"You look tired," said the customer third deep in the line.
"Me?" said the clerk. "I'm always tired."
"What happened to that guy?" asked the customer.
"What guy?" said the clerk.
"You know," said the customer. She lowered her voice. "Your baby daddy."
"Him," said the clerk, sounding a bit chirpier. "He broke parole. He back for 2 1/2 years."
"2 1/2 years?"
"Yeah," said the clerk, "I don't know what they're going to do about that murder charge."
Thursday, February 19, 2009
postcard from a resale shop in Raleigh, North Carolina, found in a book I’ve long not read
AERIAL VIEW OF KONA’S FAMOUS LANDMARKS
This beautiful view is of Kona’s beautiful Hulihee Palace and the Mokauikalla Church.
This the church where I saw the Hawaiian (Soreau (?) parents of bride)—She had on long white lace over taffeta, by the way—typical U.S.—Her very heavy mother in vividly bright acquaish blue, full long dress, fitted at top with big ruffle around low neck & bottom of skirt, wept throughout.
This beautiful view is of Kona’s beautiful Hulihee Palace and the Mokauikalla Church.
This the church where I saw the Hawaiian (Soreau (?) parents of bride)—She had on long white lace over taffeta, by the way—typical U.S.—Her very heavy mother in vividly bright acquaish blue, full long dress, fitted at top with big ruffle around low neck & bottom of skirt, wept throughout.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Just a little fun with LBS (Leaky Brain Syndrome)
Which is what the Boyfriend and I call those incidents when other people seem to read my thoughts, even though they don’t know they are reading my thoughts. If I don’t fall off the blogging wagon again, I’m going to be writing more about this because it’s weird and more fun than television.
Eight years ago I received a small beaded coin purse from an old lady. An OLD lady. It’s the sort of thing an old lady or a strange child might enjoy, or a family member might toss in the trash while cleaning house. I admire this coin purse, and every time I use it, I think of the OLD Lady, and the people who might enjoy such a coin purse, and I always think someone else like me might comment on it, because I comment on things that catch my eye, only nobody ever has, and it’s begun to occur to me that they don’t because they think I’m an OLD lady, so the coin purse is just the sort of thing OLD ladies carry around, thus not worth noting.
This past week-end while I was at the hospital and getting weary and lacking a bit of stimulation that wasn’t the stress of just not worrying about my brother-in-law, plus so continuously running the hospital maze of halls I thought my name was Alice, I stood in front of the Cups bar and thought (very strongly)….where are my people? (don’t worry about that question…it’s on the list for later blog vagaries). I will know the next person, or rather the very first person who will have ever commented on my coin bag is a member of my thought commune.
And just as soon as this silent declaration of thoughts ended, the twentish person behind the counter said, “That’s a wonderful coin bag. I love it.”
Eight years ago I received a small beaded coin purse from an old lady. An OLD lady. It’s the sort of thing an old lady or a strange child might enjoy, or a family member might toss in the trash while cleaning house. I admire this coin purse, and every time I use it, I think of the OLD Lady, and the people who might enjoy such a coin purse, and I always think someone else like me might comment on it, because I comment on things that catch my eye, only nobody ever has, and it’s begun to occur to me that they don’t because they think I’m an OLD lady, so the coin purse is just the sort of thing OLD ladies carry around, thus not worth noting.
This past week-end while I was at the hospital and getting weary and lacking a bit of stimulation that wasn’t the stress of just not worrying about my brother-in-law, plus so continuously running the hospital maze of halls I thought my name was Alice, I stood in front of the Cups bar and thought (very strongly)….where are my people? (don’t worry about that question…it’s on the list for later blog vagaries). I will know the next person, or rather the very first person who will have ever commented on my coin bag is a member of my thought commune.
And just as soon as this silent declaration of thoughts ended, the twentish person behind the counter said, “That’s a wonderful coin bag. I love it.”
