Tuesday, June 30, 2020

Today, June 30, is the last day I can legally drive

Oh, just do it, I said.

Got in the car - I NEVER buckle my shoulder harness as my shoulder is still in recovery from severe trauma - and wore my snug Clarke shoes and white RedWing socks, backed out of drive way, and off I went.

My goodness, I thought, I am a really good driver.

I slide past parked cars & never touch em.

Waved to ponytailed Dinerstein and his cohorts.

Am waiting to receive something in the mail from the Commonwealth of PA that will allow me to get my car inspected.

My goal for today was to clean up my littered living room/dining room.

Goal will move into Day Two the morrow.

Photo please - of what, senorita - oh, just figure it out. You're all growed up now, remember?




Front yard looks awfully nice.

So colorful!

Spent a couple of hours tonight watching and sleeping to C-Span.





Good night for good, Roger Kahn, author of BOYS OF SUMMER.

Just think, he might have wrin BOYS OF SUMER.

Sumer

Earliest civilization, in Mesopotamia.

Read all about it, but in cuneiform.

Click here.

Sumer is located in Near East



The Land of Milk and Honey - Patrick, our neighborhood bee keeper

Did you know that The Land of Milk and Honey is right here on Cowbell Road?

I kid you not, as Jack Paar would say.

Neighbor Patrick is a beekeeper.

And, yes, he's been stung, as happens to most aviarians. I just made up that word and hope it's correct.

Pat brought me two jars of honey. I asked him to open one of the jars.

The top reads COWBELL HONEY, and, in fact, is a collection of locations where the bees roam.

A large honeybee is on the lid.




As we see, the bee finds nectar from clover.

Bees are female and roam fairly close to home so they won't wear out their delicate wings.

Thanks, Internet, for the info.

I guess they're all safely nestled in bed now, since it's twilight.

Pat told me he is reading Sarah's book GRAVITY. He bought it and loves it!

I guessed it took her about two years to write.

Correct, Sarah Lynn?

Am reading two great books now, trying to control myself and not go overboard on Z reading.

THE BOYS OF SUMMER by Roger Kahn. Unbelievably, Kahn's father just died. Had a heart attack on the sidewalk.

Reminds me of our Robert Rovine, who was walking his dog and fell dead on the sidewalk.

GOLDA I am also reading. Just learned her name is spelled Meir.

I'd sent Scott a URL of Disaster Films.

My friend, Debbie said, Oh, I guess you like em b/c of what you've been through with bipolar disorder.

Not at all, I said.

They're just very suspenseful like that film with Robert Mitchum where he was stalking and trying to kill a family aboard a sloop.

CAPE FEAR.

1961.

Gotta buy me a hat like dat.

Ya gotta know how to crease it.

Am outa here and off reading THE BOYS OF SUMMER.





Another walk - Must listen to WRTI FM !!! Poem: Oh Goddard How I Love Thou

Am waiting to see if my short story is accepted.

Walked around the block with wet hair.

I may look like a scraggy ole witch, but do I care?

All you need are a few people to love you, right?

Pretzels anyone?

OH!!!!  Pucinella is on WRTI-FM.

Based on a tune by Pergalisi.

Hold on, lemme find this awesome musick!!!

Click here.

I forgot it was written by Igor Stravinsky.




First heard it when I was on my way to Goddard College in Plainfield, VT.

Goddard is in big trouble, financially.

They also lost their accredidation.

Just donated $20 in June. They emailed today wanted more money.

Tempting, but I did nuffin.

OH GODDARD HOW I LOVE THOU

Unleashed from my parents for the first time
Goddard was a retreat in the rolling hills
of Vermont.

I was a girl who had never worn a pair
of hip-hugging jeans, or low-cut blouses

Who had never eaten grinders with ham
and onions and flavored potato chips

We ate healthy back home
weren't even allowed soda pop

I learned how to curse,
and the words became part of me

Best was playing the harpsichord
in the Haybarn Theater
Wanda Landowska and I
were best friends
and still are.




Listen to Goldberg Variations here.

Read about Wanda here.

Please do. Tremendously interesting!!!

And that means YOU !!!

Hot Coffee - Poem: The Way to Drink Coffee

I was so excited to drink coffee this morning.

I meant to drink MAXWELL HOUSE but instead I got Coach Iris's BROWNIE EXPLOSION. I made it in my Chemex Coffeemaker with 4 sets of filters.

