March 2018 SOLC–Day 18
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

If you’ve read some of my recent slices, you may have noticed that my husband is into a “clearing out” phase now that we’re empty nesters. I’m resisting. Just a little. Cleaning out the house can feel liberating (Yes, I know these are just things.) and can yield some interesting discoveries (ew!), but all these things he wants to trash/sell/giveaway come with memories attached. (See slices here, and here)

We live in a town that has a Recycling Barn. In addition to dropping off your plastics and papers, you can drop of re-useable items that you no longer need or want. There’s a sort of shop in the back corner with shelves and bins for books, games, clothes, knick knacks, sports and kitchen equipment, etc. We add our items to the collection regularly, and I’ve made some amazing finds there (my Melitta electric kettle, a brand new three-step folding ladder, unopened Himalayan salt shot glasses for a tequila-loving friend, fabulous amateur paintings, etc.). Visiting the Recycling Barn is one of my weekend chores and pleasures. You never know what you might find!

In recent weeks, Kurt (my husband) has taken over this duty. Yesterday, as I was organizing the recycling, I thought, “Maybe it’s a good thing that Kurt’s doing the recycling these days. That way I won’t be tempted to bring more stuff into the house. If I don’t see it, I can’t want it.” And off I went to tackle my list of errands.

I returned a couple of hours later, laden with grocery bags and assorted items. Kurt opened the door for me and I turned away from the family room and went straight into the kitchen to dump them unceremoniously on the floor. I headed out again for another load. Kurt dogged my steps.

“Did you see my score?” he asked.

“What? No. What score?” I asked him. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s in the family room. Come see! I found the coolest chair at the Recycling Barn. It’s amazing!” His words tumbled over each other in his excitement.

I burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me? Aren’t you the one who’s trying to get rid of everything?”

“I know, I know,” he said, “but it’s great!”

Dumping the second load of bags in the kitchen, I followed him into the family room to check out “the score”. There, on the carpet in the middle of the room, was his find.

“Look!” he said. He sat in it and tilted it this way and that. “It’s really comfortable!”

He extolled its virtues–the color (“I love this color! I could have a whole room decorated in this color!”), the comfort, the craftsmanship! He was like a little kid with a new toy. So excited!

Then sitting in the chair, he turned to me a bit sheepishly, “I even knew when I got it that we had nowhere to put it. I just couldn’t resist it. It’s a great chair!”

It really is a great chair. Except we have nowhere to put it.

March 2018 SOLC–Day 17
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

I tend toward clutter and like to collect all sorts of objects.  In fact, one of my son’s high school friends once told me, “Your house is the messiest house I know. But in a really good way.” (I’m still not sure how I should have reacted to that one!)

Looking out of the kitchen window during a recent snowstorm, I realized that my windowsill holds a lot of stories. If visitors came into my house and looked at that windowsill, they would see an assortment of objects.

They’d see… a gerber daisy blooming, a bright splash of color against the wintry landscape on the other side of the window panes.

But they wouldn’t know…that my daughters gave it to me for Mother’s Day last year and that it’s blossomed three times and each bloom warms my heart.

They’d see… a small nest with two sand dollars resting inside it.

But they wouldn’t know…that the nest mysteriously appeared on our back porch one summer day and cupping it in my hands, I carefully carried it inside. Then I found the sand dollars on my favorite beach, lit by the rays of the rising sun. The quirky juxtaposition of the two,  appealed to me–ocean meets sky,  both reminders of the joy and peace I find in nature.

They’d see… an oddly-shaped plant

But they wouldn’t know …that once it looked like this.

Despite all odds, it lived and in its small way, is a symbol of optimism and tenacity. I even wrote about a slice about it (here).

They’d see …a small purple jar with paintbrushes in it.

But they wouldn’t know… that the jar was carefully wrapped in T-shirts and transported from Paris to Rome to Dublin and then back to Maine. In Paris it was a yogurt container. Here it holds paintbrushes and memories.

