Sunday, September 17, 2017

A few photos of Scott's refurbished garage - Poem: Getting Ready to Watch Ken Burn's documentary on Vietnam

 Nice thick garage door for the side of the garage. Most people in our neighborhood do not have attached garages. Or garages at all. My laundry room may once have been a garage.
I love the blue insulation on the left. See below.
Dyou know why I sit on Red Couch every morning?

It's the only thing that helps bad back.

I have a CD of it from yesterday but it wouldn't turn on for me.

At the grands' house the other day I tried to teach Max about skyscrapers but got nowhere - those little devil gadgets are more important.

What a very long today was.

Went to the movies at the Upper Moreland Library. Watched a quite good film called Winter in Wartime. View it here.

Image result for winter in wartime  Hu  Hugely popular in Holland. Best pic of the year. 2008.

You know my tiger in the living room?

Well I was making up for my M R I  sleep and I dreamt about the tiger. He was running all over and I remembered I hadn't gotten him water or food.

What a nightmare it was!

Am listening to FAB music on Mountain Stage. Mumble mumble mumble.

I did finally catch the name of keeshi bashi. and his sonderlust album

Look it up yourself, I'm quite busy.


I worked for a bigshot in Houston
Rode to work from my crummy little
apartment on my bike
When I'd walk in the skyscraper
"Alan" would greet me, can't remember
his real name. His shiny shoes would
click on the hardwood floor.

The other guy,"Dick" tried to be a
bigshot but couldn't cut it.

They were putting in the Alaska Pipeline
which was an awfully big job I'd never
heard of.

A huge colored map hung on the wall with
tiny dots on it.

There was literally nothing for me
to do all day. Once the bigshot sent
me shopping for his wife's birthday.

Chanel No. Five, I kid you. Can't you
be more original I thought, giving him
change for five hundred dollars.

Once he asked me what my husband did
for a living. Why, he's a conscientious
objector, I said, looking him in the eye.

We don't believe wars solve anything. Vietnam
did nothing to us. Why should we kill
innocent people?

My husband worked on peaceful projects for the next
two years instead of blowing people up. One of his
finest hours, though, he did reckon with a blown-
up building in Oklahoma City. Was on posse which
helped rebuild the place where 168 were bombed
to smithereens.

I'll think of my ex-hubby, extend my arm out to
the television set as I toast him with a bottle
of orange juice and sparkling water.

Got this job thru Kelly Girl Services. I was fired b/c I lost an important paper. I think it slid behind my desk and I simply couldn't find it. After that, I believe I got my great job with racist Herbert G Tigner. He called his 55-yo janitor Boy.

Twill all be in my memoir, written several years after my death.

How would you like a Mallomar  now?

Image result for mallomars

Saturday, September 16, 2017

M R I scheduled for 7:15 AM - Poem: An Evening Walk in the Fall - Party next week?

Woke up at 6:30. Was watching a repeat of TOWER, ...."On what seemed like a typical summer day, August 1, 1966, a sniper rode the elevator to the top floor of the University of Texas Tower and opened fire, holding the campus hostage for 96 minutes. 

When the gunshots were finally silenced, the toll included 16 dead, three dozen wounded, and a shaken nation left trying to understand. Using a unique blend of historical archival footage, interviews and rotoscope animation, TOWER reveals the action-packed, untold stories of the witnesses, heroes, and survivors of America’s first mass school shooting, when the worst in one man brought out the best in so many others."

Years ago I studied library science at UT-Austin. Never finished since I got pregnant with Sarah. Got divorced and moved in with my parents in Huntingdon Valley PA.

The documentary was excellent. Meantime, I got dressed, went downstairs, took my morning pills - including 1 mg of Klonopin. This is the tranquilizer Dr Foxhall gave me to ride out the M R I.

Ate a Brown Cow Vanilla yogurt for breakfast. 

By the time I got in Scott's car I was drowsy. Then I closed my eyes and in a second we were at the Blair Mill Campus and heading inside to register for the test.

This was not my first test but never had I been so drugged.

Reason for the M R I  - very painful left leg. In 2011, same year as kidney tranplant, I had surgery to fix my herniated disk on left leg.

A very nice woman helped me at the M R I. Put my clothes in one of the locked rooms.

Then I tottered outside the room with a robe over my panties and socks. I slid inside the machine. She asked what kind of music I wanted. Classical, I said, and then the machine sucked me right inside. 

Very cool. 

I fell asleep immediately. She would talk to me occasionally telling me things like Two series of three minutes each.

The feared clanging was barely heard. A simple loudness touching on my back.