Delicious.



Then I called HAR at Manatawney Manor to tell her I drank the coffee in her small clear cup.

Look, it's right next to me now.

We discussed the old days when she'd invite me over to her house on Bauman Drive and had me choose what cup to drink out of.

She did remember.

Sip. Sip.

Really nice flavor. Thanks Iris.

THE WAY TO DRINK COFFEE

It's like drinking fine wine.
After you quaff,
Get it to the back of your throat
and taste.
Savor.
Savor
Savor.
Then sip again.
Life's like that.

Monday, June 29, 2020

How I Prepared for my walk

Must have been close to 90 degrees when I walked.

Doused my head with water.

Walked down my street and made a right onto difficult Sleighride Road.

Hilly, as I walked in my sensible shoes, oy veh!

Eagles Lair Landscaping was there.




I knew that when I got home, music would greet me. Classical on WRTI-FM.

Oh, I suppose I should drink a glass of water.

Before I left three insistent phone calls rang.

SPAM, SPAM, SPAM.


SHINY RED CAR

Nearly home, I waved at young Patrick mowing
then glanced at the shiny red car on the corner,
Mazda, made mostly in Japan
imagined sitting inside and eating a picnic lunch
corned beef on rye
dill pickle from the barrel
cole slaw & potato salad
and then lying down
for my afternoon nap.




Relaxing on red couch

What a nice relaxing day I've had.

Early on, I walked around the block. As fast as I could. Wore my blue culottes and 'tree shirt.'

Got up very late as I went to bed around 4 am.

Am trying to keep New Directions together. Emailed them MY NEDA, suggested by Kendra, a documentary on the brutality toward women in Iran.

Listened to Terry Gross on Fresh Air. Her guest was Rhiannon Giddens, What a talented singer she is. The banjo, she said, is originally from Africa. Her mom is black and her dad white. They had to move to another county in North Carolina so they could marry.

Rhiannon studied opera at Oberlin but never graduated. She sang in her operatic voice.

Terry Gross was very appreciative as is Ruth Z Deming.

Just watched a fairly good film called LAD.

View this award-winning film here.

The British scenery is spectacular.

I had to get used to Tom's bad temper.

For lunch I ate Ralstan Purina. I doubled the recipe and added peanut butter for protein. The peanut butter was weeping oil.

At last I got my act together to call Freda and Bernie. They were so glad to here from me.

Doesn't that make you feel great?






Don't forget, said Freda, we're 94 years old.

They live at Paul's Run in Philadelphia, which they love !!!

Gonna open my front door and see what the weather is like.

Not fit for man nor beast.

Actually I may go for an abbreviated walk.

My sister Lynn critiqued a short story I wrote last night - tentatively titled THE CROSSWORD PUZZLE - and I'd like to submit it somewhere new.

I've never discovered a new lit mag that likes my work.

RELAXING ON RED COUCH

Proust spent his life in bed writing his masterpiece
À la recherche du temps perdu
A book that moved me not

For breakfast I brought my Hungry Hens omelet
to couch and gobbled it up, wanting more

As I read the awful news from The New York Times
We do not like el presidente
and long for his defeat come November
may he feel what it's like, the racist, 
to be in George Floyd's shoes. 




Sunday, June 28, 2020

Mom, please forgive me

FORGIVE ME MOM

Was just turning off the AC
when I saw your cloisonne beads
on the Honeywell meter

I may have stolen them from you

You bought me many lamps
you had such great taste
around this lamp are a pair
of beads, round ones, remember them?

These are strung on a single white line
each one a beauty, a masterpiece
hand-made, I'd guess, on one of your
farflung trips you went with your late friend
Jill, o dear god, they all died, but you,
Dear Mother, forgive me for stealing, and
you, too, Mama, were once a great beauty
your mother never told you, the shrike,
but Daddy did. Our own true sweet Daddy did.



Poem while sitting on Scott's Bench

POEM WHILE SITTING ON SCOTT'S BENCH


Something's wrong. Though stifling outside
you can't continue reading in air-conditioned
comfort while the world prattles about outside.

Wearing my blue hat that covered my messy
white hair, I sat myself on Scott's bench
on his covered front porch.

