Dorothy

It's a beautiful day today. My friend Dororhy called and we met at the Bear Rock Cafe up the street for lunch, which was ar great idea, 'cause I got out of this hell hole.

Dorothy was my assistant registrar for many years. We registered together back in the days (1985) when Virginia did not want the normal person on the street to be able to vote, but just the elite few who could jump through the proper hoops. In order to vote, you had to apply in person before a sworn registrar of the jurisdiction in which you lived. As registrar, I traveled around a lot in my two mile big city to try to get to where the people were going to be. About 15 years ago, Dorothy and I were at a Giant Grocery on Saturday, sitting at the two opposite doors, when suddenly she screamed, ran to her car, jumped in, and drove away! Turns out she'd just been notified of the birth of her first grandchild!
She left my employment when computers came into the office. Not because they frightened her, mind you, but because "If you learn how to use them, then people just keep expecting you to do things on them!"

Another Carol

I wrote this for David. It was in the same Christmas card from about 10 years ago as the other 2 carols I’ve shared. He was the Dulin choir director and I was in the choir.

TO: Hark, the Herald Angels Sing

“Hark”, the Dulin choir sings,
“We think we know everything.
If you cross us, we’ll go wild.
You won’t like us when we’re riled.
Don’t tell us where to keep our eyes!
On the hymns we’ll harmonize.
If our music’s sounding lame
We will let David take the blame.
Hark”, the Dulin choir sings,
“We think we know everything.”

Decisively laying their pencils by,
They’ll mark music when pigs fly!
Judy’s late, oh, here she comes
Flying wild-eyed in the room.
Sally’s the authority
On speaking Latin correctly.
Joe keeps mumbling. “Go to hell!”
I fear that Joe may not be well.
“Hark!” the Dulin choir sings,
“We think we know everything.”

Breakfast

Suddenly all the residents seem to be mad all the time. This is not what I would call, in, my totally unprofessional opinion, a typical group of cognizant older adults. To me, most of them seem to always be in a fog of confusion. Anyway, there is a lot of shouting and unpleasantness going on right now, especially at breakfast.

The other day this woman, who apparendtly thinks she is the queen of sheba, planted herself down at the table and demanded adamantly of any caretaker who passed within hailing distance, "Where is my toast!?" Finally, they brought her a plate with 2 pieces of toast on it, to which she respomded, "That is entirely too much toast! I only want one piece of toast! Take it away!"

They did!

TO: My Favorite Things

“Why are you sitting there? You are in my space.
I’ve been here 3 years and I eat in that place!”
“Where is my toast?” “Eggs are runny and cold.”
“I want to leave but I go where I’m rolled.”

“Nurse, won’t you help me?” ”My coffee’s like water!”
“Where is my prune juice?” “I’m telling my daughter.”
“Why am I here now and what should I do?”
“You’re mean and hateful and I don’t like you!”

Breakfast chit chat is the tune that fills the dining scene.
I’d just skip breakfast, abandon this place, except that I need caffeine!

Risque Christmas card (but funny)

Back 20 years ago, AIDS was a death sentence, not a managable disease. SIDEBAR: THEY HAD A STORY IN THE POST TODAY ABOUT HOW KIDS ARE NOW ASSUMING ITS 'NO BIG DEAL' AND BEING CARELESS, AND THAT IS INCREDIBLY SCARY! Back then, Whitman Walker had a program where volunteers could buddy up with individuals who had full-blown AIDS and help provide whatever they needed until the patient died. Actually, probably they might still do this. Here is a link to their volunteer opportunties. Anyway, I did this (remember, this was 20 years ago, and I wasnt sick yet!). My buddy was Bob Edwards, an outrageously funny queen in his early 50's. He had lots of resources and really didn't need much of anything but another friend. He did have 2 ancient, decrepit dogs, though. One of them was named Snuffy, though I have no idea why I remember that. Well, one day he went away and left it to me to walk the ancient, decrepit weenie dogs.
So I took them out the loading dock door, and was merrily dragging them down the street ('cause they were so old they could barely walk), when suddenly a fat man waddles up to me, drops his trench coat, and is naked. He chases me back to Bob's place, me dragging the startled dogs and him shouting lewd remarks. This was my Christmas card entry about the event.

