Big fun around sister Marcia's dining table.
More fun at the Pink Palace Museum where we saw the traveling exhibit The Scoop on Poop. Here we are pretending to be dung (that's a dung beetle above our heads).
My nephew Austin pretending to...well...you know.
At the world-famous Rendezvous Restaurant, #1 in the country for ribs, where they have just recently started hiring white men (still no women) as waiters: southern traditions die hard.
Iowa out the right side of the motorhome.
Iowa out the left side of the motorhome.
This is pretty much what Iowa looks like October thru May. Later there will be corn. Just corn.
Right now I'm in Minneapolis, where I lived 1990-97. I'm sitting in the living room of my former partner, Rita, who is at school, where she still teaches high school English, mainly creative writing. We had a pretty bad breakup in 2000, after 6 1/2 years of struggle, and didn't have any contact at all for about four years, so this reunion has been fraught with nervous anticipation on both sides. Fortunately, we are both wise enough to know, without having to mention it, that it is best not to unpack any of that old baggage, so the visit has been wonderfully pleasant and satsifying for me, and I think for her as well. We are enjoying all the things about each other that we used to enjoy, without any of the rancor. I've missed her more than I would have admitted (although I really did know because she showed up regularly in my dreams).
Today is Rita's birthday, so in honor of the occasion, a birthday poem:
For Rita at Sixty-Five
Girl, you are really old now
Like, Medicare-old
Like, get reduced-price-tickets-old
Like, wise-crone-old
Old enough to know better
Old enough to just sit in the sun
And relax
Take it easy
No excuses required
Girl, you are one fine
Old lady
My heart welcomes you home
Be still, my beating heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment