When Selfies Were Rocket Science

We are working on our photo album.  This one, of my husband and his big brother, should win a prize.

Circa 1950:  How To Take A Selfie

1) Wait for Mom to go to the grocery
2) Have brother help you take down the bathroom medicine cabinet mirror
3) Bring that down to the back yard and prop it up
4) Get the camera
5) Lay on the ground. Face the mirror. Take your picture.



My computer crashed.  I’m just up and running again day before yesterday.  I think it was a good thing not to rush out to buy a new one.  Since I don’t have a television and semi-boycott our local newspapers and get my news via several internet sources,  I missed the daily T-uck news.  Lovely to be back and running in time for next week’s episodes.

Then, just now, I saw this cartoon –


(created by Cynthia Sousa (@theamat) and Sam Machado (@samscenarist) and originally published on Cartoon Movement.)


All Hunkered Down – An Opinion

Though I thought differently two days ago, I’m  not back here on WordPress, yet.

It’s just so shocking to me that a man, who was taped saying that if a man is  rich and famous he can grab a woman’s pussy and that is okay, is going to be the president of my country.  Really, you know?   And his wife is going to make her cause internet bullying?

This is beyond my comprehension, thus, I’m not reading or posting here for a while.

Thought this would be a good time to read Echoes of Family by Barbara Claypole White…it’s a book about someone with a bipolar illness. It’s about someone else’s reality. It’s a roller coaster I’m not really riding.

We’re hunkering down, hoping the next four years pass by quickly.


Ellespeth  ♥

Rosebuds & Vases


your rosebud vase

We have just had a week of condo improvement.  In other words,  a week from hell.  Junk man. (we purged our storage closet and junked a clunky desk) Vent cleaning man.  Carpet and floor tile/grout  cleaning/sealing man.  Good lordy!  We’ve sanded kitchen cabinets and bought/put up an antique mantle and wooden fire screen thing in our living room.  We have  these LED flickering candles atop the mantle.  Ambiance, right?

You brought home some lovely pieces you made at the pottery studio.  An unusually glazed one rosebud vase (see photo, brag, brag)and two medium planters.  The rule is that I get first dibs on your pottery pieces.  I chose the single rosebud vase.

We cooked a delicious chicken breast dinner with roasted sweet potato wedges and a salad.  Then we –  quite literally – collapsed.

Me:  I’m absolutely not doing anything tomorrow.

You:  Are you going to be writing?

Me:  No!  I’m going to be fucking my boyfriend.  (insert smirk and a giggle  here)

You:  (insert priceless expression here)

Me:   Can we have French Toast for breakfast?

Now Winter can come,  sometimes  shining through our spotless windows  🙂


A Piece of Old Blue Chenille – Poem and Prose


It must be October.  Most people are into Spring Cleaning.  I have always been into October Cleaning.  So  then…there it was; that piece of my old blue chenille robe I saved to remember where I came from.

A Piece of Old Blue Chenille

Today a Domestic Goddess
swept gracefully through
our private spaces.
I remembered Her
from long ago
bidding me

save a piece
of this old blue chenille
to remember the robe
that soothed you.

I touched that soft blue piece today
and the me
long ago wrapped in comfort.


Messy Beds – Journal Entry

It’s best not to write sometimes although who benefits from such abstinence is often questionable. I speak from decades of experience. But, of course, we do as we please. After all, I’ve written this. It’s just a little semi-rant. And I may post it.

I want to post this because some days are not romantically poetic. Some days don’t have a beginning and a middle and an end. Some days getting out of bed is a horrible mistake – or so it can seem at any one given moment during some given day.

I’m not sad or regretful. I’ve thought/worked through all that sort of navel-gazing stuff long ago. When you’re almost 66, one just figures stuff out. It’s not pretty but… some days getting out of bed is a horrible mistake.

Good night,


That Breathing Time of Life

Listening to a Cabaret CD and thinking…

another scene written to capture 1000 words a day if one were a poet.    I’m not doing well with this daily assignment.  I think I’m writing a short story though.  😦

That Breathing Time of Life

it’s almost tomorrow
still yesterday
not quite.
Breathing in.
Breathing out.
Through the dreaming
that you’ve been here before
and it got you nowhere
even then.
Breathing in.
Breathing out.
fucking breathing your life away.


Our Little Experiment – Day 4

Day 4

Beginning day 4 of that 4 day ‘nothing-to-do-but-write’ experiment. Do you want to know what I’ve learned? I’ve learned that I have huge issues keeping promises to myself. This is not news to me. I was raised to it. I was raised down South during transitional times for women. That’s putting it nicely, but I guess you understand.

It might not work for us to work together in the same room. Different but same sort of issue. We happen to like being in the same room with each other. Problem is, it’s distracting to me. So, beginning tomorrow morning, I’ll work in the study. I can close the door and put on headphones and have any music I please and not have to hear things going on around me. I’m extremely sound sensitive.

In my opinion, things aren’t going well. I have come up with two possible story ideas that would fit into a series of stories. I mean ideas, okay? Like a possible title and then a one sentence premise. Is that what it’s called? Premise?

Well, I’m just about to find that out, aren’t I? I’m getting ready to read a book about a writer’s life and then, at the end, are all those interesting parts about what the different story parts are called. I’m happy. I figure it’s going to be some sort of nostalgic journey sort of book. It’s supposed to give some ideas about scheduling the day and some awful chapter about writing 1000 words a day!

Sounds like a horrible chapter! 1000 words in one day. I haven’t read the chapter yet. I’m wondering if the 1000 words have to make sense? When am I supposed to write them?

So I’ve told you that you are absolutely not to talk to me tomorrow morning. And that I will let you know when I want to talk. This is just in case I get to that chapter tonight and find out it’s one of those write when you first wake up sorts of things. Gawd! I hope not!

So that’s it! Moving into day 4 of a writer’s life. It could be going worse, so I’m hopeful.