Peggy, Sabina, Sharon and I took a walk along the coastline today. I soon fell behind because I’m incapable of passing up a good scene to shoot. Here are some of the results. Tomorrow is Sharon’s birthday. She’s in the center. Shhhh. I’m planning a surprise party. I’ll take pics.
To Do
Dust the knickknacks, mop the floor?
Both can be a dreadful chore.
Dishwashers call for loading dishes–
another task beyond my wishes.
Window-washing tires me out–
strains my back and makes me pout.
Washing clothes and ironing?
Cleaning ovens? Not my thing.
I could rave on, task after task,
but a better question you might ask
as we survey chore after chore:
What is the job I don’t abhor?
Cleaning isn’t any fun.
That’s why I hire my housework done
The Prompt: Those Dishes Won’t Do Themselves–What’s the household task you most dislike doing? Why do you think that is — is it the task itself, or something more?
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/those-dishes-wont-do-themselves-unfortunately/
d to Sea
Internet Heaven
If I were ruler of the Net,
some things would change, it’s safe to bet.
On this Interweb so newly born,
there’d be no violence nor porn.
Microsoft would set Skype free
to return to how it used to be.
Literally everywhere
there would be internet to share.
Free Wifi would be universal–
so simple we’d need no rehearsal
to sign on, forward, send, receive.
The exception? Those set to deceive–
scammers sent to Internet Hells
with no computers in their cells.
And this is how our world would be
if you chose to vote for me
to set things right in cyberspace–
cut down the bother, increase the pace.
But now my list seems to be done,
I find that I have jumped the gun,
for though I’d love them to come true,
I find I have too much to do.
So all these changes go on the shelf
unless you do them for yourself!
The Prompt: New Internet Order–All the world’s countries have decided that the Internet itself needs a government. Your country asks you to run for Prime Minister of the ‘Net — do you accept? If so, what will your platform be?
People have been leaving floral tributes in the arms of this Santa Cruz bronze codger playing the musical saw for as long as I can remember–25 years and counting. I was not disappointed when I returned for the first time in 5 years and yes–red roses.
Mr. Crow
A flash of shadow in morning’s glow–
interrupts the daylight’s flow.
That sleek black coat I seem to know.
Why have you come here, Mr. Crow?
I heard that here the water’s fine.
The garden lush. The fruit divine.
I saw it falling from the vine
and swooped right in to make it mine.
You bow at us as though in jest,
then bend your wing and dip your chest.
You have not come at our behest.
We know you rob the songbird’s nest.
But I just stand here, staunch and tall.
I make no movement, sound no call.
I threaten no one. None at all.
Your garden holds me in its thrall.
The mourning doves and chickadees
do not bathe here as they please.
Black bird, you splash there, as though to tease,
then dry your feathers in the breeze.
I watch to see what you may do.
Through kitchen window, you’re in full view.
One beaded eye of turquoise hue
watches no songbirds. It watches you.
Mr. Crow, with feathers fine,
take care where you might choose to dine.
The grapes you eat were meant for wine.
Please stick to seeds. The grapes are mine!
To those of you behind the drapes,
it is a myth I dine on grapes
In garden grass, I watch for shapes.
No skittering snake or mouse escapes.
Small birds won’t deign to linger near
or take a bath while you are here.
Their fluttering movements display their fear.
They find your visit very queer.
I haven’t been here very long.
I’ve robbed no grapes, I’ve stilled no song.
Though your suspicions are grossly wrong,
since I’m not welcome, I’ll move along.
The blackbird lifts from saucer’s edge,
skirts the treetops, lands on the hedge.
A warbler lifts from stalks of sedge
and takes his place on the birdbath’s ledge.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/new-internet-order/
You’ve seen Dan and Laurie. Thought you might want to see the rest of the characters in the story! Bob with and without Judy.
A week ago, I drove to the Santa Cruz, CA area to visit old friends. It has been fourteen years since I left there to move to Mexico, and when I spent the night with my friends Linda and Steve, they invited my other good friends Dan (pictured above) and Laurie to come for dinner. When we fell to comparing our present physical ills, as old farts like us are prone to do, I admitted that over the past year I have experienced a number of anxiety attacks when I go to bed, mainly centered around fears that I will soon stop being able to breathe. When I told Dan about these attacks, he said that he, too, had been having them for a long time but that he’d found a cure–that cure being Bob’s rope. The story goes like this.
About twenty years before, Dan and Laurie had decided to drive down to Baja and asked my husband Bob and me to accompany them. We took two cars because they had to come back before us as Laurie didn’t want to leave her elderly aunt for too long. Dan said he had felt terrible anxiety before the trip. What if their car broke down? With no big towns in Baja, what would they do? Nonetheless, we went, and on our second day of driving, we fell behind them a mile or two. We were nearing the crest of a big hill when we suddenly saw a big engine part lying in the road. We swerved around it and as we passed over the summit, we spied Dan and Laurie’s car down below at the bottom of the hill. We thought they were waiting for us to catch up, but then saw Dan get out of the car and wave us down.
