tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70722526721146707982024-03-15T21:11:12.211-04:00The Writer's GardenMarilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comBlogger244125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-86417750311361719632024-03-14T22:46:00.000-04:002024-03-14T22:46:05.910-04:00My husband is the sexiest man alive<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQIMPvhnONibpUg6SBR1FYAO9iBhbGcQNd5D1JJUPr2d90jSStcyO2sKfy1s3oiYEpZB_fs8gz6Rfbhp6heUpHtkiYHJmbzS-9vbO1g9BxtDBakmC9dCiFk64IT4zqAyzPH-QhYxUjw4ooWaUXOq6ohVr5KYBeBzxkJTQ1F2xd1wQGNyXZsNz-QJVLaiz/s160/10334401_10204467402505942_4476823369657975586_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="160" data-original-width="160" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlQIMPvhnONibpUg6SBR1FYAO9iBhbGcQNd5D1JJUPr2d90jSStcyO2sKfy1s3oiYEpZB_fs8gz6Rfbhp6heUpHtkiYHJmbzS-9vbO1g9BxtDBakmC9dCiFk64IT4zqAyzPH-QhYxUjw4ooWaUXOq6ohVr5KYBeBzxkJTQ1F2xd1wQGNyXZsNz-QJVLaiz/s1600/10334401_10204467402505942_4476823369657975586_n.jpg" width="160" /></a></div><br />My husband and I met in college. I was energetically pursuing my degree and he had taken up residence in the cafeteria, energetically pursuing a world record in coffee drinking. He would speak ex cathedra from his monobloc chair on the evils of Reaganomics, British motorcycles and the poetry of Pink Floyd. He smoked like an old Dodge with bad exhaust. Dressed in his prized American made black leather jacket and smelling deliciously of Aqua Velva, this guy was mouthy, cocksure and funny as hell.<p></p><p>He had a lopsided smile that managed to be silly and seductive all at the same time. When he smiled at you, you felt like the prettiest girl in the world and wanted very much to have babies with him. His blue eyes shone like Lake Michigan after a storm. </p><p>In a time when you were one or the other, Albert was both. Or neither. He's a gear head philosopher. A Catholic liberal. A progressive anachronism. His favorite books were Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, The Communist Manifesto, The Complete Joy of Homebrewing and Animal Farm. </p><p>He can repair anything, from our daughter's necklace to our son's Firebird. All while deconstructing the Weimar Republic. Or some obscure part of a Royal Enfield. He loves Polish food, Armenia, IPA, women of every color, stray cats and babies. He's not ashamed to cry, laugh and hug his boys. </p><p>He goes to confession every week and really does try to swear less afterward. He's as rambunctious as a Michigan thunderstorm and his anger blows over about as quickly. He reads stories to the kids, decorates with cheesy streamers for each birthday, is ruthless at Battleship, tells every he loves them every day, is kind to everyone and has even been known to paint his little daughter's toenails. </p><p> 37 years, six babies, including two stillborn daughters and 11 grandkids later his smile still charms and the baby blues still shine. He still has that child-like joie-de-vivre. The hair is a little more silver but he still works 12-hour nights and makes me coffee every morning. </p><p>This man and I have been up more steep hills and down into more deep valleys than I could count or rename. I'm sure there are more. And we haven't even gotten started traveling! So the rest of the world has yet to meet us! I'm glad indeed to have such a sexy guy to go through life with. Ad Infinitum et Aeternum, lover boy.</p>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-44337125700326796622024-03-14T21:49:00.000-04:002024-03-14T21:49:01.141-04:00The Little Girl at the Window<p> a chubby little girl with a permanent squint that looks like a scowl</p><p>that's what I see in my kiddie pics</p><p>what was I thinking behind that funny, awkward face?</p><p>I don't remember</p><p><br /></p><p>I don't recall a bedroom. Or bed.</p><p>What was the wallpaper like? </p><p>I lived in so many places. </p><p>38 before 20, if I counted them all</p><p><br /></p><p>I can't visualize a dinner table </p><p>except at the grama-grampa house</p><p>There are few doing-stuff together memories </p><p>I played alone a lot </p><p><br /></p><p>I wandered around cities alone</p><p>at 6</p><p>I was a latchkey before it was a thing</p><p>I was sick alone</p><p><br /></p><p>I never called any place "my" home</p><p>It was always dad's or mom's </p><p>And later stepmom's or stepdad's </p><p>I "lived with" them, I said</p><p><br /></p><p>I slept on their couches</p><p>On makeshift beds with someone else's pillow</p><p>On unheated porches</p><p>in the baby's room </p><p><br /></p><p>toys came and went with no warning</p><p>One day they were there </p><p>and the next, they were gone</p><p>sold, I think. I never asked. </p><p><br /></p><p>food was thin on the ground</p><p>vitamins for breakfast </p><p>a power bar for lunch and salad for supper </p><p>I have stolen food before</p><p><br /></p><p>Chores were never in short supply</p><p>lists and lists for me to do</p><p>no one else </p><p>just me</p><p><br /></p><p>I've always felt outside</p><p>looking in other families' homes</p><p>my little face pressed to the window</p><p>steaming up the glass with my breath</p><p><br /></p><p>Always seeing but never really seen</p><p>till someone needed something </p><p>a job done or a target</p><p>Apart but not a part</p><p><br /></p><p>I never felt anything about it</p><p>I'm told I looked miserable</p><p>at family gatherings</p><p>I can't remember those either</p><p><br /></p><p>I didn't know it was wrong</p><p>this nothing having but work</p><p>I know now it was.</p><p>At least, I think I do.</p><p><br /></p><p>I still don't feel it's wrong</p><p>for me anyway</p><p>for others it would be</p><p>For my kids, hell yes</p><p><br /></p><p>They had beds and toys </p><p>some are still in the basement</p><p>and memories</p><p>happy and a few sad</p><p><br /></p><p>I still cook oversized meals</p><p>even though they've flown</p><p>I treasure their drawings</p><p>and stuffed animals</p><p><br /></p><p>I'm feeding the little girl at the window</p><p>I gave her a bed and some toys</p><p>She has a home</p><p>She can call it hers</p><p><br /></p><p>She still frosts up the glass</p><p>when she forgets she can come in</p><p>or is afraid to</p><p>or locks herself out</p><p><br /></p><p>She still stays small </p><p>But she's staying longer</p><p>and smiling more</p><p>and remembering</p><p><br /></p><p>Amen</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-2261669193633650132023-03-15T23:09:00.003-04:002024-02-12T12:11:15.724-05:00Just a wave upon the sand? What do you do when someone you didn't know, but yet you did, dies?