december 30 2018

december 28 2018

things old and new...     
 two days well spent preparing for a ravioli dinner
were well spent.

the guests were chosen with care,
as the recipes, ancient and new,
           melded nicely together;
            and the raviolis: to perfection:
            nary an explosion: nary a stick.

i made 7 Manhattans
and that glues anything together

december 27 2018

       winding down; i slept.
    a crookety-back chair made in Sweden, slightly chilly calves, and ears ringing louder than the forced-air heater,
    i still slept. thank God for cherry juice.   

it's an end of year blog post, in a not-a-blog.
it's Eleanor Duffy's birthday, every year, on this day.
her beloved husband John disappeared on her (willingly) after many years of marriage.
even if you rush to Toronto and curl your hair and the optics look good many years later,
shit happens.

i wonder if things are EVER, as they seem...

it gets more and more difficult to stop the brain,
to slow it down, and reflect. sometimes it's forced.
a kleenex would help right about now,
as i winter-sniffle (allergy PND) my way thru this text
without a box of klneenex; that's the difficult part.

it's nine am and this room will be full tonight
shall we drink a toast
to what?

         december 19 2018

        i cannot change the default font;
        i do not have a daughter named Evangeline;
        but i am determined as hell, and a mother just the same;       fanchart