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Month: February 2024

Stretching

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

When my granddaughters (ages 5 and 3) visit, we draw and paint. I keep a small table well-stocked and ‘at the ready,’ with a variety of markers, colored pencils, and drawing paper. Painting together is a little bit more of a production – we do this at the craft table in my basement, near to the utility sink for rinsing all those brushes and wiping up messes. 

We go through a lot of paper. Paper, paper, paper, we simply cannot have enough paper around here. I am always looking for ways to make it stretch. I am a scavenger, on the lookout for ‘extras’ – scrap paper at the back side of cards, or cutting blank sections of business mail and other papers, and tearing out the pages at the end of old notebooks and notepads. We like to draw and paint on cardboard boxes, too. A real favorite has been the large rolls of ‘painter’s paper,’ leftover from our home remodeling. We can cover tables with this and draw to our heart’s content. 

Just the other day, my poetry writing with Ethical ELA led to a wonderful way to stretch my paper supplies. An inspiration by Amber Harrison introduced me to a fanciful new world: ‘zines.’ I don’t know that I have ever heard of this word before, and I went down a real rabbit hole learning more about these.

The biggest thrill for my granddaughters and their drawing: one sheet of paper can be folded into eight rectangles, and with one simple cut, a small book is created. Yes!! I had to show this to the girls!! As I imagined, they were delighted – busily working on these small pages, creating their own books. They created smaller designs due to the more limited space, and they began to think about their art as storytelling. Wonderful! 

I created my first zine as the girls worked on theirs. What whimsical books these can be! I am reminded of the limits and focus of writing into a specific poetry form – I am whittling my thoughts to fit a particular framework. For this first zine, I wrote some silly wordplay we repeat often around here, whenever I can’t remember the word for something…might as well laugh about it. Here’s what my zine layout looks like, unfolded:

Here is my zine ‘poetry’ in a more straightforward fashion – 

Whatsis? 
by Nana, AKA Maureen

What’s this called again?
That’s a something-or-other.
A thingamajig.

What did you say?
A doohickey.

What’s a doohickey? 
A whatchamacallit. 
A gubbins.

What?!
A gizmo.
A thingamabob. 
A widget.

A doodad. 
A thingy.
A so-and-so.

Say what?!

Leave it be, so be it, 
I don’t know

The girls laughed when I read this little book to them, capturing our family joke. I am going to play around with this zine idea some more. Next up, I’m creating a zine of healing thoughts to share with a friend who is having surgery next week – just to let her know I am thinking of her. 

It is always good to be stretched in new ways – and always good to stretch my paper supplies, too!

See you Friday, at the 17th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge!

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Slogging Together

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

We plodded along in good cheer plus muck and mud, moving slowly. Unfortunately, the light snow from the other day, coupled with warming temperatures, created hiking havoc with the trail. Each of us slipped unexpectedly, a time or two.

It’s funny how, when falling unexpectedly, one reaches out to grab  – a movement akin to the automatic jerk our bodies make as we drift off to a deep sleep, this impulsive, desperate reach for something, anything, oh please! Hiking, one flails for another person’s flimsy jacket or a spindly sapling or a wild grasp of sheer air. That last one, oops! Down one goes. 

That was us, this hiking day. Were we hiking? Or was this an episode of Candid Camera? Thankfully, there were no bruises, no injuries, just slip slide pierced pride. Each of these goofs led to unbridled laughter together. This is why one wears old clothes. This is why one wears hiking boots. This is why one hikes with dear friends. Remember that time when . . . 

It was an absolutely marvelous day! Just look about!

Perhaps I got too busy snapping photos of all the gorgeousness around me.  A glorious winter day of bright sunshine and crisp air! How I love the woods! The next thing I knew, the trail had disappeared and we had no idea where we were or which way to head. 

This is hiking. 

There was my husband in the lead, with his hiking app open on his phone, suggesting that we start bushwhacking.

Bushwhacking –

To force one’s way through a forested or overgrown area where no path exists.  

I heard my husband say – 

“We should reach the trail soon.”

Ugh. So be it. I’m pulling up the rear here, I’ve been too lost in thought, all I can do is follow follow follow. 

I really don’t like bushwhacking. Every bramble reaches for me, snagging and harassing. I have no idea which way we are supposed to be going. It is a total trust walk – and, hmm, do I lack trust? 

