Juicy

Oh, she was the source of all the juicy gossip. She went out every day just to chat people up about the latest news. With only 4000 people in the whole town, it was easy to keep track of the talk-worthy doings of everyone else. What she didn’t do was talk about her own foibles and missteps. No, that was not a topic of conversation. You’d think she was squeaky clean to hear her talk. Nothing could be further from the truth.  . . .

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Ripe

strawberry

I watched and watered,
Watched and watered.
Turned leaves and looked
At blooms and tiny white buds.
The plants were tended with
Love and anticipation.

Finally, in late spring,
When the rains had come
And the sun shone bright,
The plants gave back a reward
Ripe and red and sweet.
Worth the wait. Worth the wait.

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Earnest

The local production of “The Importance of Being Earnest” was hilarious and well done. This play was first performed in 1895, but it stands the test of time. I decided it does that so well because there is nothing topical about it except the setting. The dialog and plot are funny and improbable. The twists and turns are clever, the lines crisp, the jokes timeless. A new generation discovers Oscar Wilde.

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The Neighborhood

The most interesting house in the neighborhood has to be seen on foot. There are little art pieces all over the place. I first noticed a broken yellow sun. Standing over it was an ant sculpture with a raised club, like it was going to hit the sun again. Another day I noticed a tiny replica of a church sitting in the rocks. Then I saw a turtle. Another time I noticed a small madonna inside a wreath of grape vines. Then some tiny clay turtles with stones glued to their backs arrived. That yard is an art gallery.

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Tree

I love to plant a tree
In each home
Where I live.

I love to plant a tree
And watch it root
Into the earth.

I love to plant a tree
So I can visit it
When I visit former homes.

I love to plant a tree
And know the world
Is happier because of it.

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Labels

We’re running out of labels. The sexual and gender preferences of young people today are un.label.able! Which is a sign that it’s about damn time we stopped trying to give people labels that set them apart somehow. They are simply human, doing something perfectly acceptable for a human to do. Let them live without pinning some name on them that makes them feel “other.”

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The Perfect Number

Many mornings I conduct science experiments to find the perfect number of mugs of coffee. That is, the number of mugs I can drink before my stomach starts to hurt.

If I make one batch of java in my wonderful little French press, I’m only going to get two mugs of coffee that day. No pain. But what if I drink more? Is three the pain threshold? Or is it four? Bring me another refill, waitress, I’m doing research for science.

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Ten

Marion glanced at her phone. She was ten minutes early. She sat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Ten minutes – she could do that.

Ten ladies dancing, on this day ten years ago, ten times ten. Her mind wandered. She glanced at her phone again. Eight minutes. Would they take her back on time, or would she have to wait longer? Now, now was what she wanted. No more waiting, no more sitting. . . .

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Magic

“It looks like magic, but it’s simply a matter of practice. You put in your 10,000 hours, you can do magic.”

I was there to learn to code. In 3 days. Why was the instructor talking about 10,000 hours?

I raised my hand. “I just need a job,” I said. “I don’t need magic.”

The instructor smiled. She  . . .

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Paint

There was paint everywhere. Paint on my shirt, my fingers, on the dish drainer in the sink where I’d washed the brush. But the job was done and I was thrilled I’d finished it. I stood back and looked at my handwork. I was going to have the best sign at the march, that was obvious. Wait! I misspelled a word!

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