An Old Ode

I give you Miss Bobbie Gentry:

Ode to Billy Joe

Question: Just what was thrown off the Tallahatchee Bridge?

Question: Is it Tallahatchee or Tallahachee?

Unrelated Question: If Tom Brady were less good looking would his suspension have been overturned?

Word To Your Mama

Have you ever looked at an ordinary word for so long that it just doesn’t seem right anymore? That happened to me yesterday afternoon as I was looking for an over-the-counter medicine to calm my incessant sneezing, itchy throat, and watery eyes.

The word:


The more I looked at the word the stranger it appeared. Was it ALL ERGY? Or perhaps AL LERGY? 

When a helpful clerk at CVS asked if I needed assistance I mumbled something along the lines of, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

I hope this product helps with word fixation, as well.

Peace, people!

The Chrysanthemums

John Steinbeck’s short story, The Chrysanthemums, is one of my favorites and the inspiration for this poem. I’ve linked to the story below, and if you’ve never read it, I hope my poem encourages you to do so. I really hope it doesn’t discourage you! That would be awful!

Eliza’s Fate

She looked forward
to the small pleasures
after all:
ladybugs and
budding flowers,
the songs of
passing birds,
the smell of lilacs
in the spring.
What else was
meant for her
she’d never know,
but perhaps
this was it.

Most days she
thought nothing
of the lacks
in her life.
Most days she just
went through the motions.
Most days she felt
it was enough.


Other days she
privately railed
against the sameness.
Other days she cried
silently in the kitchen.
Other days she felt the
absence of color.

When he rode through,
that stranger, speaking
in a familiar way,
her need clawed raw and
subversive. Embolding.
What if today? Maybe he?
She dared the unthinkable
opened herself to him.
Like chrysanthemums,
of little consequence.

These are actually called Steinbeck’s Crysanthemums. How about that?


his prison had no walls,
no guards, no bars.
no warden ever surveyed
the non-existent cells.

yet he cowered there in
a corner of society’s
design; backed up against
the lies he’d been sold.

afraid to venture out
unarmed. emasculated
by manufactured fears
he sprayed his own poison.

propaganda kept him warm,
that and the butt of his
forty-five. he could spew
the paranoia in his sleep.

in his prison he dwells
shackled and hobbled
hoping today he might
justify pulling a trigger.

I am beyond weary of being told after every mass shooting in our country that it’s not the right time to address common sense gun regulation. We’ve waited long enough. It’s time. It’s been time for decades.

Life’s Little Lesson #5, I think

A wallet, no matter how stylish, cannot be used as an electronic reader.

I tried in vain last night to turn on my Kindle so I could read a bit before going to sleep. I couldn’t find the “on” switch and finally gave up. 

This morning I realized that instead of grabbing my Kindle from my bag as is my habit I’d fetched my large wallet instead.

Did I mention that I was extremely tired when this occurred, and probably suffering from a mild case of heat exhaustion? I’m certain it wasn’t the single glass of wine I enjoyed with dinner.

I’d like to produce evidence that I am not suffering from insanity, if it pleases the court.


Exhibit A : not my wallet, yet similar.

Exhibit B: not my Kindle case, but similar.



 Peace, people!  

Ray Donovan–almost a review

Studly Doright and I have been working out in his new shop every evening. We’re building workbenches and shelves and the interior is coming together nicely. By the time we come in the house we’re tired and sweaty, so instead of going out to a movie or to dinner lately we’ve been watching the first season of Ray Donovan

Liev Schreiber is the title character. He’s a guy who fixes situations for Hollywood elites, even if that means inflicting physical pain. His father, Mickey Donovan, is played by Jon Voight, at his sleaziest, skeeziest best. 

Holy crap is all I have to say. It’s dark. Really dark. But well done, too. If you loved Breaking Bad and are looking for a new series, I highly recommend Ray Donovan.

Peace, people!

Lightning Strikes

We’ve had some incredible thunderstorms move through our area this past week, but tonight’s was over the top. It made me so thankful to have a roof over my head. 

Of course it also scared the crap out of our younger cat, Patches who scurries for cover at the first rumble. Our big girl, Scout, isn’t bothered by thunder. She and I enjoy snuggling together during storms.

And then there’s this….
Peace, people.

Congressional Correspondence

I try to keep my blog free of political topics; although, occasionally I get a bee in my bonnet and have to let the darned thing out before it stings my delicate pate. And truly, this isn’t a political post as much as it is an observational one.

The age of electronic communication is still amazing. I remember purchasing air mail stamps so that correspondence might reach its intended destination in a couple of days rather than a week. 

When I email my congressional representatives these days I receive an almost immediate response. Granted, it’s a form letter, but at least I know that someone in his/her office noted that a constituent felt strongly enough about an issue to make public their stand.

I seriously doubt that Senator Rubio will heed my plea, whatever it might have been. I haven’t the money or the political pull to sway his thinking. That’s the cynic in me. However, the eternally optimistic side of my brain thinks, maybe, just maybe, he’ll read my words and a lightbulb will appear over his head, or he’ll be moved to tears by my story and say, 

“Yes! I don’t need the support of powerful corporations and their money anymore! I don’t need to be beholden to the far right. I’m going to seriously consider the words of Nana Noyz!”

And pigs shall fly.

Peace, people!