Monday Morning Pick Me Up: Moving!!

I will be MIA for a little while.  My kids and I are moving to a new apartment!  The place is wonderful, but with moving comes packing.  And cleaning.  And unpacking.  And a mountain of paperwork that contains far too many numbers for my word oriented brain.  As soon as I sort through all of these tasks, rest assured, my poetry and I will be back and active.  Until then, enjoy Thanksgiving if you're in the states.  If you're not.... enjoy not gaining 5 pounds in one day.

Wednesday Writing: Take a Break!

As you can see, I have not kept up with my regular posting schedule lately.  You know what?  I'm not sweating it!  I don't feel bad.  I don't feel like I abandoned my blog.  I don't feel like I abandoned my readers.  I didn't feel like I had to write.  I gave myself permission to take care of myself because sometimes life happens and self care is a lot more important than keeping up with writing.

Ready for some shocking news?  Writing is not my whole life.

Earth shattering, right?  I'll give you a second to absorb that.

Understand this, writing is still my passion.  I adore writing, and I will always love the process. It is an integral part of who I am.  I have been a writer since I was thirteen years old, and that is a portion of myself that will never change.  I am very secure in my identity, so it makes it very easy to step away from that portion of myself.

I have been sick for a few days.  I've hugged the toilet more often than I've hugged my children recently.  Monday morning I had a passing thought that it might be helpful to write a Monday Morning Pick Me Up, but that thought was proceeded by a porcelain hug. I was in no shape to do anything but take care of my immediate physical needs.  Resting and staying hydrated were much more important than churning out writing just to fill a blog.  My only screen time was finally bingeing Stranger Things 2.

Burn

The smell of seared flesh

Filled the air

Along with the aroma

Of burnt hair

Tears streaked my cheeks

As my shriek echoed

In the tiny chamber

One of these days

I will learn

To use my curling iron

Without maiming myself

Wednesday Writing: NaNoWriMo

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/218072806930199379/

It’s the beginning of November.  And I’m writing.  About writing.  So, it stands to reason that I’ll be telling you all the wonderful things about NaNoWriMo.  And how I’ll totally be doing it.  Because anyone can do it. Right? Well, kinda.

About NaNoWriMo.  It’s a whole bunch of words smushed together, and it’s a whole thing.  November is National Novel Writing Month.  It’s meant to be a month where people devote time to writing the next Great American Novel.  There’s even an organization to it and a competition, and writers just go nuts over it.  Winners have it plastered all over their author pages, and rightfully so.  Tons of people participate, and if your submitted work wins an award from this event, you should be monumentally proud of yourself and your writing.  I highly encourage you to do it.  If. You. Want. To. Do. It.

If you’re a writer and you’re not digging NaNoWriMo, that’s ok.  It’s not for everyone.  It’s not for me.  Personally, I’m not looking to write a novel.  I thrive on poetry and short stories.  I do articles too, but just for my freelance work.  I’m not one to write long, drawn out work.  I’m a fairly concise writer.  Even long poems are difficult for me.  I love to write, and I can spend a long time writing.  That long time writing is spent writing lots of different things, though.  Maybe it’s my ADD.  I don’t know why it is, but I know that it’s how I am, and that’s totally okay.

I really like keeping up with others’ progress though.  If you’re participating in NaNoWriMo, please let me know!  I’d love to see how you’re doing.  Tweet at me, @reneebellawrite or link your work in the comments below.  If you need more information on the contest, visit https://nanowrimo.org/ and sign up.  You can join people across the globe who are taking part in the same challenge.  Let us know how you’re doing!  Even if you don’t write a whole novel, I’m proud of you for trying.

Monday Morning Pick Me Up: Delicious Slow Cooker Chicken & Dumplings

Who doesn’t love food?  You don’t have to be a foodie, but good food is good times.  A cool fall Monday morning is always made better when you know that there’s some delicious food waiting for you at home.  This is why I love my slow cooker.  Even on Monday nights, which are always crazy for my family with Girlie and Boyo’s simultaneous activities.  Yes, that’s right, they both have activities at the exact same time.  Thank goodness for supportive, involved grandparents!