Part of the engine had fallen out of their van! We went back to pick it up and discovered that it was the universal joint or some part of the engine that contained the universal joint, which is a vital part of the engine, or so I was told. Dan was sputtering a bit, but Bob just went to the back of our Blazer and pulled out this colossal hemp rope…maybe twenty feet long and about two or three inches thick. This he tied to our trailer hitch and to the chassis of Dan and Laurie’s van. We then towed them about 20 miles until we found a tiny “town” consisting of a small gas station. We pulled in and Dan, who knew more Spanish than we did at the time, (we knew none) asked the station man where the next garage might be. There were a sum total of three little houses in the town that we could see, and the man pointed to one across the road and said we should go see Jose.
Jose had about 5 old cars parked in his yard and when he inspected the part we’d retrieved from the center of the road, he said he’d see what he could do. He scrounged around in the various cars and came up with a part which he promptly dropped in the dirt, at which point all the bearings dropped out onto the ground, rolling every which way and burying themselves under powdery dirt and sparse grass clumps. He laboriously scavenged, picking bearings out and cleaning them off on his shirt before dropping them into wherever bearings go. He worked for a half hour or so–maybe longer.
This part of the story I didn’t witness as Laurie and I were across the street in the shade of the service station eating the best tamales I’ve ever had in my life. We’d purchased them from a little woman who had a stand by the side of the road. They were incredible in that every single bite tasted different from every other bite. She had put everything into them: pork, pineapple, cheese, mild chilis. Each bite was a totally new tamale experience and the masa was moist and light and wonderful. I was thinking that it was worth Dan’s U-joint just to get to eat these tamales! We thought we should buy some for Dan and Bob, but as time wore on, we ended up eating theirs as well. Only so much can be expected of girls marooned in the heat with only the shade of a forlorn little gas station for comfort.
At any rate, I’m sure we bought more tamales for the male members of our expedition and eventually, they drove up in Dan’s van. As they (probably) ate their tamales, Dan spoke in wonder of the fact that Jose had somehow been able to gerrymander the part from the pieces of the different cars–none of which were vans or even the make of his van. And, when he asked how much he owed them, they said, “Oh, 150 pesos!!!” This at the time was about $15. He said he would have paid more but alas, that happened to be all the cash he had on him and I’d spent all our money on tamales and gas.
So it was that we went on to a few more days’ adventures before they headed north again and we continued to Mulege and points south, took the ferry over to Guaymas on the mainland of Mexico and drove up the coast and back home. Later, Dan reported to us that he’d stopped by to see Jose on the way back up to California and left him with a couple of cases of beer and a bit more money, which he felt he had certainly earned, even though he had not commanded a higher price.
A happy Dan drove his van home and for 6 months it performed perfectly; but he started worrying about it and thinking it was bound to eventually give him problems, so he went to the authorized garage of whatever make his van was and had them order the correct U-joint and install it. Afterwards, he had had nothing but trouble with the van and they ended up trading it in. He admitted then that he never should have meddled with the perfection of Jose’s repair job.
Now, he said, every time he felt anxiety, he thought of Bob’s rope and it would calm his fears and remind him that things worked out because they had to and that there was really nothing to be so anxious about that it kept him from doing what he wanted to do. When Bob died and I moved to Mexico, I asked them what they would like to have from our house to remember us by and Dan quickly requested the rope! He’s had it ever since. They now split their time between their house in Boulder Creek, CA and a house near the southern tip of Baja and every trip they’ve taken down, they have carried that rope in the trunk of their car. Dan still suffers night anxiety attacks as I do but he said when he does he thinks of Bob’s rope coiled in the trunk of his car and that calms him.
That is the story of Bob’s rope–how it came to have such importance in Dan’s life and how it has come to have a potential for comfort in my life as well.
Laurie seems to have life whipped.
The Prompt: Tell us about a journey you have taken, either physically or emotionally.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/journey/
This poet is so wonderful at catching so much in so few words. Sort of the opposite of me! I had to reblog this one. Lovely, lovely.
Get the Hint and Please, Repent!
A door that opens with a creaky hinge
is sure to make me frown and cringe,
but nothing makes me shiver more
than a lengthy lecture by a raving bore.
When at a party, I walk away
as they pontificate and bray,
but at a lecture or in church
one just can’t leave them in the lurch.
This is when a raging cough
quickly developed, can get one off.
A rapid exit towards the door
delivers you from any more.
More naive listeners might excuse
since they have not seen through your ruse.
More clever ones view your quick exit
wishing they had thought of it!
So those who think they have much wit
and find it difficult to quit
when displaying it to others
(with the exception of their mothers,)
take heed when those you’ve asked to gather
to hear your blah blah blah and blather
start to cough and start to hack,
bolt out the door and don’t come back!!!
The Prompt: Cringe-Worthy–What’s most likely to make you squirm?
© Marie Marshall 