Covered? Yes with insects that sought to pierce
my lily-white skin, as I read GOLDA, pausing
to view the - yes- red-headed woodpecker at
one of his feeders - and on tother one a Red
Prince, clothed in bright red fevvers
the grandest man around.

I jerked, remembering a dream that woke me up
this morning. A tiny beloved cat, Xena, was
in the road ripe to get run over.

"Golda" was a call to arms, Israel here we come.
Filled with philosophy, Schopenhauer,
Hegel, pogroms, was Thomas Aquinas in there?

Once Simon the Christain explained his importance
over the phone, while I snuggled in Mom's Chinese
maroon drapes.

Other Christians followed a different road led by
Saint Augustine.

Simon and Mom and Millard, dead.

The earth, according to the greatest sages of our time -
Tolkien, C S Lewis, Albert Einstein and the organist
Schweitzer, too, bear theories - only theories  -

of what will happen to me on this bench, where I
slap another pest -

Get thee home, inject your insulin in the flab
around your belly, and delve into your bean soup
with DQ for dessert.

And then you MUST listen to Sound the Trumpet by Henry Purcell.

Click speakers here and you will feel you will never die.

Happy Birthday Amy - Pressing flowers - The Lady from Shanghai

June 29.

I'll never forget the day.

Our youngest sister Amy was born.

Here's a poem my sister Lynn wrote

A    Amy
M   My only 
Y    Younger sister
G    Glad our
R    Relationship is
E    Enjoyable and
E    Everlasting ❤️
N    Now I
W   Wish you an
O   Outstanding
L    Life filled with
D   Dazzle

❤️ Love Lynn❤️


HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMY

Once in love with Amy
is to always be in love
with Amy. Friendships
she has all across the
globe. Wisdom from the
physicians she works with.
If Mom were here and she's 
been gone nearly two months
she would raise a mighty cheer:
May all your dreams come true
and let your body stay toned
You beautiful woman, you!

Love, Ruth Zali Deming

...

Woke up super early today. Before I could stop myself I walked around the hilly neighborhood

Only the birds were out.


At my house, I found the things I would need


blue hydrangea petals
wheat-like spikes from the garden under the bird houses
plumes from Scott's Japanese maple tree
and a lovely white bloom from a flower that stinks to high heaven

Then I fashioned a collage on Scotch packing tape.


I stuck the leftover flora in a pottery jar on the window sill in the kitchen,
made by my niece Melissa.







I was late for film noir. 


Hopped in bed with sleeping Scott.


THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI was on

"I've never seen such a beautiful face," I said. "Who is that woman?"




RITA HAYWORTH.


What a life! A great dancer, she was sexually abused by her father.



Read more about her here.


Hayworth-Gilda-1946-Color.jpg

Hayworth born in 1918, died in 1987 of complications of Alzheimer's disease.

...

My own dear Sarah Lynn Deming called me.

Quickly I called her back.

She was walking from the farmer's market with her groceries, including oysters.

She was wearing a MASK.


Ethan often goes walking early in the morning.

One must!


They're invited out to dinner tonight, hence the oysters.

My late friend Ronald Abrams made a delicious oyster stew.

See that Ronald B Abrams?

You're a hard man to forget. 











Friday, June 26, 2020

Dinner for two chez Ruth Deming


We have several DINNER photos for you, 'deer in the headlights' - and blurry ones.

Scott bought sockeye salmon, fortunately, it was bone-free.

He didn't have time to make rice, so I said, Make da rice and I'll come over later and eat it while watching either TCM or something else. I'll bring my faithful diabetes pen.

A chicodee lives rent free in my front yard.


 Scott is practicing how to whistle.
 "Are you friggin kidding me?"
 "Nope," sez I.

The Sam Sifton book SEE YOU ON SUNDAY says to make a place setting.

"Cheers to health and happiness," we toasted.

I marinated the salmon according to Sarah's suggestions on my blog, tho I did take liberties. What? Northern Liberties?

Mustard, apple cider vinegar, maple syrup, olive oil, garlic, mushrooms, onions.

Only one thing would do for dessert.














Ralston Purina is delicious but you can't get it out of the skillet! WHATEVER HAPPENED TO ROBBIE WHALEN published

Thanks, Onkar Sharma, for publishing Whatever Happened to Robbie Whalen. Much of it is true.

Click here.

And now onto the present moment.