Just then, 
a fluttery commotion 
within the overgrown wilds 
along the tributary 
glorious great blue heron in flight

we saw it lift off
with its choir robe wingspan 
spread so wide
sailing into the blue sky
away from us

we witnessed 
pure elegance

We would have missed this magical beauty if we had stayed on our path. There’s a message in this, yes? 

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Words Matter?

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

The Super Bowl party is a fun tradition with friends, yet it makes me feel trapped. It is challenging to walk out early. I found a nook in the back of the room, surrounded by the lesser fans. I whispered to one that I’d rather be home in bed reading a book. Of course, the game went into overtime. Oh no..I was fried. Finally, the game ended and the celebratory hoopla began. I got up to collect our dishes, pack up our things. 

“Wow! Isn’t that graffiti gorgeous?” 

I looked back at the television and agreed – “Yes! Look at the colors!” 

“I don’t know when I have seen so much pretty graffiti”, she continued.

“It is so thick, just amazing,” I agreed, joking, “They are celebrating that the game has finally ended.”

We looked at each other, puzzled. A glimmer of reality:

Hello.

The word is not graffiti.

What was the word?

malapropism – the mistaken use of a word in place of a similar-sounding one

lethologica – the inability to remember a particular word or name

This was a whole new level of my elusive language skills, my inability to recall a word. Now I am in cahoots with someone else on the use of the wrong word? Oh my! Let’s call this a case of  “magnanimous malapropism” or “legendary lethologica.” 

Imagine a world where all of us of a certain age are replacing nouns and verbs with new ones, and all of us get along fabulously, enjoying the new tangents these displacements take us.

Here’s to a world where we hold each other with tenderness and joy. 

P.S. Yes, I know the word was ‘confetti.‘ We figured it out before we had our coats on, leaving the party. 

 I have been giggling ever since, and wrote a humorous poem to celebrate the verbal confusion.

I’ve got a poem here about graffiti

oh my! look! such gorgeous graffiti!
toss in the air! celebrate! so dreamy!
jubilant sparkly paper sleeting 
wait
not so 
it ain’t that neaty
fibrous 
      colorful 
             scrappy 
                     streaming
noodly 
        wiggly 
                 shredded 
                           chippies
this word 
eludes 
confounds
perplexy
what the heck is wild paper spaghetti?
macaroni 
         bucatini 
                linguine 
                         rotini 
                               ziti
how did my mind get so cobwebby
I am feeling a wee bit sweaty
you know - scribbly dithery unsteady
ah! sparkly lively flashy confetti

this poem is squirmy springy seedy
stretching me in new ways, sweetie
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Mixtape Poetry

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!
So many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way – Joni Mitchell

My slice today is a response to a “mixtape” prompt by the poet Monica Rico, offered by Suleika Jaouad in her Feb 4, 2024 newsletter on Substack, Prompt 281 Butterfly, Flying Home.  Monica Rico suggests spreading the lyrics of a favorite song across a page and writing in and around the individual words. 

What I find valuable is the ability to speak through something else.  It feels like a prayer. It feels like an offering.

Monica Rico, describing this writing process

This mixtape prompt reminded me of found poetry, which Shawndo Fukano told us about back in April 2023.

I wrote a ‘mixtape’ poem about my morning walk. I had a lot of fun, thinking deeply about the walk alongside and in the midst of one of my favorite songs – Joni Mitchell, singing “Clouds.”

(Did you happen to see Joni Mitchell sing this at the Grammys this past Sunday? Just fabulous!)

I am SO smitten with lenten roses, 
which are in MANY different stages of bloom these days, and 
one of several THINGS that catch my eye 
as I wander the neighborhood. 
Walks WOULD be so much peppier if not for these beauties. 
Oh, and trees. 
I HAVE to pause for winter trees and 
search the sky through their bare branches. 
Winter is far from DONE yet there are 
glimpses of spring everywhere. 
See the gardeners are working in the dirt again. 
The sun is bright BUT  you still need to bundle up. 
The air is so clear, 
it CLOUDS my mind a bit, 
leaving me wondering what I was just thinking about. 
All those to-dos and want-to-dos and must-dos 
that I’ve GOT to do - oh bother, no! 
Not  IN this moment, not on this day. 
MY goodness, listen to the birds! 
This precious day, I’m outside, 
watching the seasons change, 
yes, I’m outside, trying to find my WAY . . . 
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