Monday Random: Thanksgiving is (was)

  • great leftovers
  • a healthy dose of family guilt
  • overdose on stuffing and green bean casserole
  • lack of affection for poultry for the next two months
  • a lot of dishes
  • few offers to help with said dishes
  • joy at seeing what the next generation is up to
  • old pictures
  • old stories
  • Continue reading “Monday Random: Thanksgiving is (was)”


Monday Random


  • I baked a chicken dish this week that was delicious.
  • Sadly I do not think I can repeat it, as I cooked as if I were painting or writing words, and wrote nothing down

balsamic chicken.jpg

  • Our local grocery had chicken quarters for 39 cents a pound, so I couldn’t resist, especially since that is my favourite part of the bird, especially the thighs
  • Hubby is a breast man
  • Basically it was salt, black pepper, chili powder, granulated garlic, onion powder, thyme, rosemary, basil, and turmeric. I basted it every half hour at 375F with bottled balsamic salad dressing.
  • It got all brown and sticky and moist, very rich. Great over rice.
  • NaNoWriMo is here once more
  • For the uninitiated, the idea is to write a 50k word novel in 30 days
  • From the past ventures, I have 1 rough draft and two unfinished novels
  • I can’t seem to finish
  • Is this laziness, or was I built more for sprints than long distance running?
  • Not giving up
  • Besides I need a break from sewing these little felt things I’ve been poking at for months now.
  • I really thought the craft show would go better, but it takes time to get how it all works and how to market oneself, even at a 6×3 foot table
  • Even after sending gifts I still have a good hundred at least of these little felt Christmas ornaments and key chains. The majority are keychains.
  • If you hit me up in e-mail or my contact page, and paypal me 25 bucks, I’ll send you a dozen assorted little bears and hearts and things, (US only) and for another five bucks, I’ll throw in an original poem signed by me
  • I really do have to recoup some of my material costs
  • Then I will start again
  • On the positive side, my sewing skills are getting better, and I have many new projects for the coming year
  • I am getting a bit of arthritis, and I never will forget my mother telling me the secret is to keep your fingers busy
  • If you get idle, they will get gnarled up and not work anymore for you
  • If they are kept industrious, they still might get gnarly in time, but they won’t stop working, and that’s what I want.
  • After all, I could live to be a hundred
  • So it is monday again, and at my house that means gray and rain and talk of snow at the end of the week
  • Illinois folks learn to be resilient so we are geared up with our mittens and our ice scrapers and drive on without a thought about snow before Thanksgiving.
  • Not a thought
  • (sob!)

Enjoy your Monday! It is the only one that will ever be just like today.

Here’s some kind of chill groove I have been listening to while writing this morning

she doesn’t know who she is
all the clouds look like rain
every man walks by
in a white t-shirt and faded jeans

no one asks her
who she is
no one wants to know
where she came from

all her weather she brings with her
all the storms she leaves behind

the heat came quick
just after the rain
forming clouds before my eyes
hovering there

my fingers play in them
like a child
making new shapes
every time his face appears


there were the autumn trees the year we were in love, colors brighter than I had imagined under New England skies. And later, when I broke your heart. You broke mine soon after, tearing it apart

one year we missed the fall entirely, sliding from Labor Day straight into Christmas, unprepared for the onslaught–we were there but we were caught

then there was last year–when you opened your heart some and closed a wound. I’ll never forget, and always treasure, hoping you do not close it once more on those days when I am lost without measure

In November, the sun came out and got in my eyes, the joy of a cool morning after stepping from a furnace. Our leftovers from last Thanksgiving finding their way into a perfect day, trees shining, fluttering in a breeze

a month later, the winter wind cut through me like a filet knife–don’t be unkind, we all have weather and some coats are thin. I could see your eyes correcting my grammar (and punctuation)

and this morning, sun climbing through the fog and into a day, like no other that has gone before, but still feels familiar. Leaves. Sky. Hope. Littering. Leaping through hoops once you’ve set them on fire



Wardrobe change

Sunrise june 4

The sky is changing once more
her dark gown for morning
her shimmering, chameleon of a gown
that is gold at once, and then fuchsia

no matter the night I have had
the seagulls do what they do
scanning the parking lot for leavings
before the first crew comes to sweep

despite my heart aching – the dew
is still there covering the grass
and the roses just shy, waiting to open
with full sunshine, yes they have their parts

and they just go on, don’t they
go on as always, the birds and the grass
no matter how we are broken up or feel
as though our lives have stopped