Category Archives: Auntie Lenora

All the Secrets…

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I hope you are all sitting down, as I have a bit of shocking news to tell you. I received a book in the mail the other day. See, I told you…/snort/  Anyhow, the book is All The Secrets Of The World a novel by Steve Almond. I checked the label several times, it was addressed to me, from a bookstore. I figured it was from housemate Dan so trashed the mailer. The problem? When I thanked him for it, he had no recollection of ordering it.

Did any of you think of me and send it? I really haven’t a clue who to thank. One of the larger secrets of my world! Hmm, did I receive a notice to order a free book and this is it? It’s a hardback, $28.00, pretty pricey for a freeby, eh?

Telemarketers

I subscribe to a daily poem from Rattle magazine as well as A Poem A Day from Poets.org. I’m seldom disappointed, but today’s (4 July) from Rattle I’ve got to share. I’m pretty sure it’s copyrighted and I can’t post the whole of it, so I’m giving you the link. It’s short. It’s humorous. Please, read it! “Telemarketer” by Brett Garcia Myhren. Isn’t that the bestest ever comeback to a telemarketer? 

Referrals

I also subscribe to a few blogs/newsletters, some are free, some I pay for. Three are:

Newsletter of Carla Ra, a scientist by day, a science-fiction writer by night. She’s a brainiac with a marvelous sense of humor. Check her out. Join her mailing list and join her Bot Family. Great fun. Carla Ra at https://www.authorcarlara.com Free

Dr. Stacey Patton. She has both free and pay. I pay. She is an African American professor of media, journalism, film & communication at Howard University. I don’t know where she gets all the energy to teach, write, speak, etc. Sometimes her newsletters are angry with cause, sometimes, she makes me cry, and sometimes she makes me laugh. Always, I learn something. And her Sunday sermons are marvelous. For the first time in years, I look forward to going to church, her church. Today’s newsletter is â€œForget the Founders. Celebrate the Enslaved Black People Who Escaped on the 4th of July.” It’s a powerful piece. Read it and learn some history! Stretch your mind. It’s good for you! She’s on Substack.

And, of course, I subscribe to Sherman Alexie, also on Substack. I pay, but he also has a free subscription.  I get poetry, essays, short fiction, opinion, audio, and video, and yes, some recent history of life as an Indian in modern America. His poem, â€œThe Book of Samuel” is one of those poems. It’s free, so I can share.

Please Consider

I have written before about the Iraqi bakery/grocery store/restaurant next door to me, Somer’s Bakery. Now I want to write about the family operated store or restaurant or bakery near where you live. If you’re too busy to shop there because the Big Store you go to has everything, or better prices, or is more convenient, please consider the Mom n Pop in your neighborhood. Not for all your needs, but for some. If you are lucky enough that the owners are from another country and sell things you’ve never seen or tried, consider trying. Support them. 

Somer’s is my bread store, my pickle store, my date store, my eggplant and pickled cabbage store and my homemade and fresh baklava store. Also my baba ghanoush lunch restaurant. But now it will probably me my ex store come January. Gas has gone up, shipping has gone up, people aren’t buying as much, he can’t afford to stock product and throw it away when it expires. And they’re from a different country.

Did I tell you that’s where I buy my bread. Pita bread. Do you know why I buy it there? I’ll tell you, it’s the ingredients—flour, water, yeast, salt. Period. Not only can I pronounce all the ingredients, I can spell them. And remember them. And the taste and texture is so much better than grocery store bread.

Is he competition for the Big Store across the street? No, he’s too small and carries things they’ve never heard of. Oh, did I mention the cheeses? sigh….

So, if you have a Mom n Pop near you, support them. Get to know them. And if they came to America from a different place, try their foods. Tell your friends. Help in a small way for someone to reach the so-called American Dream. A taste bud once introduced to a new experience will never settle for boring again! /snort/  

Latest email from Cousin Jimmy

“I just read this post to Substack. I believe it needs to go viral.”

Well, I just read it, too, and totally agree with him. A well thought-out article and well worth the couple of minutes to read and longer to cogitate.

The Epstein Class: What Jeffrey Epstein revealed about wealth, immunity, and institutional failure. by Eli Goldstein at Eli’s Substack

.https://libertylens1.substack.com/p/the-epstein-class-what-jeffrey-epstein?r=4nb43&utm_medium=ios&triedRedirect=true

Addendum:

Goodest morning, y’all. It is Sunday, 5 July. The Brave Dog snuggled most of the night, thereby keeping me safe from those nasty exploding things outside. And I’ve already been to church this morning—still in my jammies no less!—and I invite you to come sit in the pew with me, there’s always room for my friends. The doors are open, and the message is strong! Dr. Rev. Staceypants is Preachin’

“Death is a reminder to live fully.” â€”Ram Dass

Remember, 
I love you, 
I appreciate you, 
and I give you a fantastically wonderful week 
so take it and run;-)

Auntie Lenora

Something New—for YOU!!

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I belong to two different poetry prompt groups that I enjoy no end. Why should I get all the fun?? A friend of mine used this photo as a prompt and wrote a great poem, so I’m sharing the photo with you, and asking you to use this photo and write something. Anything. A line. A poem. A story. Shuckin’s, a novel if you want. Just write something! It doesn’t need to be ‘good’ and it doesn’t need to be shared unless you want to share. 