So many stories linger within these seemingly random items. A visitor might wonder, or dismiss them all as clutter. They’d see the items, but they’d never know all the stories that live on my windowsill.

March 2018 SOLC–Day 16
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49761/hymn-to-the-comb-over

Quirky, right? Now I’m determined to write a hymn poem some day, once I find just the right topic.

Then, last month I wrote my first epitaph poem in response to the Today’s Little Ditty challenge. I’ve been wanting to write another one ever since. Apparently, there’s something in me that delights in writing lighthearted epitaphs. (I’m not going to analyze it too much.)

Epitaph for a Snowman

A jaunty fellow
constructed with love
two warm button eyes
a top hat above

He raised the spirits
of all who saw’d him
then temperatures rose
and sadly thawed him

M. Hogan (c) 2018

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by the gracious Linda B. at TeacherDance.  She’s sharing a delightful and optimistic poem about April showers. Stop by and check that out and make sure to visit some other posts as well.

March 2018 SOLC–Day 15
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

Don’t you love when something someone says or writes sparks a slice idea? On my recent slice about cleaning to music, Margaret Simon commented  that she cleans to show tunes. Although it isn’t my cleaning music of choice, we do love show tunes in my family. Thinking about this tumbled me right down memory lane again.

It was parent-teacher conference time. I sat at the table across from Mrs. Ingalls, the third grade teacher. Before her she had a collection of Addie’s work, including her writing. She pushed one sample toward me.

I read the beginning:

“Once upon a cat, there were 3 fleas.”

Whoa, I thought, what a great lead! We are going to be doing some writing celebration in this conference!

I looked up at her and smiled. She looked at me and then at the paper. I read on.

“One flea liked red wine.”

Uh oh

I continued to read.

“One liked jazz.”

Phew…not so bad!

“And the other one liked likker.”

Oops

I looked up at Mrs. Ingalls, who was not known for her sense of humor and who was regarding me impassively. Do I even want to know what she’s thinking right now? I took a deep breath, trying not to laugh.

“Well,” I said, “the red wine is definitely inspired by me. But the jazz and liquor….well, we’ve been listening to the soundtrack of Chicago a lot lately…” My voice trailed off, then I tried again. “But wasn’t that an awesome lead!”

As I left twenty minutes later, all I could think was that it was a good thing she hadn’t heard Connor, my fifth grader, belting out “Master of the House” from Les Mis (“God knows how I’ve lasted, living with this bastard in the house…”) or Lydia, our first grader, singing large sections from Cell Block Tango (“You been screwin’ the milkman?”). Ok, it’s funny now, but when it happened even I was pretty appalled by that one. 

Who knew there was a risk to listening to show tunes?

March 2018 SOLC–Day 14
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

“Ok, Molly,” I told myself, “Snow day or not, it’s time to get your PJ-bottomed-butt moving. This house is a mess!”

Cleaning is not my jam, as they say. In fact, there are probably petrified streaks of jam on more than one surface in my kitchen. Through trial and error, though, I’ve discovered that playing loud music is an antidote to the cleaning blues. So to get things started, I typed “fun cleaning music” into YouTube. A selection of playlists appeared and I randomly chose one. Click!  The music pumped out of the speakers. I raised the volume to borderline painful, and then, I started cleaning. Music almost makes cleaning fun!… Well, not really.

At any rate,  a couple of songs into my cleaning frenzy, the distinctive opening trumpet notes of OMI’s song, “Cheerleader” filled the room. I froze, Pledge in hand, and was instantly transported back to the Summer of 2015. “Cheerleader” was one of the “songs of summer” that year (according to some program I heard on NPR). That was the year we traveled to Europe as a family, and my youngest daughter and I went early for a week together in Brittany, France (I just sliced about this briefly here). It was, hands down, one of the best experiences of my life.

