One Trailer, One Woman

Why am I writing a blog post about this little sweetheart of a trailer?

Compact lightweight luxury travel camper trailer for two - more features than the standard Little Joe Model

Pull lightweight Ponderosa Little Joe camper with your small car, jeep or pickup with ease

Ponderosa seating allows room to relax and enjoy the living space

Luxury elevated bed for two - more comfort in a small environmentSmall Toilet gives Ponderosa owners true convenience while traveling

Ponderosa includes an ingenious sink/stove combinationRefrigerator makes Ponderosa just like home - Convenience and Luxury in a small space

Because an American journey might be in my future, January – February – March 2014. Just about the time I start to go slightly batty in all the snow we get here in the northern woods.

It might be the kinda thing you have to just do, without asking one’s self too many questions. Such as, Am I Nuts? Or, What if I hate it?

It might be the coolest thing to do for a woman about to turn 60 in March…?

Introducing the Ponderosa Little Joe. Air conditioning, mini kitchen, mini sleeping, mini toilet, mini shower, mini icebox.

I can picture where my ukulele would go, my National Geo painting supplies, my watercolors.  My two dogs, even.

I find the sense of containment to be very appealing.

Dizzy Lizzy the Monkey

Dizzy Lizzy (feat. Bill Kelly)
PLAY ☝☝☝☝
Lizzy's smile's a frown DSCF0985

Dizzy Lizzy lost her head
Found it hangin’ by a thread
By a thread her head hung down
makin’ Lizzy’s smile a frown

I got a needle and some thread
Sewed together neck and head
Right side up she found her smile
Grinned a grin Lizzy style

Dizzy Lizzy is she fine?
Don’t ask me she isn’t mine.
All I know is that her head
is fastened on with golden thread.

More Overheard Dialogue

counterman talking to customer: oh sure i know walter! we go way back. he’s my cousin!
customer: no way! he’s my best friend!
counterman: (pause)…(typing sounds)….uh . . . he died, didn’t he?

– overheard by redmittengirl . . . You MUST visit her blog it is EXCELLENT: http://toomuchaugust.wordpress.com/2012/08/21/upon/

The Overheard Dialogue Project

Woman: She knows 10 ways to make potatoes.
Man: She is so Indiana!

— Daniel Proudfoot

Readers are invited to submit Overheard Dialogue. There is only one rule: Your submission must be something you overheard someone saying, for real, no fiction. Here are some more:

A young man walking past me on a college campus. This is what I heard as he passed:
. . . She was from, like, the time of Christ . . .

— Mary MacGowan

Two women talking in the women’s locker room at the gym.
One says: Rick and I are going to have bacon on Sunday.

— Mary MacGowan

Two women sitting at sushi bar at King of the Roll in Portland, ME.
Woman1: Was she always a lesbian or is it a back and forth thing?
Woman2: It’s back and forth. Sort of an Anne Heche thing.

— Mary Colangelo

I’m leaving the grocery store at the same moment two men are walking into the store. One is reading aloud from a list, and says:
. . . Diet Coke, condoms . . .

— Mary MacGowan
———————————-

Okay, two rules.
The 2nd is that it has to be interesting in some way.  
And I am the judge of that.
Submit to this plucky umbrella blog as a comment.
I look forward to hearing from you!

Even Umbrellas Can Get Political

Wake Me When It’s Over – a political poem from the last election

Things bump along fine
without me. Early presidential
candidates mocked, Colbert
shows I can’t watch because
I don’t know truth from comedy
that’s how far from the hula hoop
I’ve wriggled. Volcanoes, draughts,
firestorms, the miseries of war.
A hurricane promoted to excite
the masses, gas prices, negotiations.
Photos of a female candidate
filters through on FB. The
tip of a long corn dog in her mouth.
We can’t be nice to those we love
so don’t bother watching wars.
The world sucks its own dick.

– poem and pastel painting by mary macgowan

The Boat Was In An Old, Old Room

“Someone should fix this up,” she said.
They walked through poison ivy (maybe) and tall grasses to see up close.
“Look in this window,” he said.
She looked. There was a boat.

The boat was in an old, old room.

The old, old room was in a house.

“If this were France, there’d be people living in it,” she said.
“Yeah, all peeling paint and that French elegance thing.”

The Beauty in the Decay Series
is attentive to the intersection of nature with human-built things;
how nature will have its way.
The captivating presence of the process.

– poem and photos by mary macgowan

28 Sew-On Snap Fasteners

28 Sew-on Snap Fasteners

Rust-proof
Assorted Sizes
For bulky fabrics
For medium fabrics
For light fabrics
Made in England

The Beauty in the Decay Series
is attentive to the intersection of nature with human-built things;
how nature will have its way.
The captivating presence of the process.

found poem, photograph by mary macgowan

More Disappearing Stairs

She sighed, This whole stair thing . . .
I know, he said.
Eaten up, she said. Look at them. Vanishing.
It’s beautiful, one of them said or maybe both.

So beautiful it hurts.

The Beauty in the Decay Series
is attentive to the intersection of nature with human-built things;
how nature will have its way.
The captivating presence of the process.

Waitwaitwaitwaitwait

Beauty in the Decay Series #7

My first and only Barbie. She’s about 50 years old.
This decay – her baldness – I find it difficult to see as beautiful.
Her bald head is so vulnerable and tender, but I feel
embarrassed for her.  
I used to make Barbie and Ken kiss, and then I’d leave them, entwined and passionate, under blankets.
They come in boxes now. Twisty ties keep them in place.

A poem that starts with Barbie and ends with dead pigeons in marigolds….

Waitwaitwaitwaitwait

Barbie tied up in her box,
twisty-ties choking
her wrists, ankles, neck.
A window for watching.
The brain-damaged girl
drew Barbie’s face,
the steady scratch-scratch
of her #2 pencil.

That was when a boy
came to my office each week
to scream Fuck Shit Bitch
as he punched Playdoh.

A healer told me
to be a tree.
Send my tap root
down to the core
of the earth. It zoomed
ferociously, grotesquely huge
from between my legs
forging a trajectory down
there where there is no end.
But now my tap root

is a drag.
While walking in a garden
it crushes cockle shell rows.
It bursts through car floors
to destroy highways, bridges.
Disasters trail behind me.
I grow weary of all the required
repairs, facts that need fixing.

Back then we lived across
from a pigeon shoot.
The injured ones
would flutter over and roost
clumsy in our eaves.
Mornings we’d find them
still warm, lying in a pool
of marigolds.

Attentive to the intersection of nature with human-built things; how nature will have its way.

– photos and poem by mary macgowan

Listening To A Meditation Talk While In The Bathtub

Beauty in the Decay Series #6

rinsing my hair
i dunk underwater;
water fills my ears
just as the speaker says
“And buddha said…”
i might hit rewind
to hear what i missed
but i like the holes in the philosophy

Attentive to the intersection of nature with human-built things; how nature will have its way.

– photo by mary macgowan