My friend Bill Ransom, says there are three kinds of writing—private, shared with a few, and public. And Marvin Bell said to give yourself permission to write a bad poem (or whatever). So, write something, inspired by this photo, and it doesn’t even have to be about a moon, who knows what idea this hollowed out moon, filled with clouds, will spark for you.

The photo is copyrighted, but I have the permission from the photographer to use it.–“Hello, Lenora. Sure, no problem. Thank you for your kind words. // Cheers, // Debra“

What I think happened to the moon is the mice got hungry and ate it, it is made out of cheese you know. They hollowed it out, allowing clouds to move in. And Venus was too far away to help. Or maybe too smart to get close enough to help. Those mice are sneaky little devils. And it wouldn’t surprise me if they would thrive in Venus’s atmosphere!

https://apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap260620.html

Astronomy Picture of the Day 

Discover the cosmos! Each day a different image or photograph of our fascinating universe is featured, along with a brief explanation written by a professional astronomer.

2026 June 20

Daytime Moon Meets Evening Star 
Image Credit & Copyright: Debra Ceravolo

Explanation: Venus is now appearing on the celestial stage as Earth’s brilliant evening star, performing with the Moon, other wandering planets, and bright stars in western skies. For evening sky gazers on June 17, the celestial beacon rose after sunset close by a young, slender, crescent Moon. But from some locations the Moon could be seen to occult or pass in front of Venus. And from a backyard observatory in southern British Columbia, Canada, the lunar occultation was played out in daylight. This stunning telescopic snapshot captured a scene in dramatically cloudy skies, following Venus’ hour long disappearance, as the evening star emerged beyond the bright lunar limb.

And, yes, after I wrote this, I wrote my poem. And, yes, I’ll let you read it, but it will cost you. I want to see what YOU wrote, the sentence, the paragraph, the poem, whatever you wrote. Email it to me, and I’ll share. lenora.good@icloud.com.

Auntie Lenora Promises Not to Sing

Our country’s 250th birthday is Saturday, and because Auntie Lenora loves her country, she won’t sing, though her rendition of Happy Birthday might be better than a certain country singer’s rendition of The Star Spangled Banner the other night at another birthday bash. Auntie used to have a friend who paid her not to sing Happy Birthday to him. She’s that good at being awful!

In the meanwhile, have a great celebration. If you’re going to fire off those explody things, please remember pets, vets, and fires. If you have a large body of water near you, take them to the shore and fire over the water. If you don’t, see if you can find a large area ground covered by concrete with no trees nearby. Whatever, just be responsible and safe. Auntie Lenora loves you, appreciates you, and doesn’t want to see any of you harmed by those bangy, explody things.

Auntie Lenora is, per her wont, staying in. The great and ferocious Chihuahua, Sammy Brave Dog, has promised to keep her safe, and she has a bottle of W. H. McBrayer Kentucky bourbon she is going to open and try. Her grandfather, Carl Henry “Skipper” McBrayer was the genealogist of the family for years, and a cousin, Bill, re-built the family distillery on a small scale. Old Auntie is looking forward to some good sippin’ whiskey. If you’re interested in reading a bit about it, check out McBrayer Legacy Spirits. And like the bangy, explody things, if you drink, be responsible!

Sammy as his ferocious winter were/wolf ready to defend me against noisy things.

“Life is to be lived, not controlled, 
and humanity is won by continuing 
to play in face of certain defeat.” 
~ Ralph Ellison

It’s Done…Almost

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As you may remember from previous posts, when I discovered my elder brother of choice Thomas, did not have a Literary Executrix, I volunteered. Obviously, I must have been on special assignment when we covered volunteering in Basic Training!

The first thing I did was work on his memoir, which he finished just before he died. That took a while (hard to see the computer screen if one is blinded by tears), but I eventually got there. Bless his heart he did a lot of copy and paste, instead of cut and paste. But I finally got the duplicates eliminated, and the tenses corrected, and sent it off to a friend to look over—and she will be publishing it in 2027!

The second thing I did was go through his many thumb drives and print out every written thing I could find. Best guestimate was 500 pages plus or minus. That’s a lot of stuff to go through. And as my friend said, why didn’t I just use a spread sheet to put the titles and dates in and use that? She even volunteered to make me the spread sheet! Well, if Thomas had been that consistent or organized, it might have worked but I found he had worked on poems and changed the title, but not the poem that much. Or he had written different poems, but used the same name. He used thumb drives and I found copies on multiple drives.

The third thing was to collect all the pages, and go on a week-long retreat to Port Hadlock, WA with friend Dixie of the spread sheet suggestion. There, I got all the poems in alphabetical order, found lots of pages that weren’t poems or were incomplete, and eliminated them, then went through each section and pulled out what looked to be the final copy, the complete copy, and then (why do I have an ear worm of Along Came Jones??) I divided them into categories. And then the week was up.