TO: Jingle Bells

Dashing toward the door
While the doggies lag and play.
O'er the field I run,
Freaked out all the way.

Obscene cat-calls ring,
Giving me a fright.
Why did that fat naked man
Take his coat off in my sight?

Oh-h-h-h-h
Dangling balls, Dangling balls,
Dangling all the way.
Why did that damned fat man have
To pick on me today-aye?
Dangling balls, Dangling balls,
Dangling all the way.
Why did that damned fat man have
To pick on me today?

Christmas card

Back in the good old days, I used to write my own Christmas Cards for Sue (my sister) and me to send. I would do this by writing poems that related to our lives and setting them to the tune of carols. I’ve decided to share come with you because Lloyd suggested it. I wrote these in the early ‘90’s

This one refers to the fact that our defunct Christmas tree carcass often sat on our balcony until May before we’d dispose of it.
TO “O Christmas Tree”

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
Your branches green delight us.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
Your branches green delight us.
If only you just wouldn’t stay
Out on our balcony ‘til May.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
Your branches green delight us.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
In March you are a problem.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
In March you are a problem.
So David says, “Why can’t you throw
It to the balcony below?”
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
In March you are a problem.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
By April you’re a danger!
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
By April you’re a danger!
“Set it ablaze,” said Susan Craft,
“And soon there will be nothing left!”
SIDE NOTE: SUSAN CRAFT DID SUGGET THAT WE SET IT ABLAZE AND DROP IT OVER THE BALONY, TO WHICH I REPLIED, “WE CAN’T. THAT LITTLE LADY WHO HAS BIBLE STUDY GROUPS ALL THE TIME LIVES DOWN THERE” TO WHICH SHE REPLIED, “THEY’LL JUST THINK IT’S THE BURNING BUSH !”
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
By April you’re a danger!

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
In May we want our balcony.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
In May we want our balcony.
So Susan shoves you in a bag
Which to the trash room she then drags.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
In May we want our balcony.

Requiem

Faure's "Requiem" was on TV this afternoon, preformed by the Holland Boy's Choir and the Hungarian Chamber Orchestra. This Requiem was one of the last major works David tackled with the CTS choir. It was a major effort and a major success. I very much got to spend the afternoon with David by experiencing this performance. He brought in hired guns from among his friends, which really made the thing fly, but basically the CTS choir did it. It's amazing to think about how lucky we choir members were to get to learn such a beautiful, complicated work of music so intricately

Granny

Here is a picture of Granny













Next to a picture of George Washington

What do you think?


I think maybe the similarity is in the nose.

When I was a LITTLE kid (about 5 years old) Dad had Francis Asbury in Virginia Beach. Granny lived with us then. The Chesapeake Bay came right up into the backyard of our parsonage, so Granny and I would go out into the back yard to the water's edge, and Granny would throw out a chicken neck tied to a cord, and these stupid crabs would grab on the chicken necks with their claws, and Granny would pull the chicken neck and trap the crab in a net and throw it in a bucket, and we ate crabs all the time. Thing is, though. when you are 5 and crabs have always been abundant, you don't have any idea how lucky you are to have an ocean full of free crabs out the back door.

Killing time

To be honest, the main reasons I went to the Corcoran the other day were to 1) have something to do; and to 2) get myself away from here for awhile, so I expect it was actually a successful trip. Going back to the pictures I mentioned briefly:

is the famous picture by Gilbert Stewart. Now, by saying this I mean no disrespect to George Washington or Gilbert Stewart or my granny, but I've always thought George Washington looked like Granny in that picture. ..................(pause)

