Wordless

The start of a new quarter brings a new reading class for me. At our school, sixth grade reading is delivered in the content area one discipline at a time, and on my team that means I teach four rounds of memoir every year. For the most part, I really like it: enough time passes in between lessons that I don't feel as if I'm teaching the same thing over and over, but I also have the opportunity to revise and tweak within months rather than years. Plus, as I've written before, every class can be different because individual students react differently to the same material, and in language arts, that's not a problem.

Take today, for example. My students were creating reading strategies posters. They had to read the descriptions of visualize, analyze, evaluate, connect, self-monitor, recall, infer, or question and illustrate the concept without using words. Then they do a gallery walk to "read" the other posters.

Over the last fourteen quarters, I've seen a lot of ways to communicate these ideas, some more effective than others. This morning I took a look at the product two boys were collaborating on. It was a two panel illustration. "He's reading a book," I said pointing to the first side. My students nodded happily. "But I can't tell what he's doing over there," I gestured to the right side of the page.

"He's folding shirts!" one of the boys told me.

I furrowed my brow a moment and studied the poster, waiting for enlightenment. "Is the book about folding shirts?" I asked slowly.

"Yes!" they were excited to confirm my guess.

"Then it's 'Recall', right?" I checked.

"Yeah!" They nodded. "He has a beard in the second picture to show that time has passed!"

What's Up Doc?

You know you have a grave set of documentary shorts when the most uplifting of the five is the one about Ebola.

The Benefit of Experience

I've often said that the two careers I chose, cooking and teaching, don't always get the respect they deserve, because everyone eats and everyone went to school, so everyone thinks they can do either job. I'll also repeat the story a colleague once told me about her ex-husband who couldn't imagine why she was tired at the end of the school day. "All you do is sit at your desk and say, 'You may begin.' What's so hard about that?" he asked her.

I guess it's one thing when people outside the profession think the job is easy, but recently a couple of teachers in our school seem to discount the value of experience in the field. They are career switchers who have implied in conversation that their private sector time has prepared them just as completely to teach as someone else's time actually spent in the classroom.

Maybe, but here's at least one observation they might find valuable:

Middle school kids are like magpies; they often can't resist shiny objects. Ergo, don't use push pins on bulletin boards in the hallway; they will be stolen.

Conflict

"What are the two main types of conflict?" I asked in every class today.

Oh, it should have been review, but when I posed the question I got a lot of blank stares. Still, there are many brave souls who are willing to make an educated guess, and I commend them.

"Serious and mild?" surmised one student.

"Verbal and physical?" hypothesised another.

"Bullies and friends?" conjectured someone else.

At last I saw the hand of a new-ish student, recently moved to our district from Hawaii. "Internal and external," he proclaimed confidently.

"Great!" I praised him. 'And do you happen to know the three types of external conflict?"

"Hitting, punching, and kicking?" he guessed.

No worries, friends, because by the end of the lesson the vast majority of students knew that conflict generally comes in four flavors: character vs self (which is internal), character vs character, character vs. society, and character vs environment or nature (all three of which are external).

However, at the end of the day, I was sequestered in a meeting in a classroom at the front of the building. When the final bell rang, I was distracted by the parade of students I saw through the window. There was a lot of energy as they joyously exited the building for the weekend, but as I watched I was appalled to see Mr. Hawaii run up to another student, smack her upside the head, and run off.

I wrote it up, but when I told my friend Mary the whole story starting with his knowledge and subsequent misinformation of conflict she shook her head at me.

"Foreshadowing!" she laughed. "Seriously? You didn't see that coming?"

While it Lasts

One day over our snowcation last week, Heidi and I went to a mall that is a little farther than we usually venture outside of town. There was still a lot of snow on the ground, and we took advantage of the fact that we needed to make a return to walk around the mall and get some extra steps in. "Let's explore every corner of Tysons!" I said, because even though it was opened in 1968, it has been renovated and expanded several times in the last 47 years.

Back when I was a kid, Tysons Corner was considered the newest and coolest place to shop. My glamorous cousin, Sandy, was a buyer for Woodward and Lothrop, and she she was based out of their flagship store that anchored the mall. When we were in town visiting, one afternoon was always set aside to meet Sandy somewhere fun for lunch. She would glide in elegantly and then sit right down and dig in to pizza or burgers with us.