Once I opened my eyes to see how close the ceiling was to me.

Didn't bother me at all. A plastic white color. Then back to sleep I went.

Finally the woman, whose name I'd forgotten, told me I could get out.

You mean it's over all ready? I asked. 40 or 45 minutes, apparently.

She walked me back to my locked room, where I put on my clothes. 

I walked very slowly, like a drugged woman. It was the oddest feeling. My thoughts were basically stilled.

This must be what first-time medication users feel like, I thought. Could it really be that bad?

Scott drove me home. I kept quiet. And thanked him and went right upstairs to bed.

It was 8 am. Fell right to sleep in my bed.

When I awoke, it was 3:30 pm. Missed my entire Writing Group at B's house.

I was shocked. Scott said he checked on me every half hour.

My mind was clear. I made a salad for lunch. Then went downstairs and slept until 6 pm.

Scott was restless. Wanted to do something fun. He decided we should walk at the mall.

Before we got there, we stopped at the Barnes and Noble strip mall.

We visited Home Goods, where I had bought my broken Buddha, which I spraypainted first, pink, and then, aqua. 

I wanted one item and only one at Home Goods...something to hang my clothes on in my bedroom.

We roamed around and finally found it

A smaller clothes rack in the right corner of my BR. Now I've got two.


Scott wanted to go for a walk.
How about the stores around
Barnes and Noble?
We walked up the steps of
Home Goods, crunching on
crumpled up autumn leaves.
Inside it was  bright as
a crispy fall apple.
What lovely hand towels, yellow and green,
Royal blue Uneida plates
"Please pass the corn and sweet potatoes."
How about that transparent vase
huge as a sunflower to sit by your door?

And then I saw it. Standing like a
shy maiden in the corner. A clothes
tree, only $22 and waiting for my
change of clothes from summer to fall.


Wrote the above poem bc all five of my poems for Monique Berry and her Halcyon were rejected. It's actually too late to submit anything, but I did so anyway.


Beatriz is feeling quite weak and wants to have a party while she can still appreciate it. Earlier this year we had a raise-money affair for our member Kym Cohen who put up a good battle for her several types of cancer but lost.

Once it gets you, it doesn't wanna let you go.


Yawning here on the Red Couch at 10:33 pm.

Stay healthy, stay relaxed, stay positive no matter what!

Friday, September 15, 2017

Oh no! Old faucet can't be fixed - New One very expensive! - Ode to Shiny New Faucet

 Joe from Guy M Cooper told me I needed a new toilet. It's all calcified at the bottom, he said. Bob Frisch put in my old toilet.

Scott stopped me from buying a new one today.

 My old faucet can't be fixed. It's an off brand. So he drove to Weinstein Plumbing Supply and got me a new faucet.

Total price for faucet and labor is $871.30. 
Here's tall Joe working on the shut-off valves underneath. Scott is dictating.

His house is being worked on right now by Bob Walmsley.

 Lovely new sink made by Mainline.
 See it posing in different positions?

"He did a great job," said Scott.

That made me feel great! 900 bucks is a huge amount for me.

While Joe was here I was watching a new Netflix show called American Vandal. Top-rated. It's about a guy who spray-painted "dicks" and "balls" on high-school teachers' cars in California. Who actually did it?

Looks like Dylan, but is it really?

So, all this loud cursing is going on while the plumber is here.


May you serve me well, shiny new faucet.
Your left and right handles curve
like the arms of a ballerina
and your neck reminds me
of young women without
a fold or a wrinkle in
their swan-like neck.

You arrived on the day
when the Cassini Spacecraft
which gave its all
plunged to its death
into Saturn.

Coincidence? Or
just the grand plan
of the Wizard of Id
who knoweth all
and see-est all.


Thursday, September 14, 2017

Leni Riefenstahl - Poem: It's a Fine Day for a Thursday - Funeral for Cassini Spacecraft as it Plunges into Saturn

 In the children's lit book, l'auteur mentions Leni Riefenstahl's film The Blue Light. He said if she hadn't been associated with the Nazis she'd be considered one of the greatest filmmakers of all time.

She was a very dramatic woman. And very beautiful.  I ate my breakfast while watching her talk about Goebbbels.

Image result for leni riefenstahl


Tom's Toothpaste
Look up recipe for
yellow squash soup
watch kids line up
at bus stop

Wish you still had
one or two at home

Go back upstairs to
read the one about
Grownups - c'est moi -
who read Children's

and also a squirt or two
of the new Holocaust book
and the wordy roundabout
writing of Willa Cather

My friend Frankie used to
read her to his parents
before he dropped from
the sky

Is the noise "thunder"
outside or high-up
aeroplanes where
people drink coffee
in those cute plastic cups.

