Just Call Me “Alice’s Rabbit”—I’m Late, I’m Late…

1 Reply

So, where was I last week? I was right here, at home, wading in the pool of self-pity and requested pain. No, I’m not a masochist. Honest. Trust me. Several years ago, I had a couple of toenails removed, supposedly the toes were treated so the nails wouldn’t grow back. They grew back, and they were vengeful. It took time, but I reached the point of finality, and discussed possible solutions with my podiatrist about the one causing the most pain. (NOT the one who removed the original toenail!) Anyhow, Favorite Podiatrist said I had about three options, I could have the nail removed and take a chance the replacement nail would be better behaved, I could have it removed and treated to not grow back, or, and the one he really recommended, was I could have it removed and treated so it wouldn’t grow back. (I think he worked at the Ford company while in medical school? You can have any color car you want as long as you want black) I chose the last option. A week ago this past Friday, Favorite Podiatrist removed the nail and treated the nail bed with acid to keep it from growing back. 

No pain, other than the needle with numbing juice going in, and that wasn’t much pain. Even when the juice wore off, I didn’t need so much as an aspirin, until the next morning when I had to soak it in Epsom salts, and re-bandage it. Pain!!! for about an hour. Self-pity for the morning. Rinse, repeat, and I didn’t feel like doing much of anything but listen to my Samurai Music on YouTube, funny AI stories on YouTube, and work on Thomas’s poetry.

I think I have 3 solid books of his poetry. Probably will self-publish once I have them together, well, starting with the first. I’ll get more royalty that way, and I’m dividing the royalty between his three sons. They certainly won’t get rich but maybe buy a coffee now and then on their Dad. 😉 I sent a couple of nice checks off to ALS Association and End of Life Washington the other day, from the sale of Saying Goodbye to Thomas. I kicked in a bit, too. 

Just for grins, I went to ABEbooks.com a couple days ago. I could find NO used copies of Saying Goodbye to Thomas! Lots of new ones offered, but no used ones. That tells me that people who are buying the book are pleased with it, and not trading it in at their local used book store. In other words, it’s a good book (pun not intended, but now that I see it…;-). 

Speaking of books

I have read three chapbooks in the last couple of weeks.

GAZA Poetry by Errol Young

This is not an easy book to read, and I am fairly sure, from what Young wrote in Author’s Note 02, not an easy one to write. His first poem, “Too Many” says it all. It begins, “I cannot be silent.” and ends, “Read them if you must. / Ignore them if you will. / I cannot.”

No, this is not an easy book to read, but the poems are well-written, which is not easy to do when the subject matter is so atrocious. Buy the book, read the book, become educated by the book.

GAZA Poetry by Errol Young, 25 pages of poetry, available in print from bookshop.org, and other places. $10.00

The Future Deserves a Nervous Breakdown by Sherry Fraser

Ever read a book, and by the time you’re finished reading it, thinking thoughts along the line of, “I’d really like to meet this person, share a cuppa, or a margarita, with the author?” Yep, that’s me. I didn’t know I not only need a nervous breakdown, but that I deserve one. Wow!

“A Tree Moves from Brooklyn” had me smiling and chuckling, “American Aristocrat” had me LOLing.  

Fraser has a delightfully wicked sense of humor, which appeals to me no end. I’m not sure, but with all the LOLing I had by the time I finished the book, I may have had that nervous breakdown.

I dog-ear the bottom corner of pages of poetry that I really love. I usually have a few pages dog-eared by the time I’m finished. In this case, I think at least 50% of the pages are dog-eared, including a few that are double-dog-eared. The rest are merely very good 😉

The Future Deserves a Nervous Breakdown by Sherry Fraser

Available from the author, Sherry Fraser at sherryyoga@gmail.com for $20.00 incl s/h 

Saudade, A Collection of Poems on Love, Loss, and Change Between Cultures by A. J. Blanco

I have recently discovered the Saudade (sowDAHdjee), a Portuguese poem of deep longing for something or someone absent, often with a sense of sadness or nostalgia.  (Wikipedia) I bought a small book of 21 Saudade by A. J. Blanco. Blanco is also new to Saudade, and the Portuguese language introduced by her husband, a Brasilian, to add to the Spanish and English she already knew. 

Saudade, A Collection of Poems on Love, Loss, and Change Between Cultures by A. J. Blanco is available from Bookshop.org for $10.99 +s/h.

Please know I appreciate you, I love you, and I wish you a fantastical week!!!

Found this smiling guy when I was down in Florida. What a flirt! Alas, I couldn’t hang around…

Happy Mother’s Day

Leave a reply

okay, I’m a day late, live with it 😉

Here is the origin of this day. I think it’s worth the reading, and if anyone has a way to send the message, or at least the link to Mother Melania back in DC, feel free to do so. Extra points if you can send it to her in her native language. Use the link if the image disappears: https://elainemichele.com/portfolio/mothers-day-card-proclamation/

My week’s excitement included a drive south 179 miles with my gal pal, Mary, to see our friend Judith for couple days. Very boring drive down and back (best kind of a drive!), and a mahvelous visit with our friend. She’s moved into a retirement home, and we ate with her in the resident restaurant which was actually pretty good food, and it was ordered off a menu. 

