branch
of Bob and Judy's house, staring down at their
new Pella Windows and white picket fence.

Everything glows white.
White as the skin of
Christ hanging from
the cross on Golgotha.

Were you there?

The multitudes brought
picnic lunches to celebrate
his destruction, which soon
became his liberation.

I salute the cold mirror
of the moon and the rolling
of the stone that marked
the Saviour's Rising.

Ed Quinn liked the poem and told me to read ONE SOLITARY LIFE. It's an excerpt, he said, from a series of six sermons delivered by a Protestant minister who moved from Canada to Texas in the early 1900’s.

He knows it by heart and it never fails to move him to tears.

Many years ago we had a retired pastor and his wife attend ND. All I remember about them was that for some reason, she would get catatonically depressed around him but refused to leave him. I believe he wouldn't let her get medicated and said, God will take care of you.

Hmm. I need to write a short story for tomro, might I write about dat?

Image result for billy graham

Finished my meatless chili. Listening to this audio book when I'm in the kitchen: Trevor Noah: Born a Crime, his South African childhood. His crime? He was the son of a black woman and a colored man. He looked white.  Excellent!

And who opened up the pasta sauces? Why, Tucker did, part of the family who are moving.

I keep our family abreast of who's bringing what foods to the party.

What? No meat? Nikki said.

It will be taken care of.

Laboriously, I changed my sheets for when Sarah and Ethan sleep here. It takes literally an hour.

Here's some daily poems I wrote on Facebook:

Image result for la fitness pool

Used to belong to LA Fitness and loved to swim.

One of my fave swims was when Sarah, Ethan and I were aboard the Jazz Cruise ship about a year ago. I swam in a salt water pool on the top deck. It was so damn cold I thought I'd freeze to death, yes, I did!

Read all about it.


 I have never learned to swim. I have never voluntarily immersed myself in any sea or stream. - Gerald Murnane, writer from Australia

The kings and queens of fitness
arrive early, shower, towel off
and plunge into the blue blue
waters of the lap pool.

I know. I was once one of them.
Swimming's like meditating.
Think of anything you like.
How delicious bananas are.
The jonquils lifting up their
pretty yellow heads in the backyard.

Ascending the ladder to leave.
I realize not I will never be back.



Sure, I sleep in it
It's cold up here in the
Philadelphia winters

When I took it off
this morning
how surprised I was
to find

A tiny bird's nest
with two blue eggs
ready to hatch

I heard them crack
even though a Pella Window
truck was backing in
across the street

The dark-eyed juncos
flitted across the living room
Before they could poop
I ran downstairs,
grabbed my newly painted birdhouse
and popped them inside.

Outside they are.
Hope they're happy
and prosper, and like
their window as much
as my neighbors like
their Pella's. 

Hello Roly-Poly groundhog in back yard.

The night before I had a terrible dream. A furry animal was caged in a large glass jar. I was panic-stricken and had no idea how he'd get out. I was the furry animal. I looked for Sarah to help me out but she was nowhere to be found.

The next morning I did a double-take when I saw the ground-hog.

My niece Jade made a video about the Delaware River. Watch it on YouTube here.

You'll never guess who commented on it.


We played badminton
on the back lawn
Where's the birdie?
The shuttlecock in

There I'd go, flat
on my belly
making a save

Just like in later
years, we'd play
volleyball at
Masons' Mill Park

Broke my wrist
while making a save

Two breaks then
Wrist and ankle
What'll they think
of me when they open
my King Tut's tomb?

Monday, March 26, 2018

Driving at Night - To Catch a Thief - Bird houses are up in my front yard

Image result for photo of night sky

Driving at night is not my favorite thing to do, but I did drive to Giant b/c I needed ingredients to make soup with. Onions mainly. The salad bar was closing so I couldn't spoon out peppers of all colors and celery.

My sugar had been terribly low, so I bought more Glucose Tabs - Hannah and Donna warmly welcomed me and said they lost a lotta clients to CVS, due to insurance reasons.

How are they treating you? asked Hannah.

Great! I never leave the car. Drive-thru.

