Lunch At Brennan’s Restaurant- Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  Thanks to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge.  please follow little froggy for more stories.

Here is the photo and my story:

fancy lunchLunch At Brennan’s  Restaurant

On Irene’s 13th birthday we took the streetcar, downtown, to see another Clint Eastwood movie.

“After this,” I said, “a fancy lunch.”  I squeezed her hand.

“Oh!  Let’s go lunch at Maison Blanche!”  Irene’s eyes lit up.

I giggled.  It was no intention, of mine, to take Irene to some department store for lunch.   I was welcoming my best friend into her teens.

The movie was so Clint.  Then we headed out, down Royal Street and right into Brennan’s Restaurant.

Irene pulled me aside.  “We can’t afford to eat here, Sissy!”

“I’ll just sign the bill,”  I said.


“Sure.  That’s what Dad always does.”

Some of the staff recognized me.   They called me Mademoiselle Cici.    I cringed.  I was moving away from Cici and into Sissy.

When the menu came,  it was in French.

“Let’s just order hamburgers,” I said.  “Hamburgers on french bread.  The french bread is really great here!”


This week’s photo prompt is provided by Graham, author of the blog, grahamisjustmyname. Thank you Graham!

“It is love. Don’t worry about the words.” Zydeco Memories

Since I decided to center my A-Z entries around my life, Here is Chapter “Z” of the April A-Z Challenge.

I’m in a panic. I may not make the deadline. Here goes. Get up and dance with yourself or someone near.

And, I’ll call it Zydeco cuz I wanna 😛

Zydeco: per Wikipedia
Zydeco is a musical genre evolved in southwest Louisiana by French Creole speakers which  blends blues, rhythm and blues, and music indigenous to the Louisiana Creoles and the Native people of Louisiana.

I could tell a million stories about the scenes in this video.  Family reunions down on the bayou.   Being 8 years old and dancing with my cousins.  Not sure what the foreign Creole French words meant.  Moss hanging from the cypress trees.  Just total innocence.

At the family reunions, my great uncles would play the music.  I remember asking one of my uncles what the words to some of the sad songs meant and him saying:  “It is love.  Don’t worry about the words.”

Then 20+ years of Jazz Festivals and dancing at the Zydeco stage.  It’s a music that takes hold of your emotions and your body and one must simply move along with it entranced.

OK.  Ok.  One more… I Passed By Your Door (with translation)

J’ai passé devant ta porte. (I walked past your door)
J’ai crié “bye-bye” la belle.(I cried, “goodby, my beautiful girl.”)
‘Y a personne qu’à pas répondu (And nobody even answered!)
O yaîe aîe, mon coeur fait mal! (Oh, how my heart aches!)

“Mes amis j’ai observé.” (Then I took a closer look)
“Moi j’ai vu une p’tite lumière allumée.” (And I saw devotional candles lit)
“Y’a quelque chose qui m’disait d’aller pleurer.”(And something told me I was going to cry)”
“O yaîe aîe, mon coeur fait mal!” (Oh! My heart hurts so bad!)

“Moi j’ai été cogné à la porte” (I knocked again at the door)
quand ils ont rouvert a la porte (and when they opened it)
moi j’ai vu des chandelles allumées (I saw the devotional candles lit)
tout autour de son cercueil (all around her coffin)  )



New Orleans/Mountain View Courtship – (April A-Z M/N)

This was composed for the 2016  A to-Z April Challenge. I thought I’d make my April A-Z challenge some sort of autobiography.

Here are chapters M & N:

french-quarter-557461_640New Orleans/Mountain View Courtship

So, I met this fantastic man on the internet…I was almost 50, he was almost 60.  So we started courting.  He’d fly to New Orleans and I’d fly to Palo Alto…some  suburb I’d never heard of near San Francisco…surrounded by redwood forested hills.  A half hour from the Pacific Ocean.

I wasn’t sure I liked it there.  The French Quarter is cement and bricks, too, but everything is so old and I know the history because my family is connected to it and I’m not quite sure what a proton is because I’d filed that into a file in my brain I was certain I’d never have to open again and,

somewhere around there,  you asked me to marry you and I said yes…I’d move out to California with you – you had two children living here, I’d never had kids plus the job field was scarce, in New Orleans,  for atom smashers/engineers  and I could be a secretary/poet anywhere – so I said okay to California, and that I hoped you’d be able to find us an apartment with some grass and trees around it.

The last time you visited New Orleans – before I moved out here – we were cuddled together on my futon.  A mule-drawn carriage was passing by.  Hooves upon cement echoing through the french doors and all round my studio.  Click-clack.  Click-clack.

We’d spent so many peaceful slow days together in New Orleans.  We both knew the different life paces we lived.  Click-clack.  Click-clack.

“You’re going to miss this sound,” you whispered.

I don’t really miss that sound..see,  if the mule shit, out front my gate on a hot, sunny, mid-July afternoon, it smelled pretty bad …pretty fast.

Or maybe you were just being romantic and wondering and hopeful.  Sounds are romantic.  It rains a lot in New Orleans…rain drops led to long, lazy afternoon naps.

