What I bought at the Giant tonite and what I ate tonite and what I saw on the telly

This cabbage-veggie soup is so scrumptious it's a person with diabetes version of a



My favorite snack, as my millions of viewers know, is

 Just looking at this, my foolish heart skips a beat and I salivate like Pavlov's dog. That pictures can do this to you!

Donald Mitchell sculpture. I learned about him and his Colorado studio when I was on bike going nowhere fast, staring at the tube, and pretending my ass didn't hurt.

Don, dyou mind if we load one more of your aluminum-made sculptures? The guy used to work for General Motors, where he developed his interest in sculpture. They had sort of a creative corner.


Learn more about our man Don right chere.


And now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta get off.

The last disk of Upstairs Downstairs awaits.

I watch it right here on my Red Couch, the couch of a lifetime, hunkered down and under two crocheted quilts by Sandy.

Life is good!

The Abandoned House on my street

Where's my hot drink? Scuse me while Polly puts the kettle on.

So, I'm running after Mailman Ken, I've got two checks to deposit - one for $333 from Green Planet (when it arrived, I thought Who are they?) it was for hosting Bruce, my Chinese exchange student, tho I would've done it for free, it was such a great experience - and thother a refund of $681 from AON Insurance.

The dude was on vacation and didn't process my payment so I signed up with another firm, whose name I can't remember, but Michael LaBarbara owns it. Great name! And a writer is always seeking great names.

Like Sonny and Hilary in LOVE OF CAR, which I'll polish up tonite and mail it in.... somewhere.

So after Mailman Ken takes my envelope w/the checks inside, I decide to do a lil exploring. Four doors down, at 210, an abandoned house has been there about four years.

In the spring I help myself to the daffodils in the backyard.

The new owner must pay at least $450,000, well over what the house is worth, but the Township comes out and cuts the lawn, and there are liens against the house, whatever that means.

So I walked to the backyard of the yellowish house below

 and the back door is wide open.

"Anybody home?" I yell, popping my head thru the door.

No way am I gonna go in.

When I walk in, I'm in the laundry room, and then go further into the cellar, where a man's jacket lies on a far shelf.

I stand and listen for noise upstairs, but hear nothing.

I go next door to where Lisa lives. She advises me to call the police, which I do.

About five cop cars are dispatched to the street.

Sgt Moffat tells me to wait in front of my house, quite a ways away.

Another time, when there was a power outage on Cowbell Road, he told me the same thing - everyone was crowded around the same house - and I paid no attention to him.

Here's the story I wrote about the outage when I worked for Patch.com.

He repeated himself to me, Stay away! And I realized when a cop tells you something, you must obey.

The officers were taking a long time inside the house. Maybe 25 minutes. Is there someone in there, I wondered.

And visualized seeing someone brought outside and pushed into the cop car.

No one was there.

The wind had pushed open the door.

All for naught.

But I did love the excitement.

In retrospect, the wind did not push the door open. I've been back there many times and the inner door has been locked. I've tried it.

So, at one time, someone had gotten in.

Since I write short stories, I write down ideas. And I wrote about some people living in the very same house. I'd thought maybe I'd have the neighborhood kids have a fort inside the house.

Mmm, my tea is nice and hot.

Took a nap this afternoon while watching the penultimate disk of the original Upstairs Downstairs, a glorious look at a forgotten era.

Wiki - It ran on ITV in 68 episodes divided into five series from 1971 to 1975.
Set in a large townhouse in Edwardian, First World War and interwar Belgravia in London, the series depicts the lives of the servants "downstairs" and their masters—the family "upstairs".

Great events feature prominently in the episodes but minor or gradual changes are also noted. The series stands as a document of the social and technological changes that occurred between 1903 and 1930.
The distinctive lettering is in the manner of the now defunct Punch magazine.

Ah, here they are. Hudson is the father, Mrs Bridges is the mother, and the rest are their 'children.' This was said by Mrs Bellamy, whose husband Edward is now missing in action and presumed dead on the battlefield.

And poor Edward, the footman, served at the Battle of the Somme and suffers from shell-shock or PTSD..

We have a good issue of the Compass coming up. Someone will discuss PTSD in soldiers from Iraq and the Afghan.

I also contacted a friend of mine whose husband has a very slow form of Alzheimer's. I will interview her tonite over the phone after he goes to sleep.