Still, the traffic pattern once you pull into the CVS is dangerous. I go slow as a cat.

Helen was still open at the Chinese kiosk, so for $8 I ordered chicken and green beans. A really sickening article appeared in the Times - kind of muckraking article and why not? - about adding antibiotics to chickens.

Could not find the link but it contributes to the growing obesity of Americans. Each year we get fatter and fatter.

I don't. I stay the same. I do try to lose weight but never do.

Image result for chinese food     Took the Chinese food to the Food Court, now the Starbucks Court, and began eating.

Since the court was closed, there were no napkins available so I went into the bathroom and got a long tail of toilet paper. Apparently, to save money, they only use hand dryers, not towels.

The food was very spicy - never knew dat - so to cool off I dug into my plastic container of salad ingredients - honeydew and strawberries and cole slaw.

And then I saw the drama.

A young attractive blonde had been spotted by a Starbucks employee stealing a bunch of stuff. Truthfully, if I could have, I would have moved.

Very unpleasant.

Fortunately I couldn't hear the dialogue up at the beer/wine checkout, and everything was soto voce, no arguments.

At the end the woman left and said Thank you.

Apparently she'd been there the day before and also stole things. No one confronted her. The guy did an imitation of her walking - her arms were held straight out since they were filled with bottles of beer.

The thank-you was for not calling the cops. Yesterday they arrested two shoplifters and did call the cops.

When I was in grad school for psychology, my teacher Joyce Keene told us that there are many reasons why people shoplift. 

Hold on. Lemme see what's on TV.

A show on metaphysics... dying.


Sure, I sleep in it
It's cold up here in the
Philadelphia winters

When I took it off
this morning
how surprised I was
to find

A tiny bird's nest
with two blue eggs
ready to hatch

I heard them crack
even though a Pella Window
truck was backing in
across the street

The dark-eyed juncos
flitted across the living room
Before they could poop
I ran downstairs,
grabbed my newly painted birdhouse
and popped them inside.

Outside they are.
Hope they're happy
and prosper, and like
their window as much
as my neighbors like
their Pella's.


Was leaving for my volunteer job at the adult daycare center so I had to tiptoe my car around the Pella Iowa people.

That's it for now. Mailed my friend Marcy three copies of the Compass. She lives in California. Eight bucks.

Figured out how to resolve a difference I had with a good friend who used to write The Pursue the Wonderful Column for the Compass.

Will send her a copy. Thank you Jesus for helping me to think of that. Yes, I'm still reading CONCLAVE about the choosing of a new Pope.

Dramatis Extensius... or, tremendously dramatic things happened today as I read before my nap.

Went to Scott's to watch the news, hoping to avoid the Stormy Daniels incident, but I came right in the middle.

When she and Trump were walking together they looked like a loving couple, I swear to God.

Image result for trump and stormy daniels 
Off to watch the metaphysics show.

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Information for Loved Ones from New Directions Support Group

This is very important information!

New Directions was founded by myself in 1986, when manic-depression - Bipolar One - struck me out of the blue. I was the divorced mother of two young children, Sarah and Dan.

I've devoted most of my life to helping heal people with bipolar disorder, anxiety, depression, schizoaffective disorder and schizophrenia.

Many of these people have great gifts!

If you are having problems, do not hesitate to call your psychiatrist. That's what they're for!

We've helped loads of people find competent, caring psychiatrists.

Recently, a wife I'll call "Amy" called and asked me how she could help her husband "Harry."

As you may know, there is a high divorce rate among people with bipolar and/or depression. We'd like to help keep couples together.

A married couple we know - George and Ann - had a big house in Abington. When they quarreled or couldn't get along, they'd each move into separate quarters.  I still remember their dachsund. They passed away several years ago.

Amy must realize that Harry will speak to his psychiatrist if he's in trouble. Her support, though, is crucial. She can't possibly understand what he's going through. 

I advised Amy to read our 2018 Compass magazine.

Below is a video we made in 2014 about our group.

Click here.

Carole and Greg Hodges run our loved ones' group at Abington Presbyterian Church and do an outstanding job! We're so appreciative of their common sense and dedication.

