Snort, Snort--Guess Who?!

New Years Eve brought us a wonderful,
butt-wagging, foot-flapping surprise:
Cruiser, our resident duck, came waddling
back to our yard. Surprise of surprises!

With Paul running to the kitchen to grab
some multi grain bread, Mama Cruiser, who
is leaner, began snorting, wiggling her way
past the screen door.

She was as excited to see us as we were
to see her-- at least 3 months have passed
since her last visit. What better New Year’s
than to have Ol’ Snorty back in our lives.

Funny how much we missed feather-butt
and her almost daily visits.
I was sure that my scolding had sent her
off into a huff when she had voraciously
grabbed the bread from my hand, as well
as my finger.

My New Year’s resolution--at least one?
Cruiser, I promise not to quack at you!

Pleeze Come Into My La-bor-a-tory...

I’m going under the microscope today.
I feel like a bug in a Far Side cartoon.
I warned my eye surgeon I’d better not
see antennae sprouting from his head, or
see that he’s suddenly transformed into
a drooling mad doctor with a penchant
for experimentation. I’m going into the
O.R. with two eyes, doc--not three.

I’m not supposed to eat or drink before
surgery. Right now, I’m smelling scrambled
eggs and turkey bacon, and Tom just asked
if I could make him some coffee.
Cruel…

Another thing on the list is No Makeup.
God help me…Halloween is over, isn't it?
No lotions or perfumes--I’ll come out of
surgery smelling like a rubber tire.
Tommy Bahama…I need my Tommy!

I guess the hospital is afraid the patient
might light up--literally. It’s happened:
Combustible patients are really on the rise…
Check the sprinkler system--quick!

I’ll be glad when the Trilogy of The Eye is done.
Doctor Corrent said a few extra stitches
should fix the leak. Thanks, doc…
Winterize me while you’re at it!
B-rrrr...

"Muteny"

Looking for some greasy fries and McNuggets!
[Paul's pic}




Commercials--you either hate them or
love them. I’ve yet to see mama bear
and her cubs in the woods with a roll of
toilet paper. We’ve had a bear, but he
was after our bird feeder. Personally, I’m
a fan of White Cloud 3-Ply Ultra.

When it comes to geckos, the only ones
I’ve seen are sunbathing on the lanai,
pumping their tiny muscles:
Up, down, up, down…


Car commercials really drive me nuts, with
their high-octane spokespersons stoked on
too many Red Bulls or Starbucks, screaming
the month end sales pitches.
I’ve never used the Mute button so much…

When it comes to nutrition bars, I’ve never
been transported to or even thought of a
mountain vista while eating one.
If you look closely, most of the nutrition
bars are loaded with too much sugar and carbs.
I’d probably bike right off the mountain after eating one!
I still grab carrot sticks for a snack.

I remember the shampoo ad with a
gorgeous gal with lustrous locks who said,
“Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”
Don’t worry…never did, never will.
I didn't like the shampoo which seemed
to make my hair oily after a few days.

Beauty ads with young women are another
gripe of mine. I’ve yet to see anyone past
40 in the skin firming ads.
If you notice the before and after pictures,
the lighting is always different, too.

The befores use a lighting position which
accentuates the wrinkles and shadows.
The after shots are always lighter because
of fill lighting eliminating the before look.

I get a big kick from the automatic ab device ad.
Apparently you don't have to exert needlessly
to achieve a 6-pack.
The guys and gals are always young in those ads,
and it did take months of working out to look
that way. If the ab device can do housework too,
I'll order one!


Someday, maybe I’ll see an ad for a TV which
automatically eliminates commercials.
Until then…mute, mute, mute!

Don't Foil Me, Matey!

If the movies were casting for a pirate movie,
I’d be perfect: I’ve been sporting a Pirate Pete
black eye patch the last few days.

I had a setback, post cataract surgery,
when a few stitches began weakening.
My eye became watery and inflamed causing
double vision, and sending me pronto to my surgeon.
Years ago I had RK, which scarred and softened
the cornea, leading to the existing problem.

So, ol’ Patchy now has a contact lens keeping
added pressure applied to help stave the errant
stitches and heal the eye.
The lens adds to the double vision and lack of
depth perception, so the patch helps, blocking that problem.

On a scale of 1-10 on Nancy’s Humor Scale,
don’t expect too much ha-ha from me today.
It’s still a little rough to see especially after
taking the $200 eye drops, which really set me
off the plank at the pharmacy where I stood
dumbfounded, mouth open, in complete shock,
that a tiny bottle of 10ml drops could cost
that much. Funny thing is I apparently saved $60!.