I'd forgotten those days until we turned down a little dogleg into a section of the mall I haven't been to in a loooooong time. As we swooped past Saks and made a U-turn to return to the main shopping area, I skidded to a stop and gasped. "That pizza place!" I pointed. "We met Sandy there for lunch!" I stood and stared for a moment, thinking back to a Tysons Corner that no longer exists. Where was the Farrell's Old-Fashioned Ice Cream Parlor? Woodys? Hechts? Woolworths? The Hot Shoppe?

"I can't believe that place is still open!" I said with a lingering look over my shoulder as we continued on our way.

Less than a week later, I read the following bulletin on my foodie news feed:

Luciano Italian Pizza Has Closed in Tysons Corner. After 42+ years serving our friends and family at this location we had reached the end of our leasing agreement. We cherish the many fond memories we have been a part of over the years.

On Me

The first Wednesday of the month in our school district is reserved for countywide content area meetings, and so over the years I have attended roughly 175 middle school language arts gatherings. In an honest attempt to make the time valuable for the teachers who are required to attend, the department has tried many formats, but personally, I have forgotten most of the meetings.

I think that may be inevitable, but not necessarily negative, perhaps, in the way that although I don't really remember my own sixth grade year I continue to confidently teach legions of sixth graders. I'm pretty sure that whether they recall the specifics or not, our time together is well-spent because what I try to instill in them before they leave me is a desire to learn, the belief that they can, and a skill set they may use to do so.

Do our countywide meetings do the same for us? Not always, but today mine did. I attended a presentation by a Teacher Consultant from our local chapter of the National Writing Project. He led us through a session where we wrote poetry, outlined an opinion essay, and learned how to guide our students to collaborate to create standards-based rubrics that they can use to assess their own writing. It was awesome!

Ten years ago, I attended the Writing Project five-week summer institute, and it revitalized and refocused my teaching practice dramatically. My take away today? I need another such re-energizing experience.

Oh, and here's the zero draft of my poem, written in the style of Kwame Alexander in Crossover:

With my knees in the dirt

         WEEDING and SEEDing

                     mulching and feeding

                                       

Bees BUZZ and worms w        e

                                         i     l

                                          g g

                                           

Shoots !   green and grOW

            T

            U

            O

            R

            P

            S

SUN shines on long V      I      N     E      S

Fertilizing flowers to fruit

O! How my garden grows

Please, Sir, I Want Some More

It is part of our daily routine in homeroom to stamp reading logs in order to ensure that students are filling them out daily even though they are due weekly. So, at the end of November I bought a blue ink pad to go with my snowflake stamp.  "We're going to use this every day until we have a snow day," I declared.

"What if we never have one?" somebody asked.

"Then I'll be stamping blue snowflakes in June!" I answered.

This morning on our first day back after the eleven day blizzard break,  I held up the box with all the stamps in it. "What'll it be?" I asked. "Those snowflakes were pretty effective! Want some more?"

Ten students looked at me silently. I couldn't tell if they were tired or snow-shocked. "I'll tell you what," I said. "Why don't you choose? When I come around you can pick a snowflake or a yellow jacket, our school mascot."

It was snowflakes all around, friends.

Target Audience

A colleague brought her fifth grade daughter to school for our teacher work day this morning. (That's right-- after six snow days in a row, we had our previously scheduled grade preparation day today. Don't be a hater.)

I have known this little girl all her life, but today we had a more wonderful time than usual, chatting at lunch about books, and the blizzard, and her classmates who would be coming to our school next year.

We had just finished a hilarious round of I'm going on a picnic when her mom finally stood up. "C'mon," she said. "I have work to do next door."

"But I want to stay here!" her daughter replied.

"Oh don't worry!" I laughed, "we can spend lots of time together next year!"

Hmmm.

I guess I did miss those kids after all.

Thank goodness they'll be back tomorrow.

