We are taking two days off from painting the outside of our home. There are strong wind advisories in our area today and tomorrow. Sand is blowing, creosotes are whipping the air, and we are staying snuggly indoors. However, it is not very comforting to look around my living room and see this mess.
I hate that my living room looks like this,
hijacked by renovation debris:
I love that there is hope for
restoration, relaxation, renewal
And eventual “after” photos
Today’s prompt, “Lament and Celebrate“, is from Andrew Moore at Ethical ELA’s Open Write.
Thinking of ingredients in my kitchen:
rice, beans, tofu, oil, garlic, onions,
so many.
Which is most important?
None of those.
Perhaps there is only one
we can’t live without–
Water–
the unsung, unmentioned
ingredient in most recipes.
I use it in everything, really.
It takes the crunch out of pasta,
puts the porridge in oatmeal, and–
stop a second and imagine with me–
How would tea and coffee be without it?
It covers a multitude of issues,
A stew multiplies into a soup
A thick, globby mess transforms into gravy
A varnished stir fry pan (looking impossible
to clean) magically deglazes into rich broth
Water saves a dehydrated person,
Removes paint* from skin,
And, on and on
Of course, as you know,
the water usage list is endless
Which reminded me today
of you, the Living Water.
Moses hit you in the desert
and you poured out for all
the thirsty rebels
When you were by the well
You asked her
for a drink of water.
Suffering in the heat of the day,
she drew water up
in her leather bucket
and gave some to you–
clear, cool, hydrating.
Then you gave her Living Water
so she’d never thirst again
You saw her, redeemed her.
She learned, as I can,
about living water
the one I can’t live without–
the one I can’t Love without.
*Painting went well today, believe it or not!
This post is from a prompt “Ingredients” by John Noreen at Ethical ELA Open Write. Join us?
With so many wonderful opportunities, I hope I can build up my writing consistency again.
Today is Twosday, 2-22-22. Or as they write the date in most of the world: 22-2-22. I saw that Twosday was a day for Wordle in two guesses, which happened to be what I did it in today too. That was a weirdness.
Wordle 248 2/6
⬜🟨🟩🟩⬜
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩
This week was also the time for the February Open Write at Ethical ELA, so below I’m sharing the poems we wrote this week. Check out the links below for some great prompts and mentor texts to use in your classroom.
Sometimes in this desert
where my grandpa and grandma lived
in separate houses
and Aunt Thelma fed the road runners
little pills of raw hamburger
and Uncle Arthur and his donkey
mined for gold
and Uncle Guy and Uncle Andrew
watched sports and drank beer
and my cousins made houses of art
and my sister still puts puzzles together
juggling eight houses
decorated and equipped
for weekend hikers
I wonder what I will do and become
and what memories I will leave
for the young ones
who watch me
You have served me well.
There were days I thought I
needed to look different,
better, more like society’s ideal.
But then I learned you are all mine,
and you are a glorious gift.
A glorious gift that was knitted together
by the creator of the universe,
kissed by an angel, and set
on this earth to love and be loved.
I abused you at times–
too much food, too little exercise.
But you have held up quite well
for me,
in spite of me.
You have proven versatile–
you’ve hit and caught thousands of softballs,
you’ve swum and run and walked in beautiful places,
you’ve birthed two babies,
you’ve given me kidneys enough to share,
you’ve helped me love to eat legumes and veggies,
and just today you let me
dismantle an abandoned pack rat’s nest,
pull down and set the ramp on a U-Haul truck,
and ride my fat tire bike in the sand.
I’ve entered my seventh decade with
a few bumps and bruises,
sore joints, excess cholesterol,
new artificial lenses in my eyes,
and other weaknesses,
but I love you,
and I just wanted to tell you so.
Opel Kadett Estate
minted in 1967
A decade later it
became my first car baby
A real red Valentine
presented to me
by my mom for my senior year
A show-stopping heartthrob
that cost a precious $250.
A delicious cherries jubilee rave
that all my friends loved to ride in
A charismatic bolero dance,
this little beauty was all mine.
The very first week
that obnoxious “check oil” light kept
showing up on my instrument panel.
That little radish shrilled its warning.
I knew how to check the oil
I can pull out the dipstick
So I checked it lots of times,
all week.
The oil was always fine,
never low.
So I kept driving it.
Another week later
there would be no more driving it.
The motor had burned out.
Today, Dr. Kim Johnson has introduced us to paint chip poetry at the Ethical ELA Open Write. I found some beautiful paint names and gave it a try about the view from my window. I used Sherwin-Williams Color Sample Chart to choose my colors. I highlighted the 16 paint chip names I wrote with today.
There’s s a full moon shining tonight
So cold, the stardew has fallen and gathered on the sand Moth wings glimmer, their free spirit soars sky high
Thinking they are keeping the moon in sight
They actually frolic just around my porch light blushing in their undignified beating, their alabaster pollen powder sprinkling the air as they dream big Billowy breezes, cheerful and undercool make me
Think of the heartfeltdelight I carry in this earthen jug
It is time for a lesson for all us whites. Is justice and peace better 55 years after he said it? An unapologetic MLK prophesied. Listen we must. Aspect 1 is that he was killed for speaking so frankly of injustice and the complicity of white silence. Let his words be their healing, our healing. It’s been said, Sense of racism we all suffer. We all are of the same truth–no justice, no peace. There’s not superiority in having different skin color. Putting that into perspective…is there superiority in the size shoe you wear? Since 1619 similar people have tried to justify injustice. A mass of privilege led to silence and denial. The effort America has taken to hide in white fears, to believe whites are more. We need to reeducate. They need, we need to know 40 acres and a mule would themselves have been a much more productive effort. Old ideas out, so we can educate ourselves out of little and fearful thinking. We can humbly bow to their to-finally-have-justice lives of color. We can give up fearing, own, learn, act to take out white supremacy, and bury our ignorance.
Stacey Joy has shared an accessible poetry prompt using lists, inspired by Kwame Alexander’s poem “Ten Reasons Why Fathers Cry at Night.” You can read the whole prompt and Stacey’s mentor poem here at Ethical ELA.
Seven Reasons to Fix That Broken Thing
Because a new one costs more money,
and extra money can be used wisely.
Because it will save space in the landfill,
and the world does not need extra stuff.
Because we can call it retro or antique,
and it suits our dusty homesteader cabin.
Because when it’s finished it will be useful,
and it will make me happy to know I fixed it.
Because it is just like one that I grew up with,
and it reminds me of my grandma.
Because we’re not working right now,
and we have lots more time than we used to.
Because it is rewarding to work with our hands,
even though my hands
are now dry
and cracked
and splintered
from this
wintry
desert.
But that’s another list.
Susie Morice has given a great writing prompt today related to cars. Check it out here at today’s Ethical ELA’s Open Write.
Opel Kadett Estate
minted in 1967
A decade later it
became my first car baby
A real red Valentine
presented to me
by my mom for my senior year
A show-stopping heartthrob
that cost a precious $250.
A delicious cherries jubilee rave
that all my friends loved to ride in
A charismatic bolero dance,
this little beauty was all mine.
The very first week
that obnoxious “check oil” light kept
showing up on my instrument panel.
That little radish shrilled its warning.
I knew how to check the oil
I can pull out the dipstick
So I checked it lots of times,
all week.
The oil was always fine,
never low.
So I kept driving it.
Another week later
there would be no more driving it.
The motor had burned out.
(to be continued!)