Many spouses become "clingy." Both the diagnosed member and the spouse.

During crises, this is fine, but after the person is stabilized, we discourage it.

Each individual is a separate person who lives his/her own life with their own interests, hobbies, and friends of both sexes.

I like to hang out with fellow writers and poets.

Many people in New Directions have wonderful, long-lasting marriages. 

In 2013, I published YES I CAN:  My Bipolar Journey.

I'm a psychotherapist in private practice at my home in Willow Grove, PA.

Best way to get better is to have good meds and talk therapy. Did you know that talking stimulates neurons in the brain?

We also advocate for exercise and eating healthy.

What did you have for breakfast today?

Oh, you skipped it?

Not a good idea. At New Directions we partner with the nutritionist at Giant Supermarket.

   Here's Mary Ann Moylen talking to us in the Giant Coffeeshop about eating well.

Since Mary Ann moved, Christina Fava-Bean is her able replacement.

Here are other resources for spouses.

Learn as much as you can about bipolar and the other conditions your spouse suffers from.

Here's a talk I gave at the Doylestown Wellness Center where I discuss what to do about suicidal thoughts. How do I know? I've experienced them many a time. As have my friends.

Click here for a good read with loads of information

   Bruce Uhrich, M.Ed, has always hosted us. He's retired now.

John O'Reardon, MD, gave several talks at our group. Here's one. Johnny, as his patients call him, came to America from England by winning a lottery to allow in new immigrants.

Click here for very informative info.

  Dr John P O'Reardon

In addition, in my role as Founder/Director of New Directions, I write periodic guest columns in the Doylestown-PA based Intelligencer to widen understanding of mental illness, dispel myths about us, and lessen prejudice.

Related image

C'est moi. Wore this warm sweater to our every Saturday writing group and boasted, I got this sweater at a very expensive store:  Walmart.

In April, I'm celebrating the seventh anniversary of my kidney transplant. Sarah and I are hosting a party.


Saturday, March 24, 2018

Poem: Trust - Hello Cousin Lloyd, Pea Soup, Asparagus Mushroom Quiche

Was biking and listening to the radio instead of reading. Realized now was the time to write a poem about Facebook.


I trust the tall trees across the street
snow nibbling into their armpits and crotches

I trust the lights in neighbors' windows
in the evening

I trust my solar lights framing the sidewalk
to cast shadows and lead me out of the wilderness

I trust Bob's white picket fence in the back yard
where his poodles go to relax and to bark

I trust Johnny Meister and The Blues Show
honoring Denise LaSalle and her 24-hour woman
who doesn't want no part-time man

I trust the warmth of my polka-dot PJs, black socks
and layers of comforters to keep me warm

No trust for Facebook who done me and you and
all God's chillen wrong.

Where's your shame? Your red cheeks? Whatcha
gonna tell your high-class children? Cheat,
lie, money's all that matters?

Don't be that way. We're mad at you but we
ain't gonna quit ya.

MARK ZUCKERBERG said it was "A breech of trust." Read more here.

Zuckerberg on data debacle: 'It was a breach of trust'  He's with a woman who basically had her entire life story stolen from her.


 He's chewing Ellen's Cinnamon Covered Pecans or walnuts. What a head of hair he has. A psychologist who studied at McGill University in Montreal, we always learn new things when he comes to town.

Mom is all ears, except when she falls asleep. She had a busy day making her famous pea soup - we used to put cut-up "wienies" in it -and Ellen, our gracious host, made an asparagus-mushroom quiche. I ate a quarter of the pie.

Quiche eaten with huge soup spoon.

Wonder how the Auchincloss Family would like Mom's place settings. Am continuing apace in the book.


Good turnout at our Writers' Group.

I love visiting houses where I've never been before. After a very narrow entrance, I followed the voices into the living room. There they were! What a glorious sight! I love these people.

Donna presented another truthful poem about prejudice against those with mental illness.

Her brother Bob wrote about a walk on the beach.