So, with that summer’s soundtrack playing, I stopped cleaning (d&*!) and scrolled through my pictures on a trip down memory lane. As I looked through the photos, I slipped into a Breton reverie of tooling around in our rented Peugeot, listening to the radio (“Cheerleader” played a lot!), reading guide books together, planning our day’s adventures, exploring, cooking dinner together at night, chatting about the day, reviewing our photos, walking on the beach… The best of times.

The final notes  of “Cheerleader” blasted out and with a jolt, I returned to the snowy reality of 2018 and my messy house. With no hesitation, I hit replay.

Three or four times.

Note: I was going to attach a link to the song. It’s fun and catchy but then I read the lyrics. Oops. Still, it takes me back. 

Our rental in Lechiagat, France

March 2018 SOLC–Day 13
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

Struggling for a post today, I decided to revisit the draft file on my blog. I have over 100 drafts in that file. It’s a hodgepodge of quick thoughts, rough drafts, photographs and half-baked ideas–sort of a virtual notebook. Like my notebooks, this file is a great place to return to and mine for ideas. This morning, I came across a poem I’d started writing several months ago. For whatever reason, it caught my fancy and I tinkered with it a bit. With a winter storm threatening, autumn posts don’t seem particularly appropriate, but it’s what I’ve got today!

Autumn Blossoms

Blossoms transform
in late autumn
into subtle shades
and shapes
festive tousled cotton tops
bob above the dimming grass
fading blooms sigh
against rough barn shingles
and the low-lying sun
slants through antique glass
to cast wavering shadows
of late gathered blossoms
on the hallway wall

M. Hogan (c) 2018

March 2018 SOLC–Day 12
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

Scene 1

Setting: The family room of an old farmhouse in rural Maine. Under a row of windows is a long butcher block table with two chairs. It is piled high with stacks of papers, books, a journal, and a ukulele.  Pens and pencils poke out of an empty ceramic pot next to a dying aloe plant. A large cup of coffee sits next to an open laptop computer.  Under the table a variety of totes bulge with more books and papers. NPR radio broadcasts murmur in the background and the air is filled with the scent of good intentions.

Time: early on a Sunday morning

My Better Self (hereafter designated as BS):”No, Molly, you can not read another blog post. You have to start doing some school work!”

Me: (defiantly) “It’s Sunday and it’s not even 8 am yet. I can read and comment on a few more slices.”

BS: (slowly)”Well, okay. I guess you can read for a little longer.”

Me: (smiling)

BS: (decisively) BUT…only 3 more posts and you’re not allowed to click on any links.”

Me: (no longer smiling) “What!? Only 3? No links?” Grumble. Mutter. Grumble. “Fine.”

BS:”Ok, now set a timer.”

Me:”A timer?”

BS: “Yes, you need a timer or you’ll never stop. You can read and comment on three blogs, but you have to be finished in 10 minutes and start your school work.”

Me:”What! I don’t need a timer. I already agreed to only read three.”

BS: “You. Need. A. Timer. And…when you finish reading, you can’t start writing.”

Me: Gasp! “But what if I ‘m inspired? What if someone gives me a really good idea for a slice?”

BS: “No.”

Me: “But”

BS: (rudely interrupting) “NO! Jot down a note. Work for at least a solid hour, then you can take a 10 minute break.”

Me: (indignantly) “You are stifling my creativity.”

BS: “No, I’m saving your job…and your sanity…and you’ll thank me later.”

Me: Heavy sigh “Fine.” (Clicking on a link to open a slice.)

BS: “Timer?”

Me: “OKAY! OKAY!”

March 2018 SOLC–Day 11
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

I just finished reading a slice from Purviben Trivedi-Ziemba that shared a couple of student writing challenges. I particularly liked the sound of the 5 sentence challenge. In this challenge a photo prompt is provided and students are invited to write 5 sentences about it. It’s sort of a prose twist on Laura Purdie Salas’s 15 Words or Less poetry photo prompt, and it sounded like a great slice idea to me.

