BIRTHDAYS

Yesterday, I traversed my 65th birthday. Yes. Medicare.

I received two wonderful cards. I'll lay some of their wisdom on you.

One began with, "On your birthday let's analyze your mind with this fun test! The answer will reveal your mental attitude?"

"Which of the following would you prefer to receive?"
A. a cake
B. a present
C. money
D. a card

With retirement in mind, I choose money.

The test results were printed inside the card. If you choose -

A. (a cake)It means you are practical. You are satisfied with the barest essentials of life.

B. (a present) It means you are optimistic and you enjoy surprises.

C. (money) Indicates you are highly imaginative. You believe in the impossible(like opening this card and finding money in it).

D. (a card) This shows you are a realist. You don't expect too much, and in this case, you were not disappointed.

A good laugh was had by all, especially me.

I'll share the second card later.

Many Blessings L.B

OLD FRIENDS

Old, flannel nightgowns are like old shoes and old friends, priceless.

A few minutes ago, I pulled my tried and true, favorite gown from the dryer. I felt a moment of panic, when I spied its frayed neck and cuffs. Immediately, I thought, "How am I going to survive the winter without its warmth and comfort?"

Then, I relaxed a bit. I remembered the catalog from which it was purchased. I recalled recently having seen the same gown in the company's current book. Whew, thank you God, a reprieve. That was a close one. Unlike friends and sometimes old shoes, I can order a new flannel nightgown. However, to honor my red friend, I'll order a blue one this time.

RUDY'S DINER

The diner opened in the 1950s, on Main Street in South Portland, Maine. In 1972, the diner was sold to Rudy Ferrante and became Rudy's. When Rudy's son, Robbie, was a junior in high school, he began working at the diner.

Steve Cook and Robbie have been best friends since they were ten years old. In 1996, Steve bought the diner from Rudy, who is now deceased.

On entering the diner, each arrival is enveloped by savory aromas and a homey atmosphere. Looking from the kitchen window, which faces the front door, Robbie, a loquacious jokester, mans the grill and carries on a rolling conversation with his customers.

With regulars, Robbie calls them by name, shares an inside joke or banters about recent sporting events. With newcomers, Robbie often steps from the kitchen, wipes his hands on his apron and shakes their hand. With such a welcome, they immediately feel comfortable enough to belly-up to the counter and partake of Rudy's food and family.

Steve and his eighty-year-old mother, Jenny, own the yellow house behind the diner. Silver-haired Steve is the diner's silent anchor, solid businessman and a chip off his mother's block. Jenny is a crusty dame, with a soft heart. Steve and Jenny wait tables and, with a gleam in their eyes, mutter an occasional satirical comment.

On returning the following day, a Saturday, Robbie and Steve were off playing golf, and Jenny and Beth "womanned" the diner.

Beth grew up in the blue house next door, where her parents still live. Beth has worked in the diner most of her life. In Robbie's absence, without missing a beat, she assumes his role as greeter and cook.

If you are ever hungry and in South Portland, Maine, visit Rudy's Diner, a home away from home, where the food is delicious, the conversation lively and the experience heartwarming.

BREACH MENDED

I went to the Grand Ole Opry, once,
After the Gaylords raped it.
Half-the-time I paid for,
I listened to semi-harmonic humans,
Sing "Cracker Barrel" commercials.
I swore I'd never eat there again.
Alas, on this trip,
My resolve vaporized.
I was hungry.
They promised good country cooking,
And it was.
Atlantic haddock grilled to perfection,
With fried apples, cornbread and a veggie.
So much for my proclamations,
Hunger levels the playing field.

FINALLY

Two lanes,
Moving good,
Hallelujah,
Amen,
Pass the biscuits,
Some jelly too.

GRIDLOCK CONTINUED

Movie,
Finding Forrester,
Quote,
"Those who can write, write.
Those who can't write, teach."
I'm not a teacher.
The rest is open for debate.
Unless it's good,
I don't want to hear it.
Opinions are like rectal outlets.
Hopefully, everybody has one.
If not, they've got a big backlog,
Just like this traffic jam.

GOING WEST

Into Knoxville,
Twenty miles of gridlock,
If I'd known,
I'd put up a hot-dog stand.
Frustrated travelers,
Me included,
While waiting,
Cobweb formed on dash.
Fine for speeding, $500,
What about loitering?