All Good

Today was one of my favorite days of the year:

We had our annual appointment with Bill and Emily to see the Oscar-nominated live action and animated shorts, 10 films of thirty minutes or less that ordinarily do not get a lot of commercial theater play. Each one was a well-constructed little treasure: funny, heart-wrenching, and thought provoking, but we were generally in agreement with the review that was headlined Live-action misery, animated joy.

Following that double feature we scored a prime parking place and made our way through the unseasonably mild evening down a cobblestone path vaulted by strings of white lights and giant illuminated snowflakes. Leftover piles of real snow lined our path down the stairs, past the skating rink, and on to dinner at one of our favorite places on the Georgetown waterfront.

It was a perfect way to end our second winter vacation.

Waste Not

"Don't throw them away!" I said to Heidi last Saturday afternoon. I was referring to the three pastry bags with leftover buttercream from the mini birthday cupcakes we had just frosted. 

"When will we use them?" she asked with mild exasperation. "Better yet, where will we put them? You know the fridge is full."

"The whole world is a refrigerator," I answered with a sweeping gesture at the blizzard outside. "And you never know when we might need cupcakes again."

She shrugged and humored me, fastening each bag securely into its own ziplock, placing them in another plastic bag and hanging it from the door handle on the deck where it stayed well below 40 degrees all week.

"What are we going to bring to Ruth's tomorrow night?" Heidi asked me yesterday. We were invited for dinner and game night. 

"How about... mini-cupcakes?" I suggested.

She nodded. "Good one!"

The Wind from my Sails

I took advantage of our sixth day off from school and cooked up a storm yesterday. Besides french toast and vegan Greek skillet pies, I made two of Josh's favorites, cream of broccoli soup and braised pork shoulder with bbq sauce. Appropriately appreciative and still trying to put on some of the pounds he lost while in the hospital, he ate huge portions of both dishes. I went to bed secure in the notion that I had significantly contributed to his recovery.

You can imagine how alarmed I was to find him at 7:30 am this morning on the couch wrapped in a blanket and looking pitiful. "I threw up all night," he told me. "I think it was the pork and the soup."

And So It Was...

Eleven days off and a work day! I feel like a Hobbit-- never mind second breakfast, second winter break anyone?

Personal Chef

When Isabel was a puppy she had a few chronic digestive issues and a couple of bouts with worms. Back then, our vet advised us to feed her a mixture of cooked hamburger, rice, and pumpkin whenever her tummy was upset, and there were weeks at a time when that was all our puppy ate.

That was a long time ago, and ever since we put her on a raw diet all of those concerns have been history, too. And yet...

...to this day, whenever I broil some burgers or otherwise brown ground beef? Our sweet dog trots to the kitchen door and sits prettily, certain that I could only be cooking for her.

And in a way she is right, because who could resist such faith in one's kindness and caretaking?

Not I. 

No Job Too Small

I would never be one to turn down a snow day, nor do I shun leisure time, but I do like to keep busy. There's really not a lot of sitting around when it comes to me.

That's why it took me a minute to answer my mother's facetime call this morning. I was occupied in the kitchen and I wanted to make sure my coffee was freshly refilled so that we could chat. Naturally, one of her first questions about our little extended winter break was how and when we would have to make up the time.

"Presidents Day for sure," I shrugged.

"Nope!" Heidi called from across the room. "We have ten days before we have to make up any!"

"What!?" I did a double take.

"Yep!" she said. "We got an e-mail this morning. How did you miss it?"

"I guess I was too busy making breadcrumbs," I answered.

The Big Dig

There is no question that we have just had an epic snow storm, but athough our condo association contractors plowed and shoveled, it turns out that they were not very smart about where they put the snow. Parking is always at a premium here, and residents are responsible for shoveling out their own cars, so it isn't too long after that last flake has fallen that all manner of space markers begin to appear. "Just put a lawn chair in your space," one of my neighbors advised me long ago, "it'll be fine." 

But it isn't fine to drive home at the end of a long day and not be able to park, and that was what was going to happen since at least 20% of our available Parkin had been used to pile snow by both plows and residents who did not want to both shovel and walk. At this end of the complex, most of our neighbors had chosen to weather the storm elsewhere, and although we were dug out by noon yesterday, the fear of losing our spaces was real, especially with five uncleared spaces next to us. 

