Guess what guys? It’s Writer’s Quote Wednesday with Silver Threading …..yaasss.
http://silverthreading.com/2014/12/31/writers-quote-wednesday-2015-1-a-silver-quote/
Light is truth and truth is freedom, it doesn’t get any better than that.
Stay free people :).
Ok, that was a little dramatic. BUT I just saw a pay phone (and get this), someone was actually using it! I wonder how much those things cost now. You can probably wash a whole load of clothes for the price. While we’re on the subject, remember pagers? You thought you were so cool because you had a pager. But pay phones though, who would have thought. So for those of you who have not upgraded your smart phones it’s ok, you can go to bed tonight knowing that someone out there still uses a pay phone.
• It’s like asking someone to love you.
As many are polishing and re-polishing their blogs for what 2015 has in store, there are people on the internet contemplating starting a blog. They may be tying up the loose ends and deciding on a template this very moment; or categorizing a host of topics to cover. Some of them are writers, poets, chefs, professional business men and women, teachers, lawyers, publishers, or just people who would like to share their thoughts with the world. Wherever they are we will soon meet them. For this reason there are some tips I think we can all use to help increase productivity, or ideas we would like to share with future newbies or old heads looking to expand and or increase traffic.
One tip I would like to offer from my tiny corner of the Blogosphere is a suggestion: One Reason to Never Ask Someone to Follow Your Blog. While I admire the courage it takes to step out on faith and all, and give it the old college try, personally I think it’s kind of tacky, screams of desperation, and that we’re all worth so much more. I do not want to thrust my words into your mouth and force you to swallow them and I don’t expect to be forced to do the same. I will never write specifically for your approval because I’m not built that way. If you disagree you have a right to do so and on to the next one. But to ask you to follow me is disingenuous. While the person may just follow you because they investigated what made you bold enough to ask and decided they actually want to follow your blog, the offering side of that coin is not so bright. I imagine we all want people to follow our blogs or to interact with them in some way because we all have something to offer. Even if it’s just a blog created specifically to vent, to rant and to rave about how much life sucks, you still have something to offer otherwise you could have just bought a journal and scribbled till your fingers grew numb. But you didn’t. You decided to browse the internet where millions of people live and share your thoughts with them. Call it therapy, or call it a hobby, whatever, but don’t pretend feedback isn’t encouraging for you because otherwise why are you here? My point is that even if you’re content with one follower, I think he or she is worth all you’ve got to give. I’ve had to do lots of things that required an audience and only had a few people to show, but I’ve always believed that no matter how big or small, it was my responsibility as the host to give one-hundred percent. People are drawn to passion, so give them some—but show, don’t ask.
You want people to interact with your blog because something you said drew them in and they simply could not resist themselves, not just because you asked them to. In this way you already have their attention as opposed to trying to grab their attention. You must strive to keep their attention of course, but you do have them in this moment. No matter how weird and quirky you are people like what you have to say. My suggestion is that you grab them first and let them decide if you’re worth following; it makes for a much sweeter victory. Let us fall in love first before deciding whether or not to make this a commitment.
It was in the early 90’s when the image of clowns changed for me. Not that I was much of a fan anyway, but one event made it that much more clear that clowns were creepy little creatures; cowards who hated themselves so much that they hid behind make-up. What grown man or woman wants to bounce around with a red nose? And why do you look like that? Anyway, something was going around the projects about a serial killer dressed as a clown who went around kidnapping children. At the time I was only about seven years old and I can remember being released from school early. Everyone had to have someone to pick them up from school and walk them to their building. While there was no adult to pick me up, being a twin always had its perks; it’s called having a lot of friends. So a large group of us walked home together. I even had a weapon, a super sharp pencil that was prepared to slice and dice the first orange or red Afro I saw coming. It didn’t occur to me that the pencil could break. And how would I sharpen it again? Nope, never crossed my mind, nor did my second grade education prepare me for such an event. I suppose I could just pencil stab him to death, not sure how that would work. Maybe he’ll get lead poison or something, who knows.
According to the rumor, the killer targeted children by standing next to mailboxes and eating bananas. I’m not sure why he would be eating bananas; an obvious indication that someone had probably just watched Stephen Kings IT and made the whole thing up. But that didn’t stop us from believing it. As we walked passed the first mailbox, our hearts caught in our throat, trying to walk as silently as childhood footsteps would allow. In the end we would make it home safe and sound. But when I went to sleep that night there he was, that ugly looking clown. I was looking out the window of Chicago’s Robert Taylor Homes to the building next door where someone else was also looking out the window. Yea you guessed it: the clown. He smiled until his cheeks almost reached his ears and his teeth looked as if he had painted them yellow. Suddenly however, he ran away from the window. “Oh no! He’s coming over!” Before I knew it a clown was in my living room chasing me around the couch. Even though it was just a dream this was a very serious situation. Yea, looks like someone would definitely not be invited to the next birthday party.
