Writing

Just when I thought my days in the classroom were over, I find myself enrolled in a poetry writing class. And excited about it. I am, unfortunately, a writer who is not driven to write. As a child, if I wasn't reading or traipsing across pastures, I was writing. That need to play with words on paper got derailed when I began writing grants - the most hideous genre of creative writing.

I have been away from grant writing for two years, and the desire to write is returning, but it will likely never be as strong as it was as when I was a child. So, I am learning to put myself in situations where I must write. First, a book of poetry with a deadline forced me to scrape the rust off my brain. Then another book. No deadline hung over me, but some awesome pictures lit a fire under me.

Soon, I will be attending a class that will require me to write a lot, and I won't be writing in a vacuum. There will be other people with different ideas to stir up my thinking. Writing is most satisfying when my thoughts tumble onto the paper. I can hardly wait!

New Year's Day 2014

My new year began with a bittersweet gathering of family and friends, not to mention the requisite black-eyed peas. Several family members were not able to participate in the festivities. My youngest daughter and her family live in Iowa. Both she and her husband have new jobs that prevented them from joining us during the holidays. I am happy for them, but I do miss them and the grandchildren, especially at times of celebration.

My older sister was not able to make it. I talked with her on the phone, and we both bemoaned the weather like country folk are wont to do. Although I now live in town, I factor the weather into my life like a farmer does. She lives on the remnants of the home place and has a small garden each year. I watch the weather in her area almost as avidly as I do in mine and feel the shock of extremes just as she does. Country lies deep in the bones.

Yesterday was our baby sister's birthday. She would have been 63. She was always proud of the fact that she was a new year's baby. It made her feel special even though she would complain that people forgot her birthday because it was so close to Christmas. I would love to fuss with her.

My soldier grandson was here. He will be deployed to Afghanistan at the end of this month (January). I cannot express the terror I feel for this beautiful man-child. I could not hug him tightly enough.

In the afternoon, we sat around a fire outside and watched the production of fry bread. Fresh from hot oil and dredged in powdered sugar, we dubbed them Indian beignets. Delicious! When the cold front moved in and the fire could no longer keep up with the wind, the black kettle had to be abandoned. Uncooked dough had become sponges for cooling grease.

All in all, it was a good day, a good beginning for 2014. Each of the remaining days is a present we will unwrap, little gifts of joy and anguish, all to be cherished.