Actually, writing that just now caused me to start looking through my pictures for one of Granny - I haven't found one yet (they must be in the albums way up on the top shelf), but I did find these I thought I'd share. (Sorry, but when I start looking through pictures, the afternoon is gone!!)
This is Lloyd, whom you'vev seen before (not that you are blas`e, Lloyd - they've just seen you, is all). The other guy is Bobby. We were all 3 inseperable buddies all through college until silly Lloyd went off to pharmacy school so that he could make a decent living. Bobby and I, having no sense whatsoever, stuck with our drama majors. Although, actually, Bobby did get a good job in the field. Anyway, here is a picture of us on a boat to Mt. Vernon a couple years after graduation. AH HA! MT VERNON! I DID get this whole thing to tie in to that picture of George Washington!
The other picture I found is

Corcoran

The reason I was rolling around on 17th street in the rain is because I decided to go to the Corcoran gallery... FOR NO REAL REASON... or, in other words, I didn't keep my mouth shut when swimming upstream so the turds floated in. That makes sense... Just trust me. Some of the works I saw were

Normally I dont really like landscapes, but this one was amazing.

Pity Party

"Always keep your mouth shut when swimming upstream so that the turds don't float in." - Deb Taylor, 2010

So I didn't post yesterday because Metro Access SCREWED UP and I ended up sitting on 17th Street in my wheel chair in a cold, sometimes driving rain calling them over and over for about an hour. Is there a dry eye in the house?

Prom

How cool is this?!?! I was cleaning through some stuff, and found a picture of me and my date going to the Junior Prom! I was at Lane High School then, in Charlottesville. His name is John Johnson. He's gay, of course, and wore a three piece black tux, AND WHITE GLOVES!!! We'd just moved to Charlottesville that year, cause Dad got Wesley Memorial, so I guess I was lucky I knew anyone to go with at all. John was an OK guy, but I probably didn't speak three words to him after prom night.

Rhyme in Time

Lloyd says that my name does not rhyme.
If it rhymed he'd write poems all the time.
So to help him along
I’ve written a song
Now, Lloyd, you can write poems sublime

To the tune of “You Can Call Me Al” by Paul Simon

A gal rolls down the street
She says why am I short of attention now
Why am I short of attention
When life’s insurmountably tall?
I need a future opportunity.
I want a shot at redemption.
I don’t want to end up my life here
In this breathing graveyard.
Poem writer. Poem writer.
Rhyming in Richmond,
Away from my welcom’ng door.

Yes, my dear buddy, dear buddy,
Get these blues away from me.
You know I don’t find this dump anusin’ anymore.

You can write a poem for me
‘Cause you are my long time pal.
If you don’t like “Debbie”,
Lloyd, dear, when you write of me just call me Al.



See, Lloyd, what you have to do is take words that rhyme, or sort of rhyme, and just write in a self-assured manner with a definite rhythm so that, even if your sentences don't necessarily hang together to make any real sense, the reader assumes that they do and buys into it. But basically, what you do is just keep messing with it until it ‘sounds right’. Lloyd, however, is a pharmacist, which means that he has a scientific mind, , so he doesn't understand this kind of fuzzy poetic thinking.

Did you know the Professor has his own webpage? Wonder if he created it on a computer made out of a coconut??

OMG - Lloyd is RIGHT. I went to Rhyme Zone so that I could write the promised song about how stuff rhymes with Deb, and I found that not much rhymes with "Deb" but "web". And I ain't got NOTHIN' in common with a spider!
I'll write a poem about that, so that this blog post isn't quite as useless as it seems.

A spider weaves webs to catch flies.
But I need a web to catch guys!

I think this has denigrated past the point of no return. How many poeple out there think I might be better off if I found something to do with my life?

Happy thoughts

"If a group of people stand around in a circle for long enough, eventually they start to dance."
George Carlin

I've actually meta lot of nice people other than church people by going to church all the time. One is the cashier from Safeway who was frustrated with me. I kept showing up there and buying stuff. but whenever she tried to get me to fill out the form for the special Safeway card that saves the customer money, I'd say "Naah, I don't live here and never actually go to Safeway." Finally she said, "You are here all the time, and I confessed that my hand shakes and I couldn't really fill out the form, so she filled it out for me. and we've become buddies.

