I somehow missed yesterday’s poem and prompt email from the writing cohort. I checked for it a few times and when I didn’t see it, I freewheeled into poetry myself. I wrote down some lines that came to me. I may have drafted another poem too, though at the time I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d done.
As soon as I opened my email this morning, I saw today’s prompt. Later, when I went looking for it again, I couldn’t find it. Hunting for the sender’s name revealed not only today’s email but yesterday’s as well.
That’s what I get for having two main email addresses. Some people’s connection to me goes back to the old inbox, and I still send junk mail there, so yes, I maintain it. I also signed up to Submittable with it a jillion years ago, and just try changing your email over there.
I dare you.
This morning, immediately upon reading the poem of the day and yesterday’s prompts, I started writing something based loosely on an unpleasant experience I had the other day, where I felt like I was being Judgey McJugerDrema. (It was all internal, but I knew what I was thinking.)
Word Raccoon fussed and told me that writers really can’t afford to prejudge. We’d lose all our best material.
She’s not wrong. She learned that from a beautifully open-minded mentor.
At any rate, I was ashamed of myself and was trying to write it out.
Turns out it was deeper.
Of course it was.
It always is.
I wrote the bones of a second poem, so skeletal it could double as a Halloween decoration. (Too much? It’s early.)
Then another came out, definitely needing a polish. WR put her hands on her waist and asked if we could possibly write about something, anything else?
I told her we already had this morning, but she rolled her eyes and said I knew what she meant.
I did, but she can just…
Hey, I’m already wearing her pirate racoon shirt (HER fault I own it,entirely). What more does she want?
Once at the café, an hour early because this holiday weekend is about to get busy, I triumphantly grabbed a Coke Zero, and Word Raccoon did a little dance of thanks for the amused barista.
We were already fueled by The Book Review Podcast which we listened to while getting ready, and we finished the last few minutes of it with breakfast. It was delightful, both witty and informative, had me scrambling for the Libby app to request books before they’ve even been released.
They also had poet Ada Limón on, which was extra inspiring. She read a poem that she said a tree gave her that had Gilbert Cruz teared up.
Same, Gilbert. Same.
Though my writing time is likely to be nonexistent this weekend, at least today I did the admin:
Proofread a poem for an anthology and gave the thumbs up
Wrote to thank another journal for updating me on the issue’s publication date (April 21!),
Recorded a rejection (wah)
Checked to see if I had even submitted to a contest I received the results of in an email. (I had not, but ya for those who won.)
I’m looking forward to a lovely Easter buffet at a restaurant in a nearby town. We discovered it last year and haven’t looked back. (Family dinner will be next week.)
Reese’s peanut butter eggs and Peeps to you, Dear Readers.
I’d also offer my handmade chocolates, but not this year. Don’t tell Word Raccoon but I’m not making them. Maybe next Easter.
If you’ve had more than enough candy this season already, here’s something a little different. I did make my dad’s traditional pickled eggs, though most children don’t want those in their Easter basket. (I wouldn’t have minded.)
While I am VERY beet averse, mercifully they lend color more than taste in this situation. You want to make them a few days ahead so they have time to pickle and turn that cheerful shade of pink that says festive and not vegetable-forward.
This is my adaptation of his recipe. (Very Southern-flavored.)
Pickled Eggs (the pink kind):
- 6–12 hard-boiled eggs, peeled
- 1 can beets (which, TBH, taste like dirt to me, which is why I don’t eat them)
- 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar (he used white, but I prefer the milder apple cider vinegar )
- 1/4 cup water
- 1/4 cup sugar (maybe more if you’re not a fan of sour)
- 1 tsp salt
Warm the beet juice, vinegar, water, sugar, and salt just enough to dissolve everything. Let it cool slightly, then pour it over the eggs in a jar until everything’s covered. Refrigerate.
Note: you can taste the brine and adjust to taste, no harm, no foul.
Wait at least 2–3 days before eating, though they get better (and pinker) as they sit.
You can salt and eat them plain, or slice them and add them to a salad. Some brave souls use them to make deviled eggs. I’ve never tried that.
If you’re Drema, you throw the beets out when the eggs are pickled. Not that you have to.
You’re welcome.
dremadrudge.com 