And so it was that our project for the day today was to shovel out a few extra spaces, including that six foot mountain of snow that was blocking them in. "The sun is shining and we have all day," I told Heidi, and although there was a crust of ice, the snow was light. 

"Think how much harder it will be as it melts and refreezes," we told each other as we scooped shovel after shovel and trudged over to the small hill by our house. After a while a couple of neighbors joined in, and in a little under 90 minutes we had our spaces cleared. 

Some extra added benefit? Peace of mind. I had an appointment to get some stitches removed this afternoon, and when we came home there was a spot for us. They are all filled right now, though, so hopefully a few other some bodies will pay it forward.

Breaking Trail

I slipped my sunglasses on at 7:30 this morning to walk the dog. The storm had stopped around midnight, the sun was shining, and not many folks were out and about yet. The driveway of our complex was squeaky packed powder with huge drifts completely covering several cars. Beyond lay vast expanses of unbroken snow, and that is where Isabel and I headed. First we visited the pool where 12 inches of snow were piled on the diving board and guard chair. Next we treked up the stairs to the elementary school whose unplowed acreage gleamed in the morning sun. The sky was heartbreak blue and the only sound was some cranky blue jays fussing in the holly bush. I looked at Isabel and I swear she smiled as I unclipped her leash, then we waded in, spumes of powder rising in crystal clouds around us.

Snowed In

Today was our friend and neighbor Lauren's birthday. Before the weather reports turned dire, some friends were planning on driving up from North Carolina, and she had reservations at a couple of nice places for drinks and dinner with a club or two after.

"Can your friends come next weekend?" we asked her when she was totally bumming out earlier in the week. "Because if so? We'll make dinner for you on Saturday. That way you can have two birthdays!"

She was appreciative and disappointed at the same time, but you can't fight history! One of the top five snowstorms of all time was bearing down upon us, so what could we do??

Have an awesome dinner party, that's what! We invited the neighbors, made some cute little cupcakes, cooked a nice meal, shoveled the walk, built a fire in the fireplace, and popped some champagne.

Cabin fever? What cabin fever?

Making Do

That's me: lying on the floor in front of the fire listening to an audiobook while bread bakes in the oven, soup simmers on the stove, and snow falls steadily outside.

We'll See

A steady stream of colleagues made their way to my classroom door starting on Tuesday, when news of the big storm potentially coming began to spread. "What do you think?' they wanted to know.

I'm not sure how I got to be the snow seer, but I kind of like it. 

'No school Friday," I predicted confidently. "And if it's what they're saying it could be? I'll see you in February!"

And Then Some!

In a year when there was doubt about getting any snowfall we are facing a blizzard warning for Friday.

I can handle that if necessary.

Drain Reaction

"Do you have How to Train Your Dragon?" a student asked this afternoon. "I want to read that next."

"I might," I told him. "Who's the author?"

He shrugged and picked up his iPad. "Hey Siri! Who wrote How to Train Your Dragon?" He did a doubletake at the screen and snickered. "She thinks I said How to DRAIN Your Dragon!"

"That's easy," said the kid next to him. "You just put his hand in warm water." The two of them laughed.

"Speaking of that," another student raised his hand. "Can I go to the restroom?"

Turning Point

Since Josh was admitted to the hospital last Sunday night I have not cooked a single meal; every evening has been eat out or take out. So tonight, when I pulled out the cutting board and knife, opened a beer, turned on the kitchen TV, and began to prepare a hearty soup to end this cold, cold day, I sighed, because for the moment? All was right in our little world.

Conversational Snow

"Look! It's snowing!" I said as we walked out of the movie theater this afternoon. 

"Did they say we were going to get snow?" Heidi asked in return. 

"Not the last time I looked," I answered, "but it's obviously not going to stick. Sure is pretty though."

"AND it's not rain!" Heidi noted as we turned to walk home. 

They the People

The other day at school a couple of eighth grade students made a presentation at our Leadership Team meeting. The gist of their proposal was to form a student advisory committee to the principal. Their rationale was that A) many students are intimidated to approach teachers with their concerns, and B) everyone knows that the student council elections are just popularity contests. They wanted the teachers to appoint a diverse group of students who could affect real change.

