this cake called whatever it was called, had nothing i couldn’t eat...
so, that meant i could have a piece. it was smashed up dates,
and nuts, handsome maple sugar and some chocolate... a pretty good deal.
it's friday night and the maroons were out early today, at least they were over here.
several maroons came here. the one who said she would sew the tags i sent her on the quilts,
she agreed to put together for me. she came 300 miles with the quilts, but without the tags
i mailed to her to sew on them. "oh my,"
she said, "i can’t believe i did that."
i was sitting in unbelief with her...
i mailed them in a separate envelope with instructions any maroon could comprehend.
it said, "sew these on the bottom border, on the back right hand corner.
call me if you need help." she couldn’t believe she showed up
with no labels sewed on the back of the quilts.
i couldn’t believe it either. she looked at me angrily and huffed.
i was trying to just say goodbye and get back to my desk.
this was scheduled to be over in 15 minutes. now it would
involve getting new labels, finding the sewing kit,
and sitting nearby while she sewed them on
angry as she was, all the time talking more in the office.
the maroons were out alright. if i told you about all the rest of them,
the night would only be about more lunatic dialogues and we couldn't really
eat whatever it was called, that seemed like a cake without flour... or get work complete
Julie, the massage lady, said when she was a kid they called "morons" maroons.
i thought it was a very good idea. more about that later.