After coming home, I began going through them again, quickly, skimming, and divided the poetry into three books, and the stories into one. Took the hard copies I’d printed out, to Office Depot and had them scanned to thumb drives, one for each book, came home and got book one, Blanchard Mountain Woman, moved to a .docx file, edited, ordered, and saved in three places. One-hundred-thirty pages of poetry! And, of course, found a couple more duplicates with different titles, same words, different format. sigh.

Now, to find a poetry editor I can afford to go through the poems while I write the Frontis Matter, and the Back Matter (Backis Matter??), with the Table of Contents being the last in case we change the order. I plan on self-publishing these books, and hopefully deliver them to one of Thomas’s sons to take over, sell and manage the royalties which should be divided equally between the brothers.

One of these days, I hope to get back to my writing, and collections, and maybe get another book of my poems out. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Yes, I can tell, you are almost as excited as I am /snort/ In the meantime, I hope my files are a bit easier on my Literary Executrix, which I already have, and she has agreed to. 

Mama Turtle

We have a mama turtle in our little pond. Perhaps we have a papa turtle, too, or he might be in the large pond next door. Every so often I see a baby turtle, but the heron gets them now and then, as well as the osprey, when they’re small. And since the landscrapers cut down our live trees by the pond, but left the dead ones, I’ve seen fewer turtles and frogs as they no longer have the protection of the trees, or the shade. The other day I noticed something in the water that was moving against the wind, grabbed my phone, put it on the largest telephoto I could and grabbed this shot of turtle swimming. As soon as I got the shot s/he dove back underwater, but at least I know we have at least one turtle, still. Dan says he’s heard Jeremiah sing now and then, and plop into the water when he goes outside.

“I’m here today because I refused to be unhappy. I took a chance.”—Wanda Sykes

Remember, you are loved, you are appreciated,
and you have a marvelous week ahead.

Fire Season is Here…

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Remember, I love you, I appreciate you,
and I wish you a Fantabulous Week!!!

This morning’s newspaper says the Tries (Tri-Cities) where I live, are surrounded by wild fires. But, there must be a clear space to our SE as the breeze, such as it is, isn’t bringing smoke—so far. The sky has a hazy silvery tint to it, so I can tell it ain’t totally clear, but I just walked the dog, and no smell of fire. 

My weather app says our AQI is 46-good, my EPA Air Now app says it’s 22. That’s a bit of a discrepancy, yes‽ And it matters, because there are a lot of people in the area who have sensitivities to things in the air we breathe! Me being one of the many!

And the Tries are located in the Columbia Basin, basin being the operative word. We are a sink hole, and as such, collect and hold stuff like smoke. Five or so years ago, I was getting ready to convert Coffee Break Escapes to a podcast and we were surrounded by fires for over a month. Even wearing a mask, especially outside, the smoke forever changed my voice. Part of it was my fault for trying to talk through the smoke-induced laryngitis, still….

I am considering recording some of my short stories and putting them up on my YouTube channel, including coughs, glitches, &c and “advertising” them as both written and narrated by a human. They won’t be as exciting as the AI stories but the tenses and pronunciations will be somewhat better. /snark/ But, probably not as funny.

New Read:

Last year, I read Frogs Don’t Sing Red poems by Sandi Stromberg and loved it. When I saw she had a new book out a while back, Moonlight, Shaken poems by Sandi Stromberg, my order was placed asap! From the first epigraph, “To what shall / I liken the world? / Moonlight, reflected / In dewdrops, / Shaken from a crane’s bill.” —Dogen Zenji (1200-1253) I was entranced. Both books are published by Kelsay Books.

Stromberg has lived in different countries, has travelled widely, partaken of cultures, languages, and foods from around the world. Her love of travel, and new friends and acquaintances, is shared in this marvelous book. Do I have a favorite? Oh, gosh, no. I have several. The one that affected me, physically, more than others (all affected me emotionally) was Sixty Seconds of Infinity. “”It’s just for one minute,” says the museum guard, // Out of the dark, hundreds, maybe thousands, ‘’ of golden lights careen toward me, tiny lanterns / ceiling to floor….” She goes on to describe a most fascinating sixty seconds. I close my eyes, try to visualize what she saw, what she felt, and the early twinges of vertigo began. That’s powerful writing. And now, claustrophobe that I am, I want to visit the Infinity Room, by Yayoi Kusama at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. All because of one poem!

Early morning sun (7:47), September 17, 2021, during our month of smoke. It never got better until it was gone.

‘Feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to fly?’ –Frida Kahlo

It’s Monday–and I’m Retired!!

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Happy Monday to you! I
love you, I appreciate you, I wish you a marvelous week!

I know I’ve mentioned my guilty pleasure of listening to AI written/narrated stories before, mostly I find them pretty funny. The better ones come out of the SF/F channels and the werewolf/lycan ones. I strongly suspect there is some human intervention there. True, they are pretty formulaic, but there’s nothing wrong with that. There are stories of romance, revenge, the Mafia, were’s, dragons—something for everyone. Just do not leave a comment on any of them.

What I’m wondering is, since I write poetry, and the occasional short story, why don’t I record them, and put them up on my YouTube channel? Well, ok, I know the reason—my voice is old, and it sounds old, I’d have to find someone to record them for me. 

And, I know some of you, dear readers, are also writers. Why don’t you record some of your stories and put them up on YouTube? Monetize your channel and get paid something???!!!

Speaking of AI, and the fact that the stories can’t follow a timeline, have you noticed the White House staff also can’t follow a time line, or perform simple arithmetic? (yeah, numbers phobe that I am, even I figured that one out!) Staff came out and said that our Orange Pustule has just had his 6th month physical. Except he’s having them at four month intervals, according to John Iadarola on “The Damage Report,” the OP has been averaging a physical (and cognitive test?) every 123 days. That’s four months, not six.

I’ve had a couple of poems published in the June issue of Quill & Parchment, in case you’re ready for a poem or two ;-).

Walking the Plains of Sandpiper Hill is an ekphrastic and Springtime Fancies is from the line, then the bees came, and must be used in the poem, which is why it’s in italics in the poem. If you are one of my writing readers, I suggest you check out Quill & Parchment and if it looks like a fit for some of your work, consider submitting to them. They also print short stories now and then.

Yes, the geese and ducks, and the great blue heron, are walking on the water. No, it is not miraculous. The photo was taken 28 Jan 26, the pond is frozen. June is getting hot. I thought we could use a cool photo, yes?

Now that nail-less toe is happily healing, I hope to get back to my exercises this week, and to work on Thomas’s book/s. I’m currently thinking three of poetry and one of short stories. And also get back to my writing.

Just Call Me “Alice’s Rabbit”—I’m Late, I’m Late…

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So, where was I last week? I was right here, at home, wading in the pool of self-pity and requested pain. No, I’m not a masochist. Honest. Trust me. Several years ago, I had a couple of toenails removed, supposedly the toes were treated so the nails wouldn’t grow back. They grew back, and they were vengeful. It took time, but I reached the point of finality, and discussed possible solutions with my podiatrist about the one causing the most pain. (NOT the one who removed the original toenail!) Anyhow, Favorite Podiatrist said I had about three options, I could have the nail removed and take a chance the replacement nail would be better behaved, I could have it removed and treated to not grow back, or, and the one he really recommended, was I could have it removed and treated so it wouldn’t grow back. (I think he worked at the Ford company while in medical school? You can have any color car you want as long as you want black) I chose the last option. A week ago this past Friday, Favorite Podiatrist removed the nail and treated the nail bed with acid to keep it from growing back. 

No pain, other than the needle with numbing juice going in, and that wasn’t much pain. Even when the juice wore off, I didn’t need so much as an aspirin, until the next morning when I had to soak it in Epsom salts, and re-bandage it. Pain!!! for about an hour. Self-pity for the morning. Rinse, repeat, and I didn’t feel like doing much of anything but listen to my Samurai Music on YouTube, funny AI stories on YouTube, and work on Thomas’s poetry.

I think I have 3 solid books of his poetry. Probably will self-publish once I have them together, well, starting with the first. I’ll get more royalty that way, and I’m dividing the royalty between his three sons. They certainly won’t get rich but maybe buy a coffee now and then on their Dad. 😉 I sent a couple of nice checks off to ALS Association and End of Life Washington the other day, from the sale of Saying Goodbye to Thomas. I kicked in a bit, too. 

Just for grins, I went to ABEbooks.com a couple days ago. I could find NO used copies of Saying Goodbye to Thomas! Lots of new ones offered, but no used ones. That tells me that people who are buying the book are pleased with it, and not trading it in at their local used book store. In other words, it’s a good book (pun not intended, but now that I see it…;-). 

Speaking of books

I have read three chapbooks in the last couple of weeks.

GAZA Poetry by Errol Young

This is not an easy book to read, and I am fairly sure, from what Young wrote in Author’s Note 02, not an easy one to write. His first poem, “Too Many” says it all. It begins, “I cannot be silent.” and ends, “Read them if you must. / Ignore them if you will. / I cannot.”

No, this is not an easy book to read, but the poems are well-written, which is not easy to do when the subject matter is so atrocious. Buy the book, read the book, become educated by the book.

GAZA Poetry by Errol Young, 25 pages of poetry, available in print from bookshop.org, and other places. $10.00

The Future Deserves a Nervous Breakdown by Sherry Fraser

Ever read a book, and by the time you’re finished reading it, thinking thoughts along the line of, “I’d really like to meet this person, share a cuppa, or a margarita, with the author?” Yep, that’s me. I didn’t know I not only need a nervous breakdown, but that I deserve one. Wow!

“A Tree Moves from Brooklyn” had me smiling and chuckling, “American Aristocrat” had me LOLing.  

Fraser has a delightfully wicked sense of humor, which appeals to me no end. I’m not sure, but with all the LOLing I had by the time I finished the book, I may have had that nervous breakdown.

I dog-ear the bottom corner of pages of poetry that I really love. I usually have a few pages dog-eared by the time I’m finished. In this case, I think at least 50% of the pages are dog-eared, including a few that are double-dog-eared. The rest are merely very good 😉

The Future Deserves a Nervous Breakdown by Sherry Fraser

Available from the author, Sherry Fraser at sherryyoga@gmail.com for $25.00 incl s/h 

Saudade, A Collection of Poems on Love, Loss, and Change Between Cultures by A. J. Blanco

I have recently discovered the Saudade (sowDAHdjee), a Portuguese poem of deep longing for something or someone absent, often with a sense of sadness or nostalgia.  (Wikipedia) I bought a small book of 21 Saudade by A. J. Blanco. Blanco is also new to Saudade, and the Portuguese language introduced by her husband, a Brasilian, to add to the Spanish and English she already knew. 