<div><br /></div><div>One of my four current favorite authors, in whose books I've dwelt in for hours and days on end, passed.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was following his blog and saw he was ill. The C word. Plus early pre-vax Covid. I waited for new books. Like e selfish child who expects papa to play on his deathbed. </div><div><br /></div><div>I guess you can't write much when you are sick.</div><div>Then I got ill and busy with other series. Like a friend you lose track of (Forget) while making new. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then I found the last book I'd been too cheap to buy, at the library. And I checked his blog and he was dead. </div><div><br /></div><div>He was funny. He cared about pandemics and comics and London. and people who suffered in pandemics. Kept us posted on Covid in London. </div><div><br /></div><div>I feel that somehow, his detectives Bryant & May (not the matches which I guess were a brand in England) should honor their creators passing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Like Holmes and Poirot, Alleyn.and Wimsey, Arthur Bryant and John May must have a life beyond their writers. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wish I could have sent a tribute to the funeral. Or told his husband I was sorry. And thank you for it all. </div><div><br /></div><div>For the underground rivers and Carnaby Street and Mr. Punch and old St Pancras and the Peculiar Crimes Unit, which should have existed, thanks. </div><div><br /></div><div>Someday I will get to London. And most of the quirky bits, and much of the important will have come from Bryant and May and Meera and Janice and Raymond and Crippen and Fowler. </div><div><br /></div><div>Eternal rest, Christopher Fowler (1953-2023, in the 69 club with Bowie and Rickman and Petty)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-60857206233563072862023-02-05T19:03:00.003-05:002024-02-12T13:07:24.116-05:00Campfire music and lightning bugs or fireflies<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhielzQLhPJ0ptR1IJwNz2hfb1KRmtQW0SC2zDllaG5psMZojeBlLh5we0vfEviRoh4g_3iehDp6CwczlLVSR7acX-oSa-yndUgBYUvCAkVMW2aIkOcoJ0oXabVqsDvW7euD3T79oTtbP5snZKUkReJ1DUHGqDiV3ObgbtKJhuCFfruQ2zGarYTZPUxJQ/s143/woods.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="95" data-original-width="143" height="95" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhielzQLhPJ0ptR1IJwNz2hfb1KRmtQW0SC2zDllaG5psMZojeBlLh5we0vfEviRoh4g_3iehDp6CwczlLVSR7acX-oSa-yndUgBYUvCAkVMW2aIkOcoJ0oXabVqsDvW7euD3T79oTtbP5snZKUkReJ1DUHGqDiV3ObgbtKJhuCFfruQ2zGarYTZPUxJQ/s1600/woods.jpg" width="143" /></a></div><br /> (part two on my ode to the humble, yet gestalt campfire)<p></p><p><br /></p><p>Busy, buzzy, ringy-dinging</p><p>shouting, scolding, swearing, slinging</p><p>Bashing, dashing, banging, crashing</p><p>Rushing feet and teeth gnashing </p><p><br /></p><p>What a weird, wild wacky</p><p>wonky, work-a-day world: </p><p>the horror show called grownup</p><p>Where everyone races but no one wins</p><p><br /></p><p>Mr. Grinch was framed</p><p>It wasn't Christmas he minded </p><p>But the NOISE NOISE NOISE</p><p>Assaulting ears and peace of mind </p><p><br /></p><p>Come away from the roar</p><p>the gardinkers and Tom-tookers</p><p>the hustle and hassle</p><p>the tussle and worry-hurry</p><p><br /></p><p>Come to the big lake</p><p>on a Michigan summer night</p><p>hear soft smooth soul fixing sounds</p><p>of earth and wind and fire</p><p><br /></p><p>Campfire kindling trackle, crackles</p><p>Birch wood sizzle-hissle whistles</p><p>Swallows singing swan songs</p><p>Wakey bats echolocating bugs</p><p><br /></p><p>sensual sklush of lake-surf surge</p><p>Sklish-swish, moan-groan wind</p><p>Nearing thunder crumble crunching</p><p>Misty, moisty crickle-trickle rain </p><p><br /></p><p>And we by the campfire sit</p><p>Loathe to go in and end the night</p><p>Companionably conversing </p><p>on nothing and everything</p><p><br /></p><p>Where the most stressful </p><p>topic for evening discussion</p><p>is whether they are called</p><p>lightning bugs or fireflies</p><p><br /></p>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-81170605262715094662023-02-05T18:09:00.005-05:002023-02-05T19:41:26.034-05:00Of campfires and marshmallows on a Michigan summer night<p>Michigan midsummer's eve</p><p>Of campfires and pine smoke</p><p>And flimsy folding chairs </p><p>Dad rescued from a junk pile</p><p><br /></p><p>Roasting marshmallow on branches</p><p>because mom is too cheap </p><p>to spring for sticks or metal forks</p><p>Spiky, unsanitary and single use</p><p><br /></p><p>But good for mass toasting</p><p>and beating of brothers </p><p>and launching fiery sticky projectiles</p><p>for no particular reason</p><p><br /></p><p>Wielding flaming marshmallow torches</p><p>Like maniacal villagers raising hue and cry</p><p>scaring shrieking little siblings</p><p>and getting scolded for waste</p><p><br /></p><p>On toasting styles, to plunge or not to plunge?</p><p>coveting Grama's patient golden perfection</p><p>but usually too lazy to slow roast</p><p>incinerating in one fell swoop</p><p><br /></p><p>Burning fingers and tongue</p><p>on ash-dropped incendiaries</p><p>Never knowing which is best</p><p>Blackened crunchy shell or gooey white innards</p><p><br /></p><p>On recipes, S'mores sometimes</p><p>just marshmallows mostly</p><p>mom is also too cheap for</p><p>whole dollar Hershey bars</p><p><br /></p><p>Stubborn marshmallow prints on hands</p><p>resist scrub, remain till Sunday morning</p><p>Surreptitiously sucking fingers in church, </p><p>Reveling in campfire Saturday night </p><p><br /></p><p>Epilogue:</p><p><br /></p><p>The poet lacks the lexicon</p><p>to convey just how magnificent </p><p>the universe of memories made </p><p>on a Michigan campfire night</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-91329166576926047842021-02-05T15:26:00.004-05:002021-02-06T14:01:31.452-05:00The Tao of Grama: a belated eulogy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFD5-6vIzgzb2EIEGOBpmq1b6wkO7-kO3abRq4wI90yfoH2AANJ2R9AxZXcfNaBe1_iA_aRlqimqkS9bMppeccS4xUpPA26Q7PAfsNTYpECaEw5EuxW3G1eTVFBAyB9UBKrovXM7vjQszD/s3264/IMG_20210205_154914.