The wind has released itself from its chambers and spreads its body over the earth. A blanket of hammers slamming low temperatures into the atmosphere, it carries the clouds; full and dark with storms they are coddled into position. The sun has set and is nestled inside the crook of fire in the west wing of the heavens until it is time to renew itself again. The trees expose its private parts except the fourteen or so that do not lose its leaves to the whistling death sentence of winter. In less than a week from now, when the stars loiter on top the sky amidst the backdrop of midnight, people will decorate themselves with the image of change and resolutions, and make intoxicated promises they will never keep. Maybe it is just the warmth of liquor wrapping its arms around their spines, cooling their blood, and pulling at their heart strings. Suddenly it will happen, that moment when the bullet is separated from its shell, the parties burst into confetti, and this moment hushed into a lullaby. Right here, in the middle of a dead winter; everything cold and stiff and silent and yet loud inside a lowering orb of momentary bliss. This is the excited murmur of a new era and it is the canvas to which they will usher in a new year.
Be careful out there.
Winter has its perks, among which are soups. The warm feeling of delight as it travels your inward parts is deliciously heartwarming—literally. If there is one meal to enjoy during the cold it is Chili’s and Soups.
We’ll need:
• 1 (3 1/2-pound) whole chicken
• 3 quart(s) low-sodium chicken broth
• 6 carrots, peeled
• 4 stalk(s) celery, ends trimmed
• 3 medium onions, peeled
• 5 black peppercorns
• 1 clove(s) garlic, crushed
• 10 sprig(s) parsley
• 2 sprig(s) thyme
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 tablespoon(s) unsalted butter
• 4 leeks, tops and root ends removed
• 1 teaspoon(s) salt
• 1 teaspoon(s) fresh-ground pepper
• 3 cup(s) (5 ounces) medium egg noodles
Make the stock: Place the chicken and chicken broth in a large stockpot and set it over medium heat. Roughly chop 2 carrots, 2 celery ribs, and 1 onion and add to the broth. Add the peppercorns, garlic, 2 sprigs of parsley, thyme, bay leaf, and enough water to just cover the chicken. Bring the broth to a boil, reduce heat to a simmer, and cook until the chicken is very tender — about 1 1/4 hours — skimming the surface periodically. Remove the chicken and place in a large bowl. Strain the broth through a very fine sieve into a large, clean bowl or stockpot. Discard the vegetables.
Make the soup: Skim any fat off the top of the strained broth and discard. Slice the remaining carrots, celery, onions, and leeks into 1/4-inch-thick pieces and set aside. Remove and discard the skin and bones from the chicken, cut meat into 1/2-inch pieces, and set aside. Chop the remaining parsley leaves and set aside. Melt the butter in a large Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the vegetables and cook until the onions are translucent — about 7 minutes. Add the chicken, the reserved broth, salt, and pepper. Simmer the soup until the vegetables are tender — about 1 hour. Stir in the egg noodles and parsley and cook until the noodles are tender — about 10 more minutes. Serve hot.
Add toasted bread or tortilla for an added treat :).
“Here’s the mail that never fails, it makes me wanna wag my tail, when it comes I wanna yell, MAIL!”
Yea yea, I’m quoting Blues Clues. I know were supposed to all be grown and boring and stiff, but I still love getting packages in the mail. It’s a building anticipation of something good. A private party thrown by some invisible person who selected you specifically because you’re just special like that. You tear into the package with the beating heart of a child. Doesn’t really matter what it is, it’s just that it’s there and it’s yours and that’s all that matters in the world. One important attribute we should never lose as we age is appreciation of the little things. Children are so content sometimes with the simplest of things. They are so keen in to the moment itself that nothing else matters in the world. Yesterday has gone and tomorrow may never come. All we ever have is this moment and the taking advantage of what it offers. Life is serious enough; each day already packed with its own set of circumstances. That said, I would love to sit and be mean with all you grown people who don’t really know what it means to curl your mouths up into that positive looking gesture, however I just got books in the mail I am dying to devour; we can complain about your problems later.
Crafting Compelling Stories from the Heart
Rest is Resistance
goodies from my mailbox and camera
I am more than breath & bones. I am nectar in waiting.
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