The home she’s in is very nice, the apartments are large, the staff is very friendly, and the restaurant is open from 7:30am to 7:00pm, the residents can go in any time and order any meal, or just go to the salad bar, which looked very good!

Judith took us on a walk to a nearby park where we sat and enjoyed the morning. Then we walked back to the apartment and met many of her new friends. They’re all retired, friendly, and had great senses of humor. We also sat outside in the gazebo by the pond in the courtyard and caught up on 10-12 year’s worth of gossip and watched the new baby ducklings. 

Alas, the time was too short, but we hope to make the trip again—without waiting another 10-12 years.

Mama and her babies between the gazebo and the pond.

This week’s favorite AI quote from Karma Files:
“No sense in explaining quantum physics to a hamster.”

I love you. I appreciate you. Have a marvelous 7-day!

The Two-Week Vaca That Was—Sorta ;-)

1 Reply

Happy Today!
Have a fantastically wunnerful up-coming week.
I love you. I appreciate you. You are wonderful!

Public Service Announcement:

I had a poem accepted by Casa Urraca Press for a print anthology. 
Believe me, I’m over the moon on this one. AND, I have two poems
published in this month’s edition of Quill and Parchment for which 
I’m also over the moon— People of the Desert and Shadows of the Crow.
Please click on the link, and scroll down, and stop and read some 
of the other poems on your way to mine. There are some great ones. 
The Two-Week Vaca That Was—Sorta 😉

Okay, it was a vacation, much enjoyed, and wonderfully productive, it just wasn’t what I’d planned on and hoped for. Those of you not familiar with Washington geography, I live in Kennewick (on the Big Bend of the Columbia River in south central/eastern Washington. Tacoma is on the Dark Side, south of Seattle, Federal Way is just north of Tacoma, the Narrows is the place Puget Sound narrows enough for two bridges to span it to the Peninsula. (Olympia is farther south, where the Sound ends.) Port Orchard, Poulsbo, Bremerton, Port Hadlock, Port Townsend and farther north up the peninsula, with Pt. T. at the NE tip. Arlington is just about straight across the Salish Sea (real name of Puget Sound) and inland a bit, ie, north of Seattle, Everett, and Marysville. I had planned on coming home from Arlington via Highway 2, then down through Wenatchee, etc. Oh, well, next time. 😉

I had planned on spending Friday evening with my Sister of the Heart, Marjorie, in Tacoma, then drive across the Narrows and spend Friday night, and Saturday night, with my ex-Boss, Bill. As we all know, life happens, and when I arrived at Marjorie’s, the house was dark, and no one home. You ever get up on a Friday but you just know it’s Thursday? Uh-huh, she was a day late and a dollar short, so to speak.

So, I spent the time with Bill, which, per usual, was great fun. We drove from Port Orchard up to Paulsbo, bought goodies at the bakery, came home, and had them for supper. Oh, evilness never tasted better! 

Sunday, I drove back across the Narrows up to Federal Way, not far from where I used to live, actually, picked up my good friend, Dixie who lives in Virginia but was at her granddaughter’s, then drove back across the bridge and up to our VRBO rental in Port Hadlock (just south of Port Townsend.) A gorgeous drive, a beautiful home—but we couldn’t open the key box to get the key to get in. Of course, we also couldn’t get through to the Host and after spending a couple hours on the phone with VRBO people, they sent us to a hotel for the night.  They couldn’t get the host, either. So, we drove up to Pt. T, found a hotel, with some great views

Gulls on hotel roof. The grass on roof is metal, meant to keep gulls off.

Olympic Mountains in background; they should be white. Mfg unk.

In the meantime, VRBO kept trying to contact the Host, and Monday morning succeeded, with a three-way phone call, the Host directed us to return to the house, the on-site mgr. would meet us and let us in. So back we went, and were so embarrassed when we were shown how simple it was to get in. Every lock box we’ve ever used, the bottom released, in this case, the ‘door’ pulled out and down. Oh, sigh.

The house was gorgeous, with fantastic views. When Dixie rented the house, she emphasized we had one person who could not do stairs, and was assured that person would be fine. Yeah, right. We went in on the main level of huge kitchen, dining room, living room, door out to deck, and a double set of stairs, one going down to the daylight basement, and one up to the second floor. Bathrooms were up, or down, stairs, none on the main level. Being an old Girl Scout, and a Vet, I assured Dixie that if there wasn’t an easy path and door to the daylight basement, there were lots of bushes. She was, rightly so, horrified. I, on the other hand hoped for the path, which turned out to very pleasant, and a huge slider downstairs, and a fairly comfy sofa on which to lay my weary body 😉 The bathroom was a full bathroom, though the textured floor of the walk-in shower was very slick when water, soap, and or shampoo, was on it. One shower was enough, and I bathed out of my helmet (the sink) thereafter.

This was to have been a Writer’s Retreat for 3 of us, one had unexpected defugalties and couldn’t come, so Dixie and I had our retreat and it was marvelous. She brought her project, I brought mine, and though I did no writing, other than my daily poems, we both got a great deal done. She is working on getting her late husband’s articles together for a book, and I worked on getting my late adopted brother’s poetry together for a book or maybe two. The first thing I did was put them in alphabetical order and get rid of all the duplicates and early versions. Then I broke them into categories. Now I need to go through and read each one and make a decision whether or not to put in a book (or one of the books). 