There was a polite smattering of applause, but I did not join in. When they left, the principal looked around. It seemed like she was all for the idea. I raised my hand. "I think this proposal completely disenfranchises our students. What about democracy? If we think that the SCA elections aren't working, then we should fix them."

There was considerable discussion after that. One suggestion was to institute a bicameral council, half appointed and half elected. I made eye contact with the social studies teacher across the room. "A House of Lords and a House of Commons!" we cried in unison.

In the end, there was not a final decision-- the administrative team put it on their agenda to discuss some more-- but our system of student-elected representatives was safe for another little while.

Who Knew?

It was nearly 8 pm when we left the hospital last night. Heidi glanced at her fit bit. "Wanna take the stairs?" she asked.

"Down?" I shrugged and pushed the elevator button. "What good will that do?"

"It will give us steps," she answered.

The elevator doors slid open. "C'mon," I said, "we can walk on the way down."

We had the elevators to ourselves, and we giggling as we marched in tight circles around the perimeter as we descended five floors.

"Whoa!" I gasped as we staggered out into the lobby. "Note to self: exercising on elevators will make you very dizzy!"

On Location

I spent the day in the hospital with Josh. He is in much better spirits, but there are a few health issues that must be resolved before he can be discharged. As usual in a hospital, he is at the mercy of the hospitalist, the specialist, and their busy schedules.

His parents, uncle, and girl friend are out of town, so part of my responsibility today was to update the group by text message, and for a while this morning I was flooded with questions that I couldn't answer until we saw the doctor. Josh and I were laughing that when he finally came in, we were going to make him do a live chat. 

"I'm going to say, "A caller in Colorado wants to know how to manage colitis with diet." I said. 

"Michelle from Pennsylvania wonders when the chest x-ray is going to happen," Josh continued. 

"A listener named Heidi asks how you know if the steroids are working," I added. 

"If we do that to him," Josh said, "we'll probably never see him again!"

Bank Error in your Favor

The text came around 5 am, just as our radio alarm began broadcasting coverage of President Obama's last SOTU address.

Fever of 106. He's getting some Tylenol and they're going to monitor his temperature closer.

I am no medical professional, but that number seemed high enough to Google immediately. What I read was alarming: hallucinations, seizures, brain damage. Oh no! Josh was in trouble! It seemed like things were going to get worse before they got better.

Heidi and I went into crisis mode immediately. We knew Kate, his girlfriend, had to leave today, so Heidi planned to get into school and make arrangements to get up to the hospital as soon as possible. I would prepare to take tomorrow off. We didn't want him to have to spend much time alone in the hospital when his condition was so serious.

At school, my mind was not on my job as I prepared for the day. Lots of texts were pinging in from all over, concerned with this turn of events. Then, around 8 we got one more message.

I think it was 100.6 instead (sorry I was half asleep). He says he's feeling alright.

I'm still taking off tomorrow, though. Treat and I are going to bring some games to room 518 and play!

Live from VHC

It had been a long day: at 5:30 pm the school day was behind us; Larry was on his way back to Colorado; Kate, Josh's girlfriend had slipped to our house for a shower and a nap; Heidi was roaming the hospital hallways trying to get her steps, and my phone was blowing up as I sat waiting in Josh's room for him to be wheeled up from his procedure. A nurse I had never met before came into the room. "Not back yet?" she asked rhetorically.

"Any idea when he'll be up?" I asked ignoring my phone's buzzing.

She gave me an appraising look. My phone buzzed again. I could tell privacy was on her mind. "And you are...?"

It was a question with a complicated answer. I shrugged. "His aunt," I started, and my phone buzzed. I laughed. "You don't don't have to tell me, " I said, "but people all over the country are waiting for an update." My phone buzzed on cue. "I'd hate to disappoint them."

"He was finished about 15 minutes ago. The hospitalist is reading his chart right now. If I had to guess, I'd say he should be up here by 6."

"Thanks!" I told her, and my thumbs were already going.

