Last Day of NaBloPoMo and Other Stuff

I am pretty relieved today is the last day of NaBloPoMo. Did you know I have participated for three years in a row?

The first year I was a grand success writing every day, and sometimes more than that! Writing came so easily. Back then.

The second year, I failed fairly miserably by blogging almost well the first two weeks then a major fallout happened. I got lazy. My writing suffered. It was hard to get the words back.

This year, I was a little better than halfway between the two. Glancing back over this month, I posted twenty-two entries in thirty days. Not bad, right? I do know that the more often I practiced writing, the easier the words flowed.

NaBloPoMo is a great exercise in writing. For me.

I'm sure most of us can admit that much of the time there a “hanging over my head” feeling. Some of us kind of felt like [UGH!!!!!]. Am I alone here? I am comfortable in discomfort and tried not to get  too stressed about missing a few days.

And we got here. To the last day.

Last days of one thing are often the first days of something else. When a door closes, a window opens.

What’s up next for me? 

It is time to get ready for Christmas. 

"Christmas is coming; the goose is getting fat. 

Please put a penny in the old man's hat. 

If you haven't got a penny, a ha' penny will do. 

If you haven't got a ha' penny, then God bless you." 

Do you know this song? My daughter used to sing it when she was in early elementary school.

Florida, we are (hopefully) coming for ya in a few weeks!!!

And not one morsel or rivulet of unhealthy food or beverage will pass these lips for one entire week (possibly two). 

Regarding the last thing, you may be thinking, “All work (or entirely healthy things) and no play makes Gina a dull girl.” You’d probably be correct. I am hoping daily yoga smooths over the rough edges of what will probably lead to an exceedingly grumpy demeanor. Doesn’t this make you want to come live with me?!?!?

Time to wrap this baby up!

Congratulations to all who wrote every day in the month of November. I am so happy to have read your words! You inspired and motivated me to push on!

Clear eyes, 

Full hearts, 

Can’t lose.

“Friday Night Lights”

Your One Wild and Precious Life (One of My Favorite Trifecta Entries EVER!!!)

Blogger's Note: I wrote this post on November 27, 2012. I have reposted it every year since on the very same day. Yesterday, I was busy being a day-after-Thanksgiving-Day slug. I forgot. So here it is, a three year old post one day late. 

It remains one of my favorites ever for several reasons. It literally flew off my fingertips conveying my feelings at the time. It was a wholly and intensely cathartic experience. In many ways, I feel the same today as I did then. That is your only clue...

Thanks for re-reading with me.

**********************

This isn’t about anyone, nobody at all. It's where an exhausted mind went one morning in late November. I didn’t question it. I simply ran to catch up.

**********************

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?”

- Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems

Fool me once…

Fool me twice…

They caressed and played with my senses.

Your words,

Written, spoken, poems, songs

Were deceptive.

They're hollow I told you at the time




But still, 

"I believe in your confusion".

Looking back through crystal eyes,

I question you more,

Deeper.

Is it just your heart that's




Misleading, elusive

Or all of you?




You are a shell of the person you could be.




Should.

You appear so hollow.




Merely a shadow of someone

Trapped within yourself




Never able to get out. Be out. Feel free.

Happy there?




Is it safe enough for you?

Does your passion know where you're hiding?

You’ll glance back with regret, longing, distaste, maybe,

At your life, 

For yourself, but

Probably not.

How’s the view from la-la-land?

Would you even admit the truth?

A better question is, do you know it?

So don’t drown in tears from failures and hurts past



When you realize it,

As the movie reel plays it all back.

Premiering today "Your One Wild and Precious Life".




Sit down; get comfortable; admission is free just for you.


"Beautiful Loser" looping in the background.

I hope it doesn't hurt your feelings.




Remember…

You had choices at the forks.

Made one or didn’t

Which is a choice, too.


 

You did it yourself.

Your creation.

It’s all on you.




So what will you make of your allotted one and only?

Do you even know?

I really don't think you have any idea.

I do

For mine and

I'll own everything, too.

I'd rather look back and say,

"I can't believe I did that."

My blessings,

My mistakes.

Mine.

I will wager in pursuit of dreams.

Will you?

I wish on stars for many things,

For you.

And it's the same mistake

Over and over again.

****************************

33-333 words using the third definition:
Hollow: lacking in real value, sincerity, or substance: false, meaningless <hollow promises> <a victory over a weakling is hollow and without triumph - Ernest Beaglehole (who's he?)

There's Got to be a Morning After

I knew going into NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) that I would ultimately fail. Knowing this removed the stress. I didn’t post yesterday. Did you notice?