We did take one day off and drive up to Pt. Townsend, where we toured Fort Worden, then walked a bit in downtown, gawking at the old buildings. We went into a fabric store—District Fabric—that was fabulous! All kinds of fabric, most on rolls, not flat bolts, and even a section where some was on hangers that was ‘gently pre-owned’. Fabrics from all over the world. OMG! It was hard to leave. I bought two pieces, one of pre-owned blue with yellow-gold hash marks, the other blacks, grays, like a hurricane rainband.

Then a kitchen gadget store, The Green Eyeshade, where they had every kitchen knick-knack known to cooking-hood. I bought a tiny spoon I use in my Szcheuan pepper sauce, from Japan with a kitty on it, and last night it dawned on me, it’s probably a caviar spoon. Well, I can afford the pepper sauce 😉

From there, we wandered down the street to All About Me, a clothing store with a sale rack of clothes outside. The colors were all wrong for me—earthtones—and some guy with a soprano sax a half block or so away decided to entertain folks. I told Dixie I was going inside and if not back in three days to call the Gendarmes. I really did not like the guy’s sax playing. Found a coat I really liked, more like a long jacket, summer weight, then saw where it had to be hand washed. It went back on the rack, and I wandered on through the store. In the back were shoes. And some were on sale. Dixie wandered back to join me, and there were two pair sized 38 and 39, red, fun, on sale. The 39 fit me, which was a surprise, most Euro sizes are too wide. Alas, Dixie could get the 38 on, but it was uncomfortable. She bought a pair of slacks, I bought a pair of shoes. Then we headed back to the house, with a stop off in a diner that was actually pretty dog gone good, then home for a glass of wine. 

I probably shouldn’t admit this, but we bought a bottle of wine our first day there, the standard 750ml sized bottle, and I brought enough for two more glasses home with me. Yeah, our glasses were probably between 1-2oz. We’re pretty big drinkers, huh? I drank the last of it the next Thursday. 

On the following Sunday, I was scheduled to return Dixie to her granddaughter’s and drive up to Arlington to see my adopted Little Bro and his husband. Alas a couple days prior, my BIL was admitted to the hospital, and I am delighted to say he is now home recouping, but at the time, it was deemed the better part of common sense for me to toodle on home and not see them. So, I got to see 2 of the 5 people I wanted to see. Yes, it was a loverly vacation, but I miss not seeing those I didn’t get to see. Oh, well, it just means I have an excuse to go to the Dark Side again. (It is called the Dark Side due to the fact that the clouds roll in about half past September and stay until (usually) 5 July, not really rainy, just gray, wet, gloomy—dark.

Great Blue Heron on tide flats outside our rental

Dawn at Bruce Pond (near side of spits, see heron above) Oak Bay far side, Salish Sea

Mt Tahoma (Rainier) at dawn

Susie says, Hi, to everyone. She’s very friendly.

Our rental. The upstairs windows on the left was Dixie’s room, the downstairs sliders was mine. I could go up the outside stairs, but wasn’t comfortable going down them.
The house behind is used for storage.

Mt Tahoma, Guardian of the Southern Salish Sea

Best quote, possibly ever: I did that!

This is the pump at the gas station I went to in Port Hadlock. In the middle of MAGA country

All photos by Lenora Rain-Lee Good, using iPhone 17 Pro Max

Best AI Quote EVER

1 Reply

Happy Today!
Have a fantastically wunnerful up-coming week.
I love you. I appreciate you. You are wonderful!

Due to technical defrugalties, Coffee Break Escapes is late. My web mistress is working the situation and within minutes of its being cleared, you will find CBE in your inbox. The most honorable web mistress apologizes, as do I. But, she is marvelous, and you are now reading.

Trader Joe coming????

Since I’ve moved into the Tries, rumors float to the surface every so often that Trader Joe’s is coming! And maybe they are. Or not. The Trader looks at population and parking availability, according to an article in our newspaper, and they see the Tries not as one area of 300,000 population, but as 3 separate cities of (what, 100K each?) which isn’t enough. The article contained a link to put in our browser if we want a TJs—type in “Request a Trader Joe’s” or click here: https://www.traderjoes.com/home/contact-us/request-a-store. I’ve mailed them, periodically, letters requesting same, and never received a reply. But, what the heck, I filled out their form, and maybe, just maybe, enough other Tri-Citians will also fill it out, explain that it’s primarily the pols who see 3 separate cities, but us locals just see three neighborhoods separated by 3 rivers with more than 3 bridges connecting us. That we cross into each other’s neighborhood to shop all the time. Also to visit friends and we’d love to visit Trader Joe. So, if you have a TJs in your neighborhood, congratulations, maybe we’ll get one, too. eventually. maybe sooner! Hope springs eternal…

Travel

I’m going to be travelling for the next three weeks or so, not far, but staying with friends I haven’t seen in a long time, so there is a very good probability (high) I will be busy with friends and not writing the blog. But I shall return. Honest. Trust me.