On Their Clock

It was nearly 10:30 when the hospitalist finally stopped by Josh's emergency room digs. A probable bout of colitis combined with exhaustion and a touch of the flu had brought him here via California, New York, Hershey, PA, and urgent care. He had been waiting for about six hours to see whether he would be admitted or sent home after some blood work, a CAT scan, and fluids.

"Oh, we plan to admit you," the young doctor said, "and with your symptoms, you'll get a GI consult and probably a colonoscopy. But we're actually pretty crowded right now, and it might be a while before we take you upstairs."

And when we asked about an approximate timeline for further tests and treatment? "It's hard to say," she shook her head. "We tend to move pretty quickly down here. They have a whole other time frame up there."

So maybe he'll be out by spring break?

Groomer Has It

After all he had been through-- bear attack, smothering, waterfall, starvation, infection, freezing, riding over a cliff, and spending the night naked in a horse carcass, Leonardo DiCaprio fixed those steely blue eyes on the captain. "I'm going with you," he rasped.

I leaned over to Heidi. "I hope he washes his hair first!" I whispered.

Walk On

It was a little disappointing when we walked down to the movies this afternoon only to find that our preferred film was sold out, but with no other shows of interest in the next couple of hours, we decided to turn around and walk home

cheerfully (!)

with a stop at 7-11 for a few Powerball tickets,

and a plan to watch Listen to Me Marlon on TV,

and 3787 steps.

The Chasm of Sar

It was a bit of a chaotic day in my English class today-- students were finalizing drafts, posting to our online classroom, and making sure they were ready for the word study quiz on Monday. For such a variety of activity to be successful, most of the students need to be self-regulated and on-task. On days like today, when I am trying to assist as many students as possible, my reminders are not always so gentle.

"Do you think I became a teacher so that I could tell kids to be quiet and get to work over and over again?" I asked with a slight edge of frustration the the third time I had to speak to one particular student.

The room was suddenly silent, and that bubble of self-righteous irritation in my chest deflated. I realized how silly I sounded.

"If so," I continued in a much kindlier tone, "then thanks for giving my life such meaning!"

Square One

I wanted to learn some picks and rolls on my new banjolele, and so I turned to Google. The instrument itself is still rather rare, but I found a few beginner pieces for ukulele and I printed them out for my first lesson of the new year tonight. My teacher was delighted and supportive as usual. He listened and even added chords to the basic sheet music.

And that is how I spent 20 minutes playing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star and Old MacDonald.

You better believe they were kick ass versions, though!

All Relative

It's amazing how balmy 35 degrees is after just 2 days of below freezing temperatures!

(Happy Birthday, Dad!)

That's What it's all About

Every year it seems like there is one English class out of the four or five I teach that is just a little more challenging than the rest. Lessons that work perfectly for every other group somehow fall flat for these kids; work that other classes easily complete is not so for them, and it's hard not to blame those students when there is evidence that my planning was sound.

This year it is the last class period of the day when things seem to go awry. As an example, yesterday, less than 4%, or 2 out of 55, of the students in my other classes forgot or did not complete their reading logs, but in that class? It was three times that many and ten times that percentage-- 6 out of 15, or 40%. The classes are randomly, heterogeneously grouped, so what's a teacher to do?

Well, the job is to teach everyone, not just the easy ones, and so I try to set aside my frustration and problem solve. As a group, they are a smart, energetic, but unfocused bunch of kids who all want to do well in school and learn. It is their last core class of the day, an hour after lunch and right before they head off to PE and electives.

I always include structured movement opportunity in my lessons, and today was no exception. We were doing an activity where they had to evaluate a piece of writing with a partner. It was set up like speed dating so that one or the other student would have to move after each question and work with somebody new. For these guys, I decided to up the ante.

"Vote with your feet!" I said when going over the answers. "If you think this was a summary, do the Hokie Pokie!" They all jumped up, waved their hands in the air and turned around.

Next question, "If you think this is synthesis? Give me 5 jumping jacks!" The room erupted in vigorous calisthenics.

And so it went, until it was time for them to settle down and apply the principles we had just discussed to their own writing...

in blessed silence.

