Of The Home Renegade’s Curry #MEATLESSMONDAYS

A Guest Post

The Home Renegade’s Vegetable Curry!!!

Curry.jpg

I am not a “Home Cook”. The disaster I make in the kitchen, the absurd number of pots, bizarre amount of cutlery, and countless times I have to wipe down my counters is testament to that. When I cook, I am in a war zone, and I am the General sending my “troops” to inevitable victory. Because, I can cook. Very well. Just don’t call me a home cook… maybe, a Home Renegade. Because I am not prim and proper, or meticulous… I throw things in that pot and that pan, and BOOM (I’m shocked the explosion hasn’t been literal), a meal!!

So, I make it a point to do Meatless Mondays, just to get my people used to the fact that veggies do taste pretty good. This time, I had no idea what to make, I was way too lazy to go to the shops after work, cause all I was thinking of was getting to my hot stove and cooking (no, it was just because it was real cold!!). So with my measly haul of vegetables, I managed to make a pretty decent meal, I think. I mean, my husband and kid said it was nice; I’m not sure if it was true, or because I was giving them the scary mom eye that scares you into submission. In my defence, I had to make sure they ate their veggies…

So here is the “recipe:

Cooking oil

Curry powder

A mixture of vegetables (I had carrots, green beans, and butternut squash; at times I add cauliflower, baby marrow and sweetcorn) all chopped however you like

Onions (diced)

Tomatoes (diced)

Tomato Puree

Garlic

Salt to taste

I don’t measure a thing, I wish I did, then I’d be like a fancy chef on Masterchef who writes down their recipe before starting to cook. I’m a renegade guys! As long as it tastes good and is healthy, I am happy. How will I pass on my recipes to my kids though…?

Heat oil (a lot of oil, whatever a lot is to you) in a saucepan, and add onions and garlic. Cook till softened. Add curry powder at this point. (I just pour, till I’m happy… I need to start measuring things…). Add your tomatoes , and vegetables, and let simmer till tomatoes are mushy (forgot the culinary name…). Add tomato puree, water (water should be up there! *face palm*), and simmer for some time. ( I didn’t time it…). Add seasoning, and gravy thickeners if they’re your style and serve! Goes well with rice & rotis.

Curry.jpg

So here you go! If you wanna try Meatless (day of the week) in your house, here’s a recipe for you. And my son actually eats the vegetables! So maybe it’s a miraculous way to get kiddies to eat their veges!!!

Until next time… Your Quarter Wife.

Quarter Wife.jpg

Bio

Rutendo Matongo (nee Sewani)

I love making lists! I love making lists with categories and subcategories! I’m not a neat person, but I love a compartmentalised life, where I can get information quickly. That was the inspiration for the Quarter Wife.  I love the nation of Zimbabwe! I live in Harare with my husband and son. When I’m not making lists, I’m working as a General Practitioner, and wondering which knitting project to start.

Twitter: @quarter_wife

Facebook: www.facebook.com/quarterwife/

Website: TheQuarterWife.WordPress.com

Thank you for joining do check out her blog you just might pick up an apple or two

~B

PS I cook in an almost similar fashion, and the good thing about it is no meal ever tastes exactly the same and the bad thing about it is No Meal Ever Tastes Exactly The Same.

 

Of Do what I want-Nots; Giving Advice

 Guest Post

guest

So during the beginning of this year, a friend, fellow blogger asked me if I would like to do a guest post on his blog. I got so excited. So happy to have been considered. Then I started to think: “What am I going to write about?” All these ideas started to run through my mind: “Well, easy, I will just write what I write about on my blog.”

You see, on my blog, I am writing about my writing, my book, and my projects. I just felt it not right to come as a guest and start doing the same thing I do on my blog. This had just been an opportunity I have been given to write anything. Then the writer’s block spell hit me. Giving up, I went on a vacation. Completely putting it out of my mind. Recently, I was reading his blog and saw a guest post. I thought to myself: “You know what? I can do this.”

