Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Nonnie and Drago: Two Days After Christmas

That went well. Drago, the brother I live with, loved his iPod, especially after we got it out of the packaging, and I loved my classy black leather gloves and pashmina (now I need cold weather-my other brother and his wife sent me a cashmere scarf from Mongolia (!) in the world's best red. We usually get cold enough weather in the Florida panhandle to dress-for-winter for a week or two, sometimes more. If not, I'll just have to go somewhere, right?) We had breakfast across the street and they have children, who had toys (!), warm smiles, good food. We talked to Robert (he of the scarf) in Philadelphia and heard funny dog and grandson stories. Then Drago and I both napped; Drago because he'd gone to midnight mass (he's a Catholic-Buddhist) and had very little sleep, me because I always nap. My New York cousin Nancy called. She never forgets, even this year
when she has loved ones in hospitals in two states-yes,  on Christmas day. (I know-sickness and death are no respecters of holidays and all. But still.)
After chats and naps I cooked our turkey. Successfully! This is not a big deal for most people. It is, decidedly, for me, because I lack experience in big item preparation. I was single for a long time and while I tried to be a good kitchen helper, I didn't have many dinner parties of my own. Didn't have room or enough silverware anyway. (I'd specialized in low-income careers with panache of one kind or another.) Then I was married for awhile and got into the middle-class, but I never had to cook the big meat/poultry part of the meal. He did those on his super-duper rotisserie. (My mother, during her last year with us, ate a baloney sandwich rather than risk my turkey. The next day, after everyone's survival, she ate the turkey tettrazini I made.) Anyways. Our neighbors, Ralph and Barbara came over for dinner, bringing more for our "splendid table." I love that phrase, although I'm not foodie enough for the NPR show-and we had a fine time. No fancy sauces-plain, healthy food. I'm sure my plakky arteries were grateful since I'd been eating (in moderation, of course) the delicious, buttery cookies Drago's yoga students and the neighborhood children had sent over. Homemade fudge, even.

Boxing Day around here had it's trials. Two of Drago's yoga students got headaches from the scented candle-burner thingy he tried-quite possibly his first-ever complaints from any of them. We couldn't get the iPod connected to the internet; we had Ralph, who can generally fix anything, over helping, but he isn't a kid either, and apparently only kids can do this sort of thing without losing their cool, or in our cases, hard-won serenity. After supper (our friend Romona's wonderful soup) I was locked in to "Little Dorrit" on TCM, the 1988 version, Parts One and Two, so I was up very late. And then even later because there was a major thunderstorm and our dog, Blossom, would not be comforted until it ended at 3amish. She kept Drago awake, too. Maybe because I was watching Dickens in the porch room which has lots of big windows and rain pounds down much louder out there, but I didn't want to move because the tv might have kept my brother up, you see.

Anyways. Here we all are-between holidays again. I'm pretty much full of goodwill.  Really. Maybe because I haven't been watching the doings on news shows for a few days and the consequent lack of Trumpage, etc. Maybe because I had a dream where everyone was alive again and my cousin Renee came to visit with a herd of friendly animals. I've been around children lately, too, which can kick-start goodwill for me. The weather is the kind of shiny breezy day you can get after a big storm. Blossom is exhausted but calm. Sam, our cat, is, well, Sam's always calm. I have the new P.D.James on my Kindle. Drago's teaching, and possibly, possibly using his iPod. So, you know, we're keeping-up. Lucky cusses, we are. You know, some 7,000 clicks have hit on this blog. Lots of them are mistakes or trolls, I'm sure, but for those of you who are here on purpose, and I guess even if you aren't, my best wishes for 2012. May it be chockablock with whatever you wish.  xxoononnie

This doesn't have much to do with the holidays, but I like the picture of Sam

Wednesday, December 14, 2011


Idiots of living time signify nothing.
They merely paint my fall of hair,
mold my shapely legs to tempt
fools who’d be my familiars.
Time now to undo my estate
of lechers creeping in petty pace
to grasp, fondle, possess
a thousand recorded images
of my charmed, night-shrieking life.
I then was but a walking shadow,
my champagne flavored by fear.
My senses cooled, my candle out,
forty-nine years since flesh
met numbed and sodden death,
I have forgotten the taste of glamour,
and am alive in bloodless dignity-
safe from clamorous bells,
the fury of fame, needing you. 
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,
to the last syllable of recorded time,
players will rouse and stir to shadows
of Marilyn, who briefly strutted upon a stage.

     Macbeth, Act v,scene v

Wednesday, December 07, 2011

Enough, Trump.

We've had it my dear with your pink ties, your hairs, 
your swagger, towers, your plenty of monies,
your tempers, your honeys. How dared you propose 
that you lead in our name? Are you smart, fair, or fine? 
Do you even have time?

I don't speak for all, not at all, but for many who never 
did like your style or bile, your tenacious temerity,
your specious celebrity. I wonder, I do, who could help
you see through your haze, your self-blinded daze.
Have you read any poets, I wonder?

Some dignity, perhaps? Is it there, under-wraps?
Still...some listen to you. It must be your cash. 
I do hope you know that the time you steal bothers 
me, my brothers, and millions of others. 
Would you just go?