Muse Likes New Places

So when my friend could not make breakfast, I took myself to The Breakfast Cottage in Venice. I gazed at the awning next door thinking how little one hears of ukuleles & how interesting a word it is, not often used in conversation.

The Breakfast Cottage had no Hawaiian motif, more Bee Gee oldies playing. There’s always something to write about, tho. This tiny journal alone starts in 2015 with a riff on moving to the Delaware beach, wet towels slung over railings, single flipflops on the beach, sandpiper races along the tidal edge. I am ten years older than when I started it.

Time capsules litter my landscape, an upended medicine bottle of life. Years of massage now packed into one. Office work reopened & spilled out, granular fear playing a whack-a-mole with Rescue Remedy & Hyland’s Calm along the way. Invisibility revisited: I hang my cape in an old phone booth & walk on. I lost my taste buds to Covid, my Volt to an attack of acute metrics, my eyes to the 2-fer $89 glasses special, my hair to diminished vanity & so much more. I gained faith, trust, health, friends & a cool new restaurant as of today.

I get my new teeth next Tuesday!