I realised that I have a story that I would like to share. I know I didn’t want to do anything like on my blog. But hey,  story telling is my life. And here is my story.

Do What I Want-Nots

This is a story about the phrase “Do what you want” and how it got me into trouble. I know you think you can predict the ending but…just hear me out.

You see, I have developed a policy of not giving people advice. Instead I tell them to do what they want. Seriously, let’s face it, people are going to do what they want eventually. So that’s what I tell them. Interesting enough, people do not want to be told to do what they want either. They want advice. It is pretty weird that I can’t give people advice when they come to me, yet here I am after spending the last four years studying Psychology. You would think I could do better than that, don’t you? Well, you are wrong.

That is the same mistake people I know make. They think because I am studying Psychology, and in just a matter of three months I will be getting my degree in Psychology, I should be able to give advice. Yet all I tell them is to do what they want. Some of them would pause and look at me in total disbelief. Some of them would humor me and go, “Totally”. They are not really fooling me. I know they don’t mean, ‘totally’.I rant a lot. Let me get to the story I want to share with you today. This is the story about how my advice went wrong and all the consequences unfolded before my very eyes.

There is this girl, she was once my room mate. I really hope she doesn’t read this. ‘Cause I’m telling the story from my side, so it is going to definitely reflect badly on her side. But well… So she came to me sighing. I knew the sighing was a request for me to ask, “What’s wrong?”
So she told me that she really wanted to sign up for the Theatre Club but her friends were telling her not to.

“What should I do?” She asked.

Now me I’m trying to look all analytical but I know what I am going to tell her.

“I really want to join the theatre.” She added.

As a theatre kid myself, I would have told her to join the theatre. It is fun! That’s what I thought to myself. I would never tell anyone not to join the theatre. Then again, her friends probably knew her better than I did. Perhaps they knew how terrible she would be at acting. They did not want her to embarrass her self. Cut to me giving advice, after considering the confounding variables.

Just do what you want.” I said.

I thought she would read the clear message I was sending: “Don’t bother me with your friends-theatre drama”, but she did not get that.
No seriously I didn’t mean that. I was genuine with my statement. I really wanted her to do what she wanted to. However, unlike others who humour me and thank me for the advice, she wanted clarification.

What do you mean?

That was new. I never had to get out of my margins and explain what “what you want” meant. But I took the challenge.

I mean, you really want to join theatre, right?”
Yes.” She nodded.
You think that joining the theatre would make you happy, right?
Yes.
What about your friends? What will happen to them if you join the theatre?”

She didn’t have an answer for that.
I mean, maybe you will hurt your friends if you go to the theatre.”
No, it’s not about hurting them. I don’t know why they don’t want me to join.” She said. “They said that I always say I want to do something but then leave it in the middle.

Then it got too complicated for me. I did not want to be in a therapy, it began to feel like therapy. So I retreated to my old,

Then do what you want.

I saw the confusion coming back. So I tried to expagorate, “I can’t tell you what to do. You know what exactly makes you happy. I am not going to take your friend’s side and I am not going to tell you what you want to hear. I want you to choose for yourself what you want.”

Then I went on and made my mistake statement, “I always do what I want.”

“I understand, thank you.” I knew that she wasn’t humoring me. She actually meant it. Now I was scared of the smile on her face and of what she understood. But I never thought it would be that bad.

Later on those days everyone started to notice her transformation from an angel to a complete devil. She would play loud music, bang the door whenever she wanted to, she would leave her stuff scattered everywhere in the room. That was just unacceptable. Well, she did join the theatre. The rest of the girls decided to do an intervention. I really did not want to be included in the drama, so I stayed on my bed. With my ear phones on and listening to the whole thing. Of course I wasn’t playing anything.

Then the girl started talking with her voice all the way up. She was slamming the table and throwing everything away. I got so confused at what could have upset her that much. Then I heard the statement that stuck into my head.