Today’s pick me up isn’t a poem, it’s a recipe, along with another little glimpse into my life.  I love to cook.  I’m pretty good at it too, if you believe my family.  Now, I’m no food blogger, so you’re not going to get step by step pictures, but I’ll take you through my process.  Given that it’s a slow cooker, it’s pretty easy:

1. Throw most of the ingredients in before work. Even before coffee. 
2. Turn on the slow cooker.  
3. Go to work. (And get coffee) 
4. Come home.  
5. Add the final ingredient.  
6. Help the kids get changed for their sports.  
7. Eat delicious food.

I realize that it takes 7 steps, but you have to admit, they’re pretty easy steps.  I have confidence that you can handle them.  Feel free to adjust the steps where I go do other stuff while the food cooks to whatever activity you prefer.  You could go shopping instead of going to work, binge something on Netflix, or watch an afternoon of football. It’s your call.  Basically, go do something for a few hours the first time, then go do something for about a half an hour after the final ingredient goes in.  I trust you to find something worthwhile.

This recipe is very forgiving.  Sometimes I add other veggies.  Over the summer I like to use a dozen ears of fresh local corn.  I’ve got the basics below, but please tweak it as you see fit, and if you create a masterpiece, let us know what you did differently!  I’d love to make a new and improved version of a family favorite.

Chicken & Dumplings

Ingredients:

-4 Chicken Breasts

-2 15 oz cans Cream of Chicken Soup

-2 15 oz cans Chicken Broth (or water)

-1 15 oz can Creamed Corn

-1 15 oz can Sweet Corn

-1 tube refrigerated ready to bake biscuits/rolls

Instructions:

1. Place all canned ingredients in slow cooker & stir until combined.
2. Place chicken breasts on top of mixture
3. Turn slow cooker on, cook on low for about 8 hours or high for about 4 hours
4. Mix all ingredients, shredding the cooked chicken
5. Shape biscuit/roll dough into half inch balls, toss into slow cooker and mix.  
6. Cover & cook for another 30 mins on high, stirring once or twice.
7. Serve and enjoy!  Watch out, it’s hot.

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/355151120592986315/
(Another option, but I'd add corn to this.)

Friday Free For All: Avoiding Politics

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/216454325823777956/

Awwww, isn’t the bunny so cute??  Welcome to what I do when politics gets overwhelming on social media.  Not only do I not follow politics, I actively avoid political discussion.  All you get is spin, and all too often is people trying to tear others down.  I prefer to lead a life full of positivity, and politics doesn’t really jive with that.  

So, when one or the other politician does something that everyone jumps all over, my social media feeds are flooded with people bad mouthing the latest devil incarnate.  My response?  Slide on over to my Pinterest, browse my pin board on cute bunnies, choose whichever one strikes my fancy that day, and put it on my social media platforms.  I hope I can be one cute, bright spot in someone’s rage-fueled political-filled feed.

Brokenness

Living in your brokenness

Is barely living at all

It is scraping by

It is eking out life

On its most basic level.

Fractured bits of existence,

Scattered here and there--

Fragments of your former self--

Litter the floor.

Those who try to approach

Do so at their peril,

Treading lightly

Amongst the shards

Of what once was you,

Lest they are pierced.

Your injury is contagious;

Fear of infection

Driving others away

Dreading a demolished life.

Writing Wednesday: Revision

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/AQEpJQVpSdw5X0euONPbSIc2dfSxFFk6CXPOQ9IvKQbyCGvocH5Xlcs/

I’m getting back into the groove of regular posting here, and I want to stick to the loose format I came up with before, so on Wednesdays I’ll be posting insights into my writing process and tips for other writers.  

When I post my poetry, the final product you read falls into two categories: brand spanking new or well aged.  Sometimes a fresh poem just feels so right that I’m ready to put it out there for the world to see the moment my pen leaves the page.  (Yes, most of my poetry starts out hand written.  But that’s for another Wednesday.)  There’s not really any rhyme or reason to it, and I can’t quantify the reasoning for which poems I share right away versus those I keep back.  Much of how I handle poetry is instinctive.  