Best AI Quote EVER!!!:

“I got in my car to drive the 200 miles between San Francisco and New York City. I should make it in about two hours.”

Book Reviews

Turn Up the Ocean: Poems by Tony Hoagland

This is Hoagland’s last book of poetry, put together by his widow a couple years after his death. He knew his was dying when he wrote several of the poems. I hope, if I have that foreknowledge and time, my poems will be written with the humor and pathos with which Hoagland wrote.

Hoagland is a writer I truly wish I could have met and shared a cuppa with. His very first poem in the book is “Bible All Out of Order” and I laughed from the first stanza, “One thing’s for sure; in the future, the morgues are going to be full of tattoos. / It’s going to be more colorful and easier to manage: / ‘Hey Jeff, move Dolphin-Shoulder-Girl to tray seven.” / “And get Mr. Flames-on-My-Neck out for the doc.” to the line, “It’s possible I have this all out of order.” to the last two lines, “while being tossed this way and that, askew and asunder, / in this blithering whirlwind of wonder.”

Just reading the Contents, is in itself a poem, and trust me, the actual poems are far more than the sum of the title’s worth! Gorgon, Immersion, Why I like the Hospital, The Reason He Brought His Gun to School: A Blues, Illness and Literature, On Why I Must Decline to Receive the Prayers You Say You Are Constantly Sending, Dante’s Bar and Gril, The Decline of the Roman Empire, Reading While Sick in the Middle of the Night, Peaceful Transition, with a whole bunch more. 

The book ends with “Peaceful Transition.” It begins with, “The wind comes down from the northwest, cold in September,” and flows to “I see the wren has found a way to make its little nest / inside the cactus thorns.”

Rest in Power, Tony Hoagland. Thank you for being, thank you for writing, thank you publishers for publishing your works, thank you for this last book of poetry. You are, truly, missed. 

The book is available from your favorite bookstore or the two linked below. And probably your library (but they’ll want it back).

Turn Up the Ocean: Poems by Tony Hoagland
Published by Graywolf Press, 2022
ISBN:  978-1-64445-092-5 (paperback)
ISBN:  978-1-64445-180-9 (ebook)
Bookshop.org              abebooks.com
5 Stars

The Beautiful Foolishness: poems by Wayne Lee

I love Wayne Lee’s poetry, I have two of his earlier books, and as soon as this one was available on pre-order, I pre-ordered. I love pre-ordering books for a variety of reasons: 1. It helps the publisher know how popular the book will be, 2. it gives the author a warm fuzzy and, 3. I tend to forget I ordered it, and then a month or three later, I receive a beautiful book in the mail like an unexpected and welcomed present. Another reason, some publishers base their royalty payments on pre-sales, and nothing else, and once the pre-sale is over, the royalty rate is set, and no matter how many books are sold later, royalty doesn’t change. 

Back to the topic, Lee’s book:  Lee is a Buddhist, and the peacefulness of Buddhism comes through in his poems, as well a deal of humor—foolishness—and the beauty of our world as it is. The first poem, “The Sky Has Spoken” begins with maintenance of life, “A magpie flies between you and the sun” and drops a dead bird at your feet, a raven flies overhead and drops the warm heart from a small being, “The sky has spoken in a language / you do not understand.” We ask questions, seek meaning beyond what was given, and our questions “rise like cottonwood fluff” and we “listen like a child / with a bright red crayon / poised above a pure white page.” 

The poems are printed in four sections, each section its own, and each beautiful. I love “Approaching Home” which begins, “And then one day you realize / you’re close to home,” and ends with “to some familiar place / you’ve never been.” What a beautiful way  to say you can’t go home again, you can’t step into a river twice in the same place, the world never stops moving.

There is a whole section of haiku, and the first is one of my favorite, “sitting at the feet / of the Buddha / a child laughs”. The last poem in the book, “Flannel Shirt” begins, “It’s the way the shirt hangs” and ends, “on the chair just right”.

Lee’s poems don’t just breathe life and give joy, but give us permission to accept the joy of being alive and to grasp that life in both arms and dance and laugh with it. Buy it, read it, live.

The Beautiful Foolishness: poems by Wayne Lee
Published by Casa Urraca Press
ISBN:  978-1-956375-43-5
Casa Urraca Press       Bookshop.org      
5 Stars

Please support Independent Booksellers, and if you’re a writer, check out Indie Presses.

The Things You See…

I was walking the SamSam the other day, and found this on the back of a car in our parking lot. I thought it worth sharing—and maybe getting 😉

“His voice deadly calm in the way that makes people check their life insurance.”
—another AI quote

And then along comes…

Leave a reply

Y’all know how Auntie Lenora hates numbers. If you didn’t know that before, you do now. I do not enjoy math, and I detest algebra. To me, the wonton mixing of numbers and letters is an abomination. Kinda like a tossed salad mixed with worms.

And then along comes AI thinking it’s an author, writing stories worthy of narration and publication. “It was Wednesday, and Nathan came. We spent three days — On Thursday he went back…” Even I, Numbers Phobe Extraordinaire, knows that’s wrong. Sigh. 

