Ankle Rehab for Beach Lovers by Maggie Scratch

20160627_124455.jpgThese came in the mail (recommended by Eva the Osteopath) and were waiting for me when I got home from the beach. My computer was dying when I was trying to buy them online.

 

wet sandThis is where I was from 9 am to 11 am before the maddening crowd got settled in and obstructed my ankle rehab path. That’s another thing I really trust about Eva, she’s totally homeopathic. “Walk in wet sand,” she told me, “That’s the best therapy.” Could rehab possibly be any sweeter? It took me a while to find the perfect wet sand, but when I found it, I traipsed in it until the tide came up and washed it away.

MFThis was my goal, the MF rock. I made it! There was a pervert guarding his towel, but he stood politely aside so I could document my morning’s work.

My computer’s still alive, amazing, a miracle, bye bye… adios!

A Dying Computer by Maggie Scratch

The plug for today! Thanks to Gabriela Nadal and Goodreads.

Screen Shot 2016-06-26 at 18.23.22.png

 Not sure how long my computer’s going to last so I want to make this fast. It fades in and out and I’m told it’s the Motherboard and the Graphic Card, but whatever it is, it gives me indigestion. It fades out slowly just when I’m about to pay for a new computer online. It goes whiter and whiter and I talk to it, I pray to it,  it’s God. I ask the Computer-God to let me just fill in all the information and pay, then I promise, I swear, I’ll walk away from it and let it die. I tell the Computer-God that I understand, it can only take so much, it’s been 6 years of downloading and uploading and Motherloading and overloading and I’m grateful, I really am,  but none of this praying works. When my wallet got ripped off I realized my driver’s license was in it. So more prayers to the Computer-God. I’m in the online process of filling out forms, I’ve got to print the form now and my screen is going whiter and whiter. Just as I’m about to get a date for an online appointment, it dies again. The Jefatura de Trafico! I’m almost there! No page! Nothing! Blank! This almost gives me a stroke. I flip the lid up and down a few times and it revives, but for how long? I need to be fast, always. There’s my ankle’s online MRI. Now, this is very important to print.  I do a pretty neat prayer to the Computer-God, I’m almost on my knees begging it to just hang in there ONE MORE TIME, because this medical report is no joke. And I do finally get it printed. I think about what it would be like to be old and alone and not have any access to all this one-way-to-do-it-now- online -bureaucracy. I swear I’m going to help all those old people one day. After living with a dying computer, not only do I learn how to unplug, I start sympathizing with those who have no plug at all.

My Barcelona Day With Eva the Osteopath by Maggie Scratch

20160621_114947When I arrive, Eva’s street smells like caldo de cubito. Someone’s going to throw a handful of skinny little yummy noodles and make a plate of soup. Upstairs with her adorable Afro pony tail, Eva gets right to the point: my left foot. She works me over gently, firmly, and I put myself in her hands. I trust Eva, I can walk again, and she has great taste in music. Jazz. Diana Krall, Madeleine Peyroux, Cecile McLorin. Eva is my healer. If it weren’t for her, my OCD, OTT, ridiculous personality might have taken my foot to the cleaner’s! I’m hyper and driven to finish whatever I start, the schlepping took its toll.

Ignore a problem and you pay!

Habits can turn chronic!

On the way home from Eva’s, because of the subway strike, there’s a crowd at the bus stop and NO BUS! I take out my cherished old red leather purse that was my mother’s, and I count out some change for the beautiful proud woman beggar, but just then the bus comes and I hobble on it fast. I arrive home and stop off to buy cookies for Gloria, my cookie-monster student. It’s a good thing, Montse, the pastry shop owner, is my friend. I’m digging and scraping but I can’t find that purse! I empty my bags, all my stuff— on her counter.  I rush home to think. But who can think? I try. I see it all as clear as day. There I am, guard down, stoned on acupuncture and trying not to look off-balance at the bus stop. Whoever it was on the Bus 54 that nabbed me, nailed me in the street. The perfect words shoot out of my mouth at home. I speak to the cabron in English and I feel lucky!

“You didn’t get my foot!”

Barcelona is Killing My Feet by Maggie Scratch

I happen to have a sprained ankle. I’m in my pajamas. I know I should have retired by now, but it’s too late. The school term just ended. Do you know the expression “Limping to the finish line?” Well, that’s me. I’m not a limper by nature and believe me, I don’t like it. The ankle in question has had me in a spin. And I’ve been spinning, and I mean schlepping, until tonight. And what a night! Dusk! Magical and golden! It’s that pink fairy dust from San Francisco! Of course, the  full moon will be coming out and waking me up, but I hope not too soon. I love to watch the gold sky lighting up the dusk. It’s so calm and relaxing. I had a hard day. That’s why I’m in my pajamas, because of all the schlepping. I’m beat. I’m exhausted. I’m done. Wherever you are, if you’re NOT in Barcelona, I’ll  tell you what you’re NOT missing. Schlepping on the streets of Barcelona, with a bad ankle— can kill ya!

panot+margaritaPure Pain Tiles

even

with Nike Free

Full Moon in Barcelona by Maggie Scratch

full moonThis is a shot from my back patio. All I can say is, this moon has been waking me up and that’s the way it is lately, with the moon and me. I used to have a moon calendar and I used to have to check it to know when the full moon was coming, but not anymore. About a week before it’s going to be full, it starts in on me, like some Zen master trying to teach me something. It wakes me up at 4:30 in the morning, feeling all refreshed and ready to make coffee! Am I having a biological reaction to the moon? One week of the month, when the moon’s filling up, I won’t sleep. No calendar needed. When I start waking up with a teenager’s energy, the moon is my master.

Maggie Scratch Has a Photography-Lover Fan in Philly

The “Maggie Scratch” Philly Tour

by

Marjorie Frank

Fans don’t grow on trees!

And this one is from Philadelphia, my hometown.

The truth is

I never even met Marjorie!

She’s read Maggie Scratch more than once

and what an eye she’s got.

I’m going to hire her to proofread

my next book.

There is one typo in Maggie,

it’s very hard to see,

even for an OCD like little ole me.

But Marjorie went right to the spot.

If you have the book

take a look

there’s one  mistake in a ‘Berkowitz’…

Can you find the typo…

or not?

Papa Smurf, Blue Skinned People and The Blue Shepherd

Methaemoglobinaemia

Can this be happening to me?

I’m having a blue attack.

A nervous breakdown over the blues.

abc_blue_man_thg_130925_16x9_992http://abcnews.go.com/Health/blue-skinned-people-kentucky-reveal-todays-genetic-lesson/story?id=15759819

As we speak, my screenplay, The Blue Shepherd, about a man whose skin turns blue, is being read and judged at a scriptwriting contest in Hollywood. This real blue skinned man in the photo, who the media refers to as “Papa Smurf” (a bit degrading, don’t you think?) — has just died. Suddenly, blue skin is hot news.  As I’m prone to paranoia and have been told I have a likeness to  Chicken Little, it’s no wonder  I’m always afraid of being jinxed. With all this blue skin media coverage I start worrying that my blue shepherd is the cat out of the bag. Twenty three years it took me to get it to Final Draft. I tell my Papa Smurf sob story to a marketing guru and she says, “What? You are so lucky! It makes your story hot! It’s real! It’s trending, use it.”