YES, that was me sitting on my front porch steps and munching on a salad.
Tossed out all my coffee, well, not all. I put it in Lynn's pink cup and left it until tomorrow. Saturday.
The story I wrote for today was DO YOU LIKE MY HAIRCUT? All I did was tell the truth.
Lifeless, straw-like grey hair that makes me look like my late mother.
Terribly windy out there. A very long many pronged branch fell from the tree in my front yard.
And then the girls came zooming up the street. Olivia and Grace.
One in her scooter, thother racing as fast as she could.
Once, Dear Reader, I was like that.
SITTING ON THE FRONT PORCH EATING MY SALAD
Whoa! My hair was blowing up off my scalp!
Still, I dug into my spinach and two red ripe tomatoes and that
delicious Cabot Cheese in the co-op up in Vermont where I once
attended Goddard College.
We sunbathed in the nude, Wendy and me, till a farmer came by
and we said Never again
JPK was there too - I wrote him today - he was hairy as a rabbit
and thought the sun would dye his hair.
Friends of mine have died. Not only Wendy but Elinor whose
Hurricaine Lamp sits lonely on my downstairs counter
She'd be shocked to learn that after her death at the old ladies' home
as husband George called it, he courted a new woman.
Not long afterward, ole George bit the dust, our ultimate home.
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