My secret sin, I listen to way too many of these, I never comment, I do not wish to encourage more than I do by clicking on them, but I find them laugh out loud funny! The words are mispronounced, the abbreviations written are said incorrectly, and the stories are, well, think romance novels of the ‘70s and ‘80s. The SciFi ones are fairly well done, and fun, but again, very formulaic. The ones that come out of other countries are not always translated, often there are sentences and paragraphs in Asian languages, and I think I’ve caught Russian in a couple. But they are great escape from the Un-named Person (UP) the news generated by same.

The Red Hijab by Bonnie Bolling

I honestly don’t remember who recommended this book, but I wish I did so I could thank them. It’s about 70 pages of some wonderful poetry. As H. L. Hix says in the Forward, Bonnie Bolling “…lives a part of each year in Diraz, a village in Bahrain [and] is in position to offer, and does offer in The Red Hijab, an alternative to [news dispatches.” I would like to know why she lives there part time every year, because I’m curious. 

I found the poems engaging and telling of a life more as it’s lived than reported on the news. Yes, there are the sounds of shootings while a chicken cooks in someone’s kitchen. There is rain and a soaked housemaid passing wearing her red hijab. 

Bolling takes us on a tour of day-to-day-living in a culture very unlike ours, and while I don’t think I would want to live in that culture long-term, I found it beautiful in its honesty, and of course, had I been born into it, it would be all I would know. 

From the first and title poem, “The Red Hijab” which begins: “A hard rain falling on the corrugated roof / of the abandoned double-wide / across the steaming street,” to the last poem of the book, “On a Balcony with the Lunch Poems” which ends, “always the going, / always the returning, / the four of them wearing / Superman underwear.” (she returns to California and her sons) we are treated with the beauty of words, and a country I’ve never known and would like to meet. 

The book is divided into three parts, introduced by quotes by people as varied as Adonis, Virginia Woolf, Job, and Rumi. The word Azan appears many times, and when I looked it up, thinking it was a synonym for muezzin I learned something, which makes the book even more worthwhile. The muezzin is the man who calls/sings the azan, the call to prayer, from the minaret. There are several of the calls or summons to prayer on line, here is one classified as the “Most Beautiful Azan Ever Heard.” I cannot attest to that, because it’s the only one I’ve ever heard, but it is beautiful. 

The Red Hijab by Bonnie Bolling
ISBN: 978-1-943491-06-3
BkMkPress, 2016
available from Amazon
            I looked at abebooks.com and it cost twice as much plus an outrageous s/h fee. I could not find it on Bookshop.org. Amazon has new ones for $12.74
5 stars

First Goslings!

Our first goslings of the season were brought over to the small pond next to my office on Thursday. There were four of them. Parents very watchful and protective. A lot of folks don’t like Canada Geese, but they are family oriented. As more goslings come along, the families frequently band together, herding all the youngsters into a mass bundle of cuteness, and walk surrounding them, or swim surrounding them, to keep them all safe. Ducks don’t seem to be that caring. The drakes ignore the hens while they nest, so they must leave the eggs unattended while they eat, and when the babies come, the hens are protective of theirs, but aren’t smart enough to see banding together with other duck hens and young would add more protection. They will attack any duckling that wanders into their group or territory, as the usurper will steal the food of their babies. I don’t want to politicize our geese or ducks but they do rather remind me of our two major political parties. /meow/

I believe the gander is on the left, and the dame on the right. The four yellow spots are the goslings.

“The holiest place on earth
is where your greatest
enemy stands.” –unknown

Blatant Self-Promotion:
I’m sorry, but every so often I really need to self-promote
Saying Goodbye to Thomas.
If you would like to asigned copy, contact me.
The cost is $23.00 including shipping and handling,
otherwise, please check your local indie bookstore, Bookshop.org or the other place.
If you buy from me, I will donate the ENTIRE amount, split evenly, to
ALS Association and Death With Dignity.
Whatever royality I receive from bookstores/publishers
is also divided equally.
I make NO money from this book.

I’m Late, I’m Late…

1 Reply

Happy Today. Have a fantabulous next seven days. I love you. I appreciate you. 

Yes, I’m a little late. This past week has been, well, a week. A wonderful week, but still a week. I think I mentioned sometime past that I was taking a six-session workshop on Arthur Sze’s book, Into The Hush. The last session was Saturday 21 March. Then, because we did not have a great deal of time for generative writing during our sessions, on this past Saturday, the 28th, we had a session of generative writing, during which I got two good first drafts (poetry) written. 

When that session finished, I signed out of zoom, made a dash to the kitchen for my leftover hamburger from the night before, signed into another zoom session for almost two hours of a No Kings Rally for people who couldn’t make it to a local rally, or for whatever reason couldn’t attend. Our local rally is always fun, but it’s two hours of standing, not walking/marching, and my knees have finally convinced me they are as old as my birth certificate declares. The zoom rally was interesting. I had no idea what to expect and thought they may show clips of live rallies throughout the country, but nope, they had speakers, and the theme was science and what a debacle Bobby’s kid has made of Public Health. Speakers included Nancy Pelosi, AOC, a congressman who is a trained physicist whose name I disremember, and several other people, all interesting. 

