Monthly Archives: October 2015

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Trick Retreat

At five o’clock they climb the hill and they ring my bell.
When I do not answer, the mob begins to swell.
Their cries of “We want Halloween!!” resound like cries from Hell.

My dogs begin a clamoring—and barks turn into growls.
The children’s only English words digress to angry howls
that prompt a shiver down my back––a loosening in my bowels.

I give in and seize the bowl and open up the gate.
The children swell around me, angry I’m so late.
They dig their hands into the bowl—in no mood for debate.

When I scream out “Take only one!” they begin to mind,
and they become more orderly and line up one behind
another as a snake of children starts to move and wind

from the bottom of the hill up to my front door
but when it seems I’ve served them all, there are always more:
one hundred, then two hundred, three hundred and then four!

And when I think the line perhaps is starting to get thin,
I finally discover that they got in line again
and came back to my doorway––where they’ve already been!

My candy store’s diminished, in fact there is no more
and they grow disorderly, waiting at my door
as I distribute all my fruit—right down to the last core.

Then I start giving canned goods—beans and corn and peas.
By the time my larder’s empty, they have brought me to my knees.
“Please, go home,” I beg them. “Leave my house now, please!”

But they have no pity. They are carrying off my plants.
I go into my closets and bring out my shirts and pants.
Still I hear requests for more—their demands and their rants.

I give them all my easy chairs, my pictures and my rugs,
my glasses and my dishes, my pots and pans and mugs.
From my refrigerator, I return with bowls and jugs.

Until my house is empty, they refuse to go away;
but finally I have no more, and I begin to pray
that they will soon release me from this relentless fray.

And then I see a ray of hope as across the street
my neighbor opens up his door and children’s footsteps beat
in a new direction—as they mount a swift retreat.

I hear my neighbor’s screams and cries as they shout for more.
Though I should go and help him, I’m yellow to the core
as I take the coward’s action and swiftly slam my door!!!

Mexico is lovely. It’s warm and lush and green.
I love its smiling people. I love its rich cuisine.
But there’s one drawback to living here that I have clearly seen.

I RUE THE DAY THAT MEXICO DISCOVERED HALLOWEEN!!!!!

1913688_1136037647847_2684641_n 1913688_1136037727849_5594428_n 1913688_1136038367865_7037617_n 1913688_1136038287863_5588685_n1913688_1136037767850_5683525_n (1)1913688_1136038167860_1696102_n 1913688_1136038127859_5133796_n 1913688_1136038527869_395578_n 1913688_1136038207861_6603987_nIn response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Trick or Trick.” Let’s imagine it’s Halloween, and you just ran out of candy. If the neighborhood kids (or anyone else, really) were to truly scare you, what trick would they have to subject you to?

Halloween Colors: Flower of the Day 10/31/15

Halloween Color

IMG_7403Marigolds are seen in profusion on Day of the Day altars and graveyards.  I snapped these at the Lake Chapala Society during a lull in the rain today.

http://ceenphotography.com/2015/10/31/flower-of-the-day-october-31-2015-halloween-flowers/

Temptations

Temptations

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I never did order one of these mocha drinks at La Rueda coffee shop.  I couldn’t be trusted to know how good they were.DSC09265Do they look like luscious chocolates and macaroons?  Wrong. They are sweet potato balls brought to a friend’s Thanksgiving feast…rolled in coconut or pecans and brown sugar.  Yes, they were delicious!!!

DSC09293This pancake breakfast ordered by a friend at Martha’s Cafe in Ajijic was as good as it looks. Proof below:
DSC09294DSC09295But, the shocker was that the oatmeal I ordered was just as good!  I was too hungry to get a picture of it.  Guess I’ll have to go back to prove it to you!!!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/treat/

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                                                    My Imaginary Friend

I have never had an imaginary friend until four years ago, when one suddenly appeared.  She has a special function in my life: memory.  When I’m driving to town and suddenly forget exactly where it is I’m going, I prod her and within a few seconds, she has the answer for me.  She never tires of these prods–even when I ask her the same question twice within the space of an hour or two.  Sometimes she even leaves me notes on the refrigerator.  “Catfood,” she scribbles, “Lampshade.” “Hem pants!”

As is necessary with good friends, I forgive her her shortcomings as she forgives mine.  When it took her an entire week to come up with the name of a woman whose name I keep confusing with another, I did not chide her.  When I forgot the name of one flower for an entire year, I ceased even asking her to provide an answer and in its own sweet time, memory brought the name to me with no prodding.

As with all imaginary friends, I do not call attention to her in public. We have our conversations in private, usually as I rail against myself, “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” when the correct information will not come with the ease that it did before this particular decade.

It is she who decided I needed a wall hanger for glasses and keys and after fruitless minutes of my daily searches, reminds me that my car keys and reading glasses are where they’re supposed to be–on the rack!  She has been doing this for years, without complaint, and one of my main fears in life is that she will pass on before I do.

We have a pact, my imaginary friend and I, and if it is up to her and me, we will die peacefully, side by side, forty years from now when we are 108.  By then she will be so worn out that she will deserve a rest, and by then I will probably be all too willing to go with her.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Imaginary Friend.”Many of us had imaginary friends as young children. If your imaginary friend grew up alongside you, what would his/her/its life be like today?