Annie Lighthart at Poem Bouquet

You'll recall that the internet developed as a means of sharing information/knowledge with a number of people, at the time mostly researchers and scholars.

Without further ado let me refer you to: Annie Lighthart at Poem Bouquet.

Four poems by Ms. Lighthart.

Interview (2012)

Image "lifted" from

Ms. Lighthart's website.

An interview with Ms. Lighthart.

North of St George

Michelle's Sourdough

From deep in the bowels of Phoebe's library I heard the long-overdue birthday present shout, "The Minersville (Utah) post office parking lot is empty!" 

I made a u-ee and screeched in.   

No one was in line behind me so when Michelle, the Postmaster, asked where I was from I blamed Nurnberg and tacked on the bits about an early childhood in Japan & some formative years in Germany.  

By way of excusing my lack of accent (and lend cachet to my Chicago twang), I 'splained my first language was English, 2nd was Japanese and that it wasn't until age 7, late in life, that I began learning German.

Suddenly bidding me stay where I was she said, "I have something for you."

This has, at least on one occasion, prefaced my being on the wrong end of a pistol. But my fears were unfounded as, turning quickly, she took two steps away and returned with a beautiful loaf of home-made bread.

Ardent sentimentalist that I am, I immediately began to tear up. And then, whilst wrangling the emotional storm of gratitude, I did my best to pay attention as she told how it was sourdough, her favorite.

Michelles are AMAZING! 

And it only barely survived through the night!

'satiable Curtiosity

Milford, Utah is down the street from Great Basin National Park. After several days in the wilds I HAD to go see. Not that I really WANTED or NEEDED anything, but my cat-like nature has to have its way.

Inside, a man in his eighties who was restocking the shelves inquired about my condition. I allowed as how it was moderately fine...and thus we commenced.

I missed the turn indicator, but his segue into his move to California came with an aphorism from his dad: They could cut off Disneyland, Knotts Berry Farm and Sea World and let the rest of California go off into the ocean.

I rejoined with the joke: First prize in the lottery is a week in Disneyland. Second prize is TWO WEEKS in Disneyland!

He laughed.

He said he'd taken the job and moved there, to California, but couldn't make enough money to leave. I was afraid to ask how he'd found his way to Milford.

He seemed proud that Milford has the nation's largest pig farm. "It's Smithfield," he said. The smell wafts o'er the entire town. (Sunshine Market is at the far end.) 

At one time I'd entertained the idea of pig farming. As a child, we heard that horses are smarter than dogs and pigs are smarter than horses. Thus, Lassie had to be a pig in a dog suit. 

Later, when I read sows are capable of innumerable orgasms I decided I didn't have the heart to spoil their fun. I still wonder why they only studied female pigs. I surmise the male researchers (there were only men doing research in those days) preferred to remain ignorant. 

The aisles were wide, like the streets. I suspect it's a Mormon town. But it was entertaining for a few minutes...and I found a rib-eye -- only slightly green -- marked down to $5.00. Aged beef ist Sehr Gut! Yah!

https://sunshinemarketmilford.com/   

When In Southeast Colorado, USA

Ms. Cook and I are planning a jaunt to Salida, Colorado next month. A friend who's into things paranormal and extraterrestrial mentioned this place. And it's on the way!

All things UFO-related PLUS a watchtower. 

On highway 17 west of Great Sand Dunes National Monument. $2.00 admission or $5.00/car. $15.00 to camp.

http://www.ufowatchtower.com/

Read all about it in this Fox News article.

Transradial Catheterization

With the indescribable splendor of Nevada's late-summer wilds at my doorstep negating my attempts at written elocution, the moment seemed ripe to bemoan the crick in my wrist that's developed from the transradial catheterization I had two Marches ago.

When I went into the emergency room at St. Mary's in Tucson, they offered to do a traditional catheterization through my femoral artery. Never one to leap at an offer, I checked the internet and soon learned this antiquated technique was supplanted years ago by the development of ever-smaller micro instruments. Transradial catheterization (as it's known) -- going in through the radial artery at the wrist -- is now the more popular means of implanting stents and doing other things such as diagnosing.

Aside from the cost of just under $100,000.00 for the hospital and another $20,000.00 for the various "techs"  including the anesthesiologist, nurses and, of course, the surgeon, I hadn't any post-operative complaints.

But then, starting a few months ago, I began noticing a sharp pain at the insertion site. It'd happen when opening bottles, jars or any movement that required gripping with the fingers combined with lateral motion at the wrist. I've switched to my left hand.

Somehow I surmise this is not litigable. And besides, no amount of cash is gonna relieve the pain. So I thought I'd post this tidbit as a reminder the next time I'm thinking of having surgery. Although I  COULD look at it as a minor inconvenience relative to the need for a stent, as it's gone on I've begun to worry about the long-term impact on my onanistic activity...a major dimension in my quality of life esp at this stage: when one is olde & phat and lacking in funds to hire help.

Ruby Lake

You could almost mistake it for Minnesota, but the Las Vegas smog gives it away. As at Grand Canyon, visibility is down to a mile or two rather than the tens of miles in days of yore. Ah, well.

Innumerable springs or seeps emanate from the base of the eastern slope. Deeper hued, these "tendrils" frequently terminate in ponds.

One can only imagine the billions of birds that must've soared at one time. Now, just a few feathers seen in the parking lot, dropped, no doubt, from the body of an unfortunate whilst being transferred from the bagging bag to the truck.

The signs say "HUNTING OF WATERFOWL ONLY." You look around and see the beautiful reed-edged ponds with their reflections of the gray, white-out, and no hint of ripple other than from the breeze, and wonder, "What waterfowl?"