The Stars and the Cookie Jar

I'm thinking about writing a poem.

God, it's disaster for all concerned, really.

I have a terrible complex about my poetry, which leads me to make the following statement:
Denise Wadsworth Trimm, please rot in whatever private hell is reserved for shitty, self-esteem-destroying teachers of creative writing.

Seriously. I buried, shredded and burnt a lot of it. And it's still not very good. It's not at the level I'm pleased and proud to have reached in my published work, and it's light-years lagging from where I'd like to be as far as craft for things I haven't yet published. I write about one poem every two years.

And I'm thinking hard about doing it again.

Selkie: Here;s the original cider turkey recipe that I used to work off
Selkie: I remember getting that magazine from my uncle and being so excited.
Selkie: That's how long I've been cooking the Thanksgiving dinner for whoever I'm with
OORamiusOo: wow
Selkie: I was wee
OORamiusOo: *nods*
OORamiusOo: *snuggles wee!you*
Selkie: I did the turkey, the stuffing, the gravy, carrot-ginger soup, mashed potatoes, broccolini with chestnuts, white chocolate mousse with cranberry compote and ... some kind of pie I disremember
Selkie: It took me two days.
OORamiusOo: eep
Selkie: And my mother mocked me horribly at table because a guest asked me what I'd done to make the cranberries soft and sweet, and I said 'I macerated them in orange juice and grand marnier' and my mother fell off her damn chair laughing.
Selkie: Because of macerated.
Selkie: Grown woman, thanks.

• left work early


• did extra shopping for fun weekend food like Nutella


• got darthrami an 85% cocoa Valrhona bar


• cleaned the bathroom


• looked up cooking times for strata for breakfast tomorrow


• wrote a letter to sovay


• read a very thinky post by sybilla

Still to do:

• find out why my computer thinks it should restart


• fix strata for breakfast tomorrow


• air out guest room and check thermostat


• dig out sheets for couch


• declare RamiSelkie's Big Lesbian Hostel open for business, possibly alert IYHF


• write what I couldn't write at work because writing steals all my attention from, you know, the ringing phone it's my job to answer