How was my Thanksgiving?

It was lovely. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I’ve hosted it 26 times so I've got it down, which allows me to go into it relaxed and knowing I will have a wonderful day. I made time for the Rockettes as always. I even caught up on my TIVO a little (The Affair and Survivor if you were wondering.)

The word which comes to mind when I think of Thanksgiving is “teamwork”. I do the majority of the cooking, and I do so happily. I have a pretty good sous chef (the son), a really good “Hazel, the maid” (the hubby), a wonderful event day helper/server/bartender (the daughter), and the resident vacuum cleaner (the dog). It does help having grown children. Oh, and let’s not forget the charming guests (the extended family) and their contributions not limited to the food they brought. It also helped the Bears beat the Packers.

It takes a village to pull off a meaningful Thanksgiving. The food is just background noise no matter how much we love stuffing. The most important ingredients are the loving, generous, and kind people. Check.

P.S. The most generous gift I receive every holiday is my morning after “kitchen fairy” (I don’t know why, but I am instantly reminded of “There’s Got to be a Morning After”, The Poseidon Adventure (1972).). We usually don’t have energy to clean the whole kitchen at night mostly because the dishwasher is already brimmed full and running. By the time I wake up, like today, like every holiday, the kitchen is tidy, dishwasher emptied and reloaded, and the counters are sparkling. I love my “kitchen fairy”.

P.P.S. I went looking for the song. Listening gave me chills and visions of Shelley Winters swimming underwater in the stairwell.

Yeah Write Micro-stories: Weekend Warriors

generationaljustice.net

Tipping his Stetson to a final sunset, Doc turned Betty towards Lost Valley to pack.

He slapped a tip envelope on the desk.

“Gotta fix some teeth so I can return.” [Wink]

Shouldering his duffel, he walked out to the waiting taxi.

I Fell on the Ice Yesterday While Biking

I can’t seem to get off the couch today for more than a minute or two. Actually, the time it takes to go potty. Too much information? Sorry. Hey, at least you’re here. Therefore, I have something to admit.

I fell on a DIVVY bike yesterday. (If you don't know, DIVVYs are those blue bikes you see in cities that you rent to bike from destination to destination.)

In front of a lot of people.

How? Let me explain.

So we had our first winter storm in Chicago. It snowed/slushed/rained on Saturday. It was a frozen tundra by Sunday afternoon, and the perfect time, with wind chill in the teens, to catch a football game with a bunch of college boys. (Remember, we are Bears fans. It’s what we do. We lose, it is also what we do. Thanks, Jay. No wonder everyone drinks a lot of beer.)

After four quarters and a miserable loss, my face was almost as frozen as my toes. Getting home quickly seemed like the right idea. I told the twenty-somethings we were going to gut it out and go. So I’m pretty sure the bike rental was my idea.

It was crowded on museum campus with everyone leaving the game as the six of us got biked up. As soon I as made my first turn, I slid. First my left knee, then hip, then shoulder bounced off the ice glazed concrete. Did I mention it was crowded? 

I got up as quickly as it happened. 

“I’m FINE!” 

Biking is not easy in a puffy, long, down coat and snow boots. Scarves get tangled in handle bars. Gloved hands can’t shift gears. Whose bright idea was this anyway?

As insensitive as this sounds, I did find some joy and comfort in the fact that I wasn’t the only one to fall. One of the boys did, too. He was probably more embarrassed than I was.

So here I lay bruised and battered. Hungry, too, with no energy to find sustenance. I’m feeling pretty pitiful right now.

More Than One Way to Look at Things

I don’t know about you, but I have very little idle time to purely think. It doesn’t drive me to feelings of panic, but I do find some discomfort in it. Like everyone, I sneak deep thought in in-between everything else that is pressing and distracting and occupying my time. At times, I feel cut short. 

That is unless I am underwater, which I routinely am. Aside from recreational diving like when I am at work, I can only really let my mind do what it does best if I am performing a mundane task like cleaning. Don’t know about you, but it’s very rare anymore that I can do anything mindlessly. Where the outside world can't find me. The opportunity to clear the mind and think about nothing, or to ponder a problem. Whatever. 

That’s why I like the early part of my Tuesday mornings. Today. I scrub the inside of a large exhibit tank filled to the brim with pre-historic looking fish (If you watch River Monsters on Discovery Channel, those are the big fish I mean). Really cool, but virtually robotic work. It’s just me, a scrub brush, and some elbow grease for a whole hour. Sometimes I get to catch out a couple of turtles though that’s not the norm but I got to today.

