Going Veggie

Going Veggie
I’ve always been the salad chef at home, opening the refrigerated  vegetable drawers filled with green onions, (I learned not to say scallions back in the old country), tomatoes of every size and plumpness, celery stalks that could use a little more head room, cucumbers on their way to pickledom bursting with little bumps, and so on. The “and so on’s ” should be growing in our garden but they don’t get enough attention these days and I can’t pack them up and take them with me on my daily mountain walks. And they don’t come in plastic bags like our store-bought...
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The Pigs are coming!

The Pigs are coming!
Maybe the routine would change if we made the first move and invited the roaming pigs to stop by at an assigned time for a nibble.  Enough of this sitting back and waiting for them to take charge without confirming dates … Yes, you might sense already that we’re a little fed up with their boycott on courtesy.  There’s no “let’s check the calendar and see what’s open” dialogue that might make their visits awaited drop by’s. They prefer to visit quietly (we’re guessing usually at night or while we’re eating dinner and cataloguing the sunset)....
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– ahhh, here we go again!

– ahhh, here we go again!
www.gilbert-bugbee.com/stories/looking-up/ Honestly, I’ve lost count of the number of times that my knees shake at the sight of a full moon — at the blast of a full moon! And I’ve run this adventure more times than seems humanly possible! I still remember that night so clearly!  And, I won’t let you forget that tonight’s moon spectacle is also special: it’s an Aquarian full moon!  P.S. The previously unidentified family in my story was none other than Horace Digby’s clan — remember when he won the exalted Benchley award! *  *   See for yourself ...
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Memories of well-spent junior high school days

Memories of well-spent junior high school days
For a starter — oh, my incredible English teacher, Mrs. Goldman at Riverdale JHS 141, oh-so-secretly invited me to help out at school, one hour early, so, that with the the dawn’s early light, I could secretly help her mark my classmates’ essays… No, maybe it was Miss Rau in ninth grade. (Your guess is as good as mine!) I was never a hard grader — besides, everyone in our class was so smart to begin with — and Miss Rau was forever conscientiously looking over my shoulder to be sure I didn’t give my friends any special benefits. Longtime cohorts like Peter (Dr....
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Madison’s Dilemma

Madison’s Dilemma
Such a pretty face with almost perfect blonde braids past her shoulders and blue eyes that disclosed her intelligence immediately. Self-contained to the max, or call it polite if you prefer — she listened quietly as I chatted with her grandmother about how wonderful tankinis were, pointing out that bikinis were rapidly becoming endangered species. Back when I turned 30, I’d stopped wearing bikinis  — I knew it was time to step up to a new decade, and my hair was cut to a just above the shoulders bob and my middle part was moved to the left. Now I’ll tell you all about my new...
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Heartfelt praise to two fabulous NYC policemen

October 1980, the usual —  every Saturday the same. Quick breakfast, pretty stroll over to the New York Society Library, where Philip Roth and Barbara Tuchman wrote, too, and where I started digesting Pythagorean Numerology.* Then off to Madison Avenue for a burger and a bit of sight-seeing. After taking a very thorough workshop on how to survive as a single woman in NYC, I had thought I learned most of the tricks — since I sometimes traveled alone at night,  I understood how important it was to be careful. 1. Walk like a man, cocksure, no invitations to strangers. 2.  When alone on an...
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