Writing Group--update

Okay, I just found an essay that says more aptly what I tried to say yesterday about having a supportive group to write with. Brenda Ueland states:

The only good teachers for you are those friends who love you, who think you are interesting, or very important, or wonderfully funny; whose attitude is

"Tell me more. Tell me all you can. I want to understand more about everything you feel and know all the changes inside and out of you. Let more come out."

--from: Ueland, Brenda. "Everybody is Talented, Original and Has Something Important to Say." Landmark Essays on Writing Process. Ed. Sondra Perl. Davis, CA: Hermagoras, 1994. page 237.

Writing Group

I just returned from my spring break trip to Northwest Missouri. While others I know may have spent their week in Spain, New York City, Las Vegas, or other exotic locales, I am so glad I roadtripped "back home." While I don't relish a 3 1/2 hour drive anymore, the effort was worth it! In spades!

First of all, my nephew performed in his school's production of The Wizard of Oz. He played several of the characters: Uncle Henry, the guard at the Wizard's door, and one of the "O-E-O" guys at the witch's castle. However, his best role was as the basket of the Wizard's hot air balloon. Inspired! It makes me sad to think he's all grown up and almost graduated.

Second, of course, I was able to spend time with my family--even though they were sick for most of my visit. Poor Mom slept and coughed almost the entire time I was there.

However, by far the best part about my spring break trip was meeting with my writing group. Being away from them is probably the biggest negative to my doctoral studies. Sitting with Tina, Dawn, Vicky, and Vickey, I finally felt at home. Among them I'm at my best because they deserve my best and and give me the security to be myself. They're insightful, inquisitive, witty, and just plain fun. Plus, they overlook my stupidity--those moments when I utter something utterly dumb. For that, I am always thankful. As if all those characteristics weren't enough, they are also the coolest cats around.

Well, that's all for this week. I planned to post a poem I've been working on, but I flat out don't have time to finish it tonight. Bummer. So, look for it in coming weeks...or maybe after this semester is over.

yes we can

Atlanta

I just returned from Atlanta--for business not pleasure, darn it! But because of that trip I've let one more week elapse without writing. Bummer.

So, instead I thought I'd share a few thoughts and suggestions from my trip:

• When staying in the Buckhead region, visit Lola's Bellini Bar for dinner. It looked to be the new (a.k.a. "trendy") spot for after work socializing. I ordered their fish of the day--scallops with thin sliced roasted potatoes and asparagus. Divine. The scallops were HUGE! and so delicious. The Riesling was pretty good too.
• Another excellent place to eat is the Buckhead Diner, not at all what I expected. It was tres chic with gourmet plates. I had the salmon on cucumber salad. Yum. Plus, the service is beyond phenomenal. Our waiter was so patient with our giggles and questions, and none of the servers ever let my sweet tea glass go empty.
• A final place to eat (noting a pattern here?) is Brick Tops, another new and trendy place. I had the fish of the day sandwich--a sea bass. My only downer on this restaurant was that the sides weren't very customer friendly. I could only choose from french fries or a mayonaise cole slaw. But, everything else was excellent. The sea bass was light and flaky but not dry; the bun, toasted just right.

On another note, while I was in Atlanta the city experienced its first ever tornado in the downtown area. Luckily we were north of that area and only experienced wind and rain, but it made me think about lots of things. I was in Atlanta for a National Writing Project meeting for research grants and had experienced a major meltdown during the afternoon before the tornado. Needless to say I am MONDO STRESSED about this project and wasn't working well with the professor who was in Atlanta to work on the same project. Well, let's put it this way: I cried, and I rarely cry (heck, I made it through my dad's funeral without crying). So, I'm a little on edge, capesh? But after the tornado hit and I saw all the devestation on TV (and talked to my sister and my mother), I realized that in five years, all this will be well behind me, no longer "rattling my cage." There are many worse things out there, and I should just concentrate on how THANKFUL I am to have the life I live, the opportunity to go to grad school, the wonderfully supportive family I have, and so much else.

Okay, before I turn into a Hallmark commercial, I'll end my missive here. Atlanta is a beautiful city, one which I hope to visit again someday just for fun. I sincerely send them all my kind words and thoughts as they recover from the wrath nature visited upon them Friday night.

And to anyone who actually reads this--quelle shock! there's someone out there reading this????--I promise to post something less whiny and more creatively minded next week. Honest! (fyi: spring break starts this Friday--hooray!)

Surviving the Ice

I wrote this piece earlier this year after visiting my sister and her family in northwest Missouri. In December a series of ice storms struck the entire area, leaving the trees just massacred. It was painful to see all these awesome trees just stripped of limbs. So, on this March 2, with the temperature in the mid-seventies, I thought it appropriate to post a poem about an ice storm. This is a ROUGH DRAFT, so please don't expect much. However, if you have suggestions, please let me know! I always welcome constructive criticism! Especially a better title.

They stand beheaded.
Broken limbs dangleat their sides,
while flayed skin, cracked
and rough, lays scattered
at their roots, clinging
deep into frozen earth.
The wind gusts, firing bullets
to encase their torsos
and yet unhacked arms.
Shivering, they rub against each other,
rattling a skeletal rhythm of nature.
Melting snow tracks tears
the arid wind wipes clear.
A slight burn remains
mute evidence of their trials.
Naked and abused,
they stand against the whitened landscape.
Broken and exposed,
an unknown vulnerability emerges,
but they persevere.
Their bark has seen worse storms,
colder winters, thicker ice.
Some may be damaged,
others may be bowed,
but come summer,
they will rise once again
from these icy flames
and join the verdant chorus
of triumph and a wondrous
woodland peace.