Sunday DInner and HBD Bill

To accommodate everyone's schedule, we finally celebrated Bill's birthday tonight, at the tail end of his birthday week. Sunday is not our usual evening to gather, so as I was planning the menu, I tried to play on a Sunday dinner from our childhood, with some elevated elements. 

My dad loved chicken with white gravy, a kind of cross between stew and fricassee, with pieces of bone-in chicken and chunks of celery and carrots. My mom served it with biscuits, peas, and mashed potatoes, a recipe she got from his sister. It is a comforting dish, but it lends itself to a lighter version, particularly if you use spring vegetables. 

I made a version tonight with a sous vide chicken thigh roulade stuffed with herbs and pea shoots. Then I blanched haricot vert, baby carrots, tiny turnips, and baby leeks, and served it all with Yukon gold potato puree and white gravy, and of course, biscuits.

The dish was light but filling, so for dessert I made pumpkin pie tassies and mini cream puffs with custard and chocolate glaze. Just one bite each, if you could stop at one! 

I was pleased with the way the meal turned out but even happier to have the chance to cook for and celebrate my brother. I do love that guy!

Imagine That

 "Are you watching the second season of The Pitt?" a friend asked us a few weeks ago.

"Not yet," I told him. "We're waiting for the whole thing to drop, so we can binge it."

His eyes widened. "You mean you're going to watch it all in one day?" he said. "I guess it will be like you're working the shift with them." He shook his head.

"That's not exactly what we had planned," I laughed. "But, wouldn't that be something!"

Lost Art

"Hey there, John!" I hailed the tech guy as he wheeled the laptop cart into my temporary office. The other substitute testing coordinator and I had been hard at work organizing the lists and materials for the district assessment next week.

"Sorry, this is late," he apologized, "but I just got out of a two-hour meeting where they told us that all middle school kids are probably going to get a laptop instead of a tablet next year."

We all groaned. "This is their plan for managing screen time?" I shook my head.

What followed was a 20-minute commiseration about the downsides of technology for young learners. I shared my theory that many kids actually resent having to use a device they consider recreational to do work. "Technology is not as engaging as it used to be, because it's so ubiquitous," I shrugged.

John nodded. "In the summer, I go to the high schools to help distribute laptops to the rising freshmen," he told us. "I bring copies of directions with me so the kids can set them up once they're issued. It's like three steps." He sighed. "You would not believe the number of students who tell me that they can't read on paper!"

Slow on the Download

"I don't have the desktop version of Excel," I informed my colleague. "This is my personal computer, so..." I trailed off. "I couldn't actually figure out how to do it," I confessed.

We spent the next 30 minutes or so looking for workarounds to the complicated directions we had been left for printing testing rosters from an enormous spreadsheet. I booted up the loaner laptop that the school's Instructional Technology Coordinator had provided, but personalizing its settings and familiarizing myself with another brand was also very time-consuming. 

Finally, through a combination of converting, sharing, saving, and YouTube research, we completed the task and printed the 80 testing rosters they would need to prepare the bins starting tomorrow.

"Everything takes longer than you think it will in this job," my colleague sighed. "Thank goodness there are two of us!"

"No kidding," I agreed and thanked her heartily for all her guidance and help.

It wasn't until I got home that it occurred to me to just download Excel from the App Store. The days when you had to buy installation discs are long gone, and nowadays you just pay for a subscription to use the software you download for free. 

And, DUH! I already have a subscription through school!

Much Ado

I was beyond dismayed yesterday when I discovered that our internet and cable services were out, but I followed all available guidance to try to remedy the situation on my own. After restarting the modem and all network devices without success, I checked the provider's website for outages, but none were listed. Then I consulted the neighbors, but their service was up and running. So, as a last resort, I called the provider and scheduled an appointment with their automated help line. 

The earliest a technician could get out here was this afternoon, and although I understood that 24 hours was a relatively quick response, spending a day without wifi seemed impossible. In addition to the online work I had for both jobs, what would we ever do for entertainment without cable or streaming? I spent a few disregulated minutes before setting up my phone as a hotspot, which allowed me to do some work. 

A while later, I experimented with using an HDMI adapter to stream content from my phone to the TV, and frankly? The results were amazing! The only thing missing was a remote, but I guess a slightly longer cable may have been sufficient, too. It wasn't long before I was wondering why we even pay for high-speed service, because it seemed like we could do everything we needed to with our data plan. 

Even so, I adjusted my plans and left school early this afternoon to meet the technician. I was a little flustered from my quick departure and commute when he rang the bell, but he seemed understanding. 

"Before I do anything," he said to me once he had his booties on over his shoes, "do you happen to know if your service has been restored? I think they were doing some work in the area."

"What?" I replied in disbelief.

Do I really need to tell you that everything was working exactly as it should?

Yup.

Bowling Season 1: Wrap Up

Today was my last bowling day of the season. I started in September with a 96 average and ended with a 110. I'm happy with my progress, but disappointed that my final game was an 85, which is actually my lowest. Clearly? Consistency will be my goal in the fall-- and by that I'm not talking about that 85!

Here are a few more of my league stats:

Games: 90
High Game: 158
High Series: 406
Total pins: 9858

And I have all summer to practice!

Faith in the Profession

And in the Pendulum meet Swing department, I received an invitation to the following webinar:

How Worksheets Support Active Learning in Ways That Screens Can’t: Myths, Busted!

It's funny, but it connects to a conversation I had just the other day with our 21-year-old house guest. "What has your experience been with Gen Alpha?" I asked the Zoomer.

"I think they're annoying," she answered predictably. (Oh, hey there, Millennials.) "And very different from us."

"How so?" I asked with interest.

"When I was born," she began, "not everyone had a screen 24/7. I mean, my baby pictures are actually printed out in an album. That's not true of younger people. Their pictures are all on somebody's phone."

I nodded, thoughtfully. "Did you have a tablet?" I asked her. 

"Not of my own. There was a family iPad, and we had to share it," she answered.

"So watching movies and other things was more of a communal experience for you," I said. "That tracks. It used to be very engaging to use short videos in a lesson, but in the last few years, kids have found them boring. Maybe because they watch short videos of their own choice all the time."

"Probably," she agreed. 

"It's not a novelty anymore," I added. "And they also hate doing skill drills on their devices. It's as if such platforms are a desecration of their screens." I laughed. "I guess teachers are going to have to figure out something else." I paused. "I'm sure they will!"

Once a Teacher...

"You should put the top down on the Jeep," I suggested to Heidi at breakfast this morning. She and Delaney were going to go shopping for a bit before we headed back up to Carlisle. 

"It's not supposed to rain, is it?" Heidi asked. Then her eyes widened. "What about the crows! They might poop in it overnight!"

