No Cookies Allowed Friday Round-Up

I’m eyeing a brown leather chair put out at the curb across the street. It looks as though the seat cushion might be missing. For our part, we have a double bed mattress and box spring at the curb. I’ve not looked further down the street, there could be furnishings for a whole apartment, it’s that time of year around here. Sadly, pride interferes with a lot of people curb shopping. Never stopped me, but we don’t need a chair.

We have a temporary household ban on cookies, cake, donuts, and ice cream. This is, I believe, a hideous and joyless way to live, although there was a lot of pie in our lives on Pi Day. Years ago, I decided that my old age would feature great cookies and plentiful chocolate and never being in a situation where there is no dessert. But that’s where we are – in the spare and minimalist existence of having grapes for dessert.

I’m writing Story #10 in my U.P. collection. It’s about two women, long-time friends, who get stuck in the mud on their way back from a remote Lake Superior lighthouse. “Is there peril?” my husband asked. He says all my stories have peril – drownings, intruders, things blowing up. In this story, the peril is minimal, I think, though I’m tempted to introduce a bear into the scenario. If I can pull it off, the story will be about their mostly shared history as friends, cousins almost. I’m bumbling through it. It’s not great, will probably never be great, but I persist.

Years ago, struggling to schedule a gift drop-off to a friend, she said, “I’m always good with not doing things.” I loved that so much. The idea of doing something is usually so much more exhilarating than actually doing it. That’s why I like signing up for things so much – it’s the prospect of doing something that’s so much fun. The actual going, getting gussied up, as my husband would say, and all that entails, seems like work. So to not go seems like a day off, like cutting class on a spring day. Like today, for instance.

The president was in Milwaukee this week. He announced a major infrastructure project to improve a local street that connects the north and south sides of our historically very segregated city. He stayed in the Pfister Hotel which actually has a presidential suite and met with dozens of dignitaries. I was not among them despite my extremely dignified demeanor. I would have liked a selfie with Joe Biden. That would have been deluxe. It’s not over, though. I’ll have my chance.

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Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash