Redhead with a cocktail glass
Dirty vodka martini and Erik Satie
My kind of party.
Almuerzo
My mother is a middle school Spanish teacher. Many of her students are native speakers who use Spanish at home. She was teaching the kids food vocabulary, and most of them didn’t know what “almuerzo” (lunch) meant. She was confused — seriously? They don’t know the word for “lunch”?
She asked the native speakers what they called lunch. “Lunche,” they replied.
Duh.
Drunk in the park
Walking to the grocery store last night I passed a man lying under a tree in Logan Circle park. He appeared to be sleeping, but his right hand tightly clenched an empty liquor bottle. It was a brutal and pathetic sight. Yet, I kept walking.
A half hour later on my walk home, I had forgotten about the man. Then I saw two police vehicles, an ambulance, and a fire truck speeding toward the park and surrounding the perimeter. Within a few minutes, several police officers and medics were standing over the man, shining a flashlight into his face and barking at him in Spanish. “What is your name? Stand up! Stand up!” It took a few minutes for the man to crawl out of his stupor and stand on his feet.
They put him on a stretcher and took him away.
I wonder who made the 911 call, and how much earlier they would have arrived if it had been me.
My five personalities
Peabo. Just slip into it.
Still funny
A grandmother’s love
My ancient grandmother, quick with her barbed tongue.
My sister made a pot of seasoned collards the day after Thanksgiving.
Grandmother takes one bite. “Well these aren’t very good, are they?”
Little Ann, “Deep Shadows” (Detroit soul, late 1960s)
