The food here is better than you hear. The bread is terrible, terrible–that's true–it's the cardboard wheat bread you can buy for less than two dollars at the Grocery Outlet on Merch Street, and the beef was overcooked, but the vegetables are surprisingly palatable, the soup very good, the tuna salad I actually liked quite a bit. I'm surprised by the food and the boys, the young men. Not stupid as I thought, not all rude. One young man worked out my seating for me when we were all waiting for a check, and I couldn't get my legs through the chairs. Another young man who everyone calls Chimmy (though his name is James) gave me tips on when to use the bathroom and explained how visiting works. I won't have any visitors, I told him. The only person who would visit me is across the country and has no idea I'm here. Anyhow I'll be out in a heartbeat.
Once I'd been here an hour or so, Chimmy introduced me to Damarius. Damarius and I got to talking about music and once I told him I used to play bass guitar and piano, you should have seen his face! He asked me about a hundred questions and Chimmy patted him on the back hard once with a big grin on his face. I haven't enjoyed an afternoon so much in years. It's loud, that's true. Much too loud, I'd hate it here for that reason, and the beds would never do for my back. I'm told I need another back surgery but I've refused. One was too many.
Of course, everyone wanted to know why I was there, that was the first thing everyone asked, and I just told them the truth. I scooped up a bunch of clothes, still on the hanger, and walked right past the WalMart greeter, right out the door, as slowly as I could. Then when the police showed up, I pretended to try to walk away. I got three steps, if that, until the young police officer stopped me and sat me down. Chimmy laughed and laughed. 'Guess you can cross this off your bucket list, pops!'
I laughed too, I could feel my mouth open wider than it has in years. 'Ahaaa! That's it,' I told him. 'That's exactly what I was doing. Never been to jail and I'm 82 years old.'
Damarius grabbed his chin with a hand and said 'Damn! Ha! What's next? You know, on your list?'
I grinned at him. 'The Tijuana donkey show!'
My Published Memoir
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"What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open " M.R.
she's precocious / and she knows just what it takes / to make the pros blush
The Mr. & Mrs.
what i thought love was is so much less than what it is
Our Pack: Dakota Wolf, Lola Moon, Ian Oliver and our baby, Ever Elizabeth
Someone may have stolen your dream when it was young and fresh and you were innocent. Anger is natural. Grief is appropriate. Healing is mandatory. Restoration is possible. -Jane Rubietta
you can stand under my umbrella
the light is on for you
My dear child, who can tell? One can only tell that, by remembering something which happened where we lived before; and as we remember nothing, we know nothing about it; and no book, and no man, can ever tell us certainly.
Some couples don’t ask much of one another after they’ve worked out the fundamentals of jobs and children. Some live separate intellectual and cultural lives, and survive, but the most intense, most fulfilling marriages need, I think, to struggle toward some kind of ideological convergence. Norman Rush
Pray For Kate McRae
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I Believe In Nationwide Health Care
E Pluribus Unum ( Out of Many, One )
"I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings." - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
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