I’ve been feeling nostalgic lately and have been reminiscing about our family trip to Europe almost three years ago. In particular, my thoughts have often turned toward the week that my youngest daughter and I spent together exploring Brittany, France before the rest of the family arrived. One of the highlights of that time was a visit to Locronan.  I’ve written about it before (here) but thought I’d pull a picture and try for a five sentence version. (I ended up with 6 sentences, but the last one is only one word, so it barely counts, right?)

Locronan, France, 2015

If there is magic in this world, it pulses through the stones of Brittany.  Locronan is an exquisite Breton town shrouded in the mists of time, a place that somehow transcends its physical presence. Once upon a time on a summer morning long ago, my daughter and I walked the streets together, transported. Stone cathedral towers rose magically from the mist, and around each corner, more wonders awaited– cobbled squares, an ancient chapel by a moss-covered spring, and everywhere, glorious bursts of blossom against the weathered gray stone. Today I remember that day with her, that week with her, and it seems similarly lost in time, yet preserved in all its wonder. Magical.

March 2018 SOLC–Day 10
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

The storm was tapering down and we were both busy, shoveling paths through the freshly fallen foot of snow. It clung to my shovel and formed irregular clumps as I hefted it off the path. Not much fun to shovel, but perfect packing snow.

“Let’s make a snowman,” I called to my husband across the yard.

“A snowman?” he asked and kept on shoveling the walk.

“Yeah,” I said, “It’ll be fun! It can greet people when they come up the driveway.” I finished my last few swipes with the shovel, put it down,  and moved to a smooth area of snow-covered lawn.

“Well, I’m going to do it!” I announced.

I looked at the snow consideringly. Hmmmm…First step, make a snowball. Ok. I’ve got that. Next, start rolling it through the snow. I knew how to do this! I began with great enthusiasm, rolling my ball over and over through the snow. After several minutes I stopped. Hmmm… What was I doing wrong?

“Hey,” I called to Kurt, “This is harder than I remember.” I leaned over, examining my pathetic, lopsided not-much-bigger-than-when-I-started snowball.

“What’s hard about making a snowman?” he asked, laughing.

“I don’t know, but my snowball’s not getting much bigger. I remember this as being much easier.” I looked at my pitiful effort in disgust. The small ball lay there amidst the chaos of tracks crisscrossing the once pristine lawn.

“Maybe it’s something to do with the snow or maybe I’m forgetting something, ” I said. “Shouldn’t this be like riding a bike?”

A snowball thwacked me in the butt. “Jerk,” I called, without looking up. “Come help!”

After a minute Kurt swaggered over to take over the rolling. After a few minutes, with much less swagger, he looked askance at his pathetic, lopsided not-much-bigger-than-when-he-started snowball. He hadn’t had much more success than I, but he now had a snowball imprint on his butt, too. (I guess I hadn’t forgotten how to do that!)

Eventually, we figured it out. More or less.

And guess what? It was fun!

March 2018 SOLC–Day 9
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

Today’s post is a twofer–a dual post for Slice of Life and the Poetry Friday Roundup.  So, in that spirit of two for one, I’m sharing two poems that I wrote this week.

This first poem was in response to Laura Purdie Salas’s timely 15 Words or Less Poem weekly photo prompt. (Luckily, my fears appear to be unfounded.)

Photo credit to Laura Purdie Salas

I Spy

Pinkish eye
far from dry
Dusting of crusting
Disgusting!

I fear my plight is
conjunctivitis

M. Hogan (c) 2018

And then there was this poetic moment a week or so ago.

At dusk
I watched a fox
slip through tree shadows
sure-footed in the snow
his tail a crimson comet
in the fading light
a chicken carcass
heavy in his jaws

M. Hogan (c) 2018

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by the kind and talented Michelle H. Barnes at her splendoriferous blog, Today’s Little Ditty. Her blog today is overflowing with shared advice from poets about incorporating poetry in the classroom and engaging students with poetry in meaningful ways. Wow! What a resource! I will be revisiting again and again and again…