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFD5-6vIzgzb2EIEGOBpmq1b6wkO7-kO3abRq4wI90yfoH2AANJ2R9AxZXcfNaBe1_iA_aRlqimqkS9bMppeccS4xUpPA26Q7PAfsNTYpECaEw5EuxW3G1eTVFBAyB9UBKrovXM7vjQszD/s320/IMG_20210205_154914.jpg" /></a></div><br />My grandmother had more common sense than anyone I've ever known or will ever know. Pragmatis in extremis, you might say. And was she proud of it. As well she should be. I'm only just beginning to realize how much she has influenced me and how positive was that influence. <p></p><p>It didn't always seem so. She used to say "I speak my mind" To a lot of people that translated to judgemental, unfeeling, harsh, critical. She's been referred to as an old bat or similar appellative beginning with b. Folks would say, "oh Marilisa, your grandpa's so wonderful, nice, giving, caring and your grandma... (cricket cricket as they hunted for words). </p><p>She acknowledged all that with a laugh and a shrug. I think she actually liked her mouthy, badass reputation. She never defended herself or why she said what she said and she never backed down. And she never willingly hurt anyone.</p><p>She didn't candy-coat, was never fake-sweet but also not self-righteous, smug nor hypocritical. She never shot her mouth off just to hear herself talk. And she had precious little time for those who did. She was never gratuitously cruel. Just matter of fact. And I have learned over the years that she was usually right. </p><p>We used to butt heads regularly. She, the "dyed in the wool" (her words) "trust no one" Republican and me the liberal, "feel sorry for everyone" Democrat. But we loved the heck out of each other. I like to think she even respected me. I know I sure as hell did her. It just took me awhile to realize how much. </p><p>Being polar opposites, you would think that I would be the first to fault grandma when she criticized this or that. And sometimes I did if I thought she was being unfair. But the funny thing is she rarely ever was. As I look back I cannot recall a single bigoted, prejudiced or even generalized statement. She simply spoke what she observed and she usually said what everyone else was thinking but didn't have the balls to say.</p><p>Grandpa used to chide her for lack of tolerance. I don't think it was intolerance so much as impenetrable practicality. She just didn't suffer foolish behavior gladly. Where Grandpa and I would give second, third, 26th (too many) chances, she would say "leopards don't change their spots." And invariably she would be right. </p><p>When she predicted that so and so would repeat the same error, he usually did. When she said my little brother would never stay the night at their house, because he always cried to go home once he got there, the family behaved as if she was the bad guy. Ultimately, he never did stay the night and fussed until Grampa took him home... every time. He saw a way to drive a rift between the adults and being a kid he seized on it. But God forbid Gram call him out or suggest maybe they NOT cater to him. </p><p>So what we saw as nihilistic negativity, I now see was just realism. She did not set herself up for disappointment and did not want me to either. Actually, I now realize, it sets the other person up for failure, expecting them to do things they are uncapable of or unwilling to do. And it gives them weird, unhealthy power over others (see, Grandma, I finally get it).</p><p>Funnily enough, her pragmatism is hailed by 12-step groups as being very mentally healthy. Grandpa's and my rabid optimism and waiting for spot change, not so much. It's called acceptance of what is and St Francis is thumbs-upping you, Grandma</p><p>It's not that people can't change and she'd be the first to admit this. It's that they aren't going to simply by you clicking your heels together and waiting to go back to Kansas. Actually you have nothing to do with them changing. You can't be living your life around the hope that they will.</p><p>I'll even go so far as to say (listen up, Grandma you're going to love this) that you really shouldn't worry or care if people change. Blessed are they who expect nothing for they shall not be disappointed. Spending too much time obsessively trying to control it, is self-defeating and not good for you or the other person. Doing things to produce a desired result in others is kind of passive aggressive and sick. Better to let go and live your life as is best for you. Can Grama get an amen? </p><p>So Grandma you've been gone 15 years. And virtually no one remembers you. You didn't do anything of note. But in a way you did everything for me. You inspired me to stand for things so I wouldn't fall for anything. You empowered me to trust my instincts and have faith that I could do things I needed and wanted to do. </p><p>Maybe time has gilded my memory. You probably weren't as perfect as I remember. You did upset me so sometimes. But then I upset me a lot more and I'm KNOW I upset you. But you definitely weren't the Gorgon you pretended to be either.</p><p>You weren't given to raving praise but you were honestly proud of my meager achievements and did not hesitate to show it. I remember when I gave the valediction at the Honor society banquet, how you came running over to place a gold necklace around my neck. Right in front of everybody like you wanted to make a big splash of me. That felt really good. </p><p>I don't think I said thank you as much as I should have. I hope and think you know that I loved you and love you still. I am proud to have been one of the few people who really knew you. Miss you. 😘 Marilisa</p><p><br /></p>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-52316595302304598132021-02-04T22:05:00.005-05:002021-02-04T22:05:55.599-05:00Sandlot Sundials<p><br /></p><p>Sunday at the grama grampa house</p><p>Was not complete without a walk</p><p>To the beach via Whitey's Wood</p><p>And a sandlot sundial</p><p><br /></p><p>What is a sandlot sundial?</p><p>It is a not so fancy timekeeping piece</p><p>That we made with two sticks</p><p>To mark our time in the woods</p><p><br /></p><p>Grandpa and I would walk to the Big Lake</p><p>(Lake Michigan) every week</p><p>In summer we would swim </p><p>in Winter just walk</p><p><br /></p><p>Grandma never joined us</p><p>When I invited her she said didn't swim</p><p>I said she could just walk. </p><p>Grandpa said "your grandmother doesn't walk."