By the time I “returned” from the rally, I’d been on zoom a tad more than 5 hours, my eyes hurt, my butt hurt, and poor neglected Mister Sammy Brave Dog was begging for some cuddle time. Trust me, getting horizontal on my bed, with a warm puppy dog next to me was just what the doctor ordered. And then I had to get ready for the third zoom of the day—my weekly poetry critique. By the time it was through, I’d spent somewhere between seven and eight hours stuck in a zoom room. I was tired of looking at a computer screen. 

I had 2 hours of zoom scheduled for Sunday, an open mic, out of the LA area, where a group of us meet every Sunday to read two poems. We have become a family. We have virtually held and supported each other through breakups, deaths, dreams unfolding to great happiness, and even had sibling arguments and makeups. 

I had errands and baking to do in the morning, and in the early afternoon, I made a couple of fun phone calls to two of my sisters of the heart. Those were a lot more fun and interesting than cleaning out my emails 😉 which I did after my last zoom of the day. 

The days before, when I could have been working on this post, I was writing, and working on my poetry. 

10 Books to Read After Project Hail Mary

Part of my morning routine, actually, daily routine, is to check the news, and look for short things on YouTube that aren’t depressing. I came across one this morning that was interesting. A 15-minute 10-book book review on books to read or listen to, after seeing/reading Project Hail Mary. I’ve already read some, and agree with her assessment of them and thought you might be interested in the list. To see the video, click here.

Podjo

Thomas named this crow Podjo, Spanish for old friend. He came to whatever patio Thomas and Sheryl were sitting on, or near if he saw them through the window, to wait for his peanuts. He got to the place where he would eat out of Thomas’s hand, and brought a great deal of joy to Thomas in his last months. When I took Sammy to visit with me, we had to keep him restrained when Thomas tossed the nuts out his door for Podjo. Sammy wasn’t interested in Podjo, he wanted the peanuts!

Be well, be safe, be happy!

Can Our Sun Be Saved?

Leave a reply

Happy Today! Have a Fantastical rest of the Week. I love you; I appreciate you!

Some alien life-form is eating not just our sun, but almost all others in the universe. Can our sun be saved? Can Earth be saved? Sorry, you’ll have to escape to Tau Ceti aboard the space ship Project Hail Mary with Ryland Grace, two other astronauts, and meet Rocky, an alien from Erid (I think that’s the name), to find out.

Housemate Dan and I read the book a few months ago, along with our Book Group, and I could hardly wait to see the movie. I thought today would never get here. We decided to go today instead of yesterday when it opened, because a couple of friends wanted to go with us. We all enjoyed the heck out of the movie.

Ryan Gosling played Ryland Grace, scientist and unwilling astronaut. Rocky was played by, well, himself. Rocky is a puppet. Gosling is an extremely brave, as well as talented actor. Actors should never have to play opposite children or Muppets. Though I doubt Rocky is a Muppet, just a puppet. 

For those of you who know me, you’ve heard the story, I’m sure, about an animated movie, WALL-E, where an animated robot is the last person on Earth, and is visited by a space ship with humans returning to Earth, and Wall-E falls in love with a lady robot and leaves to be with her, and leaves his best and only buddy a robot cockroach all alone on Earth. Yes, I cried over an animated robot cockroach being abandoned. 

Rocky isn’t a tiny cockroach. And, yes, there was a place in the movie when I cried. But there were more laughs than tears. I even picked up some of the musical jokes. If  you need to get as far away as possible from Earth and our current problems, even if you haven’t read the book, go see Project Hail Mary. 

Andy Weir is the author of the book. He also wrote The Martian. If you haven’t read that one, or seen the movie, do both. And you might find some interesting YouTube programs on, including this one on how zero G spacewalks are filmed in movies with Adam Savage. There are plenty more, including several teasers.

The Missing Heron

I think this is the female, but I haven’t seen either her or the male in the last 2-3 weeks. Maybe they are someplace building a nest? Maybe they’ll have little herons and bring them by in a couple months? Anyhow, this was taken through my office window. 

Hiking With the Elderly

Leave a reply

Happy Today! May your week be Fantabulous! I love you. I appreciate you.

I found an old file on my computer the other day, and in wandering through it, came across this piece I wrote several years ago, and thought y’all might get a chuckle out of it.

Hiking With the Elderly

My stepdad, Sandy, had at least four weeks of vacation per year, and we often spent that camping with my Grandma and Skipper—what everyone called my grandpa—my mother’s parents.  One year, my best friend Pat was invited to join us.  Two teen-aged girls, for four weeks of primitive camping! What was my family thinking?

Our first camp site that year was in central Oregon just south of Bend, on East Lake, which is east of Paulina Lake.  The adults would spend most of the day out on the lake fishing, and Pat and I would spend our time hiking, wandering around, reading, and checking out the guys.  The latter took very little time, as there weren’t many our age worth checking out.  And the ones there were, were far more interested in fishing than us girls.  Their loss.

