From the French, "Retirer"

After the success of our visit to the National Inventors Hall of Fame, my friend Mary and I took another little retirement field trip yesterday. This time, we went to Planet Word in downtown DC. 

Since its opening in October 2020, I have received many, many promotional emails from the place, which is understandable, considering that I am an English teacher and it is dedicated to literacy and learning. Even so, when I was actually teaching? I never felt like I had time to visit, despite several fun-sounding activities and events, but now that Mary and I are both out of the classroom, we have the time and opportunity to check the place out.

It did not disappoint! The museum has three floors of fun, engaging, interactive exhibits that explore the history and use of words and language. We played games, took quizzes, sang karaoke, designed advertisements, interacted with presentations, and watched videos as we worked our way from top to bottom. Our fellow visitors were a mix of families, couples, and small school groups, ranging in age from about 3 to 70-something, and everyone seemed to be having a pretty good time. The staff was great-- young (so young!) friendly, and informed.

As we were on our way out, the woman at the front desk had obviously overheard our conversation. "Are you teachers by any chance?" she asked.

We laughed. "Retired!" Mary told her. "But that didn't stop us from thinking about how we could have used this place to support our lessons."

She nodded. "I hope you're enjoying your retirement!"

"To be honest?" I said. "Being here without having to worry about 100 middle schoolers was definitely a lot more fun!"

That's Right Honey

I was grumbling last night about tariffs and how they've affected clothing costs. A woman of simple tastes, I've worn my fleece-lined flannel shirts to tatters over the last ten years. Both of my favorites have holes in the sleeves, nubby fleece prominently peeking through frayed flannel, and all I want is a replacement. Unfortunately, the famous outdoor outfitter I bought them from has redesigned them, adding pockets and swapping the buttons out for snaps. 

In a pinch, I might be convinced to go with the newer model, but not for a hundred bucks a shirt. Yes! One HUNDRED dollars for a flannel shirt. Heck, I thought they were overpriced back when they were $39.99. 

"Why don't you look on one of those thrifting, consignment sites?" Heidi suggested. "Or eBay?" She shrugged.

Ding! An angel got its wings! 

After a cursory search, I found exact replacements for the shirts I have loved to shreds on eBay for twenty bucks each, and they will be here next week. I almost choked up as I clicked the Buy Now button. Imagine! Replacing the clothes I love with exact copies for a fraction of the price. Now that's good technology.

BSN Redux

There are a few things I REALLY don't miss about being a teacher. Besides the long hours, which were really why I decided to call it quits, the one thing I never liked was Back-to-School Night. It was always so awkward and weird and rushed and tiring and and and. BSN is tomorrow, and I'll miss Heidi when she's there, but I won't be sad that I'm home.

On another topic, one of the things I love about this blog is that it offers me an anecdotal record of the last 17 and a half years of my life, including all my recorded thoughts on Back-to-School Night. It was kind of fun and illuminating to review them, and if you have any mind to do so yourself, just click the tag at the bottom of this post.

And as for the occasion itself, at least I got some writing out of it!

Hunger Strikes

This season, they changed my bowling league start time from 10 am to 11. It might not seem like it, but that one hour makes a big difference. We used to finish around 12:30, and I would be home by 1 at the latest, but now, of course, I don't get home until around 2. 

That leaves a big hole in the middle of the day; by the time I walk the dogs, it's late afternoon, and I haven't accomplished much. The extra hour on the other side does come in a little handy, though. This morning I was able to bake off the bread I made yesterday and deliver a loaf, still warm from the oven, to one of my bowling buddies. I also have plenty of time for yoga and meditation. 

On the other hand, I'm usually starving by the time I roll my last frame, and when I look around at my fellow bowlers, I see that they are, too. There is a lot more food on the tables this year! In fact, I almost think that's why the bowling center made the change. Not many folks ordered much more than coffee when we were bowling in the morning; I guess at that hour, the snack bar staples of burgers, wings, and fries didn't seem that appealing. 

But plenty of stomachs must be grumbling from noon to one, because isn't that right about lunchtime anyway? The menu is a much better fit for that time of day, and it's showing in the food sales. I just hope they don't get in their heads that they want to sell more beer! Otherwise, we might become a night league.

A Worthy Contraption

What a contraption!

I thought to myself as I assembled my apple peeler to process the half peck we brought back from the foothills yesterday. 

Even so, I appreciated the heft of its cast iron body and the strength of the suction cup that anchored it to the counter. I understood the three-pronged skewer that held the apple and the wooden crank I used to turn the rod and push the apple forward, but certain springs and wingnuts were a bit mystifying. In general, though, the elegance of the machine, the ingenious way it simultaneously peeled, cored, and sliced the apple, was very pleasing, and I made quick work of those apples, some drying in the dehydrator and the rest in apple sauce.

Later, I wondered who had invented the thing; it seemed so old-fashioned, yet irreplaceable. A quick search revealed that it was David Goodell in the mid-19th century. Given my recent trip to the Inventors' Hall of Fame, I wondered if I had seen his name on the wall, so I searched for that next. It turns out that no, he has not been inducted into the NIHF. I did recall that the docent had mentioned that public nominations are accepted, though, and it didn't take long to find the online form. 

A little more research was in order to complete it, but I was up for that. I found out that Goodell founded a manufacturing company based on the peeler, that the company operated until Chicago Cutlery bought it in the 90s, that Goodell was Governor of New Hampshire from 1889-1893, and that he had a co-inventor, E. L. Pratt. 

I also discovered that the invention let one person do work that previously took entire families several days: processing large quantities of apples for winter storage and food. The Goodell Company also designed and built all sorts of other food-processing tools: corn shuckers, cherry pitters, peach and potato parers, bean cutters, and good knives. Their mill building is a historic site in New Hampshire.

I checked that nothing controversial, scandalous, or offensive appeared in Goodell's background or writing (AI assured me there wasn't), so I completed the nomination form and hit submit.

Here There Be Bears

Lucy is slightly ahead of us on the trail when a rustling from the undergrowth to our left makes her jump and duck behind Heidi. 

"It must have been something serious," Heidi laughs. "Because she doesn't usually get spooked so easily."

We continue along the grassy trail and around a bend,  coming upon an enormous pile of poop. "That has to be from a bear," I say, and we scan the woods and meadows around us.

We are on a short day trip to Sky Meadows State Park and some nearby apple orchards. A half-peck of Cameos are in the car, and now we are exploring the Corporal Morgan Trail. As we take stock of our surroundings, I recount something I had read earlier. "One of the orchard websites' FAQs had a question about bears," I tell Heidi.

"What did it say?" she asks.

"Yes! There are bears. They love the peaches and apples. If you see a bear, leave the orchard immediately."

"That last part seems a little obvious," she notes.

We continue on our way and are relieved to make it back to the car about an hour later with no bear sightings.

Gently but Firmly

"You know what shouldn't be engaged?" the fitness instructor asked. 

I was at the gym doing my latest go-to workout, the rowing machine, when the question came in the 11th minute of the 30-minute session. I appreciate the coaching provided in these recorded routines; I didn't know anything about rowing form when I started a few months ago, and I'm often surprised at how much refinement I still notice.

"Your jaw!" she said. 

I laughed and opened my mouth to break the grimace and give my face some slack. I relaxed my shoulders and sat up straighter while I was at it, looking for a little flow in the next 19 minutes, then I drove my legs back and rowed.