Some mornings I wake up with something already on my mind. Other times, like today, I’ve barely had enough coffee to think straight before I am submerged.

Today was a halfsy. Stuff on my mind, and not fully awake enough to string together anything that made sense (Keep in mind I am in the tank around 6:45 a.m., which is about 40 minutes from the time my alarm goes off.). The water was particularly cold, and I felt a little discombobulated. 

I worked my way up, down and across the pitted exhibit wall covered with a moderate amount of algae due to the lack of strong sunlight at this time of year. My technique is to move along in one direction then cross back over the same area from the opposite side. That way I can see everything from a different angle, in a different light, and notice what I’ve missed because I always miss something.

Then the lightbulb went off (No, it really did.)

This way of looking at something as routine as my Tuesday morning cleaning project from several, or at least two, different angles has application outside of scrubbing an exhibit tank!

I truly comprehend there are two sides to every story. Differing perspectives. I notice the gray. But, being human, I am continually a work-in-progress.

Freezing Chocolate Birthday Presents

For my husband’s birthday a few weeks ago, I gave him a chocolate bar among other things. It was very large, and made of high quality ingredients. Like ordering the best burger with your favorite fixing and fries then saying super-size it please. 

It sat on the center island for a few days. I stared at it every time I passed by.

“Aren’t you going to taste it?”

“Nah, not now.”

“Want me to put it in the freezer?” (Where we keep all the household chocolate because, in my opinion, chocolate tastes better frozen. Hmmm, I wonder if he feels the same way? [shrugs shoulders] Never asked.)

As I said, this was three weeks ago. Since then there hasn’t been a time I’ve passed the freezer without thinking about it being on the top rack under the Malted Milk Balls. Anyone can see it if they look around a bit. Okay, it is hidden.

He’s never asked about it since, and he goes into the freezer every night for grapes. Because he’s good. Though probably he can’t see it on the shelf where I put it. I wonder if he’s forgotten about it?

I kind of hope so because as of a few moments ago, there’s only about one tenth of that part of his birthday present left.

Oops.

You Made an Ass Out of Me: Yeah Write Microstories

devianart.com

I heaved it effortlessly; 

children playing catch. 

You turned it around lackadaisically 

while I looked away. Seeing us.

Trusting, happily distracted, and assuming 

you had it. But you were reckless.

Together, we watched it shatter.

I’m right where I started.

Fooled and

Erehwon.

On Writing: A Good Question With A Great Answer

(This post first appeared on the blog one year ago today. I still think about this when I begin each and every post, and if you noticed, I deleted part of my post from yesterday.)

flavorwire.com

The extremely talented writer, Gillian Flynn, answered the following question today on Goodreads.

"When you write something like Gone Girl, or Sharp Objects, are you afraid of hurting your husband's or your mom's feelings with the things you say about those relationships that, granted, are not necessarily autobiographical, but that may contain half-truths drawn from real life? How do you handle that kind of situation?"

Gillian's response:

“Great question. I've learned that you can't worry and write at the same time. If you let yourself go down that road, then what you do (and believe me, I've done this) is write with a little nagging angel on your shoulder, who's wringing her hands and worrying that people might get upset. It's not a good way to write well. So I put everyone out of my head and write the story I need to write. Then I have a very important and useful conversation with those close to me. For instance, the mother in Sharp Objects is nothing like my mom and my husband and I are nothing like the Dunnes, but I think it's completely viable for them to ask me any questions they'd like—and I certainly want to know if they feel I've mined something unfairly from our relationships. (I try very hard to avoid the autobiographical, and if a character starts feeling too much like someone I know in real life, I take that as a sign I'm being lazy.) Thankfully I happen to be blessed with friends and family and a husband who love books and love that I'm a writer and respect that my imagination can take me to some very unsavory places that have nothing to do with them.”

I love her answer. It is something I have thought about, and still struggle with, every time I write anything. What will someone else think? Will they somehow see themselves in my tale? I have had to remind people that a piece is FICTION several times. 

Do you ever think about the impact your writing may have on your relationships when you put fictional, or even non-fictional, words to paper? 

Last Night's Weird Dreams

I had two dreams last night that I remember.