We agreed that that would be extremely gross, but the weather is amazing, sunny and not too warm, so we decided to put the top down anyway and just make sure it was back up before nightfall. 

It's been several months, however, since last we put down the top, and the procedure eluded us. After digging out the manual and watching a couple of YouTube videos, we managed to convert the vehicle, though. 

As we returned to the house, I was dreading putting the top back up in just a few hours, but I bucked up thinking about the fun of riding in a convertible on a beautiful day. "You know what we should do?" I said. "We should take it down and put it back five times in a row! We need to build that automaticity."

Last to Know

Our 21-year-old goddaughter is visiting from college this weekend, and as happens whenever she is here, this evening found us lingering around the dinner table chatting long after the dishes had been cleared. "Do you know what?" she asked as the conversation meandered through the family. "I had no idea until recently that my grandparents were divorced!"

We nodded sympathetically, knowing that her grandmother had passed away the day after she was born. Her grandfather was already remarried, but she was unaware of the timeline.

Well," I laughed, "you are officially an adult now. You're going to get all the dirt now."

A little while later, we made good on that. We were reminiscing about her mom and Heidi coming to Virginia together for a summer job. "That's how I met Larry," Heidi told her, mentioning a mutual friend.

"How did my mom know him again?" she asked.

"They were dating!" Heidi said.

Her eyes widened. "So that's the guy before my dad," she replied, connecting the dots. "I have questions!"

Professional Courtesy

"If you're not familiar with farro," our waiter told us last night, "it's a grain, similar to, uh, I would say, quinoa?" he finished on an upnote. I raised my eyebrows at Heidi, but did not correct him. Everyone in our group was either farro savvy or had no intention of ordering it. I did have it on my meal, and it was excellent.

It was the second time this week I have stayed mum on food facts. On Wednesday, we went with friends to a cooking class downtown. The experience was my Christmas gift from them, and I was looking forward to it. Our session was on handmade ravioli, and as a former chef and teacher, I was very curious about both the content and the presentation. As the instructor proceeded through the lesson, the members of my party did a lot of nudging and winking at me, mostly because I refused to engage on any level other than learner. 

"How many times have you done this?" someone whispered.

"Just once, today," I answered.

"How would you do this?" someone else asked me a little later. 

I shrugged. "This way, right now," I said pointedly.

And although I didn't really learn anything new, and I may have taught the class differently, it was still enjoyable. Just like the farro.

Leaping Llamas

"What is that animal?" the teacher asked her first-graders, pointing to a black-and-white illustration in their workbooks.

"A sheep!" someone called out.

"It does kind of look like a sheep," she acknowledged.

"A llama!" suggested another.

I giggled because a llama was not something I ever would have guessed. But even though the school was less than three miles from my grandparents' house, the kids in the class were from a much different background than mine. All but one were multilingual learners, most speaking Spanish at home and English at school. (Also, llamas are a lot more ubiquitous today.)

The teacher laughed too. "It's actually a goat," she told her class. "And do you know what we call a baby goat?" She waited, but hearing no volunteers, continued, "A kid!"

Many of the students looked blankly.

"You know, like sometimes we call children kids," she said. "You're kids, and a baby goat is a kid, too." She smiled. "Now, what does this kid do?" she asked, pointing to the word "jumps" on the handwriting line beneath the picture.

"El niño salta," whispered one boy to the girl next to him, hopping up and down in his seat a bit.

He does indeed.

The Yin and the Yang

The weather today was perfect.  The sun was so pleasantly warm, and the air had just the slightest chill. It was my very favorite kind of day.

And as I walked through its glory, it occurred to me that this is why I love my cooling comforter so very, very much. It keeps me cozy and warm, but if I wake up in the middle of the night, a slight adjustment gives me a smooth, cool sensation on my bare feet or hands, soothing me right back to sleep. It's like flipping to the other side of the pillow-- a perfect combination of warm and cool. 

It's no wonder I have been sleeping so well!

AND Good Company

Besides the obvious spiffing up your house and guest quarters, having company often gives you the opportunity to do things you mean to, but never get around to. Take this weekend, for example. We're driving up to Carlisle, PA, to fetch our goddaughter, who is a senior at Dickinson. On the way back to our newly-cleaned home, we're going to stop for dinner in Frederick, MD, at Bryan Voltaggio's restaurant, Showroom. 

He's one of our Top Chef favs, and we've been meaning to get up to his hometown for over a decade. Even though we've driven through dozens of times on our way back and forth from Buffalo, Pittsburgh, and West Virginia (not to mention Carlisle), we've never made time to actually eat at one of his places. That's going to change on Friday.

Then, on Saturday, we have tickets to As You Like It at the Folger Library Theatre, another place we know we should visit more often. The current production has been well-reviewed and cited as a "love letter to Washington, D.C." and "a light-hearted tonic for the troubled times the city finds itself in." Honestly, who could say no to that?

As of now, Sunday is open, but it turns out so are we, so who knows what fun we'll get into?

The Magic Bridge

Lucy and I went out for a walk through the neighborhood on this glorious spring day. As we headed over the bridge spanning the interstate, a dark pickup truck passed us and then slowed to an ominous roll, stopping just ahead. I was skeptical, but Lucy knew who it was right away. She began shrieking and whining as Sarah, her dogwalker, clambered down and came over to say hello. 

After chatting for a good while, Lucy and I continued on our way, walking about a mile and a half before looping back to pass over the same bridge on our way home. As we crossed, a tan Honda CRV slowed with a friendly wave. Lucy stood up on the leash and craned her neck to see who it was, just as our friend Mary considerately made a U-turn and came back to say hi.

Lucy put on another shrieky-whiny show; she was that happy. "She already thinks this bridge is magical," I laughed, recalling the lady who gave her treats there a couple of months ago. 

"Maybe she's right!" Mary said.

Tales of Temping

"It should be simple!" they said. "Just swap the grade level groups for teachers in their own grades."

But of course, nothing is ever that easy, especially when you're dealing with over a thousand kids and a hundred staff members, not to mention accommodations and room size. It took me all weekend to finalize the assignments and make transparent, easily accessible lists for all the stakeholders for just one of the two upcoming tests.

Thank goodness I'm getting paid by the hour! (Also, that I don't actually have to report to work tomorrow, although I do have a meeting at 9:30.)

That Hat

"Excuse me?" a young woman at the Jeep service center approached me. "Did you use to coach at TJ School?"

I nodded and laughed. "Yes," I answered, "but I taught there, too."

"I knew it!" she said. 

"And you are...?" I asked, examining her curiously. She looked slightly familiar, but it had probably been about 20 years since she was in middle school. 

