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This Square Peg.

Happily Not Fitting In Since 1978.

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Blogvember

Blogvember #30: The Final Day.

Well, dears, today ends 30 days of Blogvembering. Went by pretty fast, no? I enjoyed every minute of it, even those moments when I was about to drift off into sleep and recalled with panic that I forgot to blog. And I admit to cheating when those times happened by blogvembercombining days, but a blog post is a blog post. Don’t sue me because I’ll represent myself and win, owing to several years of watching lawyer shows. Anyway. It was a pleasure. And it was awesome to be mostly regular with blogging, which is what I try to shoot for.  What I learned:

  1. I honestly don’t prefer blogging on the WordPress app on my phone. You know? Is that weird? I like the clickety clack of an actual keyboard when I’m chatting with you. Phones are for Pinterest rabbit holes and sending social media screenshots to your enablers friends. Not blogging. Next time, I’ll set aside time to actually get in front of my laptop rather than my phone.
  2. There were days when I had nothing to say. Like life. So a photo blog post was the next best thing. They really are worth 1,000 words.
  3. There were days when I had plenty to say. But peering down at my phone to type…I just wasn’t about that life. So we’ll revisit those discarded topics for general bloggery.
  4. November actually came through. What a concept.

It was fun. And now, because it’s also Wednesday, let’s end with one of our favorite features, shall we?

mpg1
Do you know this guy?

Let me provide a reminder.

mpg2
Yes. That smoldering face from the first photo was your first crush and my forever boo: Zach Morris, the star of Saved by the Bell. Mark-Paul Gosselaar. He’s aged well, no? Like unrecognizable well. Anyway, grown man status. Those memories of sitting in front of the TV, chin in palm, dreamy-eyed and wishing I attended Bayside High will never fade. Happy Wednesday, MPG. We’ll always have The Max.

Bon Wednesday and thanks for your support during Blogvember. Onwards and upwards…

Blogvember #29: The Baby Steps Gourmet.

Cooking is an art form. And in a world of cuisine Van Goghs, I’m best described as the lady with tracing paper who would love to just copy the art without doing all the work. When I was 15, my mother devised a plan: she, my sister and I would take turns cooking. She showed us how to do the basics, some recipes along the way, that sort of thing. I grumbled about it, of course, because what teenager doesn’t grumble? It’s in the teen DNA. But it was actually pretty awesome. I gained skills and became quite confident using them. Eventually, I could whip up a stew or Jollof rice in no time. When I moved out at 24, feeding myself was doable. I could cook my own food.

And then I moved back home.

There’s something about your mother’s cooking that makes your attempts laughable and inedible. And undesirable to yourself. Back home, I would whine to my mother that, rather than me cooking dinner for the family at the stove, she could do it much better. Her eye rolling in my direction was massive. But not doing it regularly like I had in the past wore away at my cooking confidence. When it was time to get to the stove (because all that mid-30s whining wasn’t cutting it with Mother), I found that I forgot simple steps or didn’t move with the confidence I had in the past. So I ultimately decided that I would move to TX and live once again on my own, what shocked me the most was that I actually looked forward to getting back to cooking for myself.

Don’t tell anyone.

Anyway, these days, I cook here and there. Working full-time and engaging in life and worship and new friends and new areas leaves little time to actually devote to homemade cuisine. But I’m working at it. Cooking at home is a money saver, can help me experiment, and at the end of the day, it just feels good to create my own meals.

Don’t tell anyone.

Last night, I decided to recreate my favorite (it deserves italics: favorite) Ghanaian meal: fried plantains and bean stew. Or red-red. Previously, when I tried to fry plantains years

redred
This isn’t my red-red. I ate it too fast to take a picture.

and years ago, I almost burned my mother’s house down. This time, I plowed ahead with my plans to make this pretty easy meal, fears of burning down my apartment building pushed aside and ignored. I pulled out the deep fryer and got to work. I also cooked a stew comprised of black-eyed peas and other yummy things. Back to the italics: it was delicious. I mean: I wanted to lick my fork. Maybe I did. But the very best part, the most awesome, was the phone call to my mom later that evening to announce that I successfully pulled off a meal that, to date, only she has been able to prepare to my liking. (And a Ghanaian restaurant that I was obsessed with frequented back in our area.) I could hear the happiness in her voice. “I guess you’re really growing up,” she also said. We laughed. Because I’ll always be 9 years old where she’s concerned, and I don’t mind one bit. Nevertheless, it was nice to see that all my silly fears (well, only one fear: it’ll taste like dirt) about cooking are just that: silly fears.

Just call me the Baby Steps Gourmet. But I’m still bringing utensils and paper goods to every event I’m invited to, so don’t get too crazy.

Blogvember #26, #27, and #28: Life.

Three days, huh? Let’s investigate my brief Blogvember absence.



I took walks and got in some great steps.


I hung up new artwork for l’appartement. This lovely French sign means flower market. It’s not particularly centered, but just take comfort that my use of a hammer (!!!!) didn’t result in the loss of my sweet fingers.


I indulged. The caption tells you everything you need to know. Le sigh. But it was so, so good. 


More décor shopping. A birdcage as decoration is intriguing, no?

That’s all she Square pegged. Hope you had a fanstastic weekend and welcome to Monday.

Blogvember #24 and #25: Thursday and Friday.

#24: It was lovely being off work on Thursday. This is what I did, rather than blog. Sorry. Well, not really.