The poems I keep back can go through several rounds of editing and revision before they make their way onto my blog.  Sometimes the original is very personal and I change some aspects to create some space between myself and a difficult topic. Sometimes when I revisit a poem, I’m in a different mood and I read it in a different light.  Suddenly the words just don’t fit right.  So, I scratch and I scribble until I find the right words that fit the right way with the right mood.  It’s quite a process, and a given poem might go through several rounds of aging before it’s fit for public consumption.

Sometimes, no matter how much I age a poem, it’s just bad.  Like, really bad.  I don’t trash poems, but there are a few on the “Do not post, EVER” list.  They stay in my journal as a learning experience.  They still have value to me, but they do not belong in the light of day.  Or the light of the internet.  Or anywhere other than that journal.  I don’t quite have it locked away in a vault, but sometimes it is tucked under my mattress.  

Poetic Math

Just a quickie post today.  One of the math teachers I work with was in stitches over this, I thought you might like it too!  And yes, I did finally understand it.... once I read through the entire explanation twice.  I do not "math" very well.



https://www.pinterest.com/pin/216454325821240980/

Monday Morning Pick Me Up... Kisses!

Last night I dreamt of your kisses

Slow and soft and sweet

lingering and lounging

relaxed in love

happy in heart

My eyes full of you and your smile

gentle and slight and mine

Restful in your arms

At peace in your heart

Who isn't happier after a kiss??  Well, I guess it depends on who's kissing you.  If Aunt Edna's mustache is really coming in, that might not be an uplifting kiss.  HOWEVER, I think it's safe to say that most kisses are mutually enjoyable.  I usually wind up smiling like a loon after a kiss.  If it's from my parents, my kids, my boyfriend, it all makes me happy.  I love feeling loved. When I can't get a kiss in real life, I'll take one from dreamland.  That will tide me over.

Coffee Date

She cooly sips the smooth coffee

Held in slightly trembling hands

Not daring to put down the cup

Lest he sees her shaking

For now, She holds his gaze

Firmly with her own

Locked in a shared grin

Mirrored on both their faces

As she empties her cup

The last few drops escape

Dashing into her mouth

She briefly breaks contact

Retreating into her own thoughts

For a moment

Considering

Evaluating

She takes a deep breath

It catches in her throat

As their eyes question.

A Blowout Win

A lovely young lady in my life has had a rough time of it.  She came from a very unhappy home, and she continued on to an abusive marriage.  She had gone from bad to worse.  Through the help of some very supportive friends who became her chosen family, she was able to disentangle herself from that former life.  It was a process of separation, though, and the path towards independence was far from straight.

Towards the end of the end of that journey, she faced a final hurdle with her abusive husband.  This is around the time I met her.  I was witness to her fortitude, and it was truly awesome to behold.  It was clear the man had no idea the depth of strength she has built up through the tumult.  She was finally at the point where she had faith enough in herself to stand up to him, and it was clear to her and to those around her that he was outmatched and outclassed.  

Not long after this ordeal, I was experimenting with writing from others’ points of view.  I’ve found that a great way to expand my own emotional understanding is to try to not only see things from the eyes of others but to do my best to understand their feelings as well.  I decided to take a shot at writing about my friend’s final fight with her former spouse.  I didn’t show it to her for a long time, but kept it to myself instead.  I recently showed her this piece, and she greatly appreciated it.  She said that, while it’s not exactly what she was feeling, it fit the situation fairly well. With her blessing, I’m sharing it with you below.

Prize Fighter

I am one word.

One match.

One single drop

On a still pond.

But my reach is wide,

It's deep,

And I will seep

Into every crack.

Each crevice I find,

Tiny chink in the male,

I'll exploit to the last.

I will not fail.

I am a tempest

In a teacup,

A maelstrom.

Formerly a marionette.

I was sweet

And so pliable,

But I've cut my strings

And learned to dance

To my own tune,

My own rhythm.

You can't hope to hear my drum

Nor catch its beat

On I'll go

Leaving you in my dust.

So far behind.

So full of rust.