The second example is fairly odd. (After all, though, it is ME we are talking about.) I've been known to a stop at the Dairy Queen on the Plaza for a coffee or diet coke while I wait for Metro Access. Here are coupons for Dairy Queen. (Coupons which I would never need to download because I get only coffee or diet coke. Anyway, one of the Dairy Queen clerks talks to me freely because she knows I wait for Metro Access, and she dates a Metro Access supervisor. So the other day she asks me (in an odd tone of voice) "Did you have an OK ride home yesterday?" and I said "Yeah. But the GPS took us on an odd route. We went way out in the country and saw beautiful flowers and blooming trees and big mansions and estates." (Although I doubt I said it this coherently. I probably said, "Yeah. We saw some really pretty shit!") And she said, "Well what driver is a weird guy, you know." and I said "yeah", because he wears woolly earmuffs no matter what the weather.
"Well," she said, 'he came in here before he picked you up, and he said that it was a pretty day and you were going home, so you probably weren't in a hurry, so he thought he'd set the cruise control on sight see!"

Limerick

This blog bears a stinky aroma.
It's so dull it's been known to cause comas.
My life is a snore,
So this blog's nothing more.
Perhaps I'll vacation in Roma.

Fannie Flagg

Just finished the book "Can't Wait to get to Heaven - A Novel" by Fannie Flagg. It is a wonderful book, as are any books I've ever read by Fannie Flagg. She does quirky humerous character studies of quirky humerous characters. This book is about Elner Shimfissle, a 90+ year old lady, who climbs up the ladder into the fig tree her back yard, and a bunch of wasps swarm out and sting her, and she falls off the ladder and dies and goes to heaven and sees bunches of people who were dead (including Ginger Rodgers!), but then the doctors save her (after a lovely obit is already written!), and she is forced to come back to life. I won't tell you any more of it, but that is just the start of the story, and it's really a good read. I think I've now read all of Fannie Flagg's books, which are "Standing in the Rainbow", Welcome to the World, Baby Girl!: A Novel, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop Cafe, (which is the one everyone has heard of because they made a movie of it)A Redbird Christmas: A Novel and Daisy Fay and the Miracle Man

David

DaVID

David died 2 years ago on 4/18. I'm not going to say anything more about it, but I think I'll share a few fun pictures. Emphasis on FUN



this is David dressed as a shower for Halloween.




This is on our trip to Bermudfa, which was our last big trip together.








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Charlotte Cleary

Charlotte Cleary is a good friend. She was Registrar of Voters for Arlington County, Virginia from 1985 to about 2004. I had the same position in the City of Falls Church from 1985 to 2010. She drove me to meetings all over the Commonwealth, which was very much appreciated, although somewhat exciting. She always did great, and never had any accidents or near misses, and we've been everywhere from Roanoke to Hampton to Harrisonburg to Richmond to Stafford, etc., etc., etc., but, if she sees an 18-wheeler on the same road as her, she slams on the brakes and screams, "You never know what they are going to do!" That is her to my left in the picture. Once we stayed overnight in Richmond when we didn't really need to so that we could see Richard Gere who was filming in a parking lot next to our hotel.
Here is a joke that I for some unknown reason put in my Charlottte Cleary folder.
blonde walks into a doctor’s office and tells the doctor she’s broken every single bone in her body. "That’s impossible!" says the doctor.

The blonde says, "No, it’s really true. Look!" She then touches her leg with her index finger and screams "Ouch!" Then she touches her arm and yells "Eeeeoooow!" Finally she touches her ribs and can barely maintain her composure as the tears start to roll down her face. She says, "See, I told you I broke every bone in my body."

The doctor rubs his chin, then conducts a thorough examination. "Well, miss," he tells her, "I’ve got some good news and some bad news. The good news is, you haven’t broken every bone in your body. The bad news is, you’ve broken your finger."