I'll join you in a minute.


I'll pick up the coffee and doughnuts
at Weinrich's on Easton Road
Should be a nice day so we'll
have the funeral at the park
Masons Mill, with joyful sounds
of children in the distance
As a kid I read Stars for Sam
by Maxwell Reed. He'll be there
in spirit as will Simon and
Millard, planetary watchmen.

20 years in deep space
The Cassini spacecraft
orbited Saturn for the
last 13 years, celebrating
its bar mitzvah while viewing
the 62 moons of Saturn

Hello! Anybody up there?
As for me, I like to dunk
my glazed doughnut into
dark rich coffee which
makes my senses keen
my grief for the final
journey of the "robot spy"
intense, as I wipe away
my tears with a white
hanky with the monogram


Cassini spacecraft story in the Times.

Below is final picture. 

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Biking before the rains came down - Whole Foods - M R I coming up - Poem: Queen of the Wiggly Worms

Scott's on vacation until Sunday. He wanted to go bike-riding today even tho the forecast called for rain.

Let's hurry, I said, as I gobbled down my delicious egg omelet breakfast. I did not inject very much as I didn't wanna go low while riding.

My great fear while riding is dismounting. Sure enough, I had a terrible time. When I stand there, my legs straddled between the pedals, I simply don't know what to do.

One fellow helped me as we neared Lorimer Park.

Just scheduled an MRI for Saturday.

Ran over to Scott's to tell him. He was fast asleep. 

What are people's greatest fears?

New! Removing a dead mouse from a mouse trap, with two plastic bags, and dumping it into the trash bin. We're not getting sentimental here.

Public speaking




Wrote a blog post about what to do when you're in the coffin, I mean, machine.

Image result for mri  Made the appt for this Saturday at 7:15 am.

Ron was very helpful. He lives in Collegeville but told me he was calling from the Blair Mill Center where I'll be this Saturday, my writing day.

Our writing group was chatting online about Do animals go to heaven?

Linda Barrett wrote:

"God only knows who or what is in Heaven. He takes care of all creeping things, sweet and adorable or hideously ugly and vicious."

Ron and I were chatting. I told him that while I was holding on an email arrived that Poem for My Father will be published: They wrote a lovely note:

Dear Ruth Z. Deming,


Your Poetry Poem for My Father has been selected to appear in Proud to Be: Writing by American Warriors, Volume 6.

The volume should be out in November, and you will receive a complimentary copy as a contributor. 

We are pleased to include your fine work in our publication. Please let us know if you have any questions.

All the best,
Southeast Missouri State University Press

Holy cow! There are so many great writers!

After we biked, we drove over to Whole Foods.

 My food report will shock you.

The coffee was terrible.
So was this yogurt, made from Almond Milk.

The salad was quite good. The gem in the middle is a grilled peach with ricotta on top.

One woman at Whole Foods said their prices have come down considerably since Amazon bought it. She's worked there over a dozen years.

My sister Donna, who's leaving for Cleveland on Friday, suggested I work there.

I wrote back, Hmmmm.

I think I'm gonna call my family physician and ask for a tranquilizer during the M R I.

Quick poem:


Up up up
onto my huge blue bike
helmet tied under my chin
right next door
the car wash sizzles with activity.

Rags, suds, tall and short men
wearing tank tops with
muscled arms.

Now the journey begins.
Once railroad tracks
ran through here
dynamited to make us
a trail.

Leaves form a canopy of trees
There's where the bald eagle
was the last time we were here

Now, a small group is stopped.
A snake is coiled on the path.

Later on, at home, I would
save a stranded worm in
my driveway, scooping
him up on a hosta leaf.

Queen of the wiggly worms,
they call me. As Hillel, the famous
rabbi said, Save one worm and
the soil will be fruitful and

Me and winter

Hello Sarah Lynn Deming.

Grabbed this off your blog.

Bonefish Grill - Poems: The New Video-Streamed Apple Enhances Reality - Anybody Up There? - Foxhall Poems

Let's start off with a nice photo or two.

 In the bulrushes.

Today's poem. Thing is, I can't listen to Bartok at the same time I'm blogging.


If things go better with Coke
and Maxwell House Coffee is
good to the very last drop,
what will the new Apple
i-Phone do to enhance
my life?

Will the changes be invisible?
A chocolate croissant and
hot tea at the breakfast table?

Bartok's String Quartet
Number Five, dedicated to
Mrs. Sprague-Coolidge,
aerating through the
heating ducts?

I have resurrected
Sprague-Coolidge's name.
She is knocking at my
front door, having stepped
from a hearse from Kirk
and Nice Funeral home.

She flees when I open
the door. I run after her
ripping off a bouquet
of black-eyed susans
and thrusting them
in her hands.

Our eyes never meet.
Was she really there?
And am I?


Ah, my warm 'leopard' blouse
with the zipper in back
My velveteen jacket with
Kleenex still in the pockets
My date is here early
We climb into his
Pepperidge Farm White bread car

Driving down the street
in the twilight hour
I fuss with the seat belt
till I get it on
Meantime it growls at me

Bonefish Grill, one of our
favorites. I sit across from
him and think, This man is
handsome. He's smart and
has a taste for salmon and
for me.

We hug goodbye when he drops
me off next door. If the
night were clear, he'd bring
his telescope out on the
porch and he'd search for
his dog Spanky light years


I told him I might have to write him a poem.


Eat fruits and vegetables
read the sign in his
cheerful pink examining

Knock knock knock
Ah, he's thoughtful
and walked smartly
in, tall, hair graying
at the temples,
those comfy shoes
I remembered, this
time with argyle socks

He could have been a movie star
a relief pitcher, a partner
of Frank Gehry, or the lead
conductor of the Philadelphia
Orchestra, his 9-year-old son,
a prodigy, playing the slide
trombone, the 6-year-old
grinning next to his mom.

Instead, he's Dr Foxhall!


James also wanted to know what's going on on Davisville Road? He rounds the bend to visit healing folks at Powerback. I wrote Sam V, my commissioner who wrote back - that good man! - that Willow Grove Day Camp is zoned recreational - it will be a YMCA and will open around the end of 2018 or the beginning of 2019.

  I visited the camp several years ago, when I was passing by. I was Uncle Howie's secretary. View blog post here

Those WERE the Days!

Sunday, September 10, 2017

Hurricane Irma - Many Poems: The Enormous Walk - The Little Green Piece of Paper - Lie Back and Relax (Dr George) - Sightseeing on the Way to the Grocery Store - Fireflies

Image result for hurricane irma            Irma rages on. All sorts of people are dying who have nuffin to do with the hurricane.

65 degrees here in my house. Up for good after awakening to Miranda. I start my back-hurting morning by sitting for five mins or so at the computer.

Scott and I took a super-long walk yesterday which I documented with a poem.


(Used this title bc of ee cummings' the enormous room - his 1922 autobiog)

Was upstairs in my composing room
when Scott arrived for a walk.
Go downstairs and entertain yourself
I said while frantically submitting
poetry and a short story to Halcyon,
deadline today.

Why so frazzled? My new Microsoft Word
program sucks! If I could I'd send it
reeling into a disaster area.

There! You horrid thing.

Twilight slid in slowly as we
walked the path in the back yard.
A huge clump of poop lay on the trail.
Human? Dog? Whose? And Why?

Our twin sneakers avoided it as
we stopped at the railroad tracks
to make sure the sucker wouldn't
round the bend and smash us
to pieces, Reese.

A steep hill filled with houses
greeted us. We heard yelling.
A huge shiny home on wheels
stood silent in the drive. And
in the garage the rump of an
old car from the 30s.

We moved to the high school
where heavy construction was
in the works. We sidled past
seats in the stadium. I waved
to a teammate on the other side.
No game or baton twirlers tonight.

In the pocket of my shorts, yes,
I was chilly, my glucose tabs
clinked together like ice in

Astroturf, said Scott. I bent
down to feel its perfect stubby
blades that barely move.

Players say it hurts their knees. Worse, if you've
run on it for years, many get cancer
and die. A link?
Sorry, relief pitcher Tug McGraw.

We took Terwood Road home.
The auto shop blazed with
sunflowers, tall as basketball
players, preening like the jealous
queen in Snow White.

Off the side of the road
an Audi TT 2001, was for sale.
As usual, I went into overdrive
imagining how I could buy it.
Both me and the sports car are
low to the ground, deliciously
shiny, as least my earrings are.

Was that Patrick who drove by and
honked? Where were they coming from?
Certainly not the Dairy Queen,
which will be open another
90 minutes.

We walked up Ball. Here's where Marie
Higgins lives, I said to Scott. Each house
stood atop a bright green hill.

I checked my sugar when I got home.
Low, so I chugged down a Chobani
Blueberry, with pretzels stuck inside,
and poured a riotous bowl of trail mix.

