It has been days since I have done anything creative. I have been floating along in my own life like a Styrofoam cup in a gutter, bouncing only where each day takes me.  I wait impatiently to get outside for spring air, green grass between my toes, and flowers blooming, but rain and storms abound. Yet, I can not complain because dampness in my life is nothing compared to losing a home or a loved one like others have faced in these last rages of Mother Nature!

My one writing light ray has been acceptance of a poem by the Yellow River Review, a literary journal of Minnesota State University. It won't be used until September, but it is something to look forward to at the end of the coming summer. This tiny perk has made my mind bubble just enough that I could do Centus today.

Jenny is celebrating a whole year of presenting the Saturday Centus. Her prompt of Although the traditional gift for a first anniversary is paper has put everyone in the mood of anniversaries of some sort. As usual we had to use only 100 words, a nice sharpening device for tight writing! For complete rules, visit Jenny at http://jennymatlock.blogspot.com/2011/04/saturday-centus-happy-anniversary-man.html

 

My effort is below.

                                   A Light Bulb Moment of Inspiration

The guys at work warned him NOT to forget the anniversary. Paper they said. Amy read books, but how could he know what she wanted to read? He only read the stock market?



Paper to write on? Nah, no one writes anymore. Amy texts like crazy and emails constantly.


Paper plates for a picnic? No, she’d have to pack the food basket while he grabbed the blanket. That was no gift.


She buys a paper for ads every Wednesday. That's it! Although the traditional gift for a first anniversary is paper, he’d give newspapers to last a whole year!


He just knew his thoughtfulness would choke up the little woman!

Items of Gratitude

We are between storm fronts here, and the air that was 70 dropped to 40 some hours ago and still hovers with a chill. With all the destruction in the world from weather, I can’t complain. Storms are forming to the west that might bring harshness, but I am just hoping Mother Nature will get her hormones in check and decide against hammering us all again.



Daughter-in-law went to the ER last night and had exploratory surgery this morning. It was a mere appendix case and the other fearful things were not there. Son spent a chunk of the same night in the basement with baby boys as the Columbus, Ohio storm came his way but did not set down any more horrors there. I have much to be grateful for in this week before Easter.

Grand dog Storm’s ligaments and meniscus surgery are going well said the vet. She is again bearing about 40% of her weight. She will go home to our son on Easter. I will miss her, but I am so happy she is mending.

Then my friend, an Easter bunny herself, dropped off a nice basket on my porch! Pat is creative and a giver. She quietly hops around on all the holidays leaving her friends cheery things. Take a look at this wonderful basket with the lovely things in it. I hate to take things out, as the basket looks so nice when complete. Inside the egg was a bracelet of beads in browns and turquoise that I could not have picked out better for myself had I tried.

Note the darling rabbit plate that will be perky piece of spring décor for years to come.

Then the mail came and I had a certificate for an honorable mention in a poetry contest sponsored by the Columbia Chapter of the Missouri Writer Guild Conference.


Another day ends and I have much to fill pages of a gratitude journal.

Leaving Church by Barbara Brown Taylor

Can books be a message from the beyond, from the Divine, or tell you something you didn’t know you needed to know? At different times in my life I have rejected books only to return to them eagerly later. My Gran read Anne Morrow Lindbergh, and as a teen, I could not understand why. When I inherited her volumes, I began to understand that AML had a lot to say to women of her era, especially to women who wanted to write.

When my children were small, I checked out Madeleine L’Engle’s Circle of Quiet from the library-twice, and never read it. What was the draw? Years later, I tried it again because I had learned to love memoir and thought sure this one by a writer should be good. Oh, it was! I began to read everything MLE wrote. Before I had read too much of her though, we were on a trip to Bar Harbor, Maine. DH and kids moaned when I saw a bookstore; I love to mill around in local stories. There on a shelf, with not another single book even near, sat MLE’s Walking on Water. I took it home and have read it so many times, each time I was in a different space of my life but always found a tidbit to hold about creativity and the Divine.