I am sick and tired of putting other people’s feelings ahead of mine. I am done. I will do what I want.”

DO WHAT I WANT

DO WHAT I WANT

I lifted my eyes from the book I was pretending to read. Our eyes met and my heart tore. I knew with the glance at me that she was referring to my “advice”. I created a monster. That was not right. Everyone else gasped at that. Then one girl said the words that will make her never come to me for advice again.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you really think that is a good thing to do? Ignoring other people’s feelings? What had gone into you? You are not the girl that I knew all along.” They were friends way before she met me. I thought to myself, this is the lowest I will ever hit.

She misunderstood me. Do what you want, doesn’t mean do not consider other people. I meant it for productive things. Things like joining the theatre or maybe going shopping. For example me, I would do what I want when I know it is going to benefit me. Not doing any random thing just because I want to. Maybe sometimes I want to go for a walk but nobody else wants to, I will not sit around. As long as they are not holding my feet, I will definitely go for that walk. If I do something that annoys people, and they ask me to stop, of course I will stop.  When I get into a dilemma, that is when I pick what I really want. Or when there are more than one suggestion, then I pick the one that I want.

See, this is why I don’t want to give people advice.

Thank you for reading.

Alayina

 

Bio

Alayina.jpg

 

Alayina Halera, a Zimbabwean writer. I am a novelist, poet and reader. Favourite genre is fictional but I’m not that picky. An interest in writing fictional stories started when I was sixteen. That was when I set my goal to publish a novel. Way before then, I think when I was eleven, that was when writing became my hobby and quickly turned into a passion. So my blog has been a mixture of everything. I really do not have one thing I blog about. You’ll find articles, poems and about my writing projects.

Alayina blogs at Alayinah.Wordpress.com

**UPDATE**

This post has been pending in my drafts for a little close to three months, things came up, they always do, I never could quite find the time to finish and publish this guest post.. But today I scanned my newsfeed for unread posts; the first post I saw was hers I’ve completed My Studies

img-20170614-wa0031

Congrats and all the best

~B

Of FITTING

guest

Fitting by Josie Mills

You and Me
walking down the beach
just after dawn

The old people
walk up the beach into old age
you say
while we walk the other way
eternally young
eternally holding the hour
of walking down the beach
just after dawn

A woman
wrinkled dark and beautiful from the sun
picks up trash
you bend pick up some plastic
put it in her bag
and rinse your hands in the sea

You smile and greet each passerby
while I keep within our world together
and the evolution of beach animals
marks on the sand

You dart and chatter
while I walk quiet and straight
content just to have your hand
so fitting in mine

♥♥♥♥♥

Bio:
I’m Josie Mills, and I’ve been writing poetry since I was around 10 years old. I have a degree in creative writing with a focus on poetry writing. I teach writing now at a community college. I’ve had poems published in the journals Snakeskin and Mantis among others.I live in Denver, Colorado, with my husband, two sons, and our cat Moe :-). I write the blog Open Mind Fashion (OMF) for fun: http://www.openmindfashion.com or http://www.facebook.com/openmindfashion

OMF.jpg

 

~B

..and it happens to be her birthday today, Happy BIRTHDAY ♥♥♥ she wrote this piece awhile ago and I felt it had that je ne sais quois  for a birthday month and also February month of love ♥♥♥♥♥ 

also find her on Twitter for an interesting look at fashion tips for people without a closet full of money…

PS forever young ☻☺ 

Of Words and Red Dresses

Guest Post: Leeanna Lazenby

guest

The Importance Of Words And Red Dresses

Late at night, I laze about in a red lace dress pretending to be a diva and often take a stroll through my Twitter feed to see the latest poetry written by my online acquaintances. Okay, I don’t really wear such a glamorous outfit at all times but I do appreciate reading the talented words of many phenomenal people… and perhaps I should appreciate red dresses more than what I actually do. You will understand why I say this in a moment.