Tabloid Fodder

On the first day back from Winter Break my sixth graders were pretty animated discussing what they had read over break. "I finished the Harry Potter series!" one student announced, and before I could even congratulate her she continued in a wail. "Whyyyyyy did Fred have to die??"

I shrugged sympathetically and opened my mouth to reply, but she kept talking. "And Tonks?? And Lupine?? They just had a baby!"

I nodded, and she kept going. "But Harry and Ginny and Ron and Hermione? Yay! Those are good couples!"

"Wow!" said the girl next to her. "I don't know anything about Harry Potter, but I feel like you're talking about the Kardashians!"

Rita Skeeter would certainly agree!

So Cranks the Machine

Those who know me well are aware that I am not an avid clothes shopper. What with ordering online and supplementing at Target, years have literally passed in between shopping excursions for me. That has not been so this year, however.

We started our holiday shopping on Halloween, when Heidi's parents were here, and believe it or not, we finished it today with the last of the gift exchanges and returns. I have to admit that I was shocked at how much more streamlined the stores had their merchandise displays. They seemed downright empty.

Gone were extra racks and tables that I assumed were permanent, and anything I had seen before Christmas that was still left had been moved to the back clearance section and replaced by fitness gear, storage bins, luggage, and spring clothing. It was shocking, but kind of impressive in its own way.

As the weather finally turns colder, I felt lucky that I didn't really need anything for winter!

Overheard at the Lincoln Memorial

We have keeeel-baaaa-see, York-shy-er pudding, and onion gravy, Hon-- just heat it up!

A New Year Wish

I had the New Years dinner preparations well in hand this afternoon when it came time to bread the chicken. The table was set, the black-eyed peas had been stewing and the greens had been braising since earlier in the day. The ham was sliced; the rice cooker at the ready, and water on to blanch the corn.

When I grabbed the homemade bread crumbs, I noticed a small bag of extra crumbs next to them and tossed them all together with some salt, paprika, and hot pepper. As I took the pounded chicken paillards from their buttermilk and egg bath and dredged away, a faintly familiar smell, sweet and cinnamony, wafted from the bread crumbs.

I froze a moment, eyes wide. Could it be?

Tasting a quick pinch confirmed my fears. It was graham cracker crumbs that I had added to my mixture. All was not lost by any means, and when I confessed my error to my brother, we briefly wondered if perhaps this might be one of those legendary accidents that become an amazing tradition.

Alas, the answer was a resounding nope, but it was nothing a little hot sauce couldn't fix. May all the mistakes of 2016 be so easy to remedy!

You Know You've Been away from Home a Little too Long When...

...Your cat gets laryngitis from yelling at you when you get back!

The Way Home

pack
load
hugs
gas station
trashy audio book
snowless ski resort
trashy audio book
gray mountains
trashy audio book
peppermint chocolate pretzels
trashy audio book
paper mill
trashy audio book
gas station
potty break
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fog...
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traffic jam
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rush hour
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home!

Puppy Dog Tails

We woke this morning to sunshine and blue skies, and so we wanted to make the most of it before we had to leave for our 1:55 flight. Since Richard had promised that today was the day when he would learn to ride a bike, four adults, two kids and two bikes rolled down the driveway toward Piedmont Park.

Our expedition took a detour when we spotted one of the neighbors over on the high school lawn with his three year-old son and their two brand new puppies. Dory and Nemo were 10-week-old chocolate brindle mastiff-poodles as cute and wiggly as could be. In the time we stopped, they scampered, rolled, nipped, and chased each other in the impossibly adorable way that puppies do. We were all too happy to applaud any peeing outside and/or trotting in the direction of someone calling them. 

Time was ticking away and we continued on to the park. Heidi fell into step next to me. "I love puppies," she sighed, and I nodded. Knowing that soon we would see our own 12 1/2 year old puppy slightly salved the sting of our eminent departure.

Rainy Days and Mondays

It seemed like the Christmas holiday came and went so quickly this year, and the sky was gray and drizzly as Bill, Emily, and the boys packed the car to head home this morning. A little while later fat drops splattered against the driveway as Courtney backed out on the way to the airport for Mom's flight.

