Tag Archives: coffee

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Car situation

What did happen in my situation?

I am worried that a car will come around the corner and hit the car partway in the street. Plus, what if there is a medical situation? A heart attack, or drugs, or alcohol, or a seizure? I want help. I call 911. The dispatcher asks for the license plate and if I can see anyone inside. I give her the plate, but the car is fogged up, so I can’t see inside. This does make it more likely that someone is alive inside, but they could still be ill.

I wait, but I am anxious. I text my neighbor and ask if he will come back me up while I bang on the car. He comes out, but the police have just arrived. We wave and go back inside. I do peek out. There is a fairly young man and a dog, who get out of the car. He can walk without difficulty. They don’t move the car. The policeman leaves, then calls me. He says that the person is having an allergic reaction and is waiting to move his car until he can see. The car will be gone by the afternoon.

“Oh, thank you!” I say. “Can I take him coffee?”

“That would be nice.”

I go out and ask if he wants coffee. He does. I take him a cup and he leaves it on my steps. The car is gone later, so I hope he is much better. It’s lucky that he is on our side street rather than the faster main one. More chance of an accident there.

I did feel like a little old lady complaining about a strange car, but I was worrying about something medical more than a stranger. And with the possibility of alcohol or methamphetamines or opioids, I want help. We had an overdose death in our hospital parking lot within the last few years and our police have nalaxone to reverse opioids. I am very glad that it was not an overdose.

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: situation.

The photograph is my 1986 Honda Civic, not the car in the story.

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Names

Last night I go to the Cowboy Ball, replete with cupcakes. It is the kick off of our local county fair, which is in two weeks. There is an hour two-step lesson and then a really fun band. The crowd is very mixed. There are some people who can two step, though not very many. There are some people faking it. After a while there are people dancing six count swing or tango or salsa, but everyone waltzes when they play the waltzes. It’s not quite a polka.

One dance partner asks, “Are you the poet doctor?” I blink. “Yes,” I say, pleased. “Which open mike were you at?” “Disco Bay.” I have done four there in the last three months, three at the poetry open mike and one at a music open mike. I was assured that they want poets too at the latter. Ok, then. “And what do you play?” I ask, because it must have been the music open mike. “Drums.” He is with a band that I know. “When do you play again?” He wrinkles his forehead. “I’d have to check my calendar.” “Get back to me!” I say and he says, “Thanks.” All this while dancing. We are doing some two step, falling into swing whenever one of us messes up a step.

I am nicknamed the dancing doctor by the coffee stand at the Farmer’s Market. She writes that on my cup. They are right next to the outdoor “stage”. I try to lure small children out to dance, solo since they don’t know me. They are wonderfully free and fun when they do come out.

I am pretty thrilled to be the poet doctor! We will see if that sticks in this community.

The photograph is Simon Lynge and Janna Marit two weeks ago at the Farmer’s Market. And here is the coffee stand.


And look! The poster for the Cowboy Dance in the lower left!

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: community.

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Mundane Monday #186: cup

For Mundane Monday #186, my theme is cup.

Good morning, and Monday, and post-Thanksgiving, back to work.

What is your favorite cup or mug shot? From an angle, experimental, mundane,  accidental? Attach your entry and I will list them next week.

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Last week’s theme was balance:

From Paula Light’s lightmotifs: a well balanced kittay.

KLAllendorfer talks about life balance.

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daily

This is for photrablogger’s Mundane Monday 124.

Just my current journal and a pen and a coffee pot. But I am thinking of the people flooded in Houston and how they would like just a clean counter and a dry journal and a coffee pot with electricity.

Our house was flooded when my family first moved to Alexandria, Virginia. We were not in danger, but the water backed up and started pouring into our basement, full of boxes of books. First we rescued my mother’s etching press engine. It was so heavy we could barely get it up the stairs. Then boxes and boxes of books. I was fourteen and the water was cold and dirty and reached to the tops of my thighs.

We pulled everything we could upstairs and then emptied boxes. We had wet books everywhere and threw tons away.

We sat on the porch. The water was six inches deep in the middle of the road. The buses still ran, and a wave would come lap our steps every time one went by.

Prayers for the flooded people in Texas and the people in dire straights everywhere.

I am deeply grateful for the mundane…