Writers & Roaches

I was impressed by the Dietert Senior Center. Big beautiful buildings. Lots of activities, including yoga and Scrabble which I may attend, as long as I have the time. Yesterday I went to the writing group.

The group was begun in August 2009 as an 8-week course on all aspects of writing and getting published. But everyone liked each other so much they kept going. Participants bring in whatever they’re writing, for critique, up to 2 pages.

The instructor, here five years from Massachusetts, is a friend of the poet I spoke to last week. I was careful not to “take over” like I am apt to do, but did offer suggestions, mostly grammatical, on what was read. A curmudgeonly old fellow insists that poems must rhyme. He wrote an Ode to the Mesquite Tree, that I had to point out was not an ode, being written in the voice of the tree. He would have none of it! He would do whatever he wanted!

When it came time for me to share, I read “Days of Dresses” because I wanted something upbeat that people of my generation could relate to. The old coot said he had a hard time finding anything wrong with it, except that it did not rhyme. I’m going to write him a sonnet so he can see that rhyme doesn’t have to make for awkward language and uncertain meaning.

Afterward I asked the instructor if she minded if I were to offer a free one-day workshop, to try to get students for an ongoing poetry class. She said no and suggested that we get together soon with her friend.  We both agreed that Texans are exceptionally welcoming and this is a beautiful place to live. She said I’ll find the variety of people fascinating.  Just in the group one woman is an ex-nun, one fellow an ex-preacher, one a Mason, another a retired school teacher.  The class is $5 a week for non- members, $4 for members.  I wonder if that’s all she gets, of if she gets paid a higher rate and the donations go to the center. . .?

Online it said the class was from 1-2 but it didn’t end till 2:30 and then we stood talking, so it was 3:00 by the time I got home and remembered I hadn’t eaten lunch.  Food just doesn't interest me these days.

I read/rested with Jane kitty and did my usual afternoon routine with Walter.  John drove from Tucson to Van Horn TX.  When we talked I told him I was tired and going to sleep early.  But, watching TV in the living room I saw, from the corner of my eye, something run across the floor. A giant cockroach! And I mean giant, as big as those beetles in Coarsegold that bang against the screens in the summer: about 2” long, an inch wide, with 3” feelers.

“Walter!” I shouted, “Get it!”  He got up from his nap and scurried around but it outsmarted him and went behind a bookcase. I waited. I got ready a glass and piece of cardboard, planning to do what I do with spiders, catch and release.

But man, oh man, this guy was pissed off. When I got the glass over him he jumped, squealed, flapped his wings, rolled over and generally let me know that he was not going down easily. 

I realized that letting him (or her) go was not a good idea. I was not about to try to squish it – imagine the mess – so I carried it into the kitchen. I turned on the faucet and ran the garbage disposal. I carefully slide the glass/cardboard over the counter and let the bug fall into the sink. It was

so fast and strong it started running up the side of the sink. The force of the water was not enough to wash it down. I had to get a big knife and push and stab at it, as it fought back, until finally I won.

There’s a space between the floor and the door going out into the patio. I guess that’s where it came in.  We’ll have to plug it up. I sure hope this variety isn’t as prolific as the cockroaches that plagued us in Topanga – dozens, (hundreds?) of the little devils would come out at night. I remember Tom, lying in wait, then flicking on the light and, like a Kamikaze pilot, scream as he released a can of Raid all over everything.  We never won that battle.

The adrenaline from murdering the monstrous bug revived me. I watched “Chopped” and then the Rangers beat the Yankees.  Don’t get complacent Rangers, the Yankees are a come-back team. Tenacious as cockroaches.