Saudade, A Collection of Poems on Love, Loss, and Change Between Cultures by A. J. Blanco is available from Bookshop.org for $10.99 +s/h.

Please know I appreciate you, I love you, and I wish you a fantastical week!!!

Found this smiling guy when I was down in Florida. What a flirt! Alas, I couldn’t hang around…

Happy Mother’s Day

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okay, I’m a day late, live with it 😉

Here is the origin of this day. I think it’s worth the reading, and if anyone has a way to send the message, or at least the link to Mother Melania back in DC, feel free to do so. Extra points if you can send it to her in her native language. Use the link if the image disappears: https://elainemichele.com/portfolio/mothers-day-card-proclamation/

My week’s excitement included a drive south 179 miles with my gal pal, Mary, to see our friend Judith for couple days. Very boring drive down and back (best kind of a drive!), and a mahvelous visit with our friend. She’s moved into a retirement home, and we ate with her in the resident restaurant which was actually pretty good food, and it was ordered off a menu. 

The home she’s in is very nice, the apartments are large, the staff is very friendly, and the restaurant is open from 7:30am to 7:00pm, the residents can go in any time and order any meal, or just go to the salad bar, which looked very good!

Judith took us on a walk to a nearby park where we sat and enjoyed the morning. Then we walked back to the apartment and met many of her new friends. They’re all retired, friendly, and had great senses of humor. We also sat outside in the gazebo by the pond in the courtyard and caught up on 10-12 year’s worth of gossip and watched the new baby ducklings. 

Alas, the time was too short, but we hope to make the trip again—without waiting another 10-12 years.

Mama and her babies between the gazebo and the pond.

This week’s favorite AI quote from Karma Files:
“No sense in explaining quantum physics to a hamster.”

I love you. I appreciate you. Have a marvelous 7-day!

The Two-Week Vaca That Was—Sorta ;-)

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Happy Today!
Have a fantastically wunnerful up-coming week.
I love you. I appreciate you. You are wonderful!

Public Service Announcement:

I had a poem accepted by Casa Urraca Press for a print anthology. 
Believe me, I’m over the moon on this one. AND, I have two poems
published in this month’s edition of Quill and Parchment for which 
I’m also over the moon— People of the Desert and Shadows of the Crow.
Please click on the link, and scroll down, and stop and read some 
of the other poems on your way to mine. There are some great ones. 
The Two-Week Vaca That Was—Sorta 😉

Okay, it was a vacation, much enjoyed, and wonderfully productive, it just wasn’t what I’d planned on and hoped for. Those of you not familiar with Washington geography, I live in Kennewick (on the Big Bend of the Columbia River in south central/eastern Washington. Tacoma is on the Dark Side, south of Seattle, Federal Way is just north of Tacoma, the Narrows is the place Puget Sound narrows enough for two bridges to span it to the Peninsula. (Olympia is farther south, where the Sound ends.) Port Orchard, Poulsbo, Bremerton, Port Hadlock, Port Townsend and farther north up the peninsula, with Pt. T. at the NE tip. Arlington is just about straight across the Salish Sea (real name of Puget Sound) and inland a bit, ie, north of Seattle, Everett, and Marysville. I had planned on coming home from Arlington via Highway 2, then down through Wenatchee, etc. Oh, well, next time. 😉

I had planned on spending Friday evening with my Sister of the Heart, Marjorie, in Tacoma, then drive across the Narrows and spend Friday night, and Saturday night, with my ex-Boss, Bill. As we all know, life happens, and when I arrived at Marjorie’s, the house was dark, and no one home. You ever get up on a Friday but you just know it’s Thursday? Uh-huh, she was a day late and a dollar short, so to speak.

So, I spent the time with Bill, which, per usual, was great fun. We drove from Port Orchard up to Paulsbo, bought goodies at the bakery, came home, and had them for supper. Oh, evilness never tasted better! 

Sunday, I drove back across the Narrows up to Federal Way, not far from where I used to live, actually, picked up my good friend, Dixie who lives in Virginia but was at her granddaughter’s, then drove back across the bridge and up to our VRBO rental in Port Hadlock (just south of Port Townsend.) A gorgeous drive, a beautiful home—but we couldn’t open the key box to get the key to get in. Of course, we also couldn’t get through to the Host and after spending a couple hours on the phone with VRBO people, they sent us to a hotel for the night.  They couldn’t get the host, either. So, we drove up to Pt. T, found a hotel, with some great views

Gulls on hotel roof. The grass on roof is metal, meant to keep gulls off.

Olympic Mountains in background; they should be white. Mfg unk.

In the meantime, VRBO kept trying to contact the Host, and Monday morning succeeded, with a three-way phone call, the Host directed us to return to the house, the on-site mgr. would meet us and let us in. So back we went, and were so embarrassed when we were shown how simple it was to get in. Every lock box we’ve ever used, the bottom released, in this case, the ‘door’ pulled out and down. Oh, sigh.