Not dead yet. And we'll keep it that way.
Unless, when I watch Bullitt with Scott,
Bill Hickman runs me over.
Image result for bill hickman in bullitt  Bill's very serious. Drives with leather gloves. The Bad Plus wrote a song about him.

Great meeting of our Writers Group. Worked all morning on The Smell of Cookies for Halcyon. Glad you enjoyed it Marcy! Hope Monique does.

She and Lisa O'Shea have an elaborate set of rules we must follow. I did not, so I had to do all my poems over again. They must relate to Fall. All her seasonal issues are due on the 10th of the month.

Image result for person tearing their hair out


Mist spreads across pond
Bullfrogs emerge to find mate
Hello beauty queen!  


You might think I'm on the massage table
covered by a white sheet with the sound
of Chopin playing in the distance

But, no. I am at the eye doctor's, the
gentle Doctor George. My pink toenails
peek from my sandals, as the doctor
dims the light and says, Put your
chin here.

A delightful indentention fits my chin
just so. Look straight ahead, he says,
and don't blink, as Stacey records his findings.

I just like being in his presence.
I stall, thinking of ways not to leave,
not to go back to the waiting room
with its smell of Folger's coffee
and the gulping frog-like sound of the water cooler.

Doctor George, I say, as the light
goes on, gradually as the morning
sun through my drapes at home.

Tell me some new findings in the
world of ophthalmology. This may be
the first time I've ever pronounced
that tongue-twister rubber baby buggy
bumpes of a word.

They're doing a lot of research in
the field of macular degeneration,
he says. Getting closer to understanding
it and finding a cure.

I smile. My aunt is 99 and has the disease.
Instead of reading, she listens to audio
books, I say.

Good thing we have them, he says, handing
me my backpack and walking me to the door.

In the car, I turn on Gary Paulsen's
"Hatchet" about a young boy lost in
the wilderness and swatting mosquitos.

Am I practicing what to do if I go
blind from glaucoma? I am a suspect
as he calls it.

Certainly not. The maple leaves
flutter down, gently as cob webs,
as I drive triumphant
down my street.



So you think homo sapiens
are complicated? We, with our
Dostoyevsky's, our Vladimir
Putins with the soft blue eyes,
and The Grateful Dead Hour
on XPN, long after Jerry has
been churned into ice cream.

They've come out of hiding,
the urge to mate is so strong.
Don't look now but they were
hiding under the backyard deck,
beneath the bark of the sycamore,
inside the BBQ grill in every
American's home.

I hail and salute them!
Bonne nuit, says I, as I
goes out on me front porch,
What a splendid night.
Not a single firefly out.

Would you make love in
the rain? Be patient,
little men. Your little
gals await. And
babes aplenty.

Blink on, blink off, blink on, blink off. 

Oh, hello Joan Effel. We exchange postcards. Her new German Shepherd foundling is Remi.

Beatriz showed me how to take closeups.


It arrives every Fall.
Thin as a cucumber slice,
Wiggly as a worm after the rain.
I carry it like a status symbol
from the township building

I have paid my taxes!

This is why you won't find
me buying new purses at
Marshall's, throw rugs
at Best Buy, or
dangling earrings,
my favorite, at
Clare's at the mall.

Besides, I rationalize,
who needs more things!

Now I can relax in this
glorious house I bought.
Pouring a bowl of peanuts,
pretzels, and raisins,
I sit outside on the
front porch, shut my
eyes and gaze toward the sun.

The ground near me quivers.
Opening my eyes, I see a
fat groundhog, stopping
to examine his host,
then scampers
post haste toward
his home under the deck.

How fine it is to be
Appreciated by a
Wild creature who grazes
Like a moo-cow on the grass.



What marvelous sights
I viewed. Remember what
Howard Carter said
at the mouth of
Tutankamen's Tomb?

"Yes, I see wonderful things."

A flash of white caught my eye.
Bright white like the flash of
a camera. It was a bare-chested
man in shorts jogging
down the sidewalk, then
looking both ways, crossing
the street and disappearing
into the trees like a deer.

In front of me the sheen of a
BMW almost blinded me. Its back
window read "Promotional Car."
A phone number was listed,
all done with the artistry of a
Japanese calligrapher.

What did I have to offer
the celebrants of this fine
Fall Day? A silver-haired
woman of an age incalcuable
wearing huge purple sunglasses
with diamonds on the corners.

A smile. A huge smile
as wide as the sun.


Breakfast anyone?

While I'm chomping on my eggs, I shall be watching Game of Thrones. Season One.

Image result for Peter Dinklage   Peter Dinklage.

Goodbye Game of Thrones.