Not one to be duped, I did some cyber investigating.
I found the same drops selling anywhere from $30 to
$90. Other pharmacies were charging $150.
Even my surgeon was dumbstruck by my cost.

So, patch-covered and blood boiling a bit on
my Richter scale, I faced the tall and mouthy
young man who sold me the prescription.
Like a Peanuts movie, I bleah-bleah blaaa blaad at him
about my price discoveries and discrepancies.
He became defiant, so I walked away and served
the kid up to the store manager, vowing not to
return to the store pharmacy.

Later, I attempted to make a pumpkin pie and
added too much/too little of some ingredients.
Jen and Paul complained of bubbling stomachs
soon after taking a few bites. I must have a cast
iron stomach, though I knew something was amiss.


I want to make some Christmas cookies, but
I’m enlisting Jen to measure the ingredients.
I don’t want to be responsible for any rolling
and pitching stomachs.

As Christmas nears, Ahoy mates, swab the decks
while yer at it!

Roasted What?

I’m still trying to figure out what to make
for Christmas dinner.
I’ve been driving around scouting out the
roadways, but there’s nothing worth picking up.
Must have been a big sweep lately on
raccoons, possums, and squirrels…

People living in the ‘glades aren’t close
to any supermarkets.
I’ve seen men pull their jacked up trucks
over to the roadside, pick up and toss
the unfortunate critter onto the truck bed.
I think the wildlife are getting smarter:
Keeping deep in the cypress swamp lands.

Recently I witnessed an egret cross an
intersection on the green light, taking his time,
then scooted into the landscaping near my
frequented bookstore.

So now, scattered on the sofa, are several
Holiday magazines with tantalizing dishes like
Pecan Pork Loin, Roasted Orange-Glazed Game Hens.
Hmmm…
I sense the piggies are starting to bolt…

To Naples Day Surgery, and Nancy's List:

Before I write today's blog, I want
to give accolades to my bedside nurses
at Naples Day Surgery: To Lyn and to the “Jennifers”
who were wonderful to me.
You ladies put a big smile on my face.
Hugs to all of you.
And to Dr. George Corrent of Bascom Palmer
Eye Institute in Naples, FL: You were the best in every way.
Thanks, everyone.

Nancy’s List:


* Elastic waist bands belong on underwear.
Shoot me if I'm ever wearing polyester with elastic.

* Floaters: Everyone has them.
Right now, I have a fly buzzing in my eye.
Where’s my eye-swatter?

* Strands of my hair can be found everywhere.
Thank goodness I have enough still left on my head.
Birds in the neighborhood love me...

* My bedroom slippers look like they’ve been
occupied by a family of raccoons…

* Have cheese? Nah--give me cheesecake.

* Drive-thru banks should supersize my withdrawal…

* Ads at the movie: If I wanted to watch them,
I would’ve stayed home and flipped on the TV.

* Uncontrollable emissions: air fresheners are in aisle 3--
there are noise abatement laws, too…

* Ever put a telemarketer on “hold”?
Wouldn’t it be great if you had their phone number?

* Tom thinks if something’s not been used for awhile,
toss it out…hmmm.

* My lovebird, Daisy, enjoys nibbling on my neck.
Pretty thrilling…

* Self-cleaning oven: I haven’t seen mine
move a muscle in months…

* Getting an order of chocolate truffles, and the
delivery person leaves the box in my sweltering garage…

* Making a chocolate shake from my truffle order…

*Feng Shui works for some people. How do I feng shui
bath towels and clothes left sprawled about? It’s kick butt time…

* Don’t sweat the small stuff. If you have salt, make Margaritas…

Toilet Bowl Blues

I’ve been analyzing toilets lately.

Sounds weird, I know.

Walmart has quick, super-zap flushers.

Borders have semi-quick, shred-the-paper flushers.

Books-A-Million [BAM] has the best, so far.

Our master bathroom toilet had a fitting

replaced by Steve The Plumber months ago.

Since then, the fill up is noisy and takes

longer than it takes to launch the Space Shuttle.

I hate the obvious--just give me a

discrete, quiet toilet. I bet the TV Caveman

could’ve fixed it--he’s a sensitive type,

instead of Steve, who reminded me of a mob boss.

I never liked the faucet he replaced in

the kitchen: A single, nondescript Delta--

no zip, doesn’t extend long enough.