</p><p><br /></p><p>Then they laughed together</p><p>A big shared joke </p><p>That I never got but it was nice to hear them laugh</p><p>And she never minded us going</p><p><br /></p><p>We would cut through the neighbors' yard</p><p>To the vacant lot before the big hill</p><p>Before the back dune before the dune stairs</p><p>Before our beach trek to Mona Lake channel</p><p><br /></p><p>Grampa would draw a circle in the sand</p><p>put a stick in the middle</p><p>And another on the edge of the circle </p><p>Where the center stick's shadow fell</p><p><br /></p><p>When we came back from the lake</p><p>We would check the sand dial</p><p>To see how much the shadow had moved</p><p>The shadows matched the clock's big hand</p><p><br /></p><p>And then we would know if we were late</p><p>And if Grandma would be mad</p><p>She was never mad just petting the dog</p><p>Who had gotten sick of walking and gone home</p><p><br /></p><p>But she would always complain </p><p>How we'd been gone forever </p><p>And how even the dog had given up</p><p>just to keep us on our toes i think</p><p><br /></p><p>I would explain about the sundial</p><p>And how we really weren't late</p><p>And she would humph in her Grama way</p><p>And tell me to go wash my feet</p><p><br /></p><p>Then she would make us sandwiches</p><p>Because it was Sunday</p><p>And they were Dutch reformed</p><p>And did not work on Sundays</p><p><br /></p><p>And then we would sit on the porch</p><p>Or by the basement fire in winter</p><p>And I would chatter myself to sleep</p><p>Dreaming of sand and sundials and such</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-84962045322788794662020-04-09T02:47:00.004-04:002023-02-05T20:09:12.096-05:00Postcards from the Plague<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was going to make this into a Facebook post but then I thought, "hell, why waste it on them??" So I will share it there later (laugh, ironically). I'm thinking today about how un-funny I am. I'm pragmatic, helpful, exhortative (preachy?), occasionally erudite, often verbose, but not funny and rarely genuine.<br />
<br />
Oh sure, I mean what I say. But I write mostly to educate and improve (Yeouch, that sounds sententious). I never want to censure or lecture. But even instructing, isn't it presumptuous to think that, at any time, one can sanctimoniously instruct another? During the Covid pandemic, it's ludicrous. Have you noticed that I think too much? (Matchbox 20 nod)<br />
<br />
I was reading a post (Yes, on Facebook, don't judge) that was truly hilarious, and real, and genuine and genuinely funny. The author penned from the gut the "real" of quarantine. She spoke of boredom and motherhood (synonymous) and Legos. Is it all capitalized? LEGO? And are they from Sweden or England, I've read conflicting stories. Because I research these things, thank you for asking. Someone has to. You're welcome.<br />
<br />
Same FB friend also spoke of the mind-bending ennui of watching other people play Minecraft on Youtube (that was fucking hilarious in many ways.) I didn't quite get why you would watch someone play Minecraft...I believe the petite bebe (little kid) invited? Evidently it's a quarantine thing. Like jigsaw puzzles and dried bean hoarding. And 'peakin 'a which (speaking of which, to quote/paraphrase my youngest son when he was 4, for the uninitiated) DOES anyone eat dried beans, ever?<br />
<br />
I was given some from a food pantry distribution in which no one wanted them. They have been preciously guarded (ignored) in my spare room for months. Now they are the Holy Grail? Was some missive sent down from on high...thou shalt procure for thyself the dried legumes, and then having done so, thou shalt, storest them in thy barns until moth and mold doth corrupt. If YOU'RE not seeing Monty Python in that, well, I'm sorry for you.<br />
<br />
And why is yeast sold out? YEAST, I ask you?? I'm a Shipt shopper (for my sins) I can speak ex cathedra on people's buying habits. NOBODY, not no WAY, NOT no how ,buys yeast in good times. So, Quo Vadis?? Where are you goin' with ALL that yeast, pilgrim? Is everyone one suddenly Suzie Homemaker makin bread for some journey you can go on during quarantine anyhow? My dark mind doubts. And so does my skeptic bestie Rose. She believes that after coronavirus, there will be shit tons of flour, oil, YEAST, rice, DRIED BEANS, still on folks. shelves, gathering dust. And I agree. We are not THAT desperate yet.<br />
<br />
Back to Minecraft. I wouldn't watch anyone play anything. Quarantine be damned. But my husband has long been a student of the University of Youtube (his words) (I like parenthesis, can you tell?) (Shut up). He has been watching truck repair videos. I cannot expound further because the terms might as well be the ancient tongue of Ireland.<br />
<br />
Whilst I lack Goidelic (Irish), I know a crap video when I hear one. There's one guy who has a speech impediment and still curtheths (curses, SORRY). He manages to impart some helpful truck lore. There are others who are not as helpful. A father and heir (presumptive) from nether American regions who swear and place alcoholic beverages on fenders of cars and allow small ones to roam about unattended. It boggles.<br />
<br />
So I can't speak Minecraft or Ford Ranger cadre, but I talk fluent travelog . Cuz THAT IS where I was supposed to be in March. Oberammergau 2020 or Italy or Greece. Making a pilgrimage. How funny would it have been ((not very, I'm told) to be trapped in the Eternal City? Or along the Cinque Terra? I still would have loved to go. Husband assures me it's better stateside. So back to my original bitch. Which I know none of that was in aid of. Why am I not funny? (You weren't paying attention?? 10 points off!!)</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Because I don't just let it out. I feel the need to pontificate. The post which spurred this was real. And funny. (Was it copied? I'm that hag who wonders). All she did was share her quarantine log (Captain's log). It should have said Star date thus and such. Any true Trekkian would have known. And yet, here I sit trying to outwit. I'm such a poser, failure, sycophant. I don't share anything new. I just respond to others. Yegads, woman, have another glass of wine.<br />
<br />
I think I could be funny. If I would just let go the need to, I don't know, be essential. That's what it's all about. So here I go on my own (Whitesnake). Just talk? God, is this done? God, how I envy the libertine! Where do I go from here? (You were expecting a satisfying conclusion? More fool you. )<br />