Old folk's home # 2

I went and visited the Emeritus Assisted Living Home in Arlington today and really liked it. Mainly I like the location. It is in Arlington, only 3 blocks from Ballston and right next to Virginia Square. It is farther from Mom and Dad, but I believe Mom can drive as far as Ballston. I can also be sure to come visit them more.
I don't know what it is about me that screams "gay friendly," but there I was, being shown around an old folk's home by this very nice, professional gentleman, and he says, "Look! If you look out this window here and lean way to the right and scrunch down some, you can see the boys climbing out of the swimming pool of the motel next door!"

I've went to church today, which is always a wrenching experience for obvious reasons. A new young "gay couple?" was there, which is good - maybe the church's sensible but uncommon "welcome statement" is yielding some benefits. It was a gorgeous day to be out and about, but it was rather odd to be riding Metro Access since all the headlines yesterday about a driver raping a customer who has a disability. Metro Access used to provide horribly bad and unreliable service. I used to wait for them for (literally) hours past the time they were supposed to come. Then they got sued for lots of money, so now they are more reliable, except that apparently they occasionally rape people. They still do absolutely maddening things, like they did last Sunday. They picked Mom and I up in Reston at absolutely the very last moment of the time frame in which they were to pick us up, then drove us to Chantilly to pick up another customer, then way into Arlington to drop her off, and THEN back to mom's house in Falls Church to drop us off. It took 3 1/2 hours to get from Reston to Falls Church. By the time we got there, the Metro Access bus that was taking me home was already there, so I missed Easter dinner with the family and Shirley and Ron - but hey! Nobody got raped! So kwit your bitchin'!

Here is a funny picture because this was a bummer of a blog entry.

animal poem

I got another gig. This woman who goes to my church works at a local park and wrote stories about the animals there, and she wanted me to do them in rhyme, and then her husband will illustrate them. Here is the first one:

My name’s Casey rooster.
It’s important you should know
That I wake up the morning sun
Each day with my loud crow.

Then I make sure the hen house is
The way that it should be.
Each chicken sitting on her eggs
And clucking happily.

Boys and girls might visit and
So I will cluck “hello”.
Then gossip with the chickens when
Our visitors must go.

Cluck, cluck, cluckty, cluck,
Clahk, clahk, clahk!
Cluck cluck cluck cluck
Brack brack brack.

To keep the hen house running smooth
I get the chickens fed,
And then make sure they have their rest
By sending them to bed.

The chickens sleep real cozy at
The setting of the sun.
For I will watch and keep them safe.
My job is never done.

Dark and quiet is the night.
Most sounds can be ignored,
For they are just the silly clucks
Of lazy chicken snores.

But then I hear a noisy “CRACK”.
And, much to my surprise,
See, way across the hen house
A pair of small red eyes.

At first I’m scared because I know
This might be something bad.
But then I see it is a rat
And I just get quite mad.

“You dirty rat,” I holler. “You
Have come our eggs to steal.
You think a nice warm chicken egg
Would make a good rat meal.”

I got so mad I went into
A total rooster fury,
I crowed and clucked and spread my wings
And flapped them in a flurry.

Then, much to my surprise, my wings
Smacked on a leaning shovel.
And, much to my surprise, it seems
That shovel took a tumble.

And, much to my surprise, a “CLANG”
Went ringing through the air,
A tub was lying on the floor.
The shovel landed there.

The greedy rat that caused all this
Went squeaking on his way.
He was too scared to steal a nice
Warm chicken egg today!

And me? I’m one proud rooster ‘cause
My hens and eggs were saved.
The hens all still tell stories of
The night I was so brave.

© Deborah Taylor, 2010 All rights reserved

New options available

I've got an interview set up on Monday at 11:30 with Emeretus Assisted Living in Aelington. They seem good and the price seems comperable, so I guess I'll check them out. Meanwhile, here is a joke for Lloyd:

An old lady, who lived on the third floor of a boardinghouse, broke her leg. As the doctor put a cast on it, he warned her not to climb any stairs. Several months later, the doctor took off the cast. "Can I climb stairs now?" asked the little old lady. "Yes," he replied. "Thank goodness!" she said. "I'm sick and tired of shinnying up and down that drain pipe!"