Dishes are always banging the side of the sink.

I like a little style with function, after all.

So, back to the ambiance of the toilet.

I’m putting my request in for a pot

with a dynamic personality.

Dark eyes, dark hair--

My mind wanders…heh-heh.

Justifiable Chocolate-cide

"Don't even think about it, mom"!


I love the Chicken Soup For The Soul books.
I could use some chocolate instead.
I’m all chickened out.

I’m looking forward to my Swiss Colony
order--free truffles with my order.
It’s the only time that I get chocolates from
somebody. I sure could have relished
the chocolaty goodness yesterday.

I spent the greater part of Thursday fuming
in my eye doctor’s office. I’d waited for only
10 minutes and was ushered into the exam
room for a quick eye chart exam, given a
pressure test, then ushered into a waiting room.

“You’ll be called soon, Nancy” the attendant said.
I was hopeful that I’d be out within an hour
at the most. I was planning on meeting my gal
friend for a coffee afterward.

Two and a half hours later, my name was
called--not after the poor souls who were waiting
just as long, were conspiring to order up Pizza
Hut for all of us. It was 5:45 by the time I’d
been called into the office for my pre-op briefing.

I was hanging by a thread at that point,
since my healthy lunch at 12:00 consisted of
one piece of low sodium turkey, some carrot
sticks, an apple, raw sunflower seeds and unsalted peanuts.

I had a raving gleam in my eye by the time
I’d been called in. Someone had walked by the
room, the smell of a Subway sub drifting under my nose.

We’d all been commenting on the fact the office
should have had, at the very least, a plate of
cookies--something--for the stranded patients.
We’d learned the new girl had overbooked the
one surgeon we were all seeing that day.
Some patients were booked for the same time.
Good Grief!

I know my son is always drilling me about
staying on a good diet--no junk food--
but this morning I have thoughts of a guava danish
from Whole Foods, if any are left.
There’s always chocolate covered cherries, too,
that I have stashed away for Christmas…

Come Here, My Lovely...

There is so much emphasis in the
media on looking beautiful. There’s a
prescription drug encouraging eyelash
growth. What happens if it works so well
that one’s eyelashes grow too long?
I don’t want lashes that look like spider legs…

There’s also a ‘lunch time' lift--one can
enter the procedure with a gobbler neck
and droopy-dog eyes, and emerge soon
afterward with bagless, perky goldfish eyes,
the smooth neck of a dove, and $4000 lighter.

Women’s magazines have gorgeous cover
models. Vixens. Long and leggy, expertly
airbrushed, manicured and skimpily clad,
the enticing women look as though they could
have successful night jobs.

The cover tempts one to read the dangling
carrot articles: How to make him scream for
mercy, a turn back the clock’ miracle cream--
in my case I'd read the directions backwards
and advance my clock by 10 years; colon
cleansing for beauty--don’t accidentally use
Drano; Lipo for waist and inner thigh bulges.
With my luck I'd have a doctor who flunked
out of Witch Doctor’s School.

As for Brazilian waxes--Never in a Million
Sasquatch Years! Renee The Ripper can find
a more willing victim for her Wax This list of clients.
The beach is a perfect target.
Run ,men, run!

Ho-Ho-Ho

It’s that time of year when grown men
start climbing up ladders propped against
their homes, strands of twisted Christmas
lights looped around their necks.

I’m sure some wives would love to tighten
a few of those light ropes just a bit…
It’s a heated competition in the neighborhood
to see which home can out-light the other.

One year, we had an idiot family living
directly across the street--always in trouble
with the law. Their last hurrah before moving
away was to string as many lights as humanly
possible over the roof of the house, much
like Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation.

The woman’s boyfriend--we called him
Joy-Boy, climbed over the roof, draping and
stapling thousands of lights across the entire
roof. J.B. started stringing at noon and his
Gold’s Gym body didn’t finish to well after 1 a.m.

Our bedroom was suddenly lit up like a
fireworks factory had exploded. I’m sure
the Space Shuttle astronauts could have
spotted their home.

It’s amazing how far some of the neighbors
go to decorate. My neighbor and friend,
Jimmie, a short and portly Italian, must have
bought every Christmas decoration sold by Walmart.
Every part of his home has something.