Rem read Episode 48 of Randy Package. Great reader with different voices doing his clever dialog. He is thinking of retiring in Las Vegas. His late wife Valerie simply loved driving back and forth above the city, looking down on all the lights.

Linda wrote another brilliant fantasy/sci fi piece. Very raunchy. And funny. She's gotta submit it. Twisted Sister will take it, suggested Rem.

Linda was wearing a boot over her sprained ankle. She keeps it on all night. I wore one a couple yrs ago.

Ken, our host, wrote a true story about choosing to die b/c of an intolerable situation. The man in question had been a 17-yo football player who became a quad when his spine was broken after a play on the field.

He waited maybe 28 yrs before choosing death, sustaining himself with fantasies of being with various gorgeous girls he knew. Stormy Daniels, Trump's playmate, was not among them.

We met in the living room at the Ivins' house, a room rarely used. It had two skylights above that came with the house.

His dog Buddy made herself at home next to me, as I was sitting on the carpeted floor.

I wrote a true story called TRAV about what it's like living in the Travis Family House. Mom remembered their name.

Made a good start on the piece but have lots more to do. Par example, when I declined buying their living room couch, I learned later that they tossed it in the little woods behind our house.


Called neighbor Nancy M across the street this morning to ask her about the Travis Family.

In fact, she wrote me just now telling me she got tears in her eyes when she read my true story Tucker and The Holocaust Survivor.

Made me feel great!

Back to Lloyd. His Parkinson's is slow-growing. I asked. He's constantly getting new clients as he's listed as taking several insurances. People find him due to location and insurance, just like here.

He has a new bipolar patient who is very challenging.

He also runs a Dream Group. One person talks about a dream they had and others respond as if it were their dream.

He has a client with ADHD. He wrote down what he does for them and I sent it to someone in New Directions.

Lloyd has him hooked up to a neurofeedback machine with fast frequency 25-50 herz  EEG, gamma activity.

Thinking about you, Capitano, I ended up saying, unless you're a General by now.

STOP EATING THOSE GODDAMN PRETZELS! At first I dipped em in Philadelphia cream cheese and chives n onions. Mary Ann taught me to eat protein with my carbs.

Mom will mail this to Aunt Selma in South Euclid, OHIO for her 100th birthday. She made it from material we had at the Now and Then Shop.

I brought a supply of the 2018 Compass for when the mishpucha come to visit.

Ellen was our excellent hostess.

She drank coffee before bed and was up until four in the morning.

Lloyd told us about his coffee drinking. He sits in his chair and has half a cup of coffee. Then he meditates, attaining certain higher states. He wants to remain in the present moment for as long as possible.

  Buddha used to reside at LeRoy's Flower Shop in Hatboro, PA, until someone finally purchased him/her.

Hanover PA Eagle Cam - Bella Mused Online - Poem: Bubby Babysits Max

Hard to see but this is the famous Eagle Cam in Hanover, PA. Eagle mama was brooding two eggs. Snow storms would cover mama but she and papa, who would fly in with food for mom, would dig themselves out of the snow and all seemed fine.

But how we worried when those inches and inches would fall.

Finally tragedy struck. The eagles left the eggs unattended and the Eagle Cam rangers declared the eggs "no longer viable." There are theories about what had happened, including "another woman." View info here.


Last night I worked on the last draft of my 600-word guest editorial for the Intell. I titled it SHOOTINGS TELL NOTHING ABOUT GREAT PEOPLE WITH MENTAL ILLNESS. In it I described what happened to Gabby Giffords after she was shot in 2011 in a Safeway Parking lot where she was addressing constituents.

Freda gave her okay about the story. "Beautiful," she said when she called me.


When Bella Mused Online first started contacting writers about whether our works were accepted or not, I was furious that she hadn't taken my great short story Summoned, which I submitted somewhere else. "Unsubscribe me," I wrote back.

But when Lisa Shea, the editor, sent us the complete issue yesterday, I found I hadn't done so badly.

Read Spring Issue here.

W/o looking now - am in a hurry as I must write short story for Beehive - here's what Her Grace published of mine:

I forced more forsythia which only took about two days to bloom.