Dream 1:

The first was set in a U.S. city, not sure which and didn’t seem like Chicago. I was in a French restaurant (I was recently in France so this makes some sense.), and the proprietress announced to the diners she had a nearby property that would be perfectly suited for another French restaurant and she wanted one of us diners to do it. I raised my hand, “I will.” I promptly left on vacation to who knows where. During my vacation, I decided there was no feasible way for me to take on this project. I didn’t have the knowledge of French cooking, running a restaurant or the funds to do so. Upon my return, I stopped by to inform the proprietress of my decision, and she eagerly grabbed my arm, lead me a few doors down, and presented me with the property that she had renovated while I was away. It was almost finished, bright yellow, and very cute yellow and red curtains. “I suppose I could give it a try.” There were other people touring “my” restaurant at the time and a turned to a young woman asking, “Can you cook French food?” She said, “Of course!” “You’re hired!!!” I went outside to the front sidewalk where there was a chalkboard. I started filling in daily specials in French (I was just in France; I know a little French.) and, right then and there, wrote down the name of my new restaurant!

French, The Restaurant

(Dreamers note: A bit of information I discovered in France was that they are not very creative in their naming of buildings. They name it the exact words as the service it will provide. Not very clever at all. Hence the name of my new restaurant.)

Dream 2:

Someone has passed away, someone I know very well. Everyone I know is grief stricken. I am left alone in a room with someone with whom I am very angry. In a whisper hiss voice, I proceed to unload on this person ripping them for their selfish and inconsiderate behavior for how they treated someone else extremely important to me. This person knows where my allegiance stands. I was completely eloquent and thorough. Everything I said made perfect sense, in perfectly chosen words. And all of it was perfectly true. I woke up.

(Dreamer’s note: DELETED (by dreamer)) 

Random Thoughts Thursday: NaBloPoMo (Day...?)

When you decide to blog every day, there are going to be those where you are short on time, extremely busy and distracted.

Today is one of those days…

I heard a morsel of information this morning that I decided to take on faith. I am not going to “Google” or “Wiki” it so take the leap with me. 

Did you know that grasshoppers can only jump forward?  That means not sideways, or backwards. Be that grasshopper only moving forward. I like this. “Grasshoppers for $500 Alex”.

You know how I hate Costco, right? It’s not only the parking lot and crowds. Who doesn’t spend a freaking fortune on things they really don’t need? I ended up with a $210 bill when I only went in there for some pork tenderloin. I guess I needed a new puffy coat for this next Chicago winter. The Farmer’s Almanac says it’s going to be another doozy. 

I forgot to mention in my post about books yesterday that I am also listening to A Bollywood Affair. I’ll get back to you on the author. Little known fact about me… I love all things Bollywood especially the movies. This book, so far, is entertaining and light and exactly what I need for the car and walking to work.

Speaking of work, the fish need to be fed. And that’s my job.

WWW.Wednesday: What Are You Reading?

What are you reading?

WWW.Wednesday  is no longer a meme. And even though it’s been ages since I have blogged about reading, Wednesdays, in my mind, always pose the question…

What are you reading?

So nice of you to ask! I have so many books half-started. I should qualify this by telling you what I am actively reading. The Grownup by Gillian Flynn (who doesn’t know her?) and Slade House by David Mitchell. So I’m a little late to the Halloween party reading these horror-esque type novels. So what?

What have you recently finished?

Excommunicados by Charles Haverty. I have no idea how this book showed up on my doorstep. Truly. But thankfully it did, accompanied by another book whose title eludes me. Excommunicados is a short story collection published by University of Iowa Press. When I think of University of Iowa, I think of the prestigious Iowa Writer’s Workshop. Guess what? This book is outstanding. The stories are unique and compelling. The characters are flawed, big time, and struggle with life (who doesn't?) and what it all mean. I love that! Felt to me like stories written by Tom Barbash (one of my favorites) and Charles Baxter. I am a complete fan of the short story genre. Even if you are not, this might be one to change your mind. I highly recommend it.

What will you read next?

Oh, I don’t know. At some point, I need to give a giant tome called A Little Life a whirl. How about I tell you next week…

So what are you reading and recommending these days?

Sweet Baby Ray: NaBloPoMo Day 3

amazon.com

I am a quote lover and one that routinely comes into my mind has been attributed to Maya Angelou:

“I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage and tangled Christmas tree lights.”

Who hasn’t had any of these happen? Has anyone had a double up like me (lost luggage in the rain)?

For years, 26 of 'em, we’ve had a Christmas decorating routine. Hubby sets up the tree with my help. He puts on the lights because it’s prickly, and he does such a fabulous job hiding the wires. I hang the ornaments. In theory, it is a good plan.

Countless times when the kids were little, we would decorate the tree the day following hubby’s setup. Every time it seemed to me the branches needed the tiniest bit of tidying up before hanging the ornaments. Invariably, I’d get distracted and cut a wire shorting the whole tree. Darn it anyway!