The house was gorgeous, with fantastic views. When Dixie rented the house, she emphasized we had one person who could not do stairs, and was assured that person would be fine. Yeah, right. We went in on the main level of huge kitchen, dining room, living room, door out to deck, and a double set of stairs, one going down to the daylight basement, and one up to the second floor. Bathrooms were up, or down, stairs, none on the main level. Being an old Girl Scout, and a Vet, I assured Dixie that if there wasn’t an easy path and door to the daylight basement, there were lots of bushes. She was, rightly so, horrified. I, on the other hand hoped for the path, which turned out to very pleasant, and a huge slider downstairs, and a fairly comfy sofa on which to lay my weary body 😉 The bathroom was a full bathroom, though the textured floor of the walk-in shower was very slick when water, soap, and or shampoo, was on it. One shower was enough, and I bathed out of my helmet (the sink) thereafter.

This was to have been a Writer’s Retreat for 3 of us, one had unexpected defugalties and couldn’t come, so Dixie and I had our retreat and it was marvelous. She brought her project, I brought mine, and though I did no writing, other than my daily poems, we both got a great deal done. She is working on getting her late husband’s articles together for a book, and I worked on getting my late adopted brother’s poetry together for a book or maybe two. The first thing I did was put them in alphabetical order and get rid of all the duplicates and early versions. Then I broke them into categories. Now I need to go through and read each one and make a decision whether or not to put in a book (or one of the books). 

We did take one day off and drive up to Pt. Townsend, where we toured Fort Worden, then walked a bit in downtown, gawking at the old buildings. We went into a fabric store—District Fabric—that was fabulous! All kinds of fabric, most on rolls, not flat bolts, and even a section where some was on hangers that was ‘gently pre-owned’. Fabrics from all over the world. OMG! It was hard to leave. I bought two pieces, one of pre-owned blue with yellow-gold hash marks, the other blacks, grays, like a hurricane rainband.

Then a kitchen gadget store, The Green Eyeshade, where they had every kitchen knick-knack known to cooking-hood. I bought a tiny spoon I use in my Szcheuan pepper sauce, from Japan with a kitty on it, and last night it dawned on me, it’s probably a caviar spoon. Well, I can afford the pepper sauce 😉

From there, we wandered down the street to All About Me, a clothing store with a sale rack of clothes outside. The colors were all wrong for me—earthtones—and some guy with a soprano sax a half block or so away decided to entertain folks. I told Dixie I was going inside and if not back in three days to call the Gendarmes. I really did not like the guy’s sax playing. Found a coat I really liked, more like a long jacket, summer weight, then saw where it had to be hand washed. It went back on the rack, and I wandered on through the store. In the back were shoes. And some were on sale. Dixie wandered back to join me, and there were two pair sized 38 and 39, red, fun, on sale. The 39 fit me, which was a surprise, most Euro sizes are too wide. Alas, Dixie could get the 38 on, but it was uncomfortable. She bought a pair of slacks, I bought a pair of shoes. Then we headed back to the house, with a stop off in a diner that was actually pretty dog gone good, then home for a glass of wine. 

I probably shouldn’t admit this, but we bought a bottle of wine our first day there, the standard 750ml sized bottle, and I brought enough for two more glasses home with me. Yeah, our glasses were probably between 1-2oz. We’re pretty big drinkers, huh? I drank the last of it the next Thursday. 

On the following Sunday, I was scheduled to return Dixie to her granddaughter’s and drive up to Arlington to see my adopted Little Bro and his husband. Alas a couple days prior, my BIL was admitted to the hospital, and I am delighted to say he is now home recouping, but at the time, it was deemed the better part of common sense for me to toodle on home and not see them. So, I got to see 2 of the 5 people I wanted to see. Yes, it was a loverly vacation, but I miss not seeing those I didn’t get to see. Oh, well, it just means I have an excuse to go to the Dark Side again. (It is called the Dark Side due to the fact that the clouds roll in about half past September and stay until (usually) 5 July, not really rainy, just gray, wet, gloomy—dark.

Great Blue Heron on tide flats outside our rental

Dawn at Bruce Pond (near side of spits, see heron above) Oak Bay far side, Salish Sea

Mt Tahoma (Rainier) at dawn

Susie says, Hi, to everyone. She’s very friendly.

Our rental. The upstairs windows on the left was Dixie’s room, the downstairs sliders was mine. I could go up the outside stairs, but wasn’t comfortable going down them.
The house behind is used for storage.

Mt Tahoma, Guardian of the Southern Salish Sea

Best quote, possibly ever: I did that!

This is the pump at the gas station I went to in Port Hadlock. In the middle of MAGA country

All photos by Lenora Rain-Lee Good, using iPhone 17 Pro Max

Best AI Quote EVER

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Happy Today!
Have a fantastically wunnerful up-coming week.
I love you. I appreciate you. You are wonderful!

Due to technical defrugalties, Coffee Break Escapes is late. My web mistress is working the situation and within minutes of its being cleared, you will find CBE in your inbox. The most honorable web mistress apologizes, as do I. But, she is marvelous, and you are now reading.