<br /></div>
Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-65659399929517390492019-01-29T23:22:00.001-05:002019-02-04T14:02:05.618-05:00Parenthood.. is it all really worth it?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="about:invalid#zClosurez" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for mary cassatt" border="0" src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" /></a> Don't judge this poem by it's title--it's a work in progress. Also, don't expect this to be poetry in the iambic pentameter sense. It's more stream of consciousness, or more accurately conscience. I want to talk about parenthood.<br />
<br />
It starts, not when you hatch that lifeform but when you first start thinking about doing so. And let me tell you right now that whatever you heard, read, were told or thought it will be different than anything you thought you were prepared for. I almost think it would be better to go in completely ignorant because then at least there are no preconceived (pun, lol) notions.<br />
<br />
So this little critter starts to grow and very quickly you begin to realize that this is pressure like you have never had. You might, if you're normal, wonder "oh what have I done?' Because you did it alright. You can say that the divine being or God or whatever you call Him or Her blessed you and created life, but you did the leg work to make it happen.<br />
<br />
Yet regardless of who's to blame, you very quickly feel an insane, intense attachment to this being, that borders on self-destructive. You worry about every breath you take. You guilt yourself for things beyond your control. You are sure that the one sip of alcohol or secondhand smoke you accidentally breathed is going to cause permanent, crippling disability, even though you know that crack-addicted babies survive to become brain surgeons and perfect pregnancies sometimes end in death.<br />
<br />
And then when lil 'un is born the terrors are compounded. You know you're going to screw it all up. So let me just reassure you right now...you are. Parenthood is a series of missed boats, baseball games and opportunities. Our hearts split at the seams with love, yet we say and do the stupidest things. We misunderstand and get it wrong more often than not.<br />
<br />
Now if any of you haven't gone the the bathroom to slit your wrists, hang on, there's a caveat. You aren't supposed to do it right. Parenting is essentially shooting from the hip, in the dark, drunk, with one broke leg. You couldn't hit that target for all the Dr. Spock on the shelf. And please, run, screaming, away from anyone who proclaims to HAVE gotten it right.<br />
<br />
So we're still in a pretty depressing place. But here's where God/your higher power comes in. When that beautiful cake called life goes crashing to the floor, guess what? The divine baker can magically fix it. He doesn't just frost over...he makes it better than it was. He takes your humble efforts and bippity-boppity-boos them into wonderfulness. It's a gestalt thing....the whole really is greater than the sum of our poor pathetic parts. And boy does He owe us, tricking us into this parenting thing!<br />
<br />
And let's talk about those 8-lb meatloaves and their part this mess. The minute the red, lumpy thing pops out (by agonizing, Herculean effort on mom's part) she takes up all the oxygen in the room and the space in your heart (home, bed, car...) You are no longer a person with a name and a life. You're that little so-and-so's dad.<br />
<br />
You absolutely adore them with every cell in your body. You hover, you wake up imagining they are crying and you check for breathing at least 20 times a night. Even when they do sleep you can't fretting and worrying. And here's another magical part. She feels the same way. She can't stand to be separated from you. You must be no more than nanoinches from her. She worships you.<br />
<br />
Oh, and while we're on that subject, permit me a mini-rant. When the parenting Nazis tell you she's spoiled, too clingy, you should let her cry it out, tell them to go bugger themselves. So many wonderful parents let these fools scare them into thinking they can't trust themselves or their children. I mean seriously, who are you going to listen to? Some bitter know nothing, know-it-all or someone who just recently dwelt int the arms of the angels, huh? That Dr Ferber should be boiled in his own Enfamil.<br />
<br />
Oh, and if you've done your part, they will continue to be needy of you as they grow. AS THEY SHOULD BE. The reason you feel such soul-deep responsibility and craving affection for them is that you are their lifeline. Mama and Papa are the only thing between child and unspeakable horror. I'm sorry to sound so drastic but it pretty much is. The child has not the capability to survive alone.<br />
<br />
But, and this is a biggee, it's a short time of needing you and suddenly, they can make it on their own. Hear me when I say, that the terrible twos, troublesome tweens, terrifying teens, these too shall pass and all too quickly. That is a threat, not a promise. For all the intensity with which they need you, it's over (here's where a lot of that aforementioned missing out occurs). Just when you think you can't take one more minute of this kid, they've flown and you miss them with shocking almost suicidal pain. That's how it's supposed to be too.<br />
<br />
I'm going to have to pause this for a bit. But I'll continue soon. I recognize that a lot of what I'm saying, the Prophet Kahlil Gibran has said so much better but I would like to amplify some of his thoughts. And I think that you will, find as I have, comfort in them.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-37107652080766850632018-01-31T00:31:00.001-05:002018-01-31T00:31:52.775-05:00Creative writing prompts for teens: Japanese wabi-sabi and nature poems<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You may have noticed that the past posts have deviated from the original intention of this blog which was to showcase my poetry and creative writing and to offer tips for aspiring writers. So, um, yeah, in an effort to make money from writing, I shared articles I'd written. Because poetry doesn't always pay the bills like NF.<br />
<br />