This morning I went over the Giant where Helen ran the group. As a token of my deep affection for her and for her running the group I bought her a

pink primrose, which Suzanne gave her this morning.

Then, she and two others went downstairs in the coffee shop for lunch.

I had a huge salad - delicious! - and when I got home, instead of shooting insulin, I shot upstairs and went on my bike for 25 minutes, while watching a repeat of the life and times of Johnny Carson.

Raise your hand if you don't know who he is.

Coffeeshop Writers - good to see everyone in the Blustery weather - My 2 poems: Pausing on a Winter's Day - Three Sacrificial Geese

When I was leaving the Writer's Group, a man named Ken came up and started talking to me. Why me? Around 73, he wore a cross around his neck and had just gotten up from a table where he was talking to a Catholic priest from St David's.

Ken also had on a tag that pronouncd him a Vietnam vet. He asked me if I were a believer. No, I said, I'm Jewish.

Oh, we have a lot in common he said - family, philanthropy, and a good sense of numbers. I think he meant money. I do turn off the lights when I leave the room. And keep my heat on 69 but when I sleep I turn it down to 65. AND I never buy books or movies. That's what the library is for.

When group was over, it dawned on me that I have diabetes. Perhaps I was low. I walked around the Giant store looking for free samples.

I simply refused to spend any more money!


Unfortly there were no free cheese h'ors derves. Then I walked over to the Kids' Korner to ask if there were any candy canes.

None. Went to the pharm where they'd set out candy. None.

What was I to do?


Remembered I bought two large bags of pecans - am eating em right now - for my nut mix. Ate a handful in the car before I drove off to Officemax to buy a new B&W printer cartridge, generic model.

Linda had to work but she came over and dropped off her newest revision of Mr Cat's Revenge. Great story - which she'll probly enter in the Montco Comm College Writer's Competition - she took first prize last year - but our group wants her to finish it, so we can find out if the cat gets his revenge.

Allan Heller shared two poems - "To Be a Poet" contained these immortal lines:

To be a poet
You don't need to rhyme
This tiresome practice
Died out over time.

"Called to Christ" was a moving testimony to his conversion. His mom was raised Protestant and his dad Jewish. Christ had knocked on his door a few times but Allan never answered.

Finally he answered the call.

Reminded me of a quote I saw on the wall at the Shrine of Mother Drexel in Bensalem.

"You did not choose me, but I chose you" - John: 15:16.


I'm a faithful visitor to Catholic shrines, even though I'm a nonbeliever.



Czestochowa in Doylestown, PA. My Catholic friend Carolyn and I drove down one year.

Just spoke to Carolyn today. Her sister has had Parkinson's for over twenty years, yet she's doing well. When she wakes up in the morning, she's so stiff she can't move. So her husband injects her with a couple of shots that Carolyn sez cost a couple of thousand dollars apiece.


Stiff as this fellow until he earned his stripes and became a real boy.

Allan Heller was a friend of the newly deceased poet laureate of Hatboro, PA. Here is a book he autographed for his buddy Allan

Ed Galing wishes him luck on 12-1-13, shortly before he entered the eternal kingdom.

Nice sweatshirt, Marf. Hadn't noticd it before. Carly, the clothes horse, wrote "Another List from Carly Brown," about that odd term - "bucket list" - things people wanna do before they croak.

In it she mentioned on Candy Chang - who dat? - who caused a sensation with her Before I Die commentary.

What I'm gonna do after I finish bloggin, is listen to this 6-min video on TED Talks. 

Carly's List story is very promising. In it she said she has a hard time sleeping. We all gave her suggestions. I think if I were her, I'd take a pill. Maybe Benedryl which would also clear up any sinus problems she has.

I wrote down Ambien and Halcyon and told her never to take them. Read this Ambien horror story here. 

Beatriz, who looks youthful and vibrant here, has had a couple of health scares. She said that, like me, we take these in stride, having faith in our good doctors and our fine support systems.

B's latest entry on Pollinators contained many strong lines, including "If all honey bees disappeared, it would be catastrophic for agriculture and we would suffer grievously."

Martha wrote a fine poem "Working my Way Through Life" about all the unusual jobs she's had. Allan called it a POETIC RESUME.

She's worked as waitress in a ____ joint (can't read my writing & am too lazy to get up and fine em), and a house maid in a beach hotel. That sounds really cool. But she wrote she had to clean up other peoples' messes.