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Let's All Ride 'Em, Cowboys
My brother-in-law had chest pains on New Year’s Day, but they were nothing a donated nitro capsule couldn’t fix. The earliest appointment available with a heart specialist was the end of February. When the pains returned the first of February, he self-medicated again with someone else’s nitroglycerin. A day later, after he had made plans to drive two hours to the airport and fly home (he lives 600 miles from where he works) to see a specialist there, the pains returned, so he scheduled an earlier flight, worked, drove two hours for more nitroglycerin, drove back to his own trailer, spent the night, went back to work, then drove back to his trailer, so deep in the woods it had no phone service, to lie down and wait it out until his next morning’s flight. He couldn’t wait it out. He had to drive himself the dark miles back into town to the hospital where the intake clerk was gossiping with co-workers. “Darlin’,” he said to get her attention, “I’m having a heart attack.” When she didn’t seem to comprehend this man on his feet, not on a stretcher, needed immediate assistance, he repeated himself, “Darlin’, I’m having a heart attack, so I suggest you get off your ass and get me some help now." Within seconds the area around the front desk was swarming with emergency personal.
In those long anxious minutes we were waiting on the other side of a phone, we had no word from the last call on the road until another sister-in-law arrived at the hospital and asked for him. “He’s the one,” the intake clerk said, her eyes big. Ohmygod, the sister-in-law thought. “No, no,” the clerk said, “he’s alright. He scared me.” And you just scared me, the sister-in-law thought.
He scared us all.
But he’s fine, after a transfer to a larger hospital, after the heart cath and the stint (the intake doctor had to turn away when my brother-in-law said he had taken five nitros and they hadn’t helped—I know she didn’t want him to see her swallowing the incredulous laugh I saw flashing across her face), after the too much blood thinner, after the recovery.
“At least now I know how long I’ll live,” my brother-in-law told my sister. She listened intently, awonder that somewhere in all the jumble of his three-day-heart-attack this significant revelation had arrived. “How long?” she asked.
“Now I know for sure,” he said. “I’ll live until I die.”
So say we all. Let’s do it.
In those long anxious minutes we were waiting on the other side of a phone, we had no word from the last call on the road until another sister-in-law arrived at the hospital and asked for him. “He’s the one,” the intake clerk said, her eyes big. Ohmygod, the sister-in-law thought. “No, no,” the clerk said, “he’s alright. He scared me.” And you just scared me, the sister-in-law thought.
He scared us all.
But he’s fine, after a transfer to a larger hospital, after the heart cath and the stint (the intake doctor had to turn away when my brother-in-law said he had taken five nitros and they hadn’t helped—I know she didn’t want him to see her swallowing the incredulous laugh I saw flashing across her face), after the too much blood thinner, after the recovery.
“At least now I know how long I’ll live,” my brother-in-law told my sister. She listened intently, awonder that somewhere in all the jumble of his three-day-heart-attack this significant revelation had arrived. “How long?” she asked.
“Now I know for sure,” he said. “I’ll live until I die.”
So say we all. Let’s do it.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
This moment
Today began overcast, with a wild wind and a surging rain. Inside, I was tired and sweaty. The wind has passed, bringing spring coolness to the air. The white camellias have burst into bloom.
Still I am inside, throwing out forty years of detritus.
All of it, the wild wind, the rain, the brilliant coolness, the camellias, forty years—illusive and so brief.
Still I am inside, throwing out forty years of detritus.
All of it, the wild wind, the rain, the brilliant coolness, the camellias, forty years—illusive and so brief.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Everyone Wants You to Be Happy, Why Do You Insist on Serving Them Your Grief?
How I remember this quote by Rumi
Monday the trees were a dull rusty brown. Wednesday they were blazing with orange and red and gold, though the ginkgos were still palely green. Now the ginkgos shimmer with light under the fierce blue sky.
I was born a sad anxious baby, and everyone had to deal with it most of my life. Now as I head into old age I am surprised by the joy of this savagely brief beauty and understand it has always been this way.
Spring has nothing on fall.
Monday the trees were a dull rusty brown. Wednesday they were blazing with orange and red and gold, though the ginkgos were still palely green. Now the ginkgos shimmer with light under the fierce blue sky.
I was born a sad anxious baby, and everyone had to deal with it most of my life. Now as I head into old age I am surprised by the joy of this savagely brief beauty and understand it has always been this way.
Spring has nothing on fall.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Why I Am In Love With My Town--Even With All Its Warts
Last night on my way home in the Real Time dark of 5:15, I ran into so much traffic that it seemed like a traffic jam. In the few miles from the country to my house, there must have been at least fifty cars coming and going.
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