One day, Skipper decided to take us on a hike to the fire look out tower at the top of Paulina Peak, almost 8,000 feet elevation.  Now, Pat and I decided we’d go easy on the old man, after all, we were teenagers, and he was in his 70s.  So off we went.  We drove to the trail head, and started up. It being both good etiquette and common sense to allow the slowest to lead, we let Skipper lead us up the trail.  We went up.  And up.  And up.  We finally got to the top.  The view was spectacular, as I recall, and we spent a little time there, then it was time to go down.  And down.  And down.  No, only two downs.  It was three ups and two downs.  I’m positive of that.  

Back at the campsite, with a couple hours of daylight left, Skipper went fishing – Pat and I collapsed into a long and wonderful nap.  We woke in time to eat supper, and then slept all night long.  We were pooped.  So much for giving the old man a break.

Several years latter, when my son was in his early twenties, I bought a new pair of hiking boots.  We decided to take them on an inaugural hike.  I found a trail close to my apartment, a ‘wandering creek trail’.  I thought that would be a nice easy hike, following the creek.  A good way to break in my new boots. What the trail name failed to tell, and the map failed to show, as it wasn’t an elevation map, was that the wandering creek wandered as it fell over several hundred feet – the trail went up and up and up.  One of the steepest trails I’d ever been on.  Aaron and I hiked and climbed and when we got to the top, where it leveled out, we walked. 

The view was spectacular, and there was a nest of well-marked and maintained trails at the top of the plateau.  I later spent many afternoons and weekends exploring those trails.  Though I seldom took the wandering creek trail again.  Oh, and when we got back to the apartment, Aaron collapsed into a long and deep nap.  I went grocery shopping.  Once again proving old age and treachery will win over youthful exuberance.  Or is it that history repeats itself?

Caliche Road Poems by David Meischen

This book has been in my to-read stack for several months. I finally got to the book, and am so sorry I waited so long to get to it. Caliche Road Poems should have been at the top of the stack and it should be at the top of yours!

As Meischen says in the note at the beginning of this powerful, accessible collection, “These poems originate from a particular place and time—the Meischen family farm in the Dilworth community of Jim Wells County Texas, 1948 and the years that followed.” The poems are about his youth, and his family, and friends as he knew them and remembers them.

As a city gal who, especially as a young, romantic, girl, dreamed of marrying a farmer or cattle rancher, I found this collection both informative and fascinating. And, I think, I’m glad I stayed a city gal, though I do prefer towns to raging cities.;-)

I love the images—his parents dancing to Glenn Miller, the air conditioned shop in Corpus Christi, the trees, the play of children, the dangers of farm life. I could smell the mesquite, my back ached harvesting cotton.

And any grown man (or woman), who still calls his daddy Daddy, has my undying love and admiration. The Meischens are a family I’d love to know, to sit with a cup of coffee or iced tea and just converse and enjoy their company, a slow Texas breeze, the scenery from the kitchen or the porch. Thank you, David Meischen for sharing your family and home, dogs, cows, everyday life. I look forward to returning several times in my future.

Caliche Road Poems by David Meischen 

ISBN: 978-1-962148-03-0
Lamar University Literary Press, Beaumont, Texas
Bookshop.org

This book deserves a place on your nightstand. Delightful poems with which to end your day.

Sunday Service

I know I’ve told you about Rev. Dr. Staceypants and her Sunday Sermons. It’s the first time in 40 years or more that I’ve actually looked forward to Church on Sunday, or any other day of the week. For those of you who don’t know her, at least electronically, you might want to check her out. Today’s sermon: “Is It a Sin to Cheer for Iran?” And, no, she’s not a closet Muslim, and she’s not anti-American. For an interesting sermon, by an atheist, recommended by another atheist, click here. And don’t forget to call out, Amen at the appropriate places!

Standards Not Force

Those of you who want to resist, and for whatever reasons can’t do marches, etc., please consider checking out Standards Not Force. for Substack, and Standards Not Force on YouTube. They have a way for us old folks to pull our part.

Be well, be happy, be safe

A Hack from an Old Fartess.

2 Replies

Happy Monday! Have a Great rest of the week. I love you. I appreciate you.

So, I’m at that age when my joints don’t work like they used to, they talk more than I do, and they sure aren’t a flexible as they used to be. And, I have a dog. And dog’s make offerings to the Grass Gods, and the Grass Gods are very specific that such offerings must be properly picked up and deposited in the large green altars at each corner of the apartment complex. 

If you don’t know, the Grass Gods live at ground level. And old joints aren’t flexible, and being a good People Mommy to Mister Sammy Brave Dog, I need to pick those offerings up before the Grass Gods decree us homeless. 

So I bought a 16” kitchen tong. I slip the GG approved bag over the grabby ends, bend over a wee it, pick up the offering, pull the bag over it, and deposit it in the large green altar nearest to wherever we were. Actually, I bought two tongs. I have one in my office to pick stuff off the floor that I drop. Works great for pens, papers, pins—-hmmm, maybe I’ll get another for the sewing area.

One can go to the pet store and buy a heavy plastic pooper scooper, and I had one when my toe was operated on and I couldn’t bend my foot, in fact I couldn’t walk on it flat, only on the outer edge. It worked great on grass, if it hadn’t just been mowed, and the plastic teeth could get under the offering and lift it. But if the offering was given on dirt, on rocks (we have a lot of both) the teeth couldn’t get under the offering. Yeah. Eeeewwwww!! But the tongs? Voila!