So with that said, I'm planning to turn my focus back to the fine arts. I'm still poor and still need to make money so feel free to send large amounts. I jest. But I do promise not to cheapen the craft with the trade-writing. Sorry, to wax verbose but the moon is full and I felt a disclaimer was needed. So here's are helps for teen writers on Japanese poems using the art of wabi-sabi, just in time for April.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW1KUMLXyvI2hy0dqg8G5EtIinIifp0nQ2Wzo68kED-rCFOWR24ggPlesaWlf_gGh695pouTsce7cIp8gLoDoruExpQcv54WhuSX4GhO-nCJbNrp25Pzd2Zakdk154HYBA41uKLl41Dusz/s1600/shake-garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="353" data-original-width="400" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW1KUMLXyvI2hy0dqg8G5EtIinIifp0nQ2Wzo68kED-rCFOWR24ggPlesaWlf_gGh695pouTsce7cIp8gLoDoruExpQcv54WhuSX4GhO-nCJbNrp25Pzd2Zakdk154HYBA41uKLl41Dusz/s200/shake-garden.jpg" width="200" /></a>Why April? It's National Poetry Month. Some writers celebrate NaPoWriMo, or National Poetry Writer Month (an online poetry slam lollapalooza) . And what better month to celebrate poems than April with spring awakening, nature busting out all over and Earth Day nestled in? Want to join the poem-penning but don't know where to begin? Here are poetry writing prompts, story starters and word games I invented, to call forth your inner bard! Perfect for homeschooler parents, English and creative writing teachers.<br />
<br />
Verse-adventure: Hands-down, there's no better poetry muse than mama<br />
nature. Get outside and start your poem quest. Pack a bag with pen, paper, thesaurus and blanket. You could write on laptop or phone, but old school pen and paper are more conducive to getting poetry juices flowing. Quill and parchment would be best) Station yourself in a garden. Walk in the woods. Sit on the beach. Observe the elements: wind, sun, water. Notice the flora and fauna: trees, flowers, animals, land formations. Jot down sensory details--colors, sounds, smells, shapes. Check your thesaurus for new, fresh words to express ideas.<br />
<br />
Japanese still life poem: In Japan, artists look for wabi-sabi or beauty in simplicity and imperfection. Artists focus on simple subjects: bonsai tree, a vase with a single flower, cherry blossom sprig or pussy willow frond. The artist uses pen or brush strokes to evoke the essence of the subject. Japanese poetry is similarly simple--haiku has 17 syllables in lines of 5, 7 and 5. Create a Japanese still life display. Explore all aspects. Using a few words, describe the item. Write a wabi-sabi haiku, tanka or cinquain. Here are printable directions from St. Jean Elementary). Or create a formless verse in your own style.<br />
<br />
For more writing prompts, story starters and poetry templates, visit my blog www.freeprintablelessonplans.com. </div>
Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-49804954788259361392017-08-23T23:15:00.001-04:002017-08-23T23:15:07.162-04:00Jill Duggar, Derick Dillard nix mission trip: 'Counting On' reality TV ministry?As per a Facebook post Jill Duggar [VIDEO] Dillard and her husband Derick Dillard are quitting mission work and moving "Dillard Family Ministries" stateside. As noble as that sounds, the real story may be less altruistic and more mercenary. Has the big money made on "19 Kids and Counting" and "Counting On" kill the missionary zeal? Did the fact that the Dillards lack qualifications and sponsorship finally sink in? <a href="http://us.blastingnews.com/showbiz-tv/2017/08/jill-duggar-derick-dillard-nix-mission-trip-counting-on-reality-tv-ministry-001920535.html">Jill Duggar, Derick Dillard nix mission trip: 'Counting On' reality TV ministry?</a>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-80292156212766268542017-06-28T15:48:00.001-04:002017-06-28T15:48:25.842-04:00Josh Duggar claims media and cops violated him, but won't join 'Counting On' girls' lawsuitThere's more hypocrisy from the family of "19 Kids and Counting." Pedophile Josh Duggar sued police and a media source for violating him after they reported his incestuous violation of his sisters. "Counting On" stars Jill Dillard, Jessa Seewald, Jinger Duggar Vuolo and Joy-Anna Duggar Forsyth filed a lawsuit local authorities and InTouch magazine and their sex addict brother wanted a piece of the damages. Talk about double dipping! <a href="http://us.blastingnews.com/showbiz-tv/2017/06/josh-duggar-violated-by-media-cops-but-wont-join-counting-on-girls-lawsuit-001798865.html">Josh Duggar violated by media, cops, but won't join 'Counting On' girls' lawsuit</a>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-77307400241335449812017-02-16T17:17:00.001-05:002017-02-16T17:17:18.437-05:00Janet Jackson fat-shamed on pregnancy weight loss 'fail' 5 weeks postpartum Shame on fat shaming, Radar Online! The internet tabloid body-shamed Janet Jackson for pregnancy weight loss fail barely five weeks after giving birth. The new mother had baby Eissa al-Mana on Jan. 3 and by Feb. 6 the celebrity gossip website was already tsk-tsking her still "bulky" body. The site quoted a doctor who speculated that the "Rhythm Nation" singer was "doomed to be fat forever." <a href="http://us.blastingnews.com/showbiz-tv/2017/02/janet-jackson-fat-shamed-on-pregnancy-weight-loss-fail-5-weeks-postpartum-001472856.html">Janet Jackson fat-shamed on pregnancy weight loss 'fail' 5 weeks postpartum</a>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-26193419818123596882017-01-30T16:35:00.001-05:002017-01-30T16:35:17.789-05:00'Underworld' Kate Beckinsale talks weight loss scare, Emma Thompson, body loveKate Beckinsale did a pretty startling makeover to play the vampire in "Underworld" after her role as the sweet child "Hero" of "Much Ado About Nothing." But it's her shocking weight loss in "Pearl Harbor" that was scariest. Beckinsale shared what prompted her scary-thin look. She talked about an anorexia scare, growing armpit hair for Emma Thompson and body love. Wait till you get a load of the body-shaming comments one director made that prompted the body image issues. <a href="http://us.blastingnews.com/showbiz-tv/2017/01/underworld-kate-beckinsale-talks-weight-loss-scare-emma-thompson-body-love-001400761.html">'Underworld' Kate Beckinsale talks weight loss scare, Emma Thompson, body love</a>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-2804969812247467902017-01-10T13:48:00.001-05:002017-01-10T13:48:45.185-05:00Gina Rodriguez weight loss wows: Hypothyroidism, Hashimoto's