Ralston Wheat Hot Cereal, 3 Bags - Vermont Country Store

This is what I had for lunch today.

Ralston Purina.

Ordered from the Vermont Country Store, a real find, thanks to Eric Melanson!

Delicious. I added butter and real maple syrup.

Had two bowls as one was not enough to fill my growing belly.

It's a pain in the butt to make.

Even though I add butter or olive oil to my saute pan, the gruel sticks like tar to the bottom of the pan.

Wash wash wash.

Scrub scrub scrub.

What might I do?

Use it to bake cookies?

A cake?

You'll never believe how many BAGS I bought.

THREE. They're sitting over there on my swiveling purple ottoman, Empire!

Gonna go upstairs and read more of THE ATLANTIC and then return to Roger Kahn's BOYS OF SUMMER.

I had to skip a few parts as it was terribly difficult to understand. Every other word is the F word.

Stay cool, calm and safe today.

MWAH !!!

Watched ANTIGONE via Zoom - Poem: My cat Antigone

The Town and Country Players in Lindsay Buckingham, PA, presented ANTIGONE, a play by Sophocles from 400 BC.

Picture

I sat riveted to my red couch. The acting was superb as was the chorus.

When I looked outdoors I saw a massive display of fireflies blinking on and off, on and off.

Meanwhile I was munching on surrogates for popcorn which gets caught beneath my teeth and on the roof of my mouf.

Triscuits shaped like isocoles triangles and Snyder's dipping sticks, which had "Eat me" wrin all over them.

Just came home from my early morning walk. Not a soul was about. Above ground, that is.

While watching the play, I discovered a tea on my shelf I'd forgotten about.

Apple Spice.

I drank it in my Harold Melvin and the Bluenotes cup, I mean my Meghan and Harry cup.

Sent a donation today for Antigone. $25.

Wish I could write a short story where the person has a destination, such as Sarasota Springs, Florida, and is really looking f/w to it, but then the plane begins to tumble from the sky.

Damn, says the person. I'm not ready to die.

That was one of the things Antigone mentioned.

And don't go naming your cat Antigone.

MY CAT ANTIGONE

Affectionate and with a blackness
seen only when the stars go to sleep and
darkness covers us all in golden robes.

Thursday, June 25, 2020

My car is not inspected yet - cleaning off the outside of the car - Poem: Driving

Just in case you haven't read my latest short story Mailman Rachel, you can read it here. Courtesy of Mad Swirl.

Talked to my friend Helene, briefly. She was soooo   t i r e d  she could barely hold on to the phone. Still, we talked 18 minutes. She didn't wanna hang up. Can't blame her, living in an assisted living facility.



Here's Helene back at home on Bauman Drive in Maple Glen PA.

Can't remember the zip code.

She painted her cupboards gray.

Those were the days.

...

Scott drove his mom to the doctor this morning. She never learned to drive. Her late husband Dave did and had many an accident. He drove too fast.

At his age, in his early 80s, he probly didn't realize he couldn't drive fast any more.

Natalie had two huge bags of books for me.

Great books!

Where shall I put them? Scott said while he waited for his mom he got a lotta reading done, plus he got a sun tan.

...

Walked around the block at 6:30 am. I'd wet....

the bed?
my hair?

so I kept cool. I do not walk under trees as something might fall on my hair that might eat me up.



Venus fly trap.

What's her damn zip code?

Made three trips to Mailman Sean.

One on foot, jogging uphill, and two in my car.

The expiration date of getting it inspected reads June.

Mailed in a document yesterday which should allow me to get it inspected.

I DO need to drive so I don't forget how to.

In my car - the expiration date reads June - I had tax documents.

DRIVING

It's been a week since I've driven.
The covid and pandemic are upon us.
Only essential persona are allowed to drive.

Where has the mail truck gone?
Such a happy sight it's always been for me.
It's right up ahead

Go go go and catch it like a high fly ball in the outfield.

Check out Marilyn Chin poet.

Watched her last night on PBS.

My premise is that by reading great poets, I will improve and try new things.

And that includes Billy Collins and Chris Bursk.

Finished a big bowl of Bean Soup with an egg added for protein.

My dessert?

A clean white bowl with Snyder's Pretzels.



My phone is ringing right now.

Who would I like it to be?

Grace Deming, but she would never call me.



