click on photos to enlarge. jdb photos
Debatable Edibles at the Pot Luck Dinner
That dip indeed looks most delicious—
one of many lovely dishes
spread out here upon the table.
I’d eat them all if I were able,
yet, I admit I am suspicious
of this and several other dishes.
I fear that they may harbor fishes—
foodstuffs far outside my wishes
of consumable provender;
for fish of any size or gender,
no matter how incredible,
I’ve always found inedible.
Tuna, marlin, salmon, cod
are flavors that I find most odd.
Clams and lobster, oysters, shrimp—
brand me as a seafood wimp.
Anything with gill or fin
I do not choose to put within.
No horseradish or mayonnaise
can shield me from the pure malaise
that befalls me when I bite into
a canape I’ll later rue.
You cannot hide that fishy flavor
to turn it to a taste I’ll savor.
Many others have met defeat
when trying to get me to eat
anything from sea or lake.
It’s a mistake I just won’t make.
So keep your ceviche and dips.
I’ll make do with potato chips.
The prompt today is suspicious.
It is also appropriate for Smorgasbord, which is the June 13, 2018, prompt for Ragtag Daily Prompt today.
I said I wouldn’t, but I did. More sunsets. Plus a capture of a pleasant blog setup after the dinner guests have gone. Nice to have some quiet time out on the deck with Annie. She didn’t cotton to it unless she was on my lap. Her first time out of the house since we got here. It was housecleaning/ sheet and towel washing day, so the porch was completely covered with washing in front. I thought it was good planning to have a dinner party because the housecleaner would have just been here, but forgot that linens would be hung out to dry. Oh well. Gave us privacy.
Click on photos to enlarge.
Internet Infraction: Bogged Down in Blog
The only way I’d ever stop
is flagged down by a cyber cop
who says my blogging cannot last
if I continue to go so fast.
He’d give a lecture and a ticket
and then he’d actually stick it
across my screen with strict instruction
to cease this method of destruction.
If life had meant us to go on line
hour after hour––eight or nine
hours or more day after day,
with always one more thing to say,
why would it give us legs to go
and feet to walk on, heel to toe?
Day after day, it’s grown obscene––
my eyes plastered upon my screen,
my fingers stiff with my attention
over what I might next mention––
fingers drumming, tapping, bending
all the while sending sending––
typing out, first fast then slow
my life as a reality show.
Until I wonder if I log
its details daily on my blog
because I want to recall life––
its joys and sorrows, pleasures, strife––
or do I only move about
to give something to write about???
My friends all say this can’t go on.
I’m growing flaccid, weak and wan.
I need some exercise and sun––
some movies, dancing or other fun
aside from snapping pictures of
each bougainvillea or mourning dove.
Life’s meant to live, not to record.
It should be shouted, screamed or roared––
not typed out softly on the keys
of a laptop spread out on my knees!
The truth of this I’ve clearly seen
now that this sticker obscures my screen.
“Do not remove” it clearly reads,
“Go live your life! Go do some deeds!”
I’ll put on sneakers. Do some laps.
I’ll exercise ‘til I collapse,
then do more laps around the pool
‘til I’m an exercising fool.
I’ll call twelve friends up on the phone.
I’ll never ever be alone.
I’ll live my life until its end
without a single blogging friend!
My dedication will never lapse;
and yet, how temptingly it gaps—
that sticker, unstuck at its edge
so easy now to pick and wedge
my fingernail beneath and tug,
to drop its shreds upon the rug
and free my screen of its obstruction––
this taboo not of my construction.
To push the button, light up the screen––
to see its colors from red to green.
Black words on white, Cee’s daily flower––
no longer do I pine and cower.
I peck the keys, upload some pics––
once more getting my daily fix.
The truth of modern life leaks in.
To blog is not a major sin!
I’ll give up blogging, become a rover
precisely when Hell freezes over!!!