The blow up figures are the funniest since many
of them semi deflate, so that half of the character’s
body is upright with the top half hanging over to
the ground. Probably how a lot of people will
feel after the holidays…

So, the first section of our street has inflated
Nativity scenes, inflated Frosty’s, golden
reindeer, and Santa sleighs, along with luminarias
bordering the driveways. Quite a pretty spectacle.

From my home a few houses up, it’s dark--no
Grinches here, just people who realize
ya gotta unstaple, un-tangle, deflate, climb
around like a roof rat, and eventually figure
out how everything goes back in the boxes
the stuff was originally in.
Ha! It's a feat that makes the sane go nuts.
Good luck all, and to all a good night!

Sticky Business...

Y-a-w-n…Tom’s snoring kept me awake
from 2-4:30 this morning.
Nothing I did remedied the snap crackle--
from bed wiggling and gentle nudging, to
“Tom, knock of the snoring!”

On the master bathroom window, illuminated
by the moon, was a huge tree frog.
I was tempted to grab my sticky friend
and seal him over Tom’s semi-open mouth.

While Jen was sleeping one night, she
awoke screaming. When I rushed into
her room, flipping on the light, a frog
as big as my fist had plopped onto her face--
nesting right over her nose and mouth.
We figure the frog had been stranded on the
overhead circulating fan, and decided to hop off.

I finally succumbed to sleep, only to be
awakened by Jen and Paul’s 5:00 rustling
in the kitchen. My two fly fishermen were
getting up to make first light on the Tamiami
Trail canals for tarpon.

When I finally got up this morning to make
my coffee in a hazy stupor, I had left
some of the previous day’s coffee in
my thermal drink cup.

I poured the first hot ounces which then
spilled over and onto the counter top, the floor
and me, soaking my clothing.

The thought of a couple more hours of sleep
sounded good about then, but wait--
I have today’s blog already brewing in
my froggy head--er, foggy head…

Good for What Ails You...?

Flip a TV channel and there will undoubtedly
be a drug commercial aimed at treating
some ailment--from allergies and cholesterol,
to smoking cures.

Watching them is enough to cause depression.
If you have trouble sleeping, there’s a drug
which allows blissful sleep--but be careful--
the side affects may put you on Cloud 9:
hives; difficulty breathing; swelling of your
face, lips, tongue, or throat.

The warnings also include that one should not
drive or pilot an airplane while taking the drug.
No kidding...

Erectile dysfunction can be alleviated
with a drug, but if it works too well,
see your doctor. How does a fella do that?
Wear a dress?

Another drug for kicking the nicotine
habit shows a cheery-faced woman who
says she didn’t think she could ever quit the habit.

Side effects of the 'marvelous' drug may include:
thoughts of suicide, or the attempts thereof;
depression, paranoia, hallucinations, confusion, mania,
and dangerous impulses.
Good grief! Sounds like a Steven King novel…

I’m lucky to have a drug-free medicine cabinet.
Except for the occasional aspirin--now where
did I put that bottle?
There’s probably a drug for that…

Snaking Around...

“Hey, Tom! Looks like we need to replace
the weather stripping--wha-at is that?" I said
as I looked closer at the now open sliding door.

I took the end of the flattened black strip
and pulled it out from under the door--
a long, black, slightly crumpled indigo snake.
Just the thing to kick start my early morning,
with a foggy head, before my coffee.

I quivered as I went outside, depositing the
smelly snake in the bushes.
I was also thinking of the many times we
leave the doors open to get some early morning
cool air into our warm house.
What are we inviting in that we don’t know about?

When we first moved into our home, I
found two scorpions in our bedroom.
It’s easy for skinny creatures to creep onto
the lanai, with the open grooves in the pool
decking leading out from the pool cage enclosure.

I’ve thought of plugging up the outside channels
to keep snakes and wolf spiders from creeping
onto the decking--nothing like seeing a questionable
snake, sunning itself by the pool--or a huge
furry spider tucked under the pool coping.

I have some cleaning to do in the house.
What’s lurking in the corners?

Sacked...

Watching football all day on Sunday is enough to
drive a sane wife nuts. Don't get me wrong--
football can be exciting--with all those
'tight ends' running around...

I was a big 49er fan during the Joe Montana
days: Joe and Clark, Craig, Paris, Rice, and Lott
kept the excitement in high gear.
The Niners final game score often hit the stratosphere.
They inspired a big love for the game.

We now watch the Patriots, rooting for
Tom Brady--since Jen went to high school with Tom,
and shared a class or two.

Yes, there’s little movement coming from
the men during Sunday football. Maybe a grunt or two…
or an outburst in response to a stupid play.


