Clyde is a busy kitten He runs toys up and down the stairs, Hisses at the dog Chases the other cats.
So you’ll understand why it’s such a gift that he has decided to sit next to me while I write — First to stretch and look cute on the cushion next to mine Then right up against my thigh.
He cleans his feet – six toes splayed out Licks his belly He lets me scratch his soft soft head But tries to kill my hand when I rub his belly
Sleeping on my other side, not noticing Clyde- The dog is clueless But, the battle is imminent
You should carry a notebook always If you want to be a writer Like me
So if you think of something hear something see something you can collect it to remember to write later
Any notebook will do I use my notes App Because I can’t be trusted to carry more things around with me I mean, are you kidding me?
Collect those stories and ideas In meetings During D&D Campaigns (Especially, during D&D Campaigns) Before you fall asleep
Only then will you Really Be a Writer Like me
Just this past week I collected stories and ideas In meetings: You get to take the cactus in the end During a D&D Campaign: I might be intimidating without the mockery And my personal favorite … Before I fell asleep: My sfuccte oh c oh dd I be should get f in or hi if cjkefw
So much potential in Collected ideas Plus – Never forget revision, writers I might be intimidating without the mockery You get to take the cactus in the end
My sfuccte oh c oh dd I be should get f in or hi if cjkefw
I may never know what I really wanted to write about the other night. But, at least I wrote it down. At least I wrote it down. Let that be a lesson to you, writers.
it’s been raining, and it’s about to rain again but even dogs who don’t like rain, need walks so Finn and I walk down, around, through the park, back up and around he sniffs the rain-green grass, I sniff the air the smell of the wood burning stove from the house on the corner is my favorite
we cross the quiet street on a diagonal avoid a Prius silently coming closer finn loves the sound of a Prius it’s the sound of someone coming home he stops at the corner, head turned wags his tail sits at perfect attention won’t budge when I ask him to I don’t have the heart to force him, show him I’m boss
the Prius parks the man stares at us Finn’s tail keeps wagging expectantly I want to explain to the man my dog thinks you’re his dad he doesn’t understand that our Prius doesn’t come home anymore that is why we are standing on the corner staring at you and the rain-green grass
I remember sitting on my fiance’s mom’s bed after her husband’s funeral. I was on a corded landline, talking with my high school drama teacher. It was just weeks before my wedding. She told me she hoped I wouldn’t let the death of my fiance’s dad pressure me into changing my name. I didn’t. I kept my name.
I remember my daughter’s birth. I didn’t want to have a name different from hers. So, I filled out paperwork, updated my license and taught everyone at school to call me by my new title. One of the secretaries never got it right. For years, she would call me over the PA system by my old name. I knew she was talking to me though.
A few weeks ago, after my divorce was officially final, I called the Social Security Office, confused. In order to prove I was a real person, I needed all kinds of paperwork. It seemed silly since somewhere I still have the Social Security card that I got when I was like 12. I wondered why I couldn’t just use that and pretend the last few decades never happened. Instead I had to have my doctor’s office give me paperwork proving who I was. Thankfully the doctor agreed, I am indeed a real person.
Today I opened the mail from Social Security and pulled out my new card.
So now, I am officially the old me with my new (old) name on my new social security card that looks a lot like my old old card
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by!
I may not ever be a unicorn, but I am a writer I’ve been thinking about this all-day since I put on the shirt my friend gave me It says “Being a Unicorn was hard, so I decided to become a writer”
I mean, honestly, being a writer is hard too But I can’t stop now I won’t stop now
I had a hilarious chat with a teacher today, and as we laughed and walked our separate ways she called after me, “Don’t write about me!”
I said, “Well, now I kinda have to, right?” But I will respect her wishes. I’ve decided that telling this part of the story doesn’t count.
The thing is, I will keep telling my story And if you are secretly thinking Don’t write about me! I’m here to say It might be too late I will never be a unicorn, but I am will always be a Writer
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by!
When something is bothering me I like to write a little bit of poetry Then I can complain and whine- It’s more fun if you make it rhyme!
I have an annoying stye in the lower lid of my left eye this added much dismay to my sunny, spring otherwise lovely school day
Before this stye came along there were plenty of other things wrong enough stuff to make anyone queasy but blaming the stye? That’s super easy
The world is full of hullabaloo All sorts of real trouble people are attending to Much Worse than my having to be courageous with a little stye that’s not contagious
But this stye In my eye I can’t deny It’s enough to magnify the problems I can’t specify
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by!
Addicted I wrote a limerick example as one way To help teachers who write find a slice today But now I’m conflicted Am I addicted? Or, is it maybe okay?
Teacher Writers This March there are some teachers For writing, they don’t sit in the bleachers They know there’s a way To Slice every day They’re part of our schools’ best features
Speaking of School There once was a year so academic You couldn’t tell there’d been a pandemic I’m kidding you know It does totally show Because the trauma is systemic!
Masks All the learners in school wear a mask It’s not really a whole lot to ask But on Monday, it’s true It’ll be optional for you I hope the teachers are up for the task
Lunchbreak Thought I’d come home for a quick little walk Take the dog once or twice ‘round the block But the cat dragged his butt And there was poop in his strut So I mopped and kept checking the clock
Leadership I was happy to run a teacher-writers meeting We were writing and talking, I was happily leading Until I couldn’t unmute That was really a hoot My leadership? Unfortunately was fleeting!
Slice I could just use the limericks I’ve already written Imperfect, I know but still, I am smitten I’m hooked for sure And I’ve looked, there’s no cure So I hope my limerick slices will still fit in!
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by!
From my chair I see
boats on lifts
waiting to be lowered into
grey green water rippling through
a coastal waterway
From my chair I watch
for dolphins
as they curve in and out of the water
I saw them this morning
But I'm feeling greedy
From my chair I see
an ibis
a heron
I think - I'm not so great with the bird names
From my chair I see
palm trees
sway
as the wind picks up
the birds swoop down
the water ripples
and I watch for
dolphins
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by!
Captain Al described the island as uninhabitable, un-walkable, spooky as we passed an opening where you could almost see through the first layer of twisted roots and branches "I don't think anyone ever wrote a poem about walking through the mangrove island," he said and I took it as a challenge
I've kayaked through mangroves I've touched their branches to push my kayak back on course I've passed by a crocodile, still as a rock sunning on the shore framed by mangroves and other crocodiles too Captain Al himself told us of the hidden prairie as we passed the last key, complete with a beach a family used to come on and off the shore of their home there years ago
Now I learn that mangrove pods contain fully developed miniature mangroves that float horizontally as far away from their parent tree as they can before turning vertical and planting their roots in the muddy ground "Seem familiar?" Captain Al asks
My dad, next to me on the boat asks if this must mean the mangrove islands keep expanding "Oh yes," Captain Al says "Beautiful beaches are temporary."
I probably won't ever walk through the twisting muddy mangrove island where I might finally get a few feet in only to be greeted by a crocodile But I can boat by I can watch the anhingas, herons, osprey and egrets I can peer through the branches I can imagine walking through And I can certainly write a poem
On a Thought 