When she told me her name, I saw it right away. I reminded her that she had been in my homeroom, asked about her brother and sisters, and even her cousins. I could tell that she knew I remembered her, and she was pleased.

Later, I thought about how she remembered me as a coach rather than as a teacher. I had co-coached the girls basketball team when she was on it, and I recalled her game. She was small but very skilled, made the team in 6th grade, and became an outstanding shooting guard. She was also a good student, but basketball was her strength and her joy.

Given that? I'm glad she recognized me as Coach.

Mixed Signals

There was a carnival-like atmosphere at the home opener for the Nats today. Parking was out of the question, so we metroed over, leaving the car in the garage of the nearby mall, but it wasn't until we crowded into the green line train at L'Enfant Plaza that the party began. 

Everyone was decked out in their fan duds, and the fact that there was as many Dodgers jerseys as there were hometown gear, might have been a tipoff. Even so, who could blame anyone for being excited to see the back-to-back world champs featuring the best player in baseball? 

And for an inning or two, it even seemed like the home team might pull off an upset, especially when Miles Mikolas struck out the lead-off batter, none other than Ohtani himself, and CJ Abrams hit a three-run homer in the bottom of the first. But the Dodgers have an incredible offense, and answering that homer with five of their own, they killed the Nats 13-6. 

"I don't think we've ever seen them win!" Heidi said in disgust as we headed out the gates. 

"Maybe not," I shrugged, "but they did score more runs than we've ever seen today."

Long Shot

I think my interest in space was renewed last year, around this time, when I took a long-term sub job teaching sixth-grade science. The unit was on weather and the atmosphere, and as I reviewed the material to prepare, I remembered how fascinating both topics could be. I also recognized some gaps in my understanding of those subjects, particularly regarding the layers of the atmosphere and where outer space actually begins. 

Yesterday, as I was working at my laptop, I received a news alert that the Artemis II mission was minutes away from launching its journey to the moon. I clicked on the link and joined the live feed showing the enormous rocket in that classic position at Kennedy Space Center. As they ran through their final checklists, I considered when I last watched a manned rocket launch.

It may have been in January of 1986. At that time, I was enthralled by the notion of sending a teacher to space, and I eagerly joined my father in front of his enormous TV. We watched the crew waving in their blue jumpsuits as they boarded the bus to the launch pad, and of course, we saw what happened 73 seconds into the flight. I guess it's no surprise that I haven't really wanted to see anything blastoff since then.

As I waited for the countdown to resume, I studied the graphics describing the mission and flight plan. It seemed hard to believe that it would take four days to get to the moon, that bright rock that we see in the sky almost every night. I read that this was the first time human beings would leave Earth's low orbit since 1972. I was in 5th grade then, and flying to the moon seemed like a normal occurrence, a lot like launching the space shuttle seemed a decade or so later. 

I heard mission control wish the crew good luck and Godspeed, and then ten, nine, eight. The earth rumbled, and fire, smoke, and steam surged from the propulsion nozzle, thrusting the frame and the payload into the clear blue Florida sky. Safely. And they were on their way to the moon.

The Great Bollard Debate

Heidi, bless her heart, is on the board of our homeowner's association, a thankless role she regularly curses. Recently, our community replaced our aging lighting system at significant expense. As part of the upgrade, the lighting company installed bollards in front of some of the lamp posts most vulnerable to damage from cars or delivery trucks. 

The installation makes sense to protect our investment and was included in the comprehensive plan approved by the board. What was not noted, however, was that the bollards would be four feet tall and sheathed in a high-visibility shade of safety yellow. Understandably, when they appeared, they became the subject of a lot of neighborhood chatter, especially because they are so hard to miss. 

Some residents demanded their immediate removal, prompting the board to clap back. Others wondered if they could be another color, acknowledging their usefulness, but wishing to dial back their industrial appearance. 

Ever since this controversy erupted, Heidi and I have noticed and discussed the bollards wherever we go. Friends! They are everywhere! And they come in all sizes and shapes, which raises the question: who chose our bollards and why? 

As of today, the board has not been able to come to an agreement about the issue, although one of the members did confess on their text chain that she was all bollarded out, and once this was resolved, she hoped never to hear the word again, or at least not in such frequency.

Here and Now

It's fun to travel, but it's always sweet to get back home. After a day spent on the road yesterday, I slept in this morning and enjoyed a late breakfast of coffee and cinnamon toast made from homemade bread. I went through the mail, caught up with neighbors, and enjoyed relaxing with the cat on my lap in my easy chair. The sliding glass door is open to let in the warm spring air, and a light breeze ruffles the barely-budding branches as doves, robins, and cardinals fly back and forth from my neighbor's bird feeder. In a few minutes, I'll head out to walk the dog, and after that, it will be a light supper of fresh veggies and fish. 

Maybe tomorrow will be more ambitious, but I doubt it will be any better.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

The Aging Road Warrior

It used to be nothing to load up the car and head out on a road trip of 8, 10, or even 12 hours. Sure, we were always happy when we arrived, maybe even a little tired, but there was no soreness on getting out of the car, much less any fatigue while on the way. "You drove straight through?" our parents might ask with amazement, and we would shrug as if such a feat were a given. Because it was.

But today? After 4 hours in the car? Youch! And there were still another three to go! We are definitely going to have start planning stretch breaks.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Detour Ahead

We were still processing as we headed to the airport on Friday to fetch Heidi's nephew, Kyle. His presence was planned as a surprise for her mom's 80th birthday celebration, but her brother had let it slip the night before. 

"It makes me mad!" I started, "but maybe I'm just disappointed."

Heidi nodded. "My mom doesn't really like surprises anyway," she pointed out with a shrug. "So maybe it was for the best."

"But we didn't even get to be there when he wrecked it!" I groused. "Oh, crap!" I said. "I just missed the exit for the airport! That's what I get for complaining."

The map app blinked disapprovingly, and then recalculated, adding 15 minutes to our arrival. Fortunately, traffic was lighter than predicted and we made good time, meeting Kyle just as he whooshed through the big doors at arrivals.

This morning? It was a different story. The party was over, and we all agreed it had been success. The visit had been fun and too short, but Kyle had to get back for work, so we piled into the car and headed back to the airport. This time, the vibe was totally different. It was a little early, and the three of us were quieter, making tentative plans for the next time we might see each other. 

It had been a good weekend, and, undistracted by any negativity? I did not stray from the route.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Not That Tired

"Do you want to play another game of Spit?" my nephew Kyle asked. 

He's 25, but he's an only child, so he missed out on those endless summer days of playing cards with siblings. In our house, the fast-paced game of card stacking was always a favorite, but until this weekend? Kyle had never played. Still, he's usually up for a little competition, and I, if I do say so myself, am a good teacher, so soon we were happily slapping cards on piles. He picked the game up pretty quickly, but even so, he was facing over five decades of experience; I may be old, but I've still got the muscle memory to make a formidable opponent. 

We'd been playing for a while when he posed his question, though, and I declined the challenge, thinking ahead to all the things I still needed to accomplish on this Saturday.

"What? Are you tired of winning?" he taunted me with a raised eyebrow and a twinkle in his blue eyes.

I laughed. "It's on!" I answered. "I think I can beat you at least one more time!"

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Evening Constitutional

It was pouring rain when we arrived in Buffalo after nearly eight hours on the road, and we dashed through the drops to unload the car and get inside the warm house, where dinner was waiting. A couple of hours later, though, a full belly and a day sitting on my butt caught up with me, and I peered into the darkness to see if the rain had let up. 

It had not, but both the dog and I needed some fresh air and a good leg-stretching, so we geared up and headed out into the misty evening. There was a steady, but soft patter of rain on us as we walked the deserted sidewalks, sidestepping as many puddles as we could, but the air was mild, and the wind was still. 

Thirty minutes later, we closed our mile-and-a-half loop, a little damp but relaxed and clear-headed too.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Offline

I never really thought about it, but maybe one reason I love roadtrips so much is the forced absence of screens. When you're at the wheel heading for the horizon, you can't be on your phone, too. Moreover? I don't miss it. 

And that was true today, as we headed north to Buffalo to celebrate my mother-in-law's 80th birthday. We saw cherry blossoms, daffodils, mountains, pastures, horses, log cabins, cemeteries, and trailer parks as we drove through sun and torrential rain. We talked, listened to an audiobook, and sang along with the radio, but we didn't swipe, tap, scroll, like, save, or delete a single thing. 

It was pretty wonderful.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Red Light, Green Light

One of my favorite NY Times writers, Melissa Kirsch, has started a new weekly newsletter called The Good List. Subscribers receive an email every Wednesday with a curated collection of "ideas, rituals, and artifacts to add joy to your days." I was sold when I read about the idea a couple of weekends ago in Kirsch's regular Saturday essay, but after 2 weeks? I'm all in!

At the end of this week's installment, Kirsch added a recommendation from a reader: instead of griping about all the red lights you hit while driving, consider counting all the green lights you make. It might just shift your mood!

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

A Hand for my Hands

My hands were busy today! 

They brewed coffee, packed lunch, made tart dough, and held gyan mudra for eleven minutes during meditation. They washed and dried my hair, drove me to bowling, and high-fived my teammates after throwing five strikes and picking up 11 spares. They switched my bowling bag for my work bag and took notes throughout a 90-minute meeting for test coordinators preparing for the upcoming SOLs. They snapped photos of the flock of cedar waxwings that was right.outside.the.window! Then they leashed up the dog and kept her close as we walked the neighborhood. And now they are limbering up to roll out that dough and top it with caramelized onions and greens to serve with tossed salad for dinner, just as soon as they finish typing this appreciation.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

FOMO

I was feeling frazzled as I settled into the tiny blue chair next to the bookshelf and carpet. I had been scheduled to observe this first-grade class at 8:30, but an accident at rush hour on I-295 had doubled my travel time, and I was late. I took a deep breath, adjusted my glasses, pulled out my pen and pad, and prepared to record what I was seeing. 

Six little scholars were sitting at the focus group table, blending sounds into words with their teacher as she played a phonemic awareness "game" with them. I was beginning to write when, over my shoulder, I heard whispering. I turned toward the murmur, and I saw another little girl following along with the lesson from her desk. She was supposed to be working on Lexia on her device, but she was acing the game instead—quietly answering every question correctly.

I laughed, and when I turned back to my observation, I realized that all the tensions of my troublesome travels were gone. I guess I just needed a little first-grade mojo.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Keepin it Elastic

As a child, I was always a quick learner, and that quality has certainly shaped how I see myself, even today. No doubt it played a role in my becoming a teacher; quick learners often love school. And, as an educator, of course, I value lifelong learning. I used to love it when students knew things I didn't, and for many years, I challenged myself to learn random things that were of interest to them, for example, the names of the Backstreet Boys, performing The Cup Song, and how to say the Pledge of Allegiance in ASL. 

In my last few years of teaching, I had several kids who knew all the flags of the world, and that actually confounded me, maybe because there are so many. At the same time, my sister became an avid fan of the online game, Worldle, where you have to identify a country simply by its outline. Both of these tasks were really hard for me to learn, and I had to face the fact that my brain was not as elastic as it once was.

There are plenty of geography games on the internet, though, and recently I've been challenging myself to play both Travle, where you have to find the shortest route from one country to another by naming the nations in between (in order, please!), and GeoConnections, where you have to sort 16 facts into four categories matching a single country each (including the flag). 

It's still hard! But I am seeing progress. I know a lot more about the world than I used to, and I'm learning more all the time.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Somehow I'm Neither Here nor There

The vacation home we rented last weekend in Pequea (pronounced peck-way) PA was situated right on the Susquehanna, with only a rutted dirt lane and the Port Road Branch of Norfolk Southern Railroad separating us from the river's edge. The house was well insulated from the rumble of the passing trains, which seemed to travel only at night. And although I can't say I slept through the noise, I can say it lulled me right back to sleep once I knew what it was.

There was a dreamlike quality to the weekend —muted sunsets and morning mist on the river, and then those trains that seemed to whisper by all night. We all felt it, I think, and we channeled the spellbinding setting into creating playlists of songs about trains.

I've been listening to mine ever since we got back.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

In Her Nature

"Do you love it here?" Heidi crooned to Lucy as we headed down the trail at the Elizabeth Hartwell Nature Preserve. A bald eagle flew right over heads.

Lucy wagged her tail, nose slammed to the ground, inhaling all the new smells.

"She's so happy!" Heidi said. "That makes me happy!"

"I know," I nodded. "That's why we're here."

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

To All the Folks I've Known Before

I once calculated that I taught somewhere near 3,000 students over the course of my career as a sixth-grade English teacher. With the exception of my nephews, I don't see any of them regularly. I do think of kids I've known often, though. Sometimes I run into them, all grown up, or nearly so, in this small town we all live in. Sometimes, I'll see someone who reminds me of a former student, or hear a song someone sang, or think of a book we read together, or remember a story they wrote or an anecdote they shared. And at those times, I'm always grateful for the brief time we knew each other so very well.

