I was tempted to write that I'm pregnant (April Fools!) but I realized that you're all too old to shock like that. *snort* I don't want to be responsible for people screaming or barfing. Today there're a few last minute type things I need to do next door, a new stove arrives tomorrow (hey, I'm not the one who made that decision--I was so proud of Durwood when he said "besides it's that old green" meaning 70s avocado), the new renter comes to go over the lease point by point tomorrow too and she'll hand over 6 mos. of rent (!!!!), then she moves in on Tuesday. Whew, that'll be a big relief. Now if she turns out to be the kind of tenant we think she'll be... I can't wait until next weekend. I so want to be away from my daily life right now. I want to be the boss of me, not that I'm not, but I need some time, just a few days, to think only about me. Is that selfish? I don't mean to be, I just need a break, which will also give Durwood a break from the wonderfulness that is me. Not that he needs one, of course. Oh, btw, he got a good report from the lung doc the other day. He's got a couple new things to try to make it easier to breathe, and they seem to be working. I want them to tell us exactly how to keep him breathing and annoying me for a very long time. Remember he promised to take me to see Yellowstone and he's not getting out of it that easy.
March 31--Damien Hurst for Manolo Blahnik, Dot Boot. Jaye lay under the foyer table far enough under that no one noticed her there. She was sure Luis their houseman knew she was there because he'd bent down and slid a plate with her favorite chicken empanadas and pear & brie tartlets on it. His other hand delivered a frosty goblet filled with Coca-Cola, a forbidden treat. If Marjorie (in any other house she'd have been "Mom") knew that Jaye was drinking a Coke, and a Mexican Coke "with all that sugar" to boot, she'd have thrown a fit. Not that anyone else would have known it. Marjorie had the ability to be raging in anger on the inside while appearing totally serene on the outside. Only Jaye--and Luis-- saw the cold gleam of rage glint in her blue eyes. Jaye was supposed to be on a play date with Lucinda Miller in the pool house but Lucinda wasn't interesing in doing anything but reading her book or scribbling her notebook. Jaye had wandered away from the dead-silent pool house, sneaked into the main house by the library doors, and slid under the table to pick up the news of the newly divorced, dumped, or lifted. The amount of time Marjorie and her taut and shiny friends spent talking about themselves gave Jaye a headache and made her promise herself that she'd find something to do with her life that didn't involve divorce lawyers or plastic surgeons.
Lookee! Two whole notebook pages (wide ruled) without one "I feel asleep in the middle of it" scribble. Tonight begins a month of poems. April is Poetry Month, so I'm celebrating by writing 30 days of probably bad poetry. And lucky you, you're going to be the victim..um.. target... no, recipient of it. Try not to weep. With joy, I mean, with joy. You can poem along too. Here are some prompts to get you started. On your mark, get set, GO!