Trader Joe coming????

Since I’ve moved into the Tries, rumors float to the surface every so often that Trader Joe’s is coming! And maybe they are. Or not. The Trader looks at population and parking availability, according to an article in our newspaper, and they see the Tries not as one area of 300,000 population, but as 3 separate cities of (what, 100K each?) which isn’t enough. The article contained a link to put in our browser if we want a TJs—type in “Request a Trader Joe’s” or click here: https://www.traderjoes.com/home/contact-us/request-a-store. I’ve mailed them, periodically, letters requesting same, and never received a reply. But, what the heck, I filled out their form, and maybe, just maybe, enough other Tri-Citians will also fill it out, explain that it’s primarily the pols who see 3 separate cities, but us locals just see three neighborhoods separated by 3 rivers with more than 3 bridges connecting us. That we cross into each other’s neighborhood to shop all the time. Also to visit friends and we’d love to visit Trader Joe. So, if you have a TJs in your neighborhood, congratulations, maybe we’ll get one, too. eventually. maybe sooner! Hope springs eternal…

Travel

I’m going to be travelling for the next three weeks or so, not far, but staying with friends I haven’t seen in a long time, so there is a very good probability (high) I will be busy with friends and not writing the blog. But I shall return. Honest. Trust me.

Best AI Quote EVER!!!:

“I got in my car to drive the 200 miles between San Francisco and New York City. I should make it in about two hours.”

Book Reviews

Turn Up the Ocean: Poems by Tony Hoagland

This is Hoagland’s last book of poetry, put together by his widow a couple years after his death. He knew his was dying when he wrote several of the poems. I hope, if I have that foreknowledge and time, my poems will be written with the humor and pathos with which Hoagland wrote.

Hoagland is a writer I truly wish I could have met and shared a cuppa with. His very first poem in the book is “Bible All Out of Order” and I laughed from the first stanza, “One thing’s for sure; in the future, the morgues are going to be full of tattoos. / It’s going to be more colorful and easier to manage: / ‘Hey Jeff, move Dolphin-Shoulder-Girl to tray seven.” / “And get Mr. Flames-on-My-Neck out for the doc.” to the line, “It’s possible I have this all out of order.” to the last two lines, “while being tossed this way and that, askew and asunder, / in this blithering whirlwind of wonder.”

Just reading the Contents, is in itself a poem, and trust me, the actual poems are far more than the sum of the title’s worth! Gorgon, Immersion, Why I like the Hospital, The Reason He Brought His Gun to School: A Blues, Illness and Literature, On Why I Must Decline to Receive the Prayers You Say You Are Constantly Sending, Dante’s Bar and Gril, The Decline of the Roman Empire, Reading While Sick in the Middle of the Night, Peaceful Transition, with a whole bunch more. 

The book ends with “Peaceful Transition.” It begins with, “The wind comes down from the northwest, cold in September,” and flows to “I see the wren has found a way to make its little nest / inside the cactus thorns.”

Rest in Power, Tony Hoagland. Thank you for being, thank you for writing, thank you publishers for publishing your works, thank you for this last book of poetry. You are, truly, missed. 

The book is available from your favorite bookstore or the two linked below. And probably your library (but they’ll want it back).

Turn Up the Ocean: Poems by Tony Hoagland
Published by Graywolf Press, 2022
ISBN:  978-1-64445-092-5 (paperback)
ISBN:  978-1-64445-180-9 (ebook)
Bookshop.org              abebooks.com
5 Stars

The Beautiful Foolishness: poems by Wayne Lee

I love Wayne Lee’s poetry, I have two of his earlier books, and as soon as this one was available on pre-order, I pre-ordered. I love pre-ordering books for a variety of reasons: 1. It helps the publisher know how popular the book will be, 2. it gives the author a warm fuzzy and, 3. I tend to forget I ordered it, and then a month or three later, I receive a beautiful book in the mail like an unexpected and welcomed present. Another reason, some publishers base their royalty payments on pre-sales, and nothing else, and once the pre-sale is over, the royalty rate is set, and no matter how many books are sold later, royalty doesn’t change. 

Back to the topic, Lee’s book:  Lee is a Buddhist, and the peacefulness of Buddhism comes through in his poems, as well a deal of humor—foolishness—and the beauty of our world as it is. The first poem, “The Sky Has Spoken” begins with maintenance of life, “A magpie flies between you and the sun” and drops a dead bird at your feet, a raven flies overhead and drops the warm heart from a small being, “The sky has spoken in a language / you do not understand.” We ask questions, seek meaning beyond what was given, and our questions “rise like cottonwood fluff” and we “listen like a child / with a bright red crayon / poised above a pure white page.” 

The poems are printed in four sections, each section its own, and each beautiful. I love “Approaching Home” which begins, “And then one day you realize / you’re close to home,” and ends with “to some familiar place / you’ve never been.” What a beautiful way  to say you can’t go home again, you can’t step into a river twice in the same place, the world never stops moving.

There is a whole section of haiku, and the first is one of my favorite, “sitting at the feet / of the Buddha / a child laughs”. The last poem in the book, “Flannel Shirt” begins, “It’s the way the shirt hangs” and ends, “on the chair just right”.