cant stop 'Jane the Virgin' Gina Rodriguez rocked surprising weight loss on the Golden Globe red carpet. The "Jane the Virgin" star's trim figure was all the more wow-worthy given her hypothyroidism diagnosis. In thyroid disease, or Hashimoto's thyroiditis, weight gain is symptomatic. The star says her sluggish thyroid makes it difficult to keep pounds off. What's Rodriquez's secret to staying healthy? <a href="http://us.blastingnews.com/showbiz-tv/2017/01/gina-rodriguez-weight-loss-wows-hypothyroidism-hashimoto-s-cant-stop-jane-the-virgin-001382065.html">Gina Rodriguez weight loss wows: Hypothyroidism, Hashimoto's cant stop 'Jane the Virgin'</a>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-38059231395417817812016-11-10T09:09:00.001-05:002016-11-10T09:09:53.551-05:00Donald Trump tweet gets Demi Lovato blasted for 'offensive' 'grab them by the p--sy' tweet that quoted Trump The ink is barely dry on #Election 2016 ballots and already the new POTUS-elect's words are coming back to bite him. Trump fans blasted Demi Lovato for "offensive" tweets at Donald Trump which quoted Trump's own words. Trump's advice to grab them by the pu--y was fine with supporters when he was describing how to handle women, but when the Disney star repeated it they called her a crude bully <a href="http://us.blastingnews.com/opinion/2016/11/demi-lovato-blasted-for-offensive-donald-trump-election-2016-tweet-that-quoted-trump-001246461.html">Demi Lovato blasted for 'offensive' Donald Trump Election 2016 tweet that quoted Trump</a>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-49698971255222100872016-10-28T17:53:00.001-04:002016-10-28T17:53:43.018-04:00Jinger Dugger, Jeremy Vuolo hushed, rushed wedding plans bypass parents: why the secrecy?A rogue Duggar wedding? That's what Jeremy Vuolo and Jinger Duggar are planning and their nuptials don't include the parents Jim Bob or Michelle Duggar. The "Jill & Jessa: Counting On" reality TV couple has flouted courtship, hands-off engagement and now even marriage traditions, saying they're doing relationships their way. Family members hint Jinger will be pregnant in the new year, so that suggests a wedding in the next two months. The couple are keeping wedding plans secret but say it will be small, so a destination wedding leaps to mind. Why all the hushed rush with these two? <a href="http://us.blastingnews.com/showbiz-tv/2016/10/jinger-dugger-jeremy-vuolo-hushed-rushed-wedding-plans-bypass-parents-why-the-secrecy-001212643.html">Jinger Dugger, Jeremy Vuolo hushed, rushed wedding plans bypass parents: why the secrecy?</a>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-84778996327609428292016-09-19T23:51:00.001-04:002016-09-19T23:54:27.697-04:00JonBenet Ramsey brother Burke Ramsey horrified folks in Dr. Phil murder tell-all<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcnDQ_FN9_CHikIvhOsnotCpSWxWg9Nu_Bhnt0Vr_heBOEvUzwmfnO2pFqTN_SlQYFhYURibFB5ex-DvgCZOKwnVnfjXqft2Wy1-8EKpqAriPmkXlQeeHlHLZA5L9VhGkWDXl0j3LbD_Qu/s1600/hqdefault+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcnDQ_FN9_CHikIvhOsnotCpSWxWg9Nu_Bhnt0Vr_heBOEvUzwmfnO2pFqTN_SlQYFhYURibFB5ex-DvgCZOKwnVnfjXqft2Wy1-8EKpqAriPmkXlQeeHlHLZA5L9VhGkWDXl0j3LbD_Qu/s200/hqdefault+%25282%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a>Burke Ramsey, brother of murdered 6-year-old JonBenet Ramsey, horrified people in his first-ever murder tell-all to Dr. Phil McGraw. Ramsey, who was 9 at the time of his sister's killing in 1996, has long been suspected. When he opened up for the first time in 20 years, Burke shocked and angered a lot of people. Dr. Phil promised answers to the unsolved murder of the Boulder, Colorado child beauty queen but so far, the first two parts in this 3-part series have only served to further polarize. Did Burke Ramsey, mom Patsy Ramsey, dad John Ramsey or an intruder bludgeon, sexually assault and strangle little JonBenet? <a href="http://us.blastingnews.com/showbiz-tv/2016/09/jonbenet-ramsey-brother-burke-ramsey-horrified-folks-in-dr-phil-murder-tell-all-001119159.html">JonBenet Ramsey brother Burke Ramsey horrified folks in Dr. Phil murder tell-all</a></div>
Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-43632730364191354232016-08-18T09:40:00.001-04:002016-08-18T10:23:19.355-04:00Chance the Rapper gets chance at VMA, Magnificent Coloring Day singer nominated<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpf1StfCqbncSHNgvRPdUihDjqHnPyBKUcbgKR3id3hcWyIIqz94GScI-_0f9omEBBrsW8aJ0TxarDRa8juHvngm_tEQGCmMaNao_kBRpFQomHa-lZCITWkygjDAZaCpc0XwSLIDmEE1sX/s1600/th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpf1StfCqbncSHNgvRPdUihDjqHnPyBKUcbgKR3id3hcWyIIqz94GScI-_0f9omEBBrsW8aJ0TxarDRa8juHvngm_tEQGCmMaNao_kBRpFQomHa-lZCITWkygjDAZaCpc0XwSLIDmEE1sX/s200/th.jpg" width="200" /></a>All we are saying is give Chance a chance! Even if you hate rap, as do I except for one Eminem song, this is some kind of wonderful and different rapper! "Sunday Candy" like buttah, baby. <a href="http://us.blastingnews.com/showbiz-tv/2016/07/chance-the-rapper-gets-chance-at-vma-magnificent-coloring-day-singer-nominated-001037897.html">Chance the Rapper gets chance at VMA, Magnificent Coloring Day singer nominated</a></div>
Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-75015813473334608552016-06-21T16:17:00.001-04:002016-06-21T16:17:11.614-04:00Trash crafts for kids: Flower pens, feather pens, decorated vases, gift crafts Valentine's Day requires writing of cards, notes or letters, so why not write with a flourish? Use this guide to design a lovely flower pens, feather pens and decorated vases for gift crafts. Give gift crafts for Mothers Day, Fathers Day, Teacher Appreciation or holiday gifts. You can make these flower pens and decorated vases from recycled materials, purchasing only pens or pencils. <a href="http://www.examiner.com/article/trash-crafts-for-kids-flower-pens-feather-pens-decorated-vases-gift-crafts">Trash crafts for kids: Flower pens, feather pens, decorated vases, gift crafts | Examiner.com</a>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-67532617965374806072016-05-18T13:16:00.001-04:002016-05-18T13:16:59.480-04:00Summer enrichment activities: Nature poetry party, creative writing prompts Summer vacation is almost here and parents, you may be wondering just what in the world you're going to do with your kids for three month. So, here are summer enrichment activities for kids. Host a writers workshop for nature