First, I must mention that I am sometimes lucky enough to stumble across Twitterers (as my Mother likes to call us) who have travelled across oceans to meet each other. They record their love affair or journey of meeting up through an exchange of one hundred and forty characters. The funny thing is, we have all done it. Most of us who are part of this tight-knit poetic community have connected with people from across the world in an uncanny, unexpected way. I, personally, have been blessed to find companions all over the place but there is one particular agonizing story that I have been longing to release and share. I was originally going to give the following account via Twitter but prolonged making it public as I was afraid that it could potentially bring my friend harm. I am not sure that I will ever be able to describe her extraordinary light in true form but I was then offered the opportunity to guest feature on this blog.

For this, I am very thankful as I now have a beautiful space to dedicate something to my lost soul sister. Thank you. As you read her tale, please know that I think of her daily.

Once upon a time but not too long ago, I opened a poetry account on Twitter as a way of recording snippets of my creativity. Naturally, I began to network and follow other like-minded individuals.

One day, a girl sent me a message and we exchanged a few words. We started to correspond frequently and eventually switched to emailing so that we could have more elaborate conversations. She was from Egypt and I, London. We were the same age so we could easily talk about boys, celebrities, fashion and life plans but it became much deeper too. We had lengthy discussions about the Higgs Boson experiments, scientific theories and philosophical viewpoints. We were unbelievably similar in countless ways but incredibly different for one catastrophic reason. She was oppressed whereas I had my freedom.  I could make my own choices in life. I was able to work, study, socialise and have friends. She, on the other hand, was confined to being kept at home by her extremely strict parents. They tracked her phone, did not let her have a bank account and withheld her passport in case she tried to leave for a better life. She was subjected to countless physical beatings and verbal insults on many occasions. She was not even able to take a walk since the city in which she lived was suffering from rioting, protests and violence. There was a lot of division between the inhabitants so it was dangerous to go out alone. She wanted to be herself but she was treated as an outcast by her family as they did not understand her personality or attributes.

This resulted in us having to communicate in secret. Sometimes, I would not hear from her for weeks on end but she would Skype/email as soon as she was able to. Her family did not want her to have a friendship with a “westerner” in case I was secretly a male and even when she showed them my photograph, they did not trust her to be telling the truth. They told her that a poet would corrupt her. I was a sinner for being creative. She was a sinner for associating with me.

Over time, she gathered money by any method that she could and kept it hidden. At one point, she managed to have an anonymous poetry book published on Amazon and was earning money through advertising via the online edition of her masterpiece. Her words were magnificent. She wrote in extravagant detail about mermaids and sea creatures without any hints of the daily struggles that she had to put up with in her own reality. She was planning to fight for her emancipation and have the life that she deserved. She was going to flee.

But then it happened. She could not see a way out and she became depressed. Hope left her. We spoke every night on a messenger and I tried to raise her spirits or at least restore her faith but she could not cope with what she had to experience. She attempted suicide. Not once but six times. Yes, six. They put her on medication and locked her away for months. I heard nothing. I thought she was dead.

Then, one day, I received a message from her. She told me that she was okay and that she had been sectioned in a mental institution for the entire duration of her absence. They were releasing her on the condition that she carried on taking the pills. She agreed but I know that she probably never swallowed them. You see, there was never anything wrong with her. The people at fault were her family and those around her. She was a creative type in a life where expression was forbidden.

She used to tell me every day how a woman like her could never be free in her world. It was wrong for her to be filled with passion. Can you even begin to imagine what that would feel like? She could not write, she could not take a walk in the park, she could not do any of the simple things that I took for granted. The most basic thing that she longed for was to be able to wear a red dress because I had one on in my photograph. In fact, I had one on in all of my photographs. She used to imagine that she was going to buy one from the shopping mall and have a collection of vivid lipsticks to match. She would joke that we would, one day, walk around London together and be the “red pair” without having to worry about what anyone thought of us.