Wednesday, June 24, 2020

Red High Heels, a short story

Speaking of plane rides, my "Red High Heels" below was published somewhere, but I can't remember.

After dat, I'm gonna tell you what Lynn and I talked about.

Wish I knew how to double space the story below.


RED HIGH HEELS

Meredith and Peter were watching the original Hawaii Five-O on his upstairs TV in his blue bedroom. They each had their own pillow. His had cost an unbelievable $250 at a mattress store, while hers cost $20 at Kohl’s. She had tested it out on the dusty floor by the men’s ties.
“Always a beautiful day in Hawaii,” said Peter.
“Maybe the two of us could go visit,” said Meredith, knowing the answer.
“You know me, kid,” he said. “I don’t want to go anywhere except Cape May.”
“It would really be fun living somewhere else,” she said.
“Don’t you love your yellow house and living next door to the man in your life?”
“Of course I do,” she said, snuggling against his gorgeous hairy chest.
After she went home, she began to plan what to do. She would show him. As she walked to the compost heap they shared, her thoughts cascaded as she poured out the contents of the yellow pitcher: chicken bones, egg shells with bits of white still inside, the ends of zucchini, apple cores.
Did she love Peter? She supposed she did, but it was hard to really know. He was certainly good to her. For her most recent birthday – she was twenty-six – he bought her the complete short stories of John O’Hara with a black and white cover showing O’Hara as a man with big ears and wearing a banker’s suit.
She pulled out a suitcase with wheels from her basement, sneezing from the dust. She packed lightly for she would only stay a couple of days and decide if she wanted to move to Vermont, where her college alma mater, Goddard, was spread out on acres and acres of what was once farmland. She’d stay in Kilpatrick Dorm, for a small fee.
Her biggest decision was what books to bring. Her father had given her “Random House’s Best Sports Stories” and her mom, a pair of yellow silky pajamas with her initials MLL monogrammed on her breast. Peter loved it.
A day later, she was in the living room pacing back and forth when she heard the horn. There it was, “Dave’s Limo” pulling into her drive. Peter was at work so there would be no tearful goodbyes. She wheeled her red checkered suitcase onto the porch steps and the driver hefted it inside.
Most of the December snow had melted.
Five hours later, she was aboard a small plane heading for the Plainfield, Vermont airport. Her tray was down and she was sipping on a ginger ale to settle her stomach. She returned the unopened foil pack of almonds to the flight attendant, Neil.
Her book slid off the tray with a thud. The plane careened back and forth. The pilot announced, “We’re having some turbulence. Please put your trays up and buckle your seat belts. Nothing to worry about.”
Meredith looked out the window and remembered the green meadows of Vermont. A blonde, she and her friend Wendy had once sunbathed in the raw one gorgeous summer day, bringing with them Italian hoagies from the country store and Tastykake Krimpets.
Everything was now covered with sparkling white snow with iridescent crystals. What a great decision she had made.
The speaker above her head crackled with static for several moments as the plane seemed to plummet downward toward the snow and ice.
There was no doubt about it. The plane was about to crash. 
Involuntarily, screams poured forth from the passengers, herself included. Her blue earrings shot out of her ears and luggage from the overhead compartments spilled onto the passengers.
More screams and then silence.
The plane came to a stop like a dead bird in the Arctic. Meredith looked around. The old lady next to her lay on the floor of the plane in a bath of blood. Her mouth was wide open with fear as if she were watching a horror movie.
Meredith cleared her throat. “Is anyone alive?” she called. “Hello! Hello!”
The pilot must be alive, she thought, but the roof of the plane was squashed down like a toy bucket.
She knew from movies and TV shows that she must move as far away from the plane as she could, lest it blow up.
She spilled out the emergency door, but stuck her head back inside. “Please! Please! Somebody answer me!” she called. She crawled back in on her aching knees and saw the kitchen was right there. She helped herself to all the packets of nuts and crackers that could fit into her coat pockets. Plus a cup of hot coffee in a plastic cup.
She wore Pantyhose and red high heels, the perfect thing, she thought, for wandering around in the snow.
She caught her breath away from the plane and sipped on the hot coffee, which helped clear her head.
Suddenly an orange fire ball bright as the sun filled the air. Meredith held her ears. For sure, now, everyone was dead. Pulverized as if they were in a blender making a chocolate milkshake. Her eyes filled with tears.
Her red high heels dug into the snow as she looked toward the sky. Clouds were skittering to the left, the west. She brushed away thoughts about how she and Peter had sat on her screened-in back porch and made shapes of them – a lonely camel, a snowman with a scarf on, and a dog scampering across the sky.
In fact, was it her imagination or was that a real dog barking – or was it a wolf come to eat her alive?
A huge white dog ran up to her and jumped on her coat. She held out her hands and let him lick her.
She was saved.
The two of them trotted toward a farmhouse, where he lived.
“Barney,” said his master. “Who have we got here?”
“Meredith,” she answered. “I was on the plane that crashed a little while ago. Did you hear it?”
“Sure did. You’d have to be stone deaf not to have heard it!”
She refused to be hospitalized and persuaded the farmer and his wife to put her up for the night. She also refused to take a plane back home.
Peter drove up in his black Honda Fit.  
Now she was sure she loved him.  
“Satisfied?” he asked.
“Not really,” she said. “But it’ll do for a start.”  