Reader, what's the longest you've worked at a job? I guess I've been running New Directions for 27 years.

Carly has trouble staying asleep. She'll see her doc next week. I wrote down AMBIEN and HALCYON and told her never to take em. Here are some funny things - and terrible things - people have done while on Ambien. 

I'm lucky cuz I can stay awake sans caffeine tho I doze off while I'm writing, then jerk awake.

I worked on my next short story - LOVE OF CAR - for two nights. Everyone in the group liked it and so did Ada. I'll submit it somewhere.

A photo now of the acclaimed author who wrote these obscure poems

Ruth Z dressed in battle gear. What looks like a shield is actually a Xmas blouse from my niece Melissa.

Here are the poems I wrote well before deadline - who me? - finished em off last nite before I worked on the end of my short story.



PAUSING ON A WINTER’S DAY

Time goes so fast
let me hold up my hand and
beseech:
Stop!
Time!
Stop!
What I will do is sit
in my car in the
library parking lot
while the chill of
winter makes its
dramatic appearance
on the Pennsylvania
stage.

While I have eyes
let me use them
Look! A beautiful
clapboard house
seems to smile before me
I run my eyes
across its old-
fashioned lines
like a lady in a bustle

Facing me is a new
window jutting out
filled no doubt with
plants – perhaps a
purple cyclamen? - that give
the family pleasure

As does the huge wrap-
around front porch that
speaks of family gatherings
and rocking chairs

The American flag flutters
in the frigid December winds
Bare trees – naked to the
world – reveal
their shapely
feminine figures
some dressed in
leafy squirrel nests

A row of dark hedges
pebbled with red berries
stand guard
from possible intruders
in the library parking lot

The family will never
in a million suspect
that one patron
as warm and relaxed in
her car as a
Buddhist nun
has fallen impossibly
in love with
their white clapboard house.



THREE SACRIFICIAL GEESE

The god of Abraham
stayed the hand of Isaac
as he lifted knife above his son
thou shalt not,
the Lord commanded
but shall instead
sacrifice those
who made it off the Ark

Geese, I suppose,
were among them
those beautiful
flying torpedos
whose coughing
hiccupping sounds
are a comfort
to our humanity.

Why, then, shoot them?
Because
the call runs deep
And I saw in the
neighbor’s back yard
a hunter in camouflage
with his proud catch
displayed
on the canvas of
the driveway.

A trio lay there
plump plumed
insensate
their long necks
stilled
as if strangled

I watched as feathers
flew and he filleted them
hands bloody as MacBeth
He was a master
a master at shooting geese
and when he handed me
three breasts in a plate
I accepted with thanks
ate part of one
no different than pot roast
and gave the others away.

Never again to lay down
with geese.

Eight inches of really heavy snow - probly record-breaking cold weather - Bob the window man returns

I finally made the Breast of Goose. It was quite good, sauteed in wine. I posted this photo on FB and Nancy Wolen, my childhood friend, said, It makes me hungry.

On FB, I don't post my innermost thoughts, as some folks do. Just my outermost, so I remain the mystery woman contained in this mortal body of mine.

Next photo please.....

You can't really tell how deep the snow is. My guess is 8 inches. Oh my aching back. I would go outdoors for 'shoveling bouts.'

It was hard on my back. The cold? Doesn't bother you when you're shoveling and working up a sweat.

After I de-iced much of my car, I parked it in the street so the sun would melt away the ice on the windshield, the one place ice must not reside.

I spread my freezing-cold and wet clothes across the floor, including my Parisian sweater which gives me much pleasure.

Did I really go?

Everything is in the past, even Bruce's visit, my Chinese exchange student.

He just called for the first time that he's with his new family: Matt and Melissa and 2-yo Lorelai. He likes them very much and told me he misses me. He has his own room with attached bath.

He liked the poem I sent him and will publish it on Q-Q, the Chinese FB, for his friends to see.

Bruce asked about Scott and said his new family makes pizza - you're favorite food, I said - and he said, Yes, they make it themselves, like Scott does.

I have a 'stock photo' of Scott's pizza, just as I have a photo of Bruce, I can easily get to

Did I tell you Dan got me Netflix for Xmas?

Last nite I watched about 3 hours' worth, while lying down on my red napping couch.