DETOUR

Headed west to Knoxville,
I-40 detour,
All around the countryside,
A hundred miles or more,
Six months ago,
Half a mountain fell.
Tennessee's half clear,
Christ Almighty,
When will North Carolina finish theirs?
My backside hurts.

THE PASSING GAME

She's hot to trot,
Sniffing up my back side,
Go on Fast Mama,
Teen lounging in back,
On cell phone,
Thank you God
For the silence

ROCKING CHAIR PERCH

Family on boardwalk,
Heading to the beach,
Father charges first,
Little sister follows,
Bouncing toddler next,
Mother calmly bringing up the rear,
Hatted, tote bagged,
Carrying all three ducklings' necessities

MERRIMENT

On the beach,
Six children
Digging,
Running,
Laughing,
Squealing,
Building castles and
Greeting the surf.

Oops,
Mom patrol,
"Settle down,
You're having too much fun."

ON THE BEACH

Abandoned, yellow, plastic starfish smiling,
Passed on to waving toddler.
Pampered child crying,
Enjoying being inconsolable

Bikini body show,
Strutting wares,
Muscled surfboard daddies,
Looking cool

Nippy, at eighty-three,
A true beauty queen

No perfect shells for me,
But shards tumbled smooth,
In dancing patterns, and
Glistening hues of ruby-red,
Gold-to-brown, gray and white

NIPPY

Southern landlady,
Nippy, spunky at 83,
With 55 lived on this North Carolina beach

Downstairs, she quietly holds vigil
Over the comings and goings of her tenants and the sea.

She rents two units,
Each a little bit of heaven,
With seaside decks and four blue rockers.

Widowed in the 1990s, Nippy has one living son,
Jim, "a lawyer," who has two sons.
Alex is a chief neurology resident at Boston University, and
Cliff is a Winston-Salem "lawyer."

With a gleam in her eye,
Nippy introduced Cliff's wife, GiGi,
A Wake Forest resident,
Internal medicine this one.
"She'll be chief resident next year," said Nippy.

Nippy had another son, Neil,
Who graduated college and
Died climbing rocks.

"At least he died doing something he loved," says Nippy.
"It's easier to accept that way,
Than if he had been killed by a drunk driver or an overdose."

Attending her last high school reunion,
Nippy said, "Everyone introduced themselves as lawyers, doctors, judges and such.
I wondered what on earth I was going to say when came my turn.
Then, it came to me," she laughed. "I said I was in resort rentals.

BACK-SIDE VIEW

Appaloosa and auburn beauties,
Tails flying outside trailer,
Conversation,
"Don't you luv'em,
"Well-trained humans."

ON THE ROAD

Third day,
Hey there,
Sporty, black roadster speeding by,
Running the trot line?
I have a heavy foot,
Raw elbows,
Aching back,
Sore cheeks and
Swollen feet.
Rush on ahead little buddy,
Sweep the trail for me.

PALIN AND BACHMANN

Poorly informed,
Irrational,
Flapping mouths,
Embarrassment to their gender,
On a bright note,
They'll fragment the 2012 Republican ticket,
However,
Recalcitrant congressional members of that tribe,
Have already thoroughly pissed in their Wheaties,
In this case,
Not the breakfast of champions



Addendum: This piece was originally written about Sarah Palin, but the Tea Partiers have expanded their stable of equally odious candidates.

LOOK OUT

Oklahoman headed to ocean,
Sea in nostrils,
Truck Stop Mama,
Gas,
Bathrooms,
$10 showers,
Parking well lit,
Sleep in car,
Good to go


Addendum:
All blogs since 8/8/11 were cosmic downloads during two solo, spring drives to North Carolina. The series continues with my ocean visits and return drives.

ENTITLEMENTS

Hey you,
The entitlement generation,
Get off your butts and go to work.
You've been powdered and diapered too long.
Baby-sat by computers, TVs and video games,
Not your fault your parents were asleep.
Time for you to hitch up and go.
I'm retiring.
I paid my social security.
The government spent it.
I'm entitled to get some back.
It's you turn.

EASTER SUNDAY

In his seventies,
Cruising in a snazzy, black Corvette,
Top off,
Silver mane blowing,
Christ has risen.