She ended her email to me by explaining that my messages had kept her balanced throughout many of her traumatic experiences. She said that she had read my poetry every day and cherished the stories that we had shared with each other in our emails. She was very thankful that I gave her a sense of “normality” because we had our companionship. Her final statement to me exclaimed that my words filled with support/friendship could not have a value put upon them and that it was those very words that saved her life.

This was over two years ago now and I have not had any correspondence with her since. I have tried contacting her but her phone is disconnected, her Twitter is deactivated, her Skype account is permanently offline and the emails bounce back. I do not know what happened to her but she made me promise that if ever she disappeared, I would tell her story and be the voice that she never had. I cannot do her justice with my words but all I can say is this:

“There is a girl, location unknown, who writes of magical creatures and believes in freedom. She is one of many that is misunderstood but despite her sufferings, she is a strong person. Her mind is filled with creativity whilst her tongue whispers stories from her hushed dreams. And somewhere, in the depths of her beautiful imagination, she walks freely… swaying elegantly in her sparkling red dress.

I am forever thankful for all of the lessons, laughter and wisdom that came from this remarkable girl. Who knew that a mere poem on a social media outlet would bring such a wonderful person in to my life. She enriched me with a friendship beyond description.

Thanks to our poetry, two girls from opposite lives were connected and intertwined in a way that seemed impossible. You never know the power that your words will bring.

After looking over this, I would like to add that she is unaware of the impact she has had on my life. She always spoke of being courageous and having strength. She used to tell me, in her own way, that anything is possible and we have to follow our dreams. I can attribute many leaps of faith to her friendship and I only hope that she is out there somewhere experiencing her own slice of freedom.

—–

By Leeanna Lazenby

(Poet with the parrot and the red dress collection.)

***Please note*** I am aware that her individual circumstances are not a reflection of life in Egypt in any particular way. You could be anywhere in the world and experience a very strict family/upbringing. The mention of where she lived was entirely for context to highlight how we connected despite the distance between us.

Poet in The Red Dress.jpg

Lady in Red

Bio:

“Leeanna is a lover of taking bits and bobs from her head, dreaming of poems and making them in to tiddly chunks of art. Put them all together and you may just have a picture of what’s going on up in there.”

Leeanna wants to say a big thanks to @Beatonm5 for the opportunity to write on his blog. Thank you!


Thank you Leeanna it has been a pleasure having you, and thank you for sharing your story, words alone are not important its also having someone, to take a moment to listen…. When I have a story to tell that’s all I ask for, a listener.

Leeanna and her parrot can be found on the Twitterverse, tweeting poetry  @24LoveHeart24

~B

 

Of A Blessed Woman

A Guest Post 

I Am Blessed Woman by Raquel

I am a blessed woman,
not because am good,
but because am loved by the perfect  one.
The one who brings out the best in me.
He loved me in my imperfections and brought out the best in me.
He sets a stage before me and made me the star of it.
His love is so electrifying.
It brings out that which He has deposited in me, it flows like rivers of living Waters.
I am blessed not because I have all the riches in the world,
but am loved by the one who owns it all.
All I need do is ask.
Am blessed because I have a lover Whose name move mountains,
Whose words create things.
He is majestic, so powerful, second to none.
Nothing compares to Him.
Who can make come to pass when He commanded it not.
The seas bow before Him,
the storms obey His command,
the dead rise at the mention of His name,
Oh how blessed am l.
It is a celestial blessing,
a bless compared to none.
I love you lover of my soul JESUS.
I am a blessed woman because you made me.

I am blessed.jpg guest

A guest post by the blessed Raquel who featured on my last coffee chat Mused by a stranger. Funny story she says she is a little shy to share anything about herself to strangers but I say watch this space……..

~B

 

 

Of Coffee With A Musing Stranger

Africa

If you were having coffee with me, I would smile and say hi thank you for joining me, would you prefer tea, coffee or plain boiled water. I would ask you if you had a favourite mug; its not weird at all right having a favourite mug?