And you did find the grass and the redwoods and bamboo and our balcony overlooks the last empty wild lot in town…where we’ve lived all these years in our tiny condo.    in mountain view – a suburb near san francisco.

The wild grown lot will soon be developed.  The redwoods will remain almost all round us.  We laugh a lot.  We argue.  Sometimes we don’t agree.   That’s was the hardest part.  To just not agree and get on with loving.

Click-clack.  Click-clack.


ps..cuz of my arm, i prolly won’t post again for a few days…i want to spend time visiting other blogs, and I can’t do both.

 image via pixabay

The Kay/Kansas/Kennedy Parts of Life – (letter K of A-Z Challenge)

This was composed for the 2016  A to-Z April Challenge. I thought I’d make my April A-Z challenge some sort of autobiography.

Here is Chapter  ‘K’ :

person-915604_6401963 – The Kay/Kansas/Kennedy Parts of Life

The year I was 12 was life-changing for me. One of my parents’ best friends killed herself while on a hunting trip. She was the kindest and most beautiful and fragile woman I’ve ever known. She was from Kansas – hanging out with the french quarter group. Her husband worked with the space program. She was the first person I ever knew who’d died.  Everyone knew she’d killed herself but the story came to be that ‘she’d had an accident cleaning the rifle’.

A few months later, Kennedy was assassinated.

And that’s the year I decided I was going to be a poet. Poetry was a way I could try making sense of chaos…

Here’s a poem I recently wrote about that year.

Upon Watching A JFK Documentary

I remember when he died
my father cried.
I’d never seen him cry before
– or afterwards –
A whispered adult supper
round the dining table.
We children ate grilled cheese
in another room.
It reminded me
of when Kay killed herself
earlier that year
and everyone said
it was just a hunting accident.
Then we all grew up
and had a nice Thanksgiving dinner.


image via pixabay

The Internet & All That Jazz – April A-Z (I)


The Internet & All That Jazz

😦  i’m sorry i can’t be here so much right now.  my broken arm is really upsetting so many levels of our life.   over supper and champagne, we recall the importance of the letter ‘I’ in our lives.  Our faces ache from smiling.

My arm doesn’t hurt.   I’ve come to record this…

We’ve been married 15 years now.  You 10 years after a 17 yr marriage and me a few years after a 25-year marriage …others we’d met and dated since we were ‘suddenly single’, but…  what drew us to each other was our refusal to give up on love.

i was almost 50.  i was living in the new orleans french quarter.  louisiana.  i’d lived there, or near there since the day i was born.  you were 60.  you lived in palo alto, ca, and grew up in los angeles, ca.

sometimes, the world is so much smaller than one could ever imagine.  sometimes the heart’s hopeful whisper aches for attention.

our introductory internet text conversation:

me:  (after discovering what was proper to ask) so what do you do?

you:  i’m a nuclear physicist.

me:  (oh brother, yeah…right)  you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to have a conversation with me.

you:  (just as though you hadn’t noticed my slight)  what do you do?

me:  (this probably won’t go over so well but here goes) i’m a poet and a  secretary.

and here we are…15 years later.  married.  who we said we were…seeking the softer ground of acceptance – just like any other married couple…i think, anywayz.


image via pixabay

Houma, Louisiana…A-Z April (H)

Please listen and enjoy while you read 🙂

i’m keeping on with this challenge…as much as i can with a broken arm…

Houma, Louisiana (sometimes pronounced Home-ma and sometimes Hooma)

In the late 50’s/60’s, Houma was a lil bayou town…not far from Bayou Blue. My mother grew up there. she was born in the late 1920’s…and, i spent summers there – visiting from new orleans.

i remember the tar truck, now and then, laying a thin tar onto the shell road of my grandparents’ street. i remember listening – on the radio – to the sugar cane/produce market auctions (in french) and the smell of tar and dragon flies on the clothes line and fire flies at night and how right the world seemed then.

i remember my mother saying that she thought she lived at the end of the world cuz there was so much water all round her.


A Beautiful Moment In Time – A-Z Challenge

This is from ‘An Autobiography Of  A Poet’ and was composed for the 2016 A to-Z April Challenge. I thought I’d make my April A-Z challenge some sort of autobiography.

Here is Chapter A:

One afternoon after work, I heard its call. It sounded like an injured squirrel. I called to you and we headed outside to our garden. At first, there was silence. But then came the sound again. We followed it to the most magnificent sight – a Double Yellow Head Amazon Parrot was perched in our garden!  It seemed scared.

We moved our parakeets from ’round their cage (they were already free flying) and took their cage outside. Our neighbors gathered near. Some rushed home and came back with wild birdseed. We sprinkled the seed into the cage. Eventually, the bird entered the cage.

Long story short… we kept the bird for two years. Since we didn’t know it’s gender, we named it Girlie Man.   How beautiful a time that was for us…to see how gentle this huge bird was with our tiny parakeets. They were all free flying.

Eventually, another couple adopted Girlie Man. We’d kept her/him for two years until a new neighbor complained about the morning and evening squawking.

An amazing learning experience…nothing beats having an Amazon Parrot join you ‘on’ the dinner table.