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#25: Since it’s Black Friday, here’s a poem I wrote a few years ago, entitled, naturally, Black Friday

and so she believed the hype.
she tipped her head toward the heavens and waited for the stars to descend into her eyes, and she waited, so quietly, to hear a skip, a jump, a tiny hop within her heartbeat, and she gazed at him and waited for an infiltration of memory to imprint his every nuance and niche…
they didn’t tell you, did they, honey?
you may leave with a shiny new gadget after that doorbuster sale, my dear, but hype isn’t the heart, and the feeling of his hand in yours will never not feel like a bag of nails tapping at the soft flesh of your confused palm.
behind silly platitudes and empty love songs is nothing but air and the truth and you.
and so you believed the hype.
and you were duped, conned, swindled, sandbagged, hoodwinked, and yes, so sadly bamboozled.
but didn’t you know? 
when did love ever need a sale?

Blogvember #23: because it’s Wednesday.

Do I really need to explain this choice for because it’s Wednesday? 

Just stare into those eyes if you need extra convincing. While you do that, I’ll continue to quietly fulfill my duties as the president of the Chris Hemsworth fan club. 

Blogvember #22: Choices.(Mission Possible)

This was the photo I used for the back of my recent work of fiction, The Loftiest Thing. I love this photo. For one thing, the trees in the background absolutely fit the title’s theme, which was also one of the stories in the book. Secondly, I think my photographer (who also happens to be a good, longtime friend) captured the joy I felt at having accomplished this latest creative project. The natural lighting, the setting: parfait. 

My third book is on the horizon. Can we pause to celebrate this?


A part of me wants to keep that photo for the back cover. The other part of me wants to change it up. Just because change is always refreshing, and I think this third book represents some of the changes I’ve made with how I want to present my art. Below are the three photos I’m considering. 


Your mission, if you choose to accept it (and why wouldn’t you? You love me, right?): what say you? Pick the photo you like the most and tell me your option in the comments. I’m partial to all three of them, so I’m no help. The most-picked will win and I’ll make it my back photo. 

Happy choosing on my behalf…

Blogvember #20 and #21: Late Edition.

I didn’t forget about you. But Sunday got away from me on account of…

…the delivery of my new couch! Isn’t it lovely? Head on to Blogvember #21 below to discuss the new love of my life.

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Ok, so “Late Edition” has a double meaning. First, my apologies for not Blogvembering yesterday and providing a late posting for #20. 

Second, I learned just how comfortable my new couch was when I woke up this morning around 1AM and realized that I was, not in my bed, but all wrapped in a blanket on my new sofa. So in a way, I woke up late. You get it. We made it work. Anyway, yes: in love. Let’s break down why.

  1. I love the color. I wanted a charcoal/gray look and that’s what I found.
  2. The price didn’t cause cardiac arrest. And I got a discount! 
  3. As stated above, it’s certainly a comfortable one. Aside from the post-sleep disorientation of realizing that I wasn’t in my bedroom at 1AM (aliens?), it was nice to know that my new pal had already made itself welcome in my home.

Yay…

Onwards and couchwards, dear reader. 

Blogvember #19: The Wrestler.

I’ve become a professional wrestler. 

It’s the only way to explain why my bed looks like this when I wake up. I snapped this photo a day ago, moments after arising from my slumber (ah, poetry) and gazing at my bed in crusty-eyed shock. Had I participated in a dance competition in my sleep? Had I entered some kind of back-to-Math-class nightmare in which I fought an eager teacher engaged in a quest to make me understand fractions? Or had I fulfilled a secret wish to become a wrestler? Perhaps it’s the latter. 

I should add that I tried to videotape myself once to determine what was really happening at REM. When I woke up, the phone that I had propped up next to me was under my bed. 

Le sigh.

Happy Saturday. May you sleep serenely, unlike me. 

Blogvember #18: About your Author. (Friday Taunts)

Been a while since you resurrected this feature, huh?
Well, I wanted to give you a break since you’re always so pleased when we do it.

By now, though: don’t your readers enough about you?
Nah, we haven’t even touched the tip of that iceberg.

Fine, fine. What’s going on with you? Are you eating tons of beef and wearing cowboy hats yet?
Perish the thought. I’ve yet to even see a cowboy hat.

Really?
A lot of people are transplants like me. And the natives I’ve met seem quite content to go hatless.

Interesting. What else is new? You still eating like it’s going out of style?
That was way harsh, Tai.

Sorry. But remember that you’ve accessed the meaner part of your personality when we have these silly conversations. You basically asked for it.
True.

Anyway, how is your eating and exercising and all that?
Much better. I’ve resumed my regular fitness schedule, left all the donut shops behind—we’re doing well.

Good. What else is new, pussycat?
You’re effective at pretending like you actually care.

I learned from the best.
Nothing else is new. My fro is handling the new environment better than I expected.

Oh, yeah?
Indeed. You know how temperamental she is. But I’ve been really moisturizing and babying her, so we’ll see. Next year will be a full-fledged summer here so she may implode.

Perhaps a protective style, then?
Look at you, giving advice!

I read enough about this stuff on here; might as well join in. Speaking of cowboys—
We were not discussing cowboys.

We talked about their hats, so yes, we were discussing them. Have you met anyone yet? You know…wink, wink…
Oh, Lord.

What? We’re all thinking it.
No, I haven’t.

No one?
No one. Unless Idris has decided to start dressing like John Wayne.

Oh, Lord.
Now you know what it feels like.

Switching reels: are you writing?
I am! Finishing up stories and starting new ones. All at the same time, of course, because this is how I do.

When is the third book coming?
I’m really shooting for early 2017.

Yeah?
Yeah.

Care to wager on that?
That’s my cue.

Come back! I want to taunt you!

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