My poem: Forcing Forsythia in January
My one-act play: The Blizzard
True Story: Mary, The Pizzelle Maker and the Apartments of Doom
Fiction: The Hitchhiker

The writing is of high quality. 

Eggs? Mushrooms? Spinach?

I'll be in the freezing cold kitchen making my breakfast.

My piggy bank I made outa clay many years ago. Next to it is a clay biz card holder I made.


Bubby, he cried, when I pried open
the stuck front door, running up
for a kiss, gotta eat first, I said,
putting my salad on the table.

Dan kissed me too. Mom, he said,
I'll be downstairs for two hours.

Fine, I said, excited to spend
time alone with this fine young
man, always in a hurry with the
rest of his fam.

YouTube photos mean nothing.
We stared at one another.
Wide-open light-shimmering
brown eyes, offically hazel,
like mine, I'm sure.

Asked him what I was eating. He
never heard of radishes or
cabbages, but knew the other
fellers on the plate.

He was on his iPad, each
box in his brain fully engaged
in NOW. The moment I was done
he pulled out a Zoo Puzzle.

We sat on the hardwood floor.
Dyou like butterflies, he said.
Sure, I said. Most people do.

Most people! How many is that?

Thousands, I said. No, millions.

He asked how many times I'd seen butterflies.

Oh, I suppose thousands of times. And you?

More than a thousand, he said.

Always he wanted to know "How many times."

What are butterflies made of, he wanted to know.

Sugar and spice and everything nice, I said. No,
that's girls.

I really don't know, Max.

The puzzle is 46 pieces, he said, and
had it finished before I could digest my
spinach and mushrooms.

Lemme come around and see it, I said.
He started tearing it apart and I kept
holding down his hands and he laughed and laughed.

You have so much to play with in your house
you never have to leave home, I said.

I picked up a dime on the floor.

What's this? I asked.

A penny, he said.

It's a shiny dime, I said. Worth ten pennies. Let's put
it in your piggy bank.

Upstairs we ran to mom's room. There on a high shelf was
a racing car. He dropped the dime in the slot.

I gotta hold on, I said, when we went downstairs.
Steps as steep as at Cinderella's ball.
Slide down on your butt like a do, said Max.

Bubby walked carefully in her black socks, feeling
the cool floor through a toe hole.

Books books books!
No question. The Richard Scarry anthology.

As he turned the pages with his sweet little fingers
he announced we must choose our favorite object on
each page. Amending it immediately we could choose
two, no, as many as we wanted.

So much to look at! What dyou wanna be when you
grow up? the page asked by the trains.

A conductor, he said. I taught him the word
"engineer" which is what the train driver
is called.

If you could get a pet, I asked. What would you choose?
Easy. A snake!

Oh, that's right, I said. I forgot you like snakes.
Not a python or a rattler, he said, just a regular
snake, a good snake.

Suddenly Daddy burst through the basement door.
I'm finished, he said, sitting on the sofa in the
living room.

Max ran over and climbed in his lap.
I love you, Daddy.
I love you, Max.

With that, I excused myself and drove home at rush hour
going a very long way by accident.

Thursday, March 22, 2018

Finally published - Tucker and the Holocaust Survivor - Poem: The Former First Lady Tries Yoga

View the true story at Literary Yard. Thank you Onkar Sharma of Mumbai India.

Click here.

Onkar always chooses a perfect image.

mika-ruusunen-368862-unsplash  Ed Quinn called to tell me how much he liked the short story. Made him cry at the end.

I wrote it about a year ago and could not find a publisher, including the Jewish Exponent, who kept me waiting for weeks.

Anyhow, I feel great about it and am moving forward.

Wrote a Letter to the Editor to the Inquirer about the great service from SEPTA during the repeated snow falls we've had.

And, Guy P from the Intell and Courier Times said to go ahead and write a guest column in response to the recent school murders.

Freda is reviewing it now.

Here's my morning poem:

From the Geraldine S Dodge Foundation:

Poetry of the Body:
Led by a certified yoga instructor, participants will explore yoga as poetry of the body through a combination of gentle poses, guided meditation, listening to poetry and taking pauses for writing and reflection. Movement and mindfulness will become writing prompts in this special session.