After several hours of channel-flipping-between
games, the remote is barely juiced by the time
I want to use it to turn on Desperate Housewives.
Shoot! D.S. isn't on.

Instead, I sit plugged into my earphones and
portable dvd player, watching a couple of Laverne
and Shirley episodes.
A few outbursts of my own drew glances from the guys,
wondering what I was laughing at.

When football season comes to a screeching halt,
what are our men going to do on Sundays?
Rosie Greer took up needlepoint.
Hmmm…

Missing: One Duck...

Cruiser, our resident duck,
has ducked out. MIA--hopefully, not
DOA for someone’s Thanksgiving feast.

Tom swears he saw the errant, feathered,
waddled duck last week perched high upon
a distant neighbor’s roof .
If so, Cruiser’s got the right idea about
staying off the meat platter…

Thinking back to the last time I saw
ducky, I was crouched down to his level--
we were nearly beak to nose.

He stared at me, with his beak slightly
cracked open. Paul held Daisy, our lovebird,
behind the lanai pool screen.
Daisy and Cruiser had became fast friends
over the last few months.

I stood up and handed Cruiser a piece
of whole grain bread--that he snatched too
enthusiastically, along with my finger.

“Ouch,” I yelped, shaking my reddened
finger tip at Cruiser.
Paul was laughing, and Daisy was chirping
her high-pitched screechy chirp.

Yes, that may have been the last straw
for Cruiser.
My finger-wagging that day may have
quacked him out, and sent him along
on his butt-waddling way.

Come back, you straggly, head-tweaky
ol’ duck…we miss you!

What's On Tonight?

We’ve had digital cable for a few months now.
There must be 200 channels, so why is it so
hard to find something to watch?

Some really good movies are televised
overnight and during the early morning hours.
Tom always says "Why can’t they show this
program in the evening?"
And how many times is The Shawshank Redemption
and Arachnophobia going to be shown?

Tom likes The Military Channel when military
aircraft is profiled. Otherwise, it seems like
a recycled History Channel.

Just as we get hooked on a newly discovered
series, Destination Truth, the series is
running the season finale .
We’re watching the older D.S. shows On Demand;
makes one think about the eyes caught glowing
yellow-red in our woods one night…

Ghost Hunters is creepy fun, especially when
there's actually something peculiar and eerie caught
on film or audio. The TAPS team would have
had a field day in our California home…

Spooks and hairy creatures aside,
Channel surfing through the Guide is what we all do.
It doesn’t take Paul long to settle on UFC.
We’ve gone from seeing Anthony Zimmern
drinking goat’s blood with Masai, to trailing blood
on Randy Couture.
I keep a good Chocoholic mystery by Jo Anna Carl
on my lap.

I’ve been watching some classic and very funny
Netflix Laverne and Shirley; also the quirky series,
Arrested Development and Seinfeld on Jetflicks.com
on my phone.
Give me a good laugh, any time…

Too Hot To Handle...

My friend, “Mark” recently went through
some of his son’s belongings left behind
when he moved out of state.
Mark needed some advice on shipping box sizes.

There were two large duffel bags filled
with bulky items and a few grade F porno
flicks stuffed inside of a brown paper bag.
The discovery didn’t surprise Mark.

His son had a couple of roommates at the
time and Mark figured these movies
belonged to them. I’ve never seen or
wanted to view a pornographic movie.

When Tom and I went to Copenhagen
years ago, we went to a very "popular"
section of the city, Vesterbro.

Along the Istergade were buildings with
huge windows illuminated with bright
colored lighting. Looming above the street,
seductive women posed in the colorful windows.

A movie theater announced the showing of
Emmanuelle. A number of American tourists
were streaming into the theater.
In no way was I going to that movie.
Tom thought it would be a lark to see a
soft porno flick in Copenhagen.
Nah-uhh, no way Jose...

We continued to walk the street of ill-repute,
ogling, with eyes-popped.
Store windows displayed devices which
looked as though they belonged to the French
Inquisition, or Caligula’s House of Joy.
Some of the stuff was so wild, I was imagining
the instruction manual must be enormous….

I eventually found a huge box for Mark
and all his son's stuff. Mark decided to
keep some of the items of clothing after all.
The shipping would be too costly.
As for the brown paper bag, it was no where in sight…

Coffee, Tea, Or...