NEVER trust a loved one to Sunrise

I got home at 1:45 PM after having been gone all day and asked for help changing. It is now 4:15 and no one has come. I've asked twice and have been assured both times that "someone is on the way". I pay $6,000.00 a MONTH for room, board and assisted living.

Lloyd told me on the phone yesterday that George is retiring again (George is the type guy who can never seem to really retire! Retirement jobs pop up like dandilions!) Anyway, here is another (better) picture of George which, I must admit I chose just because Mom looks so silly. David also has on some "cosmic glasses", so I guess that must have been required attire that evening! George, of course, is much too classy to engage in such silliness, and Dad- well, let's just say "no chance in hell"! Here is another picture of George with someone lookin silly. He must inspire such behavior!

Now here is a poem in honor of George's retirement:
RETIREMENT ADVICE

Do what you want and want what you do.
Take all the pleasure that’s coming to you.

Sleep through the day and dance through the night.
Revel in filling your time with delight.

Give to your life all the gusto you’ve got,
But take my advice and try not to get caught!

Sunset for Sunrise

The ***** who gave me the sponge bath apparently complained that I yelled at her, (Which I didn't - I just demanded my rights) and the fellow who does the finances apparently complained that I yelled at him, which I did, because the little totally unprofessional and uninterested jerk, kept telling me over the course of several weeks, (in a very patronizing tone of voice), whenever I'd ask him about filling out my long term care insurance claim form, "I told you I'd get around to that in a few days", and it was worth $180.00/day to me, then YES, damn it, I did yell at him. He's supposed to be a professional So I get back from a very discouraging and unsuccessful Easter morning and the ignorant, ineffective administrator who runs this place pulls me in a private room and calls me on the carpet for telling off staff. I've decided I'm out of here by 5/1. No more useless complaining for me, I'm just going to grab my pocketbook and run. Luckily I have a wonderful tax man John Husovsky is getting me signifigant money back, so, if I'm going to move, NOW IS THE TIME!

For Lloyd - so why do you think he likes these??? He's really a nice normal guy!!

TO: UP ON THE HOUSETOP
Sometimes my tummy makes me pause,
Nausea seems to be the cause.
I start to sweat and lose my poise,
And then my throat makes a gagging noise.

Belch, yucko, who wouldn’t go,
Belch, yucko, who wouldn’t go, oh,
Off to the bathroom, quick, quick, quick?
Chicken was bad and I’m quite sick.

Lloyd

My wonderful good friend, Lloyd, called last night to say "Happy Easter". Here a picture of Lloyd

Here is a picture of George, his partner, who is also my wonderful good friend.
I chose that particular picture of George becase it also includes the most horrible and funniest picture of me that I've ever seen in my life. Anyway, Lloyd read the blog, and he says I need to rhyme more, so (just to save time) I guess I'll dig up some old ones and share them with you now... but I promise to start writg new ones!
ActuaLLY, I got unexpectedly inspired and here 's my response:

Lloyd says that my blog’s mundane
And should more often rhyme.
But rhyming, dear, that takes real work,
And focus, thought and time.

To rhyme I guess, could be worthwile,
But would keep me away
From my constant lamentations that
I’ve nothing to do all day!

Lloyd, you liked my Christmas rhymes
Sung to carol tunes,
I think I will include one now.
This rhyme, dear Lloyd’s for you.

Saga of the spongebath

The caretaker shows up last night carrying a towel and says "I get (you) ready" and she prepared to put on my nightgown, and I said, "No. I was supposed to get a shower. Give me a sponge bath." and she said, "I wipe off some" and I said, "No! a spongebath!" and she said, "No can give to person in wheelchair. Have to stand up some!" and I grabbed a pen and a blank sheet of paper and said, "I want that in writing, and she said "I get help," and so she called Rita, and Rita seemed to have a handle on the situation, and she arranged to give me a good spongebath, and then I insisted that I wanted my hair washed, and that was a totally revolutionary idea to them, and they had no basin or bucket in the entire building, and so they wanted to put shampoo in my hair and just wipe it out with wet towels, and I refused to let that happen. so finally I got them to just wash my hair in the trashcan.