The same is true of colleagues. It happens sometimes that you work very closely or in the same school for years, and then someone moves on, and you lose touch. I used to feel guilty for not being a better correspondent, but I realized that was a waste of energy. So now whenever those folks come to mind, I intentionally take a moment to recall something I valued about them, wish them well, and send some loving kindness their way.

Today? It was Roula, a fellow teacher who fiercely protected her students' right to learn, always spoke her mind, and shared a cool recipe for tahini sauce: squeeze a lemon, then fill the empty shell with water to get the right balance of acidity for your tahini and garlic. Wherever she is, I hope she is happy and well. I made the sauce to go with dinner tonight, and it was perfect.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Who Does That on a Wednesday?

"I haven't seen you in forever!" A neighbor hailed me this afternoon when we were both out with our dogs. "How's retirement?'

"Well," I answered, trying not to look at my watch. "I took on a consulting job as a teacher coach."

She laughed. "I knew it! You're not the type to sit around, are you?"

I shrugged. "And did I tell you I joined a bowling league?"

She shook her head and laughed again.

"It's good, though," I told her. "Those two things keep me busy, but usually not too busy." 

What I didn't say was that I had just gotten home from two observations over in Maryland, and I needed to run to make a doctor's appointment before coming home to debrief with the teachers on Zoom. 

Maybe I'll do that no-plans thing on Saturday.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Hyper Locavore

Way back in 2009, right around the time I started this blog, I read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Barbara Kingsolver's revelatory account of the year she and her family committed to eating only locally produced food, and, as much as possible, homegrown meat and vegetables. For months, I aspired to live a similar life, and I actually got a community garden plot the following year. I also shop at local farmers' markets and have participated in a CSA for a decade and a half.

But the thing from the book that's stuck with me was how many staple items are nearly impossible to source locally. Take something as simple as salt, for example (although I do know someone who knows someone who processes gourmet salt in a beach town on the Eastern shore). Now consider pepper, coffee,  chocolate, cinnamon, or even lemons.

The Kingsolver family made exceptions for such pantry items, and each member of the household was allowed to select one "luxury" item that did not fit the guidelines. That's reasonable, but I'm still stuck on producing everything myself, if only on a tiny scale. A few years ago, I decided that I wanted to grow every single ingredient for my summer tomato sauce in my garden. In addition to the obvious tomatoes and herbs, I also planted shallots and garlic. I was stumped by the olive oil, though.

Last summer, I saw a little olive tree for sale at Trader Joe's, and I thought that maybe in a few years? I'd have just enough olives to crush for one batch of that tomato sauce. I didn't realize that olive trees need time in the cold or that they won't fruit, and my plan to winter it over in the guest room was a bust. They can really only tolerate lows in the 20s, though, and that posed a bit of a problem until I rigged a heating mat and plant cozy up on the deck. 

I'm proud to say my olive is still alive and maybe even thriving, despite one of the coldest winters we've had in many years. That success has inspired me! The olive tree has some company now-- a cinnamon tree, a coffee bush, and a tiny little black pepper vine. Oh, and the lemon tree is on its way!

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Let the Pros Handle It

After reading Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell, I just couldn't imagine how Chloe Zhao could adapt the profoundly moving novel into a movie, because the book is mainly composed of the characters' inner thoughts. Ironically, in a work featuring the man who is often considered to be the greatest English playwright, there is so very little dialogue. And even after watching Jessie Buckley sweep the awards season and reading all the praise of her performance? I'm so much of a word person that I still didn't get it.

Until this afternoon.

With all manner of severe weather warnings closing schools and businesses all around us, we decided to draw the curtains, forget about the wild 21st-century world outside, and watch Hamnet. Within minutes, the adaptation and all the awards made so much sense. Jessie Buckley honestly didn't need dialogue at all to communicate suspicion, desire, love, compassion, panic, anguish, catharsis, and reconnection. It was an incredible performance.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Doing My Part

It is not unusual to find a collection of shells and other beachcombing treasures on the deck of many seaside homes. We have certainly added our finds to those collections at many of the vacation rentals we've stayed in over the years. This weekend, our retreat is a riverhouse, so we weren't really expecting shells, but neither were we expecting the collection of ironwork festooning the stairs up to the front door.

One stroll down the gravel path that runs along the Susquehanna and the adjoining railroad tracks was explanation enough. On the mile walk down to the local wildflower preserve, we found spikes, clips, clamps, nuts, washers, bolts, and even a few lumps of coal, all for the collecting. And while they didn't slip quite so easily into a pocket as shells or sea glass might, there was a certain appeal to their heft, and I confess to carrying a couple of forged iron souvenirs back to the house.

Where they joined the collection on the steps, of course.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

The Ordinary

There's something about being on vacation that elevates the mundane for me. Rather than lying around seeking refuge from my day-to-day, I love figuring out how to riff on my daily routine in a whole new place. 

So, you might often find me scouring the rental house kitchen, supplementing their tools with the ones I packed, and collaborating with my brother to rustle up something delicious from whatever we could find at the local market and grocery. You might also encounter me walking the dog along a wooded trail, up a mountain,  or on a beach near our temporary digs. 

And tonight? You could peek through wide picture windows just after sunset and see me seated at the long counter overlooking the mighty Susquehanna, my computer screen reflected in my reading glasses as I write this, surrounded by people I love and the warm glow of the river house behind me.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

First Night in Pequea

This is our annual weekend away for the Oscars, and this year we have rented a home in Pequea, PA, right on the banks of the Susquehanna. The sky was leaden, and there were wind advisories when we headed north a little after noon. But the closer we got to the Mason-Dixon Line, the brighter it became. By the time we arrived, it was a porcelain blue, and the late afternoon sun was cutting a blinding swath across the river. The sunset was muted; a pale yellow fading to gold and finally indigo as Venus brightened in the western sky.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

I Can Do Better

Are you listening, or are you just waiting to talk?

When asked this question, I indignantly answer the former. Of course, I'm not just waiting to talk! I don't even like talking that much.

Are you listening or are you thinking about what you're going to say next?

But when the question is reframed, I have to admit that mild social anxiety, and perhaps the fact that I don't really like to talk, make me lean to the latter. Sometimes? I am preoccupied thinking about what I should say to contribute to the conversation, and I miss part of it. Other times, I have to confess I'm thinking about what I can say to get out of the conversation.

That's not very nice.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Nerding Out

In December of 2024, we splurged and treated ourselves to an Advent calendar from Onyx Coffee Lab, an amazing outfit based in Arkansas. For 24 days, we enjoyed delicious beans sourced from Mexico, Guatemala, Brazil, Colombia, El Salvador, Kenya, and Ethiopia, and roasted at their headquarters in Rogers, AR. I've always been kind of a coffee snob, but this experience was transformational. Along with 50 grams of coffee per day, we received tasting notes, brewing guides, and information on farming and processing. 

