Just Do It Dammit

Santa Clara County, CA -Three Months Crazy – but healthy

When I was 13 my parents asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday.  Jimmy Durante was going to have a dinner show at the The Roosevelt Hotel.  I adored this guy.  Every time I saw him on TV I smiled.  So…I told them I wanted to see his show.  And…they took me.  And…he came to the table and had a piece of my birthday cake.  I was beyond happy!


While Waiting For The Atmospheric River

Santa Clara County, CA – Shelter-in-Place Week9

Weather forecast calls for an Atmospheric River for our general area between yesterday and Tuesday. We’re due a total of 0.03 inches of rain.😂  I can’t help it…coming from New Orleans,  I would expect more rainfall during something called an Atmospheric River.  But, we’ll take all the rain we can get and it gives us something to think about besides the pandemic.

Partly over the weather forecast and partly because I wanted to smile today  ( while waiting for this weather forecast to materialize)  we’re watching ‘Singin’ In The Rain’…  take a few minutes to watch pure bliss unfold.  I mean, what else do you have to do? And who else remembers tap dance lessons?


When You Have To Potty

At last!  Something to keep me from going off the deep end.

The photo won’t let me link to it 😦  Unfortunately it’s not mine.

PS:   I just found out this is an LGBT symbol.  I don’t get it.  I don’t get any of these new bathroom signs.  I want the ladies room back.  Lots of us do, probably.  I saw a urinal in one of these shared bathrooms and, lemme tell you, they are gross – long and narrow looking things fit for an alien.


Sugar In Bowls and All That – Journal/Writing Notes

I’m wondering how I ever allow myself to be as I am..sometimes.  And that’s what I write about and what I want to write about when I’m writing poetry and fiction.  The way life just creeps up and attacks you before there are any defenses.  Case in point…that time ex and I took Aunt Wanda and Uncle Roddy and my parents to some Jazz supper.  Early spring…probably early 1980’s.  My aunt is a very strong Catholic married to a not so strong one and my parents somewhat agnostic/Catholic (yes there is such a thing).  I had no idea this song would enter our realm of reality that evening.  I just anticipated a ‘nice’  Jazz event. Until this song…sigh

I’m working on this memory.


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!

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

When It Was Cold As Hell – Fiction

Here is my entry for the current word prompt from Literary Lion.  The word is “ICE’.  Drop by Literary Lion for more entries.

When It Was Cold As Hell

Letter to New Orleans from Montreal,  Winter 1998

Dear Mother ~

Yes, it’s cold here. It’s in the negatives. Snow and ice and cold and drab. Not a nice welcome for a Southerner.

I’m not sure when Fernando will return from Portugal. He certainly won’t fly back here in this sort of weather. No, Mother, he’s not spending this time with his ex-wife in Toronto. I took your advice and called his parents’ home in Portugal . Luckily for him and unluckily for you, he was there.

I wish you would just be happy for me. Happy that I love and am loved again. If you must be unhappy, be unhappy because we are having an ice storm and I was unable to renew my passport in time to travel.

Fernando really is a wonderful person – even though I met him on the internet.

Love and many kisses !

Diary entry
Montreal, February 1998

Dear Diary ~

I can’t stand it when Mother is right. Fernando really is a wonderful person. He’s just not the wonderful person I want to live with for the rest of my life. I’m so glad we haven’t married, yet.

Well, let’s put it this way..,he doesn’t live in a city I want to live in for the rest of my life. I never imagined that hating a bit of ice and snow and all things cold could end our love affair. Who thinks of such things in the heat of the moment?

As ever,

Letter from New Orleans to Montreal, May 1998

Dear Fernando ~

I’m glad the snow has melted at last. It’s hotter than the hinges of hell here.

We tried our best.

Forever your sandpiper friend,