poetry using these creative writing prompts. Or better still, call it a nature poetry party! That way, kids will be enthused about summer enrichment activities and not dread them like summer school (it's all in the wording!) Use these creative writing prompts for National Poetry Month. <a href="http://www.examiner.com/article/summer-enrichment-activities-nature-poetry-party-creative-writing-prompts">Summer enrichment activities: Nature poetry party, creative writing prompts | Examiner.com</a>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-8478719079645639142016-05-04T22:58:00.001-04:002016-05-04T22:58:46.514-04:00Mothers Day, Fathers Day parent gifts for kids to make: Love coupons teach 3 Rs | Examiner.comLooking for inexpensive Mothers Day or Fathers Day or any-holiday parent gifts for kids to make? Why not have children make homemade love coupons. Make homemade parent gifts and crafts do double duty as learning activities. Creating love coupons and teaches the 3 Rs, reading, writing, arithmetic even spelling and punctuation. Love coupons are the perfect parent gifts for kids to make independently. Use these love coupons for Mothers Day, Fathers Day or Grandparents Day, parent birthdays. <a href="http://www.examiner.com/article/mothers-day-fathers-day-parent-gifts-for-kids-to-make-love-coupons-teach-3-rs">Mothers Day, Fathers Day parent gifts for kids to make: Love coupons teach 3 Rs | Examiner.com</a>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-51447642859859856812016-03-23T14:12:00.001-04:002016-03-23T14:12:29.131-04:00Multicultural teen fiction: Middle school books, literature around the worldHomeschool parents and middle school teachers, want to take a free world tour? March is National Reading Month, so why not read around the world of middle school books. Here is a list of multicultural teen fiction and children's literature around the world, from 20 countries and seven continents. These stories best reflect the flavor of each culture--its people, traditions, religion, region, customs, celebrations and values. These children's literature around the world books include teen fiction, historical fiction, poetry, fairy tales, folklore and mythology. Teachers, be sure to note on a map, the places you visit in this literature unit. Multicultural middle school books are coded for age and grade appropriate level--<br /><br />
<br /><br />
4 (grades 4 and up)<br /><br />
<br /><br />
6 (grades 6 and up)<br /><br />
<br /><br />
8 (grades 8 and up, some of these middle school books are PG-13 and may have some mature situations or language)<br /><br />
<br /><br />
NB means this children's literature is a Newbery Award book. Newbery Awards are given to literature around the world that describes culture and history through the eyes of a young person. Read on for <a href="http://www.examiner.com/article/multicultural-teen-fiction-middle-school-books-literature-around-the-world">Multicultural teen fiction: Middle school books, literature around the world</a>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-36278964002593068002016-03-05T10:05:00.001-05:002016-03-05T10:05:59.603-05:00Shakespeare lesson plans: Middle English, how to read and understand Shakespearean plays and poemsBeware the Ides of March! And students, beware of teachers quoting Shakespeare, or Julius Caesar in March! Teachers adore Shakespeare and the Ides of March (March 15) is their feast day! But students--meh, not so much. Are you struggling with Shakespeare? Do you despise your literature teacher for making you read Middle English? Do you fail to see the appeal of the Bard of Avon? That is perfectly understandable, but don't despair. Here are tips to vanquish that Shakespearean tragedy, parse his sonnets and laugh in the face of the Bard's comedy. Teachers and homeschool parents, use these lesson plans to make Shakespeare more approachable for students. <a href="http://www.examiner.com/article/shakespeare-lesson-plans-middle-english-shakespearean-plays-for-ides-of-march">Shakespeare lesson plans: Middle English, Shakespearean plays for Ides of March | Examiner.com</a>Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7072252672114670798.post-18841279501013583552016-02-22T22:07:00.001-05:002016-02-22T22:11:29.008-05:00Expand your vocabulary, exercise your brain, grow your mind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One of the saddest statistics I ever heard is that most people use the same 1,000 or so words over and over and over. Some much less. They must do a great deal of repeating which is a moot point, I know. But it's not just repetition of words and phrases, it's formula thinking, templated conversation, Scariest of all is that saying the same words over and over means one is never having any new, fresh ideas. One's brain is staid, stagnant, atrophied. And we know what happens to sedentary muscles--they cease to function.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
How terrifying. That one could, through, repetitive thoughts and words, wear ruts in the brain, like a scratched or broken record. That sedentary thought processing kills brain cells and cripples thinking. There is so much talk about exercising the body--very important, mind you--but what about the mind? It needs to be ever exploring, sampling, evaluating, applying, analyzing new experiences and data. It needs to find expression for thoughts, questions, plans, dreams, hopes, fears and all those crazy ideas that area just too crazy for words. Find the words and if you can't keep looking. Try new ones. So you'll make mistakes, pronounce them wrong, use them in the wrong contexts. Don't let that intimidate you. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So people think you're arrogant if you use "big words?" Big hairy deal. Never make excuses for improving your vocabulary. If they don't like it, they can go exchange those same few hundred sound bytes with similarly conversation challenged folk. Or they can talk to the wall. Certainly it's important to listen as well as we talk, actually, better. That is true communication. So today, do a little risk-taking with vocabulary, written and verbal. Step outside your comfort "voice"box! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Be well, my dears and do good work. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Marilisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00153163314905846386noreply@blogger.com