Onyx elevates coffee to an art, and I was hooked! At the time, my preferred brewing apparatus was a burr grinder and a Chemex pour-over, but I added a gooseneck kettle with temperature control, a scale with a timer, a couple of smaller pots, some fluted drippers, and organic paper filters to my equipment. I also order all of our coffee directly from a roaster, making my selection based on origin, processing (light-expressive, please!), and tasting notes. (pineapple brulee, cocoa nib, or marmalade, anyone?)

It's an expensive hobby! But I am intentional in my brewing, preparing just one serving at a time. (What can I say? I'm retired!) By now, I have the routine down to a science, and even so, I think not relying on a whole pot to replenish my cup makes me slow down. I am never disappointed with that first sip, or any of the later ones, either.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

How Did They Know?

Today was surely the day to get outside! Temperatures in the 70s and sunshine and blue skies as far as you could see made it a perfect spring day. It's so early in the season that the trees are still bare, and so feeling the pleasant warmth of the sun on your face is inescapable, but there's still an underlying coolness to the air that balances that heat perfectly. Hat and sunglasses were nice, but not necessary as the dog and I made our way through the mild morning.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah

Before I took on the teacher-coaching position I have now, it had been a while since I had run any kind of virtual meeting. Of course, I built that skill set during SY 2020-21, when we started the year teaching from home and ended it with a hybrid model, with some of the kids in the classroom while others opted to continue learning remotely.

Back then, I was pretty adept at all the bells and whistles of the platform-- taking attendance, sharing my screen, using the chat, creating breakout rooms, and muting participants if necessary. Not surprisingly, there have been changes and upgrades in the past five years, and now, like so many things, AI has changed the way online meetings work, too.

A couple of things AI can offer are a transcript and a summary of any call, complete with to-do lists for all participants. These features come with a disclaimer (for now) that AI can make mistakes, and an advisement to check for errors. In my experience, the errors have been few, though, and the summaries are actually pretty helpful. 

The transcripts, on the other hand? Are painful to read, especially when I focus on my part. I notice a lot of filler words, unnecessary repetition, and clear instances of me thinking out loud and trailing off senselessly. To my own eyes and ears, I sound like a dork.

It must be more than coincidence, I think, that lately my social media feed has been full of ads for programs that can make one sound more like an executive, confident and clear, as a speaker. It seems like AI and its minion algorithms agree with me on my professional conversational skills. 

But rather than pay for an app or a course to improve, I decided to consult, what else? AI, which kindly gave me a list of seven helpful phrases, five habits that make you sound more authoritative, a three-point simple structure for clear speaking, and four helpful reminders. The first reminder is to pause before responding.

I have a couple of calls this afternoon, and I think I'll do just that.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Bowl of Cherries

Earlier in the week, I bought some frozen chocolate-covered cherries, thinking they would be a small, relatively healthy bite of sweetness after dinner. Unfortunately, they were a little weird texture-wise: the frozen chocolate was brittle, and the cherries were mushy and sour. They were easy not to overindulge in.

Not to worry! Chopped up and added to a batch of scones with a little almond flavoring and a sprinkle of sugar on top, the fruit added just the right amount of sweet and tart, and the chocolate was much better melted. The scones were crisp on top, with a rich, dense crumb. 

Although they were the opposite of small and healthy, they were delicious, and I enjoyed every bite.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Check, Check, Check

Even though retired me can usually take care of all the errands during the week while Heidi is at work, there are times when we both miss our old weekend routine of heading out together with a list of stops to make and chores to check off. Today was a Saturday like that. 

The day dawned damp and gray, and Lucy had a grooming appointment at 10, so it seemed like a good idea to drop her off and start our to-do list. First up was the library, where I had some holds to pick up, and Heidi needed to renew her card. Then we were off to the car wash to scrub all the crow poop from the car. (But that's another post!)

Our next stop was the pet supply center for food and treats for our dog and cats, although we lingered at the birds, reptiles, and fish, wondering if there might be a place in our home for one (or a dozen) of them. And we were just on our way to pick up an order in town when we got the call that Lucy was ready, so we swung by to collect her before crossing the river into the city.

A little while later, we were on our way home, feeling neither rushed nor harried, but rather quite satisfied at all we had accomplished together.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

At a Pup's Pace

Walking the dog can be a delicate balance of pace. While I want to get out for a little brisk exercise, she wants to take her time and enjoy all the scents along the way. I'm all for stopping to smell the roses (occasionally), but must we also pause for every light post, fire hydrant, and even the weird frogs on a neighbor's stoop? 

I also understand that sniffing is a dog's version of social media, just as stooping for a quick pee afterwards is the equivalent of a like. But two miles an hour? Is too slow. 

I will concede this, though: considering all the dog poop my negligent neighbors have left in the aftermath of the snow, my dog never even comes close to stepping in it. 

I wish I could say the same for myself.

Why take on just one challenge when you can tackle two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for living and writing. 

Mwah!

In the summer of 2006, I participated in the Northern Virginia Writing Project Summer Institute. Spending three weeks learning and writing with teachers from all over Northern Virginia was a career-changing experience.  

An essential part of the institute was putting all of us into writing groups, and three afternoons a week, we met with four of our peers to share writing, receive feedback, and offer suggestions. So, not only was I immersed in pedagogy and literacy, but I was forced to become, in practice, the teacher-writer I knew I should be.

Three big things came out of that summer: 

1) I recentered my middle school ELA class on writing. 

2) I collaborated with a colleague to use our district's LMS (Blackboard) to build a virtual writing community shared by students in two different schools (remember, this was September 2006, the exact same month Facebook launched). 

3) Three teacher friends and I formed a writing group with the intention to meet regularly, enjoy a nice dinner, and share our writing.

Twenty years on, I'm retired, but I'd like to think I left a bit of a legacy at my school. Students there still participate in the 100 Day Writing Challenge I created after completing this very SOLSC in 2009. As for Write Here, Write Now, the virtual writing community we built back then, if we could have captured that lightning in a bottle, I might be writing to you from my seaside estate in some exotic location.

But my writing group? Continues on! And it is those friends, Ellen, Leah, and Mary, whom I am thinking of today. I love you all!

Why tackle just one challenge when you can take on two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for action and writing. 

Bedside Manner

Another plus to retirement is that I finally feel like I have the time to schedule, not to mention attend, all those health check-ups my primary care provider recommends. I've always been good about the basics: dentist, annual physical, and mammogram, but some of the others often slipped through the cracks in my calendar. 

Recently, I was at a new dermatologist for an annual skin check. "How long has it been since your last screening?" she asked.

"It's been a few years," I admitted.