We guide her gently, as she remembers
that husband of hers, yes, she loved him,
would run through the corridors of hell
with him

Was he a winner or loser? The Checkers speech,
the humiliating treatment as VP by his beloved Dwight
D Eisenhower.

Relax, now, Pat, we said, placing our hands gently
on the kinks in her neck, sitting inside loud helicopters
she always thought would crash, her pocketbook
beside her.

China she loved. They treated her with deference.
She slouched in China, watched ballets, operas. As a
kid she loved General Tso Chicken.

That final helicopter ride out of the White House.
"Shave, dammit," she told Tricky Dick before they
boarded the helicopter.

"It's so sad, It's so sad," she said.

My front door had smudge marks on it so I put the cat photo on it plus the white azaleas.

Last night I finished my collage and neighbor Pat K hung it up today, after shoveling w his friends. He selected the space and it looks great.

Push pins.

Helen thought the mini-egg cartons were pill boxes.

I'd guess the mobile took about five hours to make. I walked around a lot, thinking. In the Obama portrait book, there are marvelous shots of him thinking.

I particularly like the huge crab hanging down on one of the jutting-out arms.

The Eagles' emblem.

Just finished reading Obama: An Intimate Portrait by official White House photographer Pete Souza.

Image result for barack obama an intimate portrait

I bought the book on Amazon. Here's Pete's website.

Lunch was a chick pea salad with tangerines, pecans, sunflower seeds, tuna fish, mayo, pepper and paprika.


My sugar is normal now - 111 - so before I go to Scott's I've gotta eat something. How about salted pretzel rods and peanuts?

Got a new book out of the library. Of all the books I'm reading, this is the best!

Great research job, J. Randy Taraborrelli, who's written many other great bios. While reading, I practiced saying his name dozens of times but still can't remember it!

Taraborelli, taraborelli, taraborelli - several names in one. 

Now, in his new book Jackie, Janet & Lee: The Secret Lives of Janet Auchincloss and Her Daughters Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and Lee Radziwill, author J. Randy Taraborrelli takes an intimate look at the sisters’ complicated relationship with the shipping magnate, and reveals for the first time what really happened when Lee learned her sister was marrying Onassis five years after John F. Kennedy’s death. Below, publishes an exclusive excerpt.

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Scott goes to work early - Newest collage - what shall I name it? - Poem: Two Fingers - The Best Soft Drink of Them All

Scott made an early SEPTA train in case the later trains stopped running.

If he can't get home tomro, he's got plenty of food at work.

I called him up - he'd already left -  and said I was downstairs and listening to the Nightly Biz Report on PBS and did not hear Tyler Mathisen's voice.

Sure enough, he got a new job.

He left on excellent terms with his former colleagues.

Image result for tyler mathisen   
He has a blog and I left a comment.

This is a Nature Collage. "The End of our Natural World" or is that too pessimistic.

Story of the collage. I bought my grandson Max, 4, a huge dinosaur which came in a gorgeous box which of course I saved.

Today, with the snow falling all around, was the perfect day to work on it.

When I went into the kitchen while it was still light, I thought, I'm cocooned by the snow.

 Worked in the living room where the light was good. Turned around so I cast no shadows on my work.

Used calendars I keep for postcards I send to friends.

Tools included scissors and stapler and Scotch Tape, real Scotch Tape.

Used Magic Markers. 

Hold on. Let's see what's on TV.

Something really good on NOVA, up I go.


My imagination flags, thinking of good things
to eat. Healthy things, to keep my body young,
supple, like the way I feel inside. Mary Martin
in green outfit swinging from ropes in Peter Pan.

Will visit Mom later in the day. She loves the
shrimp egg rolls prepared by Helen in the Chinese
kiosk at the Giant.

I hold up two fingers for two egg rolls, not realizing
it's the victory symbol from World War II
or the peace symbol as in Give Peace a Chance.

Folks say the world's no better or worse than
it's always been. Trump's inanities, school shootings,
reversals of sexual assault convictions.