Lee’s poems don’t just breathe life and give joy, but give us permission to accept the joy of being alive and to grasp that life in both arms and dance and laugh with it. Buy it, read it, live.

The Beautiful Foolishness: poems by Wayne Lee
Published by Casa Urraca Press
ISBN:  978-1-956375-43-5
Casa Urraca Press       Bookshop.org      
5 Stars

Please support Independent Booksellers, and if you’re a writer, check out Indie Presses.

The Things You See…

I was walking the SamSam the other day, and found this on the back of a car in our parking lot. I thought it worth sharing—and maybe getting 😉

“His voice deadly calm in the way that makes people check their life insurance.”
—another AI quote

And then along comes…

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Y’all know how Auntie Lenora hates numbers. If you didn’t know that before, you do now. I do not enjoy math, and I detest algebra. To me, the wonton mixing of numbers and letters is an abomination. Kinda like a tossed salad mixed with worms.

And then along comes AI thinking it’s an author, writing stories worthy of narration and publication. “It was Wednesday, and Nathan came. We spent three days — On Thursday he went back…” Even I, Numbers Phobe Extraordinaire, knows that’s wrong. Sigh. 

My secret sin, I listen to way too many of these, I never comment, I do not wish to encourage more than I do by clicking on them, but I find them laugh out loud funny! The words are mispronounced, the abbreviations written are said incorrectly, and the stories are, well, think romance novels of the ‘70s and ‘80s. The SciFi ones are fairly well done, and fun, but again, very formulaic. The ones that come out of other countries are not always translated, often there are sentences and paragraphs in Asian languages, and I think I’ve caught Russian in a couple. But they are great escape from the Un-named Person (UP) the news generated by same.

The Red Hijab by Bonnie Bolling

I honestly don’t remember who recommended this book, but I wish I did so I could thank them. It’s about 70 pages of some wonderful poetry. As H. L. Hix says in the Forward, Bonnie Bolling “…lives a part of each year in Diraz, a village in Bahrain [and] is in position to offer, and does offer in The Red Hijab, an alternative to [news dispatches.” I would like to know why she lives there part time every year, because I’m curious. 

I found the poems engaging and telling of a life more as it’s lived than reported on the news. Yes, there are the sounds of shootings while a chicken cooks in someone’s kitchen. There is rain and a soaked housemaid passing wearing her red hijab. 

Bolling takes us on a tour of day-to-day-living in a culture very unlike ours, and while I don’t think I would want to live in that culture long-term, I found it beautiful in its honesty, and of course, had I been born into it, it would be all I would know. 

From the first and title poem, “The Red Hijab” which begins: “A hard rain falling on the corrugated roof / of the abandoned double-wide / across the steaming street,” to the last poem of the book, “On a Balcony with the Lunch Poems” which ends, “always the going, / always the returning, / the four of them wearing / Superman underwear.” (she returns to California and her sons) we are treated with the beauty of words, and a country I’ve never known and would like to meet. 

The book is divided into three parts, introduced by quotes by people as varied as Adonis, Virginia Woolf, Job, and Rumi. The word Azan appears many times, and when I looked it up, thinking it was a synonym for muezzin I learned something, which makes the book even more worthwhile. The muezzin is the man who calls/sings the azan, the call to prayer, from the minaret. There are several of the calls or summons to prayer on line, here is one classified as the “Most Beautiful Azan Ever Heard.” I cannot attest to that, because it’s the only one I’ve ever heard, but it is beautiful. 

The Red Hijab by Bonnie Bolling
ISBN: 978-1-943491-06-3
BkMkPress, 2016
available from Amazon
            I looked at abebooks.com and it cost twice as much plus an outrageous s/h fee. I could not find it on Bookshop.org. Amazon has new ones for $12.74
5 stars

First Goslings!

Our first goslings of the season were brought over to the small pond next to my office on Thursday. There were four of them. Parents very watchful and protective. A lot of folks don’t like Canada Geese, but they are family oriented. As more goslings come along, the families frequently band together, herding all the youngsters into a mass bundle of cuteness, and walk surrounding them, or swim surrounding them, to keep them all safe. Ducks don’t seem to be that caring. The drakes ignore the hens while they nest, so they must leave the eggs unattended while they eat, and when the babies come, the hens are protective of theirs, but aren’t smart enough to see banding together with other duck hens and young would add more protection. They will attack any duckling that wanders into their group or territory, as the usurper will steal the food of their babies. I don’t want to politicize our geese or ducks but they do rather remind me of our two major political parties. /meow/

I believe the gander is on the left, and the dame on the right. The four yellow spots are the goslings.

“The holiest place on earth
is where your greatest
enemy stands.” –unknown

Blatant Self-Promotion:
I’m sorry, but every so often I really need to self-promote
Saying Goodbye to Thomas.
If you would like to asigned copy, contact me.
The cost is $23.00 including shipping and handling,
otherwise, please check your local indie bookstore, Bookshop.org or the other place.
If you buy from me, I will donate the ENTIRE amount, split evenly, to
ALS Association and Death With Dignity.
Whatever royality I receive from bookstores/publishers
is also divided equally.
I make NO money from this book.