Really enjoyed DEREK, starring Ricky Gervais, a famous guy I have never heard of.

Takes place in a nursing home and is quite funny! We love a good laff, don't we, my TWENTY delicious readers!


Derek, played by Ricky Gervais, is on the right. The CEO of the fictitious nursing home, a real dunderhead - I'm not allowed to use curse words on this side - asked Derek, who is the most loved attendant in the home and makes everyone feel wonderful - asked him if he was mentally handicapped, then specifically autistic.

What's that? asked Derek. Can you die from it or can it make you sick?

No, said the CEO.

Then it don't matter, said Derek walking away.

Now the man next to him wears this simply ludicrous hairdo. The home got a new aide - she was doing community service for shoplifting or something - and she boldly asked the guy, Why do you wear your hair like a pedophile?

It's hard to laff when you're lying down on the red couch, popping peanuts into your mouf, but I certainly gave a few good guffaws.

I get a letter from my Credit Union.

Free Insurance, they write. They'll give you $1,000 worth of insurance if you die in an accident or if any part of your body is dismembered.

What dyou mean by that? I asked Steve, my representative.

Well, for example, if you should lose your hand.

Let's pause a moment. I did decide to get the free insurance - I can keep it until I'm - don't weep - dead - but I'm trying to figure out how I can earn the $1,000 dismemberment cost.

I was thinking about accidentally slicing off part of my little toe - maybe I'll get drunk - or, wait, I do have some leftover opiates from my sciatica days - give me your thoughts on this, Dear Reader.

Is it worth the $1,000?

That way I'll have some money left over when Bob Walmsey installs new windows in my bedroom.

Here's the problem.

The windows will not open. In the summertime, it's nice to lie in bed and read while a cool breeze is fanning your sweaty body.

So Bob drove over today and we signed the contract for two new windows.  I also offered him the remaining goose breasts and he happily took them.

I wanna remain a mostly vegetarian.

Bob, who lives in the Burholme section of Philly with his two German Shepherds, also volunteered to do a lil shoveling and put salt on the walk. That salt is left over from when Dan used to live with me - what? - six years ago?

Sounds like a short amount of time but look what he's done in six years...



Yes, he bought a blue laundry tub! It came with a Grace and a Max inside.

Scott said he doesn't use salt on the walk b/c it ruins the concrete. Take your pick.... slip n fall and break your friggin coccyx ... here he is bundled up for work.

We napped together while watching a film noir with George Raft and Ava Gardner and when he got up to get dressed, I said, What in the world are you wearing?

A jumpsuit, he said. It keeps me really warm. He uses it at SEPTA.

And off he went, tramping thru the backyard.

No flashlight needed. The snow lights his way.

Doing it all before the snowstorm hits - Finally take Nelson out to dinner

Did my errands in Hatboro this morning. Parked in the under-new-mgmt-Galaxy Diner parking lot. Under previous owners - at least two, I believe - it had a constellation of horrible items. How, I wonder, can eggs and corned beef hash taste bad?

Passed the military recruiting office and decided to ring the bell. I asked Sergeant Schmidt if he could get me an interview with a vet who'd seen war combat. Wanna put it in the Compass.

He said someone would call me.

Would you believe him?

 The day passed by so quickly. I've been trying to take my friend Nelson, the custodian at Abington Prez, out for lunch, but I never give him enuf lead time.

Finally we made a date. I'd pick him up around 3.

You know what? I couldn't find his goddamn apartment. I used to drive him home many times after New Directions meetings.

I couldn't find Easton Road.

What's the first thing to go when you have Alz's?

Then he told me the Burger King and Dunkin' Donuts.

Aha!

I picked him up and off we went to Colonial Quy Bau

If you're gonna eat, you gotta do it right.

Nelson Yeardley, orig of Greenville, PA, near Ohio, loved the 'complexity' of the coconut, mushroom veggie soup we both ordered.

The man was impressed and so was I. We were swooning with delight. And then out came....

Golden bags.This Thai appetizer had a superb crunchy top and the bag below, tied with green seaweed, contained the equivalent of gold coins but it was edible... food.

I ordered a vegetarian dish of Asian eggplant, tofu and a hostess of vegetables in a delicious ginger bean sauce. The woman above is 68 yo.