...

Called Lynn and we talked about 45 minutes.

Told her I felt very close to Daddy, altho he did a few inappropriate things over the years.

...

Sent a thank-you note to my accountant that my tax forms finally arrived.

Gonna sit on the floor and sign everything.

I'm owed a check for about $500 which will be refunded to me.

Should I order some food from Ben and Irv?





Poem: His Country and more damaging books about Trump

HIS COUNTRY

I removed this short story as I just submitted it to Mad Swirl, along with two other poems: Almond
Milk and The Death of My Mother.
...

This was rejected by Boomer Lit Mag. I asked them to remove me from their mailing list.

...

Sister Lynn and I had a long conversation today. There was absolutely no hurry. Both she and I had done our morning walks at 6:15 before it got really hot.

Lynn sent me a great photo of her grand daughters, who call her Nana, Kaia and little Rowie.

When I tried to blog them, they came in upside down.

Forget that!

...

Sent New Directions a link last night of Toni Morrison's 2 hour appearance on American Masters. Riveting.

...

Scott just came over and said there's another book coming out about Trump. This time it's by his niece, who calls him 'the most dangerous man on earth.'

WE AGREE !!!

Toni Morrison - Arcana - Poem: Patrick's Tree

Were you worried about me?

I'm back.

Went for a 6:15 am walk around the neighborhood. First tho I saw the  bird bath lacked wawa, so I came inside and refilled it.

When I got home I grabbed my clippers and traveled around the yard clipping the multitude of weeds.

So many. So many.

Got a nasty gash in my left arm and tried to staunch it with a Band-Aid, but it wouldn't open up.

Look, it's only 8 minutes to 7 am.

Gonna eat my oatmeal shortly. Already inject 12 units, the max.

When I got home from Scott's last night - he's on a one-week vacation - I watched the entire 2 hour American Masters presentation on Toni Morrison.

It's only available online for a week or so.

Sent it to New Directions, my support group. I gotta figure out how to keep us all together.

Here's a Morrison video from 1990 you can watch.

She was a physically beautiful woman.




My late friend Elaine Restifo whose funeral I attended at St Philips Chapel in Lambertville NJ
would tell people she was half-black.

Elaine wasn't all that old.

Here's her funeral on me blog.

Morrison was 88.

When I woke up this morning I felt very close to Dad.

Hey Dad, I said. Thanks to you and Mommy for buying me this house.

Birds outside seem to be dive-bombing my house.

PATRICK'S TREE

EE YOY EE YOY
OH OH NOOOOO

PSHOY  PSHOY

Bump Thump Pound Ground
Pound Ground





Tuesday, June 23, 2020

Speaking of Eggs - Film and Poem: They Drive by Night

We eat a variety of eggs.

View them here.

Array

Thank you dahlink! Nothing like caviar at these soirees.

Wish my friend Judy could be here.

In my lovely strapless evening gown, I will take a seat.

Ah, monsieur, of course you can join me.

We toast to a wonderful evening.

Monsieur Rocky, I watched a wonderful film last night.

He cocks his head waiting for my answer.

They Drive by Night, I say.

Ah, he says, with Bogey and George Raft...

Non, non, non.

With Emlyn Williams. Made first, in 1938.