"I don't mean to scold," she started mildly, "but--"

"Go ahead and let me have it!" I interrupted with a laugh. "I deserve it!"

"Generally, we try not to lecture," she replied, "because we do want you to come back. Every year." She looked at me kindly but pointedly. "No one likes to feel judged."

She was right! And in the name of convenience and self-care, I scheduled my appointment for next year on my way out.

Why tackle just one challenge when you can take on two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for action and writing. 

I ❤️ Tuesdays

Many years ago, after the principal of our school retired, everyone always commented on how great she looked whenever we saw her. "You have to stay busy!" she would advise us with a relaxed smile. "I have all my bags lined up by the door. Monday is tennis; Tuesday is bowling; Thursday is golf, and I have my church and my family, too."

It just so happens that Tuesday is my bowling day, now, too. Thanks to her, I've joined a women's league with many former school employees. On the thirty Tuesdays of the season, we meet at a local bowling center at 10 a.m. (which seems like such a civilized start time to me!) and, with our team of three, bowl three games against another of the ten teams in the league. The game meets you where you are, and despite the league's average age being around 75 years old, it's very competitive and really fun. 

I once took an eight-week rowing class on the Potomac River. "How many of you are here to get in shape?" asked the instructor on the first morning. Lots of us raised our hands. "What you need to understand," he continued, "is that you row because you love it. Crew doesn't get you in shape, you have to get in shape for crew." He had a point, and although I liked rowing? I didn't love it, and after those eight weeks, I found other ways to work out. 

I do love bowling, though! And knowing that lifting, squatting, lunging, and ab work might improve my average is a great motivator for working out these days.

Why tackle just one challenge when you can take on two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for action and writing. 

Gray's Anatomy

The book I'm reading, 33 Place Brugman, by Alice Austen, tells the story of WWII and the occupation of Belgium through the voices of the residents of the apartment building at the eponymous address in Brussels.  The story is full of heroes, villains, philosophers, and artists, and explores how the horrors of war test one's humanity. 

One of the characters I find most engaging is Charlotte Sauvin, a college student living with her architect father. Charlotte is colorblind, but fundamentally artistic; her colorblindness is not a shortcoming but rather shapes her perspective and finely shades her observations. 

Many of the other characters spend time wondering how Charlotte sees what they are seeing; some wish she could see it the way they do, but Charlotte herself never wonders what the world looks like beyond her ability to see it. Why should she? There is beauty in her perception.

I thought of Charlotte on this bleak March day. The leaden sky, bare branches, and congregations of crows could be considered dreary. But they also create a dreamy monochrome; walking the dog is like being inside a black-and-white photograph. The unrelenting gray tones offer no promise of spring, yet they are beautiful on their own, independent of yesterday's holly in the bright snow or tomorrow's daffodils blooming in the first green grass.

Why do one challenge when you can do two? This month, I'm using the Action for Happiness Mindful March calendar as a daily prompt for action and writing. 

My Agenda

When I retired a couple of years ago, finding a new structure for my days was one of the hardest parts of leaving the classroom. When you're a teacher, a bell literally rings to tell you when it's time for your next commitment on a schedule that was set by someone else. After thirty-plus years of that, I found myself at loose ends when it was up to me to fill my days.

But now, halfway through my second year of retirement, I feel like I'm finally settling into it. With time for lunches and more dinners out with friends, as well as my bowling league, subbing at my former school, and a consulting job as a teacher coach, my calendar seems more full than ever. 

As much as I'm enjoying the variety and flexibility of my new life, juggling all those activities and keeping my own schedule has been tougher than I imagined. The calendar on my phone used to be little more than a novelty, but it's my best friend now!

Why do one challenge when you can do two? This month, I'm going to use the Action for Happiness calendar as a daily prompt for action and writing. Today's activity? Set an intention to live with awareness and kindness.

Taxing

I've been filing my own taxes since I started earning money in college, but gone are the days when all I needed for the chore was the 1099 booklet, one W-2, a single INT form, a pencil, and a stamp.

Over the decades, a series of employer-contribution fund changes, home ownership, marriage, and inheritance have made my finances increasingly complex. Retirement and my new part-time gigs haven't helped either, and when I logged on to an online tax prep service this morning, the helpful bot who greeted me cheerfully predicted it would take only four hours and 37 minutes to complete the task.

I suppose I ought to be grateful that I have an income to be taxed. 

And I am!

Counting the Years

"How old are you?" asked a cheeky first grader when he sat down next to me at the literacy center I was observing.

"How old are you?" I asked in return.

"Six," he answered with a slightly insolent chin nod.

"I'm ten and a half times that," I replied.

"So you're a hundred?" he said.

Fortunately, it was not a math center, so I ignored his miscalculation. "Why don't you get started on your word family assignment?" I suggested.

Of Course

"Just so you know," the teacher whispered to me as I slipped into my observation chair, "there's going to be a fire drill at 8:30."

I laughed and shrugged, but when that high-pitched intermittent siren went off? I jumped. Then I got up, joined the line of quiet first graders, and exited the building through the door in their classroom. As we stood in the chilly February morning, I surveyed the school building. Built in 1952, it had the sprawling design of the elementary schools of my childhood: single story, brick on the outside, cinder block on the inside, with rows of hopper windows. 

At least we can go right back in, I thought, eying the blue door as a cold wind cut through my sweater. But that was not to be. Although the school seemed unchanged since it was built over 70 years ago, there was actually an obvious security upgrade. 

The classroom doors could no longer be opened from the outside. So we all walked silently down the sidewalk and in through the front entrance.

High Bar

The teacher had given the directions. 

"It's simple," she assured her students. "You know that one of the five requirements for a sentence is that it starts with a capital letter, so you just need to correct the first letter of these sentences," she pointed to the worksheet, "and then write them on the line below."

After asking if there were any questions or concerns, she moved to the focus group table and called a student over to work. The rest of the class settled into their task, and it wasn't long before a little girl slipped her paper into the green basket next to where I was sitting. "Can I see that?" I asked.

She shrugged and walked away, and I plucked the worksheet out of the bin and flipped it over. It appeared to be blank, except for her name.

As she bustled about her desk, pulling out her device and preparing to do the next task, I caught her eye and waved. "C'mere," I mouthed, pointing at the paper. 

She sighed and reluctantly returned.

"You were supposed to do this!" I said in mock surprise.

She pointed to lightly scrawled pencil marks at the beginning of each sentence. 

"Are these the capital letters?" I asked.

She nodded.

"You were supposed to write the sentence, with the capital letter, on this line,"  I pointed.

She took the worksheet from my hand and put it back in the basket.

"You're probably going to have to do it again!" I whispered.