The clouds darkened and rain poured in torrents for most of the afternoon, but our much smaller group made the best of it, playing Settlers of Catan and charades. Feeling a little stir-crazy, Richard and Annabelle and I dodged the raindrops when the storm let up a bit to shoot baskets and play HORSE, dashing under cover of the garage or back into the house when the patter became too steady.

Eventually it was too dark to play outside at all, but it was time for dinner. My sister had seen on Twitter that it was opening night of chef Ford Fry's newest place, Beetlecat, and so we decided to see if we could get a table. Despite The renewed downpour, luck was with us and the six of us enjoyed small plates of seafood crude , raw oysters, Thai shrimp, octopus salad, hot dogs, grilled cheese, lobster rolls, and the best calamari we had ever eaten. Courtney even caught a glimpse of Ford, and for the second time in ten days we felt like we had had the privilege of eating fine food prepared just as the chef wanted it to be served.

More than satisfied we stepped out into the evening happy to see that the rain had stopped.

Voyagers

'All I want for Christmas is toys and games," I told my family at Thanksgiving. I was only half joking, and my brother and his family were completely obliging. When all the ribbons were nearly rolled up and the gift wrap was in the recycling bag, I had a stack of new games under the tree.

Fortunately we are a family of game players (in fact I was not the only one who received some) and we have spent the last couple of days playing Exploding Kittens, 5 Second Rule, Foodie Fight, Settlers of Catan, Ticket to Ride, and Smart Ass. 

We can always count on Treat to read the directions and teach us to play even the most complicated game, and my sister, the lawyer, is a good second opinion if any questions about the rules come up. Today, as we were setting up Ticket to Ride, she told us that "the most experienced traveler" goes first. 

I scanned around the table, trying to figure out just who that might be. "Mom's not playing," I said.

'Right," my sister answered. "That means it's you."

I was flattered, because I like to think of myself as a seasoned traveler indeed, but in fairness I looked at my brother. "What about Bill? He travels all the time for work."

My sister raised an eyebrow at me. "I think that's just a polite way of saying the oldest player," she said gently. "Dont't you?"

And I might have agreed, had I not been choking on my coffee at the thought of it, which had never occurred to me.  

"I choose to take it literally,' my brother said, and made the first play of the game. 

Holiday Hijinks

What to do when it's 75 degrees on December 26? Nothing but play basketball, walk the Atlanta Belt Line, and replace our traditional roast beef with grilled rib eye steak. But don't worry-- there was still mashed potatoes and gravy, and plenty of cookies and Christmas crackers, too.

But this year we added a new twist to the tradition. Instead of reading the corny jokes from the crackers, we read the punch line instead, and everyone else guessed the riddle.

How zany is that?

Pair of Knaves

At 8 am on Christmas morning our flight out of Buffalo was so full that Heidi and I could not get seats together. The day before I had reserved two aisle seats, one in front of the other, and those were the ones we headed to as we boarded. I was a little anxious as I scanned the throng of strangers already seated to discover who would be my companions for the next hour or so, but my eyes lit up when I finally got to my row.

In a reaction I bet few other passengers might have, I turned to Heidi with a little fist pump. "Yes!" I celebrated, "I got some boys!" And I happily slid Into the aisle seat next to a kid who was probably in sixth grade and his slightly older teenaged brother. "Let's put this arm rest down guys," I started, and I knew we would be fine.

And we were. The flight passed relatively quietly as the boys first played games on their iPad and then actually got out some homework to do. When the kid next to me could not find the room for both his empty cup and his vocabulary book on his tray top table, he froze, glass hovering above workbook like a ufo. I silently held out my hand, took the cup, and placed it on my own tray. "Thanks," he said, picked up his pencil, and got to work.

Christmas Mystery Solved

A couple of years ago I realized that as extensive as my Christmas music library was, I did not have a single recording of Need a Little Christmas. This was on the heels of downloading Count Your Blessings to fill another gap in the collection. And this year it's There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays that is the new addition. How I've missed these standards is unfathomable unless you take into account one key piece of information: 

The Ray Conniff Singers never recorded them!

Lighten Up

Back when my older nephews were little, driving around town at this time