Naples hosted its first International Film Festival.
I was sitting in Books-A-Million at Mercato
last Thursday when a a group of tall and
exceptionally handsome Italian men walked
into the café for coffees.

The third thing I noticed about them were
their shoes: shiny, black and barely out of
Reptile Junction Shoe Emporium.

The well-dressed men slithered past me,
slim and model-like--no bulging gym muscles
creeping out from their designer shirts.

The air smelled wonderfully fragrant.
I haven’t smelled anything that knee-melting
and sweat-inducing in a long time.
One gorgeous man looked over at me and smiled
broadly, his teeth sparkling snow-blinding white.

Wouldn’t it be cool if they were producers or
directors and wanted me in a film I daydreamed,
missing the sip of my tea, and dribbling tea droplets
down my Marshall’s top.

I dabbed and snapped back to reality as the group
of men flowed past me one more time, speaking
Italian. Snow White smiled, and I smiled back,
flashing my Crest Whitestrips teeth.

Tom picked me up a few minutes later.
As I slid into the car, a salty-sweat scent filled my nose.
That’s my guy…

I know what I’m getting Tom: one of those
scented tree hangers for the car.
I wonder if they come in Calvin or Ralph Lauren scents?
Ahhh.

Don't Mall Me!

It’s that time of year again when
craziness descends in the form of
two-legged, pushing and shoving
humanoids, who have just squeezed
into the last known mall parking
space on the face of the earth.

Beam me up! Now, please, before
the multitude of swarming, caffeinated
creatures, embodied with special sale
radar and nudging elbows suck me into
their hive of madness.

Scene 1:

Buy 1 and get 1 at 110% off!! Huh…?
Swarm, buzz…

Scene 2:

The head-wrapped kiosk man with
Omar Sharif eyes is demonstrating
an amazing flying toy, acrobatically
diving and swooping.
Omar zeroes in on me since I foolishly
looked over at him.

“No, no thanks,“ I reply.
He’s swooping the toy back and forth.
“Okay, only if it can fly me up
and away from here!”
“You crazy lady, go away--no come back.”
Another Seinfeld moment.
My Kodak moments are getting
slimmer and slimmer...

Scene 3:

I’m trying to find a wedge of space
to see what’s on a sale rack of clothes.
Ladies with vulture sized handbags
are flinging and shoving coat hangers
of polyester and silk…
I’m suddenly thinking of a nice hot cup
of vanilla caramel tea within the
comfort of my four walls.

Scene 4:

I slink and dodge the invading
masses of female flesh navigating
down the aisles, some of whom are
wearing athletic shoes;others are perched
precariously in stilettos.
I find the exit door, and finally, my car.

Scene 5:

Home never looked so good as I seat
myself at the computer, sipping my tea.
Online shopping is great: I find some used,
almost new books on Amazon for a penny.

I continue to weave my way through
the World Wide Web, until I hit the
Black Widow of Cyberspace:
the servers are down--please try again later.

Bah-humbug…

Ben Casey, Where Are You?

Medical dramas give a false impression of doctors.
I’ve never had a doctor that even closely
resembled the handsome hunks in the TV series.

Jen worked in a local hospital where there
was one particular doctor that every female
office worker swooned over, keeping his
picture planted on their desks.
His profile was used in the hospital’s
advertising. That man was born under a blanket
of lucky stars, and then some…

My doctor resembles a cross between Don Knotts
and Boris Karloff. Just once, I wish the doctor
would match up with the cute name my fingers
had so carefully picked out in the Yellow Pages.

My present doctor also reminds me of an old
Italian nun I had in the eighth grade.
When I first saw Sr. Christine, I was scared.
She had dark searing eyes with a stone-like face.

Yes, just once let me pick out a doctor that
will curl the edges of my paper gown--and my toes--
and whose needle won’t look like a harpoon…

No Awake Zone...

I hate standard time.
The morning light jars me awake
around 5:30, which might be okay
if I was 12 and had a paper route …

So, trying to fall asleep again is like
trying to teach an alligator to roll over.
The birds are awake early, chirping
full trottle, and the pool pump next door
is droning a few feet from our bedroom window.

Give me back my enjoyable evening
light, when I could sit at the dining
room table during dinner and look out
at the woods, illuminated with the
glowing colors of the setting sun:
Trees fringed with lavender and gold...

Now, while I cook dinner, the windows
are dark, and my eyes are getting droopy.
It feels like 10:00.
Looking ahead to six months of progressing
darkness puts me in hibernation mode… zzzz