Nelson and I were kvelling over the food. He is a true connoisseur - frequently goes into Town to fine restaurants and is a member of the Philadelphia Museum of Art - and couldn't get over the wonderful quality at Colonial Bay.

Forgot to take a pic of Nelson's huge mound of chocolate cake with whipped cream on the side. He loved the presentation and offered me the first bite.

How could I refuse?

I ordered the creme brulee, which was outstanding. He loved it too.

We sipped our decaf, which couldn't hold a candle to Egbert's. Nelson drinks two cups of Maxwell House in the morning which he enjoys.

We sat and talked quite a while. I learned a lot about him. His grandfather was a doctor who was a healthy eater. Nelson does exercises every day in his one-bedroom apartment. Nelson has a driver's license but doesn't own a car. He either walks everywhere or takes public trans.

When he visits his sister in western PA, he rents a car and drives everywhere, including little backstreets which are still dirt roads. It's all former farm country.

I was anxious to get home and get on my bicycle. I always feel this way when I've gone off my diabetes diet.

To our shock, the snow had already begun to fall when we left around 6:15. We cleaned off the car and Nelson directed me to his apartment bldg.

The main roads were fine. Wet. No problems.

So what do I do?

I take Edgehill Road home. It's a backstreet.

Ruthie, you do not take the poorly traveled backstreets in the snow.

Well, so far, so good, as I traveled at 20 mph. One guy actually passed me at high speed. I was switching from FIRST to SECOND gear.

Then when I went around a curve my car began to slide. I just steered the best I could and prepared to slide slowly into someone's front yard.

Oy, was I nervous.

Then I chugged up the hill that is Overlook Avenue, where 10 yrs ago, I was coming home and slid nicely into a schoolbus.

Shifting gears, I made it to the top, then down the hill on Cowbell, slowing down, slowing down, pumping my brakes, and then rounding into my driveway.

My tire tracks.

What a relief it was getting home. Immediately I went to Scott's cuz I knew he'd be worried about me.

I got great books outa the library and can't wait to start reading.

Visited Helene at the much-vaunted Rydal Park

Quite frankly, my dear, none of the people I talked to like being at Rydal Park.

But I - resident of the world - loved visiting Helene and being invited to lunch by her tablemate Elaine.

Apparently, tables are assigned, like you're on a cruise. A cruise to oblivion.

Elaine invited me to lunch since she had free "meal tickets."

She had dry chicken - but not as dry as last time. Her 55-yo daughter lives in her old house in Elkins Park. Amy has three cats. Elaine is putting the remains of her lunch in a baggie for the cats.

The moment I sat down I noticed Promise Margarine in the center of the table. Margarine is the worst thing for your heart! Maybe this facility wants a fast turnaround for their residents. Clearly, they've never heard of Joel Fuhrman, MD, and his tips for a healthy long life.

Helene looked simply smashing as she always does. She'll be 85 on Jan. 26. Remind me to send her a card or better yet, visit.

She's hated living here since the day she moved in.

 Evelyn is 90. How are your faculties I asked her. Good, I guess, she said, but I can't walk. Here's her aide Silvine.

 I admired her nails and told her I just got mine done - Diana's in Hatboro - they're all Chinese - and showed her where they had already chipped. My fault, I didn't stay under the dryer long enuf.

We don't have a dryer, said Evelyn, We just sit there until they dry. We have plenty of time, she laughed.

I was having a ball, hollering at the top of my lungs. They're all hard of hearing. I told Elaine I also shouted when my 17-yo Chinese student was at my house.

She understood why.

I got lucky. My food was delicious. Chicken was soft and delicious. Cranberry sauce. And wonderful decaf by Egbert's. The waitress Beth checked for me. She said everyone loves it.

Dessert arrived. Helene, the fussiest woman alive, said her ice cream was gritty.

Ice crystals, I said. The worst!

I asked them if they listened to music. Not since my hearing went, said Elaine. Music doesn't sound good when you wear a hearing aid.

I told them I'm cooking the GOOSE BREAST today in my new lousy crockpot that doesn't have a shut-off valve.

"Is that the name of the brand?" quipped Elaine. "Lousy?"

When I said goodbye to them, I said, "It's only 1:15, we have the rest of the day!"

"Oh, shit, we say," said Elaine.

The rest of the day to do nothing.

I told em I'd be happy to take them to Ben n Irv's Deli for a better-tasting meal.