What did you get up to this past week?

Lets see, some local celebrity couple had a bit of a meltdown, some say it was a publicity stunt, some say it was real. I wont even go into it because I think they got way too media attention maybe I should blog my own melt-down. Just that the internet never forgets nor sleep or eat or have coffee for that matter, and when a private moment goes viral… it goes so epic that everyone has their two cents to say about it.

Speaking about the internet our dear old Postal and Telecommunications Regulation Authority company; POTRAZ decided to set a floor price of making the internet 2 cents a megabyte to protect the telecoms industry. A move which would see our data prices going up and we already have expensive internet. Econet Wireless went and increased their data charges significantly and people took to the internet and social media to protest the high data costs.  Econet passed the buck to POTRAZ, in a loaded press statement hinting to the effect that the Regulator, the Ministry of IT and the government in general creating an uneven playing field and also trying to restrict low data use  of  the internet as it contributes to abuse of social media (but people have read in between the lines as The Government trying to limit freedom of speech on the internet, elections coming up next year…)and they have since reverted back to the old tariffs and POTRAZ has suspended its internet floor price (for now) and The Ministry has in return warned Econet not to dabble in politics and to stick to its core business mandate…

If you were having coffee with me I would tell you I have a dream that one day the internet will be as basic as the air we breathe, free. I would tell you I have new muse, a stranger and Guest Blogger  I met thanks to the internet. Hailing from Nigeria; Raquel 

Mused by a stranger ~ Words by Raquel
I have been mused, mused by a stranger.
Didn’t your mama tell you not to talk to strangers?
But the stranger talked to me first, and it would be rude to ignore.
I am being mused, mused by a stranger.
I did talk to the stranger, a stranger from a land strange to me.
Strange enough I did like talking to the stranger.
Me being mused by a stranger.
What will it be?
Will it be good, fantastic or interesting?
Or will it be bad, ugly sad and regretful
I got to take the chance, for this stranger has tickled my fancy
AM MUSED BY A STRANGER

Thank you Raquel in musing you I muse myself, you can catch more of Raquel in my next post

Thanks for visiting and have an awesome week ahead

~B

PS how much does your internet cost you?

Of Coffee with Cat

tea

If you were having coffee with me I would say congratulations for making it to the New Year, the festive season is now over and we return to our regular scheduled programming.

If you were having coffee with me I would ask you how your New Year’s resolutions are going, if any.

If you were having coffee with me I would introduce a Guest Blogger for my first ever Guest Post, and a step towards my Blogging Resolutions for 2017.

guest

Hello world meet Cat

Friendly Fire ~ A Poem by Cat

In the dark recesses of my mind
I sit
No stars are shining here
The lights have gone off
The fire down to embers
Will I still like a phoenix rise
From these ashes

My heart still beats
And feels
I don’t know how
With all that patching together
It’s broken
But still works somehow

I thought I was learning to laugh
But they said it’s all wrong
It comes across wrong
Doesn’t look like what they know
And so it isn’t love
They threw it at my feet

In the dark recesses of my mind
My tear ducts are constipated
Or the rivers behind my eyeballs
Have finally dried
Like the prayers that refuse to rise
From my chapped lips
How come I cannot pray

They said my eyes hide daggers
My smile a caricature
My words bring death
And the language of my body holds a threat
Even when my arms are uncrossed
There’s still a weapon in the folds of my clothes

Tonight confusion and pain lie with me
At least I’m not alone
Is that the way of it?
Even the layers of years of pain
Can’t keep the cold out

The bee stings hard
Yet it also makes honey so sweet
May this bitterness
Make me sweet
I guess this is a prayer
And maybe
Just maybe
A listening ear will hear.

Bio: Cat is finding it hard to roar right now and so a miaow is all she has. Darkness pays her a visit now and then. You can find more of her words at catkai and she welcomes exchange of said words.

Cat

Thank you for reading and do pay her a visit

~B

.