So when I was in Barnes and Nobles last and was buying books marked Buy Two, Get One Free I wondered what my third choice would be. I was tired and grabbed Barbara Taylor’s Leaving Church, a Memoir of Faith. I had never heard of the book or the author, but I decided quickly to give the short memoir a chance. As I started to read, I realize that this Episcopalian priest had had a change of heart and had lost herself. Then I remembered I had just read Dilemma by Father Cutie, a Catholic priest and Down the Spiral Staircase, a memoir by an ex-nun named Karen Armstrong . What was going on with this pattern? I had not recognized I was reading a pattern.


I am not an Episcopalian, but Barbara Taylor’s book is good for anyone of faith. She writes well and the reader is quickly engaged in her story. The first half of the book deals with her becoming a priest, how she found the most perfect little church in Georgia, and then how she burned out. The second half of the book deals with how she recreates her life and becomes what she calls fully human.


Some lines I marked:


“…so immersed in the life of the Church…forgot the life of faith was not always the same thing.’


“…that faith in God has both a center and an edge and each is necessary for the soul’s health.”


“…life springs from death. Not the last but all the little deaths along the way.”


“With sundown on the Sabbath, I stopped seeing the dust balls, the bills, and the laundry. They are still there but they lose their power over me.”


If you are a pastor, priest or married to one, I think you would find this book beneficial. Hum, even if you are not, it might help you understand the pressures that burn out the clergy.

Have you ever felt like a book fell into your path when you weren't looking for it?

Poetry Give Away

National Poetry Month 2011 is half over, and I have done nothing extra yet. In the past, I have had students put their original poetry on shopping bags to be used in stores, sent classic poems on post cards to random names in the phone book, and mailed cards to friends about poetry month among other things. Last night I was pondering in my chair that faces my book shelves and wishing for a new poetry celebration idea or even a creative burst for a new poem. Then I saw my poetry shelf and knew I could do a poem give away on my blog!



I chose five very different poetry books to use for a give away and decided against drawing names this time. I want to do a different kind of give away. I will describe the books below and then the first person who leaves a comment on which specific poetry book they want, I will send it to them. Can’t beat a deal like that, so followers read on.


Gorrill’s Orchard….Jeanne E Clark is California poet involved with animal rescue. She walks her dogs in a local almond orchard, the origin of her book title. One of my favorite lines set in the Southwest: Houses like paper bags open atop the desert floor.


Landed….Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg is the present Kansas Poet Laureate. This book has a bonus of CD of poems and music too. Favorite line: Cranes pencil the sky.


The Red Window…Marianne Aweagon Broyles is a Native American poet with roots in both Maine and Tennessee. Favorite line: As you whip around a corner near the Tulsa fairgrounds, a man, shirt unbuttoned, salutes your truck’s appearance.


Songs for the Open Road: Poems of Travel and Adventure…this is an anthology of famous poets. Favorite line: My soul has grown deep like the rivers…Langston Hughes

It's Another Friday

It is Friday again, another week gone. The warp of this week’s fabric was twisted a little in places, but overall, nothing earthshaking. The potentially dangerous storms skirted us last night bringing in another cold front. The air is cold and dank this morning, but still we are on the “other” side of winter so no complaints.

Stormy, the grand dog, recovers from her surgery and is beginning to bear a little weight on her leg. The scar heals nicely, but six more weeks of recovery for the ligaments and meniscus. She appreciated the cooler weather after all the thunder and lightning last night and slept in this morning which I appreciated!


Last night was the monthly meeting of Joplin Writers’ Guild, and it was not inviting weather to be out. Only ten members appeared, but the speaker from Oklahoma bravely made the trip in to present a short program. Our guest speaker Barbara McMinn has a few western romances on the market and is expecting a mystery out soon with High Hill Press. Most of the evening was spent discussing self-publishing and small press publishing. For more information about Barbara visit her new blog at http://bjmcminn.blogspot.com/.


One of our members reported that if you were a poet, there was NO market out there for poetry books. Is this true? Probably so, but how do you poets feel about this?


Members Diana West and Larry Wood reported on their numerous wins at the MWG conference last weekend. Diana attended the conference and reported it was an excellent conference full of new information. After some added reports on member publishing, the meeting ended and everyone headed out early trying to beat the storms home.


For those interested in a no reading fee contest, read about Glass Woman Prize below. I have entered once with no luck, but one time doesn’t say much. The closing date for this one is September so maybe I will have a piece of genius develop in my head and I will enter it this summer.


Have a great reading and writing weekend ahead, dear Followers!

GUIDELINES FOR THE TENTH GLASS WOMAN PRIZE:

http://www.sigriddaughter.com/GlassWomanPrize.htm
The Tenth Glass Woman Prize will be awarded for a work of short fiction or creative non-fiction (prose) written by a woman. Length: between 50 and 5,000 words. The top prize for the tenth Glass Woman Prize award is US $500 and possible (but not obligatory) online publication; there will also be one runner up prize of $100 and one runner up prize of $50, together with possible (but not obligatory) online publication.

Subject is open, but must be of significance to women. The criterion is passion, excellence, and authenticity in the woman's writing voice. Previously published work and simultaneous submissions are OK. Authors retain all copyright is retained by the author.

Lisa's Book Blurb/Healing Waters

After a dark and stormy night, the air has a snappy chill to it this morning. A flannel robe and mug of dark tea are on tap for this gray morning, and since it is Friday, I think I will take time to play with Lisa's Book Blurb. Today she gives us a nice nature picture for inspriation. So with only 150 words we are to write a blurb for an imaginary book. Go to Lisa blog for full details and links to other writer's blurbs for this picture. http://www.writinginthebuff.net/2011/04/pawsitive-pondering-m-is-for-meow.html?showComment=1302875569844#c8013003207564796341

                                                              Healing Waters
                                                             
The First People knew from the beginning about the healing powers of Roaring Waters hot springs. Now Rod McClure hoped they would offer a miracle cure for his broken life. Once known for his athletic prowess on the playing field, then as an empowered emperor in the business world, he was now a broken man.



Rod returns to his home state of Montana to refurbish a log cabin on family land because he has no place else to go, and he needs open spaces alone to repair his life. Repeated trips to the springs draw him with more than therapeutic waters though after he meets a grizzled old loner, a strange, beautiful woman, and an unrelenting hawk that swoops into his life.


What things will Rod learn about himself and life? Only time will tell as Roaring Waters and the strange trio work their magic in Rod’s life.

Hot Stuff

Anyone who know us, knows that DH doesn’t like to eat spicy things, and he sure doesn’t want anything with heat, say something with chili powder! His own mother did not use spice. She used salt and onion, some sugar. She was from Southern stock so not sure why she favored bland tastes.


Then again, I am not sure where my own spiciness came from. The Irish eat rather blandly,and I DO love any potato, as my hips can attest to. The touch of German has the kick of sauerkraut and garlic coleslaw which I love…cabbage! Cherokee, no, there is no chili powder much there, although maybe the Oklahoma people picked it up from Hispanic neighbors. Anyway, my own dad loved hot things and my sons eat spicy. One son eats Buffalo wings that make him sweat profusely; I don’t go that far.


DH has one hot weakness though. He loves those hot pickled sausages sold in speciality jars. My dad got them wholesale in huge, canister-sized jars when a doctor prescribed (yep, he did) a quart of beer once a day for kidney stones. My dad worked hard outside in heat and cold; he looked forward to that beer and a hot sausage right after work and just before he cleaned up for the evening. Now, he shared those sausages which we all ate. We girls would slice them in to circles and eat them on white crackers. Yum, for the burn and the salt.


When DH began hanging around the house, he loved those sausages and Dad gladly shared with him too. Dad gave me a hard time about it though. He said that every night he would go to bed with a near full crock, and in the morning it was a third empty from our “night caller” who didn’t like spice or heat! DH loved those hot sausages to this day, but we rarely buy them. Nothing else hot will do though.


This spring I have finally found a combination for a chili pot around here that works. First of all, I use ground turkey since we have to limit the use of red meat. I brown about four pounds with an onion, a little garlic. Then I add moderate salt, a tablespoon of chili pepper (although I would like three!) and another tablespoon or so of cumin. Stir in tomatoes or tomato soup or whatever and cook slowly. About fifteen minutes before serving add canned or pre-cooked beans. I use a combination of kidney, pinto and black beans. I also set out some kind of pepper or hot sauce for my own bowl!


Which brings to mind a question: how do you eat your chili? Do you crumble crackers in the bowl, use catsup, or add cheese? I always add a spoon of vinegar to my chili, and one of my college professors said he never saw anyone outside the state of Kansas to do such a thing. Is this just a Kansas trait? Do YOU use vinegar in your chili?