THEY DRIVE BY NIGHT

Hard to see
where is the road
where is the ditch

Once I got out of the car
and told myself
remember this
remember this

EEEEEEK!
The end of the road.



Wait just a minute.

Watched and slept some through GORE VIDAL, a conversation with Milton Bragg.

Watch here. Simply fascinating.

Let's get a photo of Gore, and then get on with the day.



1925 - 2012.

Age 86.

Be sure to read cause of death and then STOP DRINKING.

Wiki knows best.

Monday, June 22, 2020

Finally! A great Netflix Film!

Scott and I LOVED the film "Our Souls at Night," based on a Kent Haruf novel.

I told Scott I'd never remember Haruf's name, but there it was in the credits.

Robert Redford and Jane Fonda starred. The premise was that the two of em lived in the same neighborhood - each was widowed - and Fonda asked Redford if she could come over and sleep in his bed.

Neither Scott nor I fell asleep.

But that's what the PBS Nightly News is for.



ODIOUS CHORES I DID TODAY

I never received my Commonwealth of Pennsylvania insurance form.

We downloaded it and then filled in every space on the form.

Used one of my lovely flower stamps and it's sitting in the mailbox now.



What shall I eat for dinner?

How many eggs can one person eat in a day?

More oatmeal?



Garden Salad.

Awoken by Male Voices in my Office - Poem: Oatmeal



Who could it be? I thought.

Possibly Scott had let himself in, which is not unusual, and was talking with our guy Walmsley, about difficulties Scott was having.

It was the Schecter rabbi discoursing with a Catholic priest and saying of course we have the Buddhists to thank for awareness of consciousness.

Let's see if my oatmeal is ready to serve.

Went on a very early walk wearing shorts I had bought at Macy's a couple of years ago. Lilac in color and I wore a short sleeve shirt that matched.

My sox hadn't dried yet so I put on wet sox and stuffed my feet inside, pshew pshew, and made a bold escape out of the house before hesitation won the game.

Ah, here's the Zalman link I mailed from my upstairs office onto this here blog.

Click here.

OATMEAL

Gloppy.
Gluey.
Mushy.
Rescued by
blueberries
peanut butter
and a favorite spoon
once part of a factory
from Ching chang China.

Sunday, June 21, 2020

Belmont Stakes - Poem: Our Secret Lives

Oh, if only Mommy could watch this now.

Years ago when my mother was well, she surprised me. Somehow I found out she liked watching horse races.

Ah, yes, The Secret Life of My Mother.

Tiz the Law WINS!!!

The trainer is 82 years old.

Belmont Stakes payouts 2020: Win, place, show results in historic race


Tiz the Law leads the 152nd Belmont Stakes odds, opening at 6-5 on June 17, and could become the first New York-bred horse to win the race since 1882. This comes on the heels of winning the Barclay Tagg’s Florida Derby (G1). Manny Franco has the ride. Todd Pletcher’s Dr Post opens with 5-1 Belmont 2020 odds, and last year’s winning Belmont trainer Mark Casse fields Tap It to Win at 6-1 opening odds.
The $1 million Belmont Stakes, which was moved from Saturday, June 6 to Saturday, June 20 due to the COVID-19 pandemic, will run at a shortened distance from 1 1/2-miles (12 furlongs) to 1 1/8-miles (9 furlongs) “to properly account for the schedule adjustments to the Triple Crown series and overall calendar for 3-year-olds in training,” the New York Racing Association said in a statement.
Ma! Enjoy in absentia.
WE ALL HAVE SECRET LIVES
In our heart of hearts
we smile knowing things
that make us happy, a fellow we flirt with
who returns in kind, a glider on a neighbor's porch
we long to plop upon and swing into oblivion
or obscurity our mortal form dissipating
into the wild blue yonder. 



Friday, June 19, 2020

THE WAHINE DOCUMENTARY

1968

Watch here. New Zealand's worst downfall at sea.

What went wrong. The seas were calm on the way out but upon returning the waves were torrentially high.

Unbeknownst to the crew, Cyclone Giselle was on her way.

Let's see what WIKI has to say.

  • The Wahine. The Wahine was an inter-island ferry designed and built specifically for the Union Steamship Company of New...
  • Final crossing. On the evening of 9 April 1968, the Wahine departed Lyttleton for a routine overnight crossing to...
  • Aftermath. Ten weeks after the shipwrecking, a Court of Inquiry found errors of judgement had been made, but stressed...
Well, this is what I watched.
Children, babies, and others drowned and a few had their heads dashed upon rocks.
Please! Something pleasant now.
Certainly not the nightly news.