Poetry

I have written a tick over 2 poems a day since 1 Jan. There have been a couple of days when I haven’t written a new poem, but I’ve worked on some that were already written. I have over 100 poems filed, more if you count each version 😉 And a new flash fiction! With dragons!!! HUZZAH!!

Mr. Sammy Brave Dog

He is finally learning not to bark at everyone who walks down the community hall to their door. Or when someone walks by outside. It’s nice to have him much quieter like he was before we moved here, but it was nice, when we got a package left by the door. The problem was, he couldn’t tell if it was our door or the neighbors, it it’s a delivery person, or a resident. He still doesn’t spend much time in my office, but I can’t blame him. If I had a choice between laying on the floor or on a bed, I’d take the bed, too. Unfortunately, he won’t get into or onto a dog bed. He will, now and then, make a nest of the blanket on the floor near my chair. But it’s not as comfy as the bed. And there just isn’t room for a large chair, sofa, or bed in my office.

bed shark.

Billy the Kid

1 Reply

Before I begin, here is your Monday Public Service Announcement:

Happy Monday. Have a great rest of the week. I love you. I appreciate you.

When I lived in Albuquerque, I started working on a book of poetry about Billy the Kid, aka William H. Bonney, aka Henry McCarty—his birth name. I was still in the research stage when life happened, and I moved back to Kennewick, and became involved in other things. I still dream of going back to New Mexico, Fort Sumner, etc., and doing research, and writing the poems, but then, I’m a dreamer, eh?

In the meantime, someone in my critique group recommended a book last year, Coming Through Slaughter, a fictionalized biography of New Orleans jazz pioneer Buddy Bolden and is partly set in Slaughter, Louisiana, by Michael Ondaatje. I enjoyed the book, so when I found The Collected Works of Billy the Kid also by Michael Ondaatje, I had to read it, too. And I was not disappointed!

There is not a great deal known about Billy, but there is some information out there, and Ondaatje did a marvelous job of using what little is known as a springboard for his poetry and prose. It reads like a journal, or maybe a better description is a collection of his (Billy’s) papers, what were found, often without beginning or ending. Some of the poems actually have titles, or at least attribution as to who wrote them, as “Miss Sallie Chisum” by Sallie Chisum describing Billy “As far as dress was concerned / he always looked as if / he had just stepped out of a bandbox.” She goes on to describe his clothing, finishing with, “he was the pink of politeness / and as courteous a little gentleman / as I ever met.” From what I’ve found about Billy in what little research I’ve accomplished, this was a fairly accurate description of him.

By many accounts I’ve read, Billy was a gentleman, at least where the ladies were concerned. He dressed well, he was polite, he was bi-lingual (English and Spanish) and possibly tri-lingual. There is some information out there he spoke Gaelic, probably learned at his mother’s knee.

If you’re looking for a good and plausible book about Billy, I highly recommend The Collected Works of Billy the Kid.  It’s great fun. If you’re looking for a scholarly account of the young man’s life, this isn’t for you. And yes, there is the conspiracy that Garrett shot the wrong man, claimed he was Billy, buried him, and collected the reward and that Billy once again escaped, made it to Mexico or someplace, lived a quiet life as a law-abiding citizen, married, and had a family, etc., etc., etc. Billy was a master at aliases and escapes, so this isn’t entirely unbelievable.

Oh, and in the interest of transparency, or just kinda interesting stuff, when Daddy was a youngster, he met a man who knew Pat Garret who is credited with killing Billy the Kid. We are closer to history than we sometimes realize.

My Friday

Those of you who know me, know I’m not really a morning person. Oh, I get up early enough, because when I wake up enough to answer the early morning calls of bladder and dog, I’m up. I try not to get up before 4am, but sometimes it’s earlier, and if I go back to bed, I just lie there for a couple of hours and I might as well be up and at the computer with my cuppa joe. Like this morning, Sunday. Yes, I’m up, but I’m not cognizant, I’m not ready for thinking, for talking, for doing much beyond watching something on the computer and maybe, if I’m lucky, getting a few words written on the virtual paper before me. Somewhere around 9am, I actually become functionally awake 😉

So, this past Friday, I signed up for a poetry workshop, that started at my time of 7am. It was something like 3 hours long, and very interesting. I actually got 4 poems written during that time. No, they are not ready to be abandoned, but they are good enough to warrant some editing and maybe submission. Then, later that afternoon, I attended my weekly workshop of prompts, and wrote two more poems, also pretty good first drafts. Aren’t you glad I don’t share all the poetry I write with you? Since 1 Jan this year, I’ve written 90. Boy Howdy, do I know how to have fun!!! 😉

How Many Days Until Mid-Term Elections?

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! You really think we’re going to have them? Nope, they ain’t gonna happen, my gentle families and friends. That’s why we’re in an undeclared-by-Congress war, so the Unnamed Person can claim an emergency, and take over and cancel elections, or have them with his goons manning polling places. Yep, we’re closer to history than we realize.

(Please, prove me wrong. Please, please, please.)

be happy, be well, be safe!