That's me, burying my head on the pillow,
beret snug on my head, thinking about
absolutely nothing.


Coke? Diet Coke? Sprite or Dr Pepper?
You may read something like this in a book:
She brought out a pitcher of lemonade
on a silver tray.

Lemonade's my favorite drink of all.
Since I'm on a weight loss campaign
I drink it without sugar.

I sip it slowly so I can taste the
true taste of lemon.

Try it and see if you don't agree.


When I worked as a therapist at Bristol-Bensalem Human Services I used to drink Diet Dr Pepper.

The place became condos with rocking chairs on the front porches, which are now covered with 7 inches of snow.

View the incorrect info here.

TALENT AFTERNOON at New Directions, 2012.

View it here.

Photo by the late Ron Abrams.

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

Distribution of Compass - Poem: Happy Easter - Update from Rem at bottom

Picked up 150 copies this morning.

Everything I did this morning was to hurry up for when the snow came down. It began flurrying about an hour ago. Maybe 3 pm.  I quickly deposited my garbage in the compost heap.

Onions, tangerines, egg shells, bananas.

Mark's Buxmont Stationers is next to the post office.

So I mailed out the Compass to far-away people including Harriet whose photo of the Key Largo Florida marina is on the cover. Also Ada, Judy Kroll, Iris Aronson Fuller.

Ed Quinn is here now. He took the two cartons of Compass out of the trunk.

Wrote a poem about my egg breakfast.


When I was a kid
I'd make my Easter Bonnet
out of a paper plate
festooned with Gramma's buttons
and ribbons of all colors -
red, purple, yellow

Jesus was a rebel -
does he wait for us
when we pass? Or is it
just a sweet sad song?

Easter will hit us
on April 1. I'll go
outside, hear the
woodpeckers and crows,
view the tulips,
iris and crocus
and sip on my
tea as I celebrate
the seventh anniversary
of my kidney transplant.

I keep flowers on my ladder in the kitchen.

Yellow orchid and refresher of yellow forsythia.

Ed collects pens. Write with it, he said, you'll see good it feels.

The pen is a replica of a hunting rifle cartridge.

A German family makes the ink cartridges. This, after all, is a ball point pen.

The outside of the pen is made here in America by a metal artist. His work is rare but he's retired now.

Ed submitted several excellent articles.

Ed and I drove his rented Chrysler to Linda Barrett's house to give her the Compass.

 To start the car you press a button. Is it called a fob?
 Linda sprained her ankle.

 The modern 88-yo woman shovels her driveway. I guess she wears an ID badge to show she's not a recent immigrant.
 Okay, here I go, a-snooping.

Red amaryllis.
 Lovely wreath.
Abigail Hughes and mom Maria.

They picked up some Compass. Abigail, on left, wrote an exellent piece called Alternative Therapies.

"We have hardly any blacks," I said, "I promise to remember your name next time." Mom comes from Antigua and daughter has a slight accent.

They were very disappointed to miss Ed's talk tonight on Neuroplasticity.

Ed had a great idea!

We'll do it at one of our Saturday Giant meetings!!!

One of Linda's hobbies is making pillows with old T-shirts. I use a Pennypack Trust cushion, one of about 12 I have on my bed.

What a delicious dinner I had.

Salmon, onions and capers.

The salmon was frozen. I have loads of frozen foods. Fingers crossed the electricity doesn't go off.

One year the late Tony Garofola delivered it. We went to the Motherhouse of Holy Redeemer Church. They invited us to have lunch with them.

A good reason to become a nun. Good food, no money worries, and you can just pretend you're praying.

When I looked up Tony and me driving I did find this other blog entry here.

I'm always trying to think of a catchy way of ending my blog. Tonight at 7:53 pm, it's Enjoy each and every day. You don't know when you'll keel over dead!

Image result for tombstone  Action News said the storm will stall over Philadelphia, possibly giving us over a foot. ABC News reported that this time Philly will get it worse than NYC or Boston. It will be bad tomorrow afternoon. I have to report to work. I want an exit plan from my boss. This time I might want to walk home from Roslyn.--Rem