Guess what?  The frantic woman never called again.

I WANT TO MAKE SURE I CAN READ !!!


Bought a necessity, plus I splurged on hot cereal - Ralston Purina


Yes, I did buy a vegetable peeler, like my old one, whose blade got too rusty to work.

Illustrating, once again, you can't buy a better mouse trap.

Is it time for dinner?

I'll rustle up something.

I would love to have you over!

Sarah, Ethan, Elaine K and hubby Alan, Scott, and I'll set two extra plates to remember Mommy and Daddy.


RUTH DEMING
204 COWBELL ROAD
WILLOW GROVE, PA 19090
SWEDISH PEELER
18572 In stock.
$9.95 1 $9.95



RALSTON CEREAL SET/3 BAGS
H4148 In stock.
$20.85 1 $20.85



RALSTON CEREAL 1 BAG
64085 In stock.
$0.00 3 $0.00
Subtotal: $30.80
Tax: $0.60
Shipping and Processing: $7.95
Total: 39.35

The Joy and Sleepiness of Reading

Sitting in my purple swivel chair, I began reading BOYS OF SUMMER. Soon I was asleep.



What would a smart person do?

They would go upstairs to bed and nap.

I did. And could not fall asleep.

Someone just called and wanted my help. She said, I don't know who else to call.

While awaiting her call, I began reading Sam Sifton's



Marvelous, except he expects us to add the spice cumin frequently.

When I lived in TX and added cumin, my eyes blew up like a tea bag.

Ain't gonna try it again.

He goes into great detail about how to set the table.

I never thought of it as a big deal but - guess what? - now I do!

Sam, who cites his Times' colleague - Melissa Clark - who I love - tells us what tools we need in our pantry.

One is a vegetable peeler.

I do not have one.

Am gonna look online and find a good 'un.

The napkin is on the left of the plate with the fork on top.

Fold your napkin - and I have linen napkins - like a book, he says, with the spine facing the plate.



DO invite me over. I'll bring a nice floral arrangement.

And now, Dear Reader, I'm off to seek a good peeler.

Wish me luck. As you may remember, I bought one at Giant, which did terrible damage to Scott's thumb. It wouldna stop bleeding.

Found a good un on THE VERMONT COUNTRY STORE, which is where I bought my light-up-in the night clock.

Also purchased RALSTON PURINA HOT CEREAL. Arrives in bags.






Dad would be proud of me - POEM ABOUT LIBRARY BOOKS

Just finished watching what you might call a movie revue.

Dad, I said, as I headed for my laptop, I'm gonna watch Georgie Jessel.

See film here.

I know, I know. No one's ever heard of Jessel today.



Mitzi Gaynor also starred in the film. She was also in South Pacific and possibly hundreds of other films.



She's still alive at 88.

Both Jessel and Mitzi are Jews.

Dad would always point out Jews.

Just turned on my AC to 78 degrees.

Now in the above movie revue they had the typical "mammy" woman.

She called Mitzi Ma'am. And was big bosomed like a Jezebel, which I read about tother day.

Read here.



Not to worry, folks. I have lots more to say before I hang up my Blog hat for the day.

Scott picked up FOUR books for me at my library.













Hold on while I have a sip of cold Almond Milk.

Mmm good. And I don't have a milk mustache.

That's bc I've got a regular mustache and beard.

I used to kid with the late Stephen Weinstein about this.



Scuse me for now. Gonna start BOYS OF SUMMER.

POEM ABOUT LIBRARY BOOKS

Jewels all.
Better than lapis lazulli
prized since antiquity.
Holding my breath
like a deep sea diver
running out of air
word finally came.

Your library books
are waiting for you.
Scott fetched them for me
and proudly brought them
inside.

Someday I shall see that
library again. Drink from
the water fountain
cold water that feeds
our lifes blood

Say hello to Amber
and Dorothy, to Margie
and Eileen

and never o never
get those unspeakable
diseases, so help me
my strength of will.

....

Read Sam Harris, newly discovered author.

He's 53, lives in LA, and is a staunch atheist.




BOYS OF SUMMER HERE I COME!!!