Year after year, this would happen.

Year after year, hubby would go to OSCO for more lights to restring. (The following year he'd remind me not to trim. Do I listen?)

I truly applaud his patience and mild temperament because I probably would have expressed my frustration far less calmly. Just a helpful hint, hide behind a kid if this happens to you!

I’ve seen a multitude of veins almost bursting over lost luggage.

Carrying an umbrella is a must if you live in Chicago in the Springtime. Or Summer, and sometimes Winter.

If I may, I would like to add to Maya’s list. The accidental coverage in Sweet Baby Ray’s. Yes, this indeed happened to me on Sunday while tailgating before a football game at Soldier Field (Yes, the Bears STINK!!!).

I heard the gasp before reality sunk in. My shoes, socks and, fresh out of the dryer clean jeans were completely sauced in wet goo. It's a documented fact I hate to do laundry. 

The guy, who dropped the Costco sized container, felt horrible. I had to stop him from mopping off my pants.

All I could think to say was, 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. My dog will love me when I get home.”

As a bonus, I did score grilled shrimp, a beer, and a cupcake later.

Some things simply aren’t worth making a fuss over.

Am I? Am I not? #NaBloPoMo

The simplest answer is I don’t know yet. I have participated in NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month, for the last two years. 

In 2013, I even impressed myself by blogging each and every day. It was tiresome, yet extremely rewarding. I felt, it felt, good.

In 2014, I missed a few days, but was determined to take it in stride, and pick up where I left off. No harm, no foul. I blogged much more than anticipated. I felt happy. Writing felt good.

So here we are, 2015, and I am bouncing around the idea of doing it again. I know, for sure, that putting something to page each and every day dramatically improves my writing. It's a known fact about practice. I’m scared, though, that I won’t have the time. I'm scared I will find something else to do. 

Here is were the “cut myself some slack” talk comes in. If I post one-fifth of what I have in the last few month, which is virtually nothing, I am way ahead. 

Maybe I will make a few new blog friends. Maybe I will learn some interesting things. Quite possibly I'll get reacquainted, and semi-intimate, with my inner muse. All wins, right?

And then there is the (self-inflicted) peer pressure! My blog roll is full of writers excited for the November to begin. And writing!!!!! I want this feeling. I want to be excited. I don't want to miss out on the fun; I suffer from FOMO sometimes.

I have until November 5th to decide. Today, I am in! I hope that goes for tomorrow, too, and the next day, and the day after that, and the day after…

Are you in or out?

Poems While You Wait

I turned a corner in the crowded Randolph Street Market yesterday, and almost ran right into “Poems While You Wait”, a group of poets, five yesterday, who routinely makes the Market/Charity Event/Art Festival circuit, or so I was told. Sadly, I had never heard of them before.They directed me to their Tumblr here for more detailed information.

Never mind what they were actually doing. Writing poetry on the spot for a $5.00 donation. The fact that they set up a makeshift writing shop on simple cafe tables, used only vintage manual typewriters, with real typing paper, almost gave me the thrill chills. 

My daughter even responded, “This is so cool!” 

It is! And it was!!!

Of course, my daughter also thought the typewriters were prehistoric. But to me, it felt like a comforting sigh, so nostalgic. I received one right before I left for college, typed all my term papers on it, changed the ribbons, and fixed type bars. It probably would have been wise, at the time, to purchase stock in “White Out”.

So this is the concept of “Poems While You Wait” (taken directly from their Tumblr):

• Step 1

We show up ~ with Royal, Smithy, & Olly.

• Step 2

You show up ~ with your poetry topic ~ & for a suggested donation of $5 commission an original poem from us.

• Step 3

You go away ~ this is the “wait” part of Poems While You Wait.

• Step 4

You return ~ 15-20 minutes later ~ & retrieve the poem we typed out for you.

• Step 5

You go away again ~ this time with an artifact, a souvenir, a gift from us to you & from you to who-knows-who, a memory of an unpretentious human interaction which resulted in … fun, which is just another word for poetry.

• 100% of proceeds go to support the non-profit literary publisher Rose Metal Press

Here’s a picture from yesterday:

The topic on the sheet ahead of mine was “He proposed to me on a horse. He is allergic to horses.” This made me laugh, but what a great poem this will be!!!

Here are a few examples I pulled off their Tumblr page:

Love them!!!

Mine are clever and quirky and will become framed gifts, and I am so excited to give them. Maybe more than anything else.

The best part of this for me???

See Step 5.

Unpretentious human interaction!!!!! A special gift. FUN!!!!!

I am going to stalk them.