Another reblog from three years ago, when with firmest resolve I decided to cut down on blogging and get a life. So, how did that work for me? The prompt word today is lecture.
I put my new guitar to good use by loaning it out. These four strummed out the sun and to my great delight, their repertoire included “Snowin’ on Raton,” by Townes Van Zandt—my request as it is one of my all-time favorite songs.
The sunset was once again outstanding. This time I made no alterations to any of the photos other than some slight sharpenings and a few croppings of the musicians.
This was a very good day, starting with meeting Patricia for coffee and to discuss possibly setting up a group home where friends could join us for support during our codger years, then home to write, a nap in the hammock, a few gin games with Tess, an hour swim and exercise in the ocean, chats with the sunset advisory board and convincing the musicians in the crowd to give us a few tunes. My harmony was working, as were my percussive additions via various objects rapped against other objects.
More talk with Patricia and Daniel concerning constructing a beach bar out of the thousands of cobalt Corralejo bottles Daniel has collected over the years thanks to the nightly sunset tequila consultations on the beach in front of his home/business. Plans are being made as I type this..or will be soon. Patricia is in charge of nagging.
Following are way too many photos of the sunset and musical accompaniment. If you see which I should cut, I will take it under advisement. I have already trimmed down to fewer than half of what I took.
You know you can enlarge these by clicking on them, right?
Detail of Heliconia jdb photo 2018
This post made years ago at the very beginning of my blog answers today’s prompt of “conjure” perfectly, so here it is again after a small edit:
My dialogue takes place between my 7 year old self and my 70 year old self who, ironically, is writing this in Mexico.
Childhood Dreams
7
The mysteries
of Grandma’s barn
and basement—
whole lost worlds there.
Our own attic—a door held down
by a gravity never challenged.
I wanted to see
the hanging gardens of Babylon,
Mexico and Africa—
all these places from books,
their pieces jumbled together
like puzzle pieces
in the deep recesses of my closet,
scattered,
but ready for assembly
some day
when I would
make my future memories
happen.
70
I crouch with myself at seven—
sharing imagined dangers
in deep closets,
trying to conjure the world.
So many small town stories
overlooked
while I dreamed of living
in those fairy tale places
of Bible stories
that stood on a shelf
sandwiched between
the Bobbsey Twins
and Tarzan.
Some of us spend our lives
trying to be like books,
then spend our old age
trying to remember childhood,
mainly remembering
childhood’s dreams.
The prompt word today is conjure.
Beat this sky, if you can!! One of the best of countless fabulous sunsets in La Manzanilla.
(Click on photos to enlarge.)
Sunset Rating Society of La Manzanilla, Beach Bar Chapter.
Rapidly, the handmade Mexican handicrafts sold by beach vendors are being replaced by cheaply-made Chinese duplicates. I refuse to be a party to this destruction of native craftsmen and artists, so this year for the first time, I have not bought. Today, however, when this hawker walked by my porch, barely bothering to pitch his wares, I called out to him. I’d been to the Michoacan village that was devoted to creating the craft he was selling, and what can I say? I bought two–one for me, and one for my friend Marjorie Pauline, who actually only had to borrow 200 pesos. What was it that made me break my resolve?
Vendor Bender
What bought I on the beach today, What could I not resist?
What souvenir of painted clay, what bauble for my wrist?
Though I have sworn no more to buy, why have I changed my mind?
Have I found a memento of a more novel kind?
The vendor started to walk by. I had to yell “How much?”
And within a minute, he had me in his clutch.
The price was right and he possessed the perfect pitch to sell.
He serenaded me and oh, he did it very well.
It mattered not that I had two others of its kind
waiting for me in my home, for it was such a find!
I bought one, and my friend did, too. She knew not how to play it.
But I was complicit. I did nothing to allay it.
I have no yachts or penthouses. I have no fancy cars.
But although I rarely play, I now have three guitars!!!
Click on photos to enlarge.
You can read about the remarkable village where these guitars are made HERE.