She shrugged and returned to her seat.

Meanwhile, our quiet conversation had caught the kids at the nearest table's attention.

"What the heck?!" said one to the other with a look of utter disbelief on his face.

"She said it was easy," his friend shook his head, "but it's impossible!"

Ties That Bind

"Did you hear Ellen is retiring?" I asked Mimi about our dear mutual friend at bowling this morning.

Mimi was the assistant principal at our school when Ellen started there back in 1992. She was also a mentor when Ellen moved from the classroom to admin, and a colleague when Ellen was hired as the other assistant principal at our school. As it happens, Sharon, our principal from that time, and Susan, our Director of Counseling, are also in the bowling league; reconnecting with them has been one of the top reasons I've enjoyed bowling so much.

Mimi's face lit up at the news. "No!" she answered. "I'm going to have to give her a call and congratulate her!" 

A little while later, I heard her talking to Sharon and Susan. "We could have our whole admin team here!" she beamed. "Wouldn't that be something?"

Their smiles were as wide as hers.

Underneath It All

I spent my entire teaching career in a compact, self-sufficient school district. For most of that time, it seemed like we didn't care how anybody else was doing anything; we had our own way. It didn't matter, for example, when neighboring school districts started, scheduled breaks, or called off for weather; our central administration made their own calls. We were relatively small, affluent, and independent.

All that changed gradually over the decades I worked there. Starting at the turn of the century, with the Bush administration's No Child Left Behind Act, there was a big push toward standardization, and individual schools and their policies became more centralized at all levels —nationally, statewide, regionally, and within the district. We were all supposed to be doing pretty much the same thing and measuring our success with high-stakes tests.

But I digress. I sat down to write about how I used to only have to check one district to see if my day would be affected by school cancellations or delays, but, ironically, now that I'm retired, I have to check three: one for my wife's schedule, one for my bowling league, and one for my consulting gig. Some things can't be standardized.

I thought that was kind of funny, but now I see I still feel some kind of way about NCLB and all its unintended consequences. All these years later, I still resent the loss of responsiveness and independence that came with uniformity for uniformity's sake.

Magic AI Ball

I can't even remember why I wanted it. 

Something made me think a button that randomly pulls a post from my blog archive would be a fun addition, so I put an AI site on the task and asked for the HTML code I needed to create such a widget. 

Oh my lord! What followed was an hour or so of cutting, pasting, saving, and testing. I will say that AI is a cheerful, confident collaborator. In addition to reassuring me that I wasn't at fault after every failed attempt, it offered a perfect "final solution" (its words, not mine) at least seven times. 

I almost believed it would work before I ran out of free queries, but alas, no such button currently exists. According to the chatbot, the breakdown is a result of several factors-- the sheer number of posts in the archive, the clunkiness of "Blogger being Blogger," and some sort of indexing issue with Google. 

By the end? I almost expected it to say, Reply hazy, try again later.

Barky McBarkster

Maybe it was the fact that, in the next breath, after telling us that Lucy barks for hours when we're not home, our neighbor offered, "It could be ghosts, though. We have at least two down here," that I did not believe it.

"When is she ever even alone?" I asked Heidi, indignantly, "I'm here almost all the time."

"That could be part of the problem," my reasonable wife suggested. "If it's the separation anxiety we've seen in the past, the fact that someone is here most of the time makes the times when she's alone worse."

I was still very skeptical. So much so that I found an app and downloaded it to both my phone and my iPad, turning the iPad into a bark monitor. "Now we'll see about this," I said firmly as I locked the door behind us on our way to see the Oscar Shorts.

The barking started on my phone before we even got to Bill and Emily's to pick them up, and throughout the movies, I received dozens of silent notifications on my watch that Lucy was barking. Even so, I held out hope for false positives, but when we got home, and I checked the activity log, it broke my heart to hear Lucy barking almost constantly, and often desperately, for close to an hour on two occasions.

Assuming it's not ghosts triggering her, our attention turns to solutions. Stay tuned.

She Showed Me

I took Lucy for a long walk this afternoon, passing through the little local shopping center near the end of our sojourn so that I could stop at the pharmacy. Dogs are allowed in there, and in fact, if Lucy had her way, we would go through those aisles every time we were in the area. I also had a library book on hold that I needed to pick up, and since you can check materials out with your phone, I thought it would be easy to sneak in and out the side door with Lucy.

Oh, was I wrong! We were only a few steps into the library, next to the hold shelf, when we ran into two little girls who politely asked if they could pet my dog. As they were exclaiming over her, their dad came over, complimented me on my good dog, and thanked me loudly for being so accommodating. Next thing I knew, a librarian was at my side. 

I gulped, but before I could offer my apology, she pointed to the book and phone in my hand and offered to check it out for me. I stood uncomfortably by the door until she returned and informed me that there was actually another book on hold for me. 

Would I like her to find it on the shelf and check that one out for me, too? 

"Yes," I shrugged awkwardly and waited a bit longer. "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience!" I told her as she handed me my book. "Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome," she answered.

"I'll never bring her again," I promised.

She nodded and walked away.

Lose Lose

Declutter! I wrote on my to-do list yeaterday. Get rid of 10 things! And I did. I found ten things in my closet that I hadn't worn in some time, and I added them to the donate bag. 

Putting away the last of the winter decorations was also on my list, and as I prepared to climb down from the attic after stowing the gnomes, lighted tree branch, and window candles until November, my eye fell on another item that I decided it was finally time to dispose of.

I loved the small wooden rocking chair from the moment I saw it in the thrift shop back in 2018. The price was right, too; I walked out of there only $9.99 lighter in the wallet. It was painted a chipped powder blue, but I paid my grad student neighbor to redo it cherry red, and I took it to school. Everyone wanted to sit in that chair! And I didn't blame them, but I was partial to it myself, so there weren't many opportunities for others to enjoy it.

It was only a few months later, when I returned after a few days' absence, that I found it broken. The sub left a note that he had leaned forward when one of the rockers was under a cabinet, and it cracked in half. He was sorry, but there was no offer of replacement. I tried to fix it over the years: glue, screws, and metal mending plates all worked for a while, but it was unusable by the time I retired in 2024. 

I brought it home anyway, certain that in my retirement I would find the time to mend it permanently, but it has languished in the attic ever since. I took a hard look at it yesterday and, wiggling the arms and back, concluded that it was time to let go. As I wrestled it down the pull-down stairs, it pivoted in my hand and swung hard into the closet door, smashing a hole in the hollow panel. 

I cussed myself out soundly, took the rocker downstairs, and knocked it to pieces for the garbage. Then I sighed and ordered new doors for the closet, because that's another thing that I can't fix.