Such a good tin soldier.

Marching on and on,

Never stopping to think,

Ne'er a wish for a brain.

Fight your fight.

I've already won.

I’ve collected my laurels,

I’ve cashed in my prize.

Fight on if you wish,

But know this:

I have already won.

All your effort

Is for naught.

Why is Friday the 13th Considered Unlucky??

Happy Friday the 13th!!  I am one of the least superstitious people you’ll ever meet, so instead of being scared of this day, I instead choose find the happy things happening.  Sometimes I also spend my time being amused at the superstitious concern of others.  I have good reason to discount the supposedly negative aspects of this dreaded day.  My first child was born happy and healthy on a Friday the 13th!

Yes, folks, the slightly disturbed mind has procreated… not just once, but twice!  I’ve got a boy and a girl, and I am bringing them up to be just as kooky as me.  Maybe even more so!  Girlie is in fourth grade, Boyo is in first grade.  

Girlie is a writer too.  One of her favorite things to do is to staple a bunch of papers together and make her own books.  She comes up with the most creative names for her characters.  All of her girls have beautiful names, and I’m sure some day I’ll have grandchildren with the loveliest names in their classes.  Her boy names don’t have quite the same creative flair to them, but I’ve always found boys names difficult to choose as well.  It took forever to choose Boyo’s name.

Boyo is a little techie.  He’s a video game lover.  He doesn’t just love to play them, though. He loves to research them.  Any time he’s on his tablet, it’s a toss up as to whether he’s actually playing a game or watching a video about new and better ways to play that game.  His greatest wish is that I would let him spend all of his time on his tablet.  His greatest wish has no hope of coming true!

So, there’s your little bit about my littles.  I may give you a bit more about them, but I feel very strongly that their privacy should be respected.  I limit their time and activities online, trying to balance digital independence and knowledge with safety.  It’s a tough row to hoe, but mama’s gotta do what mama’s gotta do!

A Glimpse Into My Day Job

Welcome back!  My previous post was a celebration of my recommitment to my blog. Who doesn’t want to celebrate with yummy dessert? In recommitting to my blog, I’m expanding my scope.  I’ll be letting you in on different aspects of my life.  Mind you, you’re not getting an all access pass, just a glimpse here and there.  The more you know me, the better you can relate to my writing.  I’ll probably include some self-analysis with some of my poems as well.

Today’s glimpse involves my job.  I love my job because it is full of challenges and is tremendously rewarding.  I get to make a profound difference in the life of a sophomore who goes to the school where I work.  Austin is a fifteen year old boy who has been diagnosed with autism.  He’s a bright kid, but he misses a lot of social cues.  This interferes with his relationships with peers and with teachers as well.  This is where I step in.

A huge part of my job is acting as Austin’s social interpreter.  I work in both directions: I help him understand others, and I help others understand him.  Austin really struggles to pick up on the humor of others.  Before he gets upset with the joker, I swoop in and let him know that they’re trying to have fun with him, not at his expense.  When Austin is responding to classmates, I help keep him in check without taking his own jokes so far that he hurts others’ feelings.

These interactions don’t always run smoothly.  Sometimes I have to think on my feet, and there are times when the kids--Austin included--outpace me! I never worry that my work day will be boring or monotonous.  Every day I learn more about how to better help Austin, and plenty of days I learn how to be a better person myself.

Dessert Delight

I get a kick out of you,

And you, and you,

and you over there too!

You all are lovely

In your own ways

Special and captivating

If only for the moment

For the day

For the night

It feels so right

So nice

The desire

The attention

The clamoring

It’s not that I’m thirsty

Ok, perhaps slightly parched

Not that things have been

In perpetual dryness

But my drive for hydration

Is higher than most

I do have a thirst

That outpaces the rest

But don’t count me out

Just for my appetite, dears.

I’m hungry enough

To devour you all

And still have room

For a special

delectable

dessert

Oasis

A month of wandering

Parched in the desert

The lone traveller

Relies on only

The supplies he carries

On his back

Until the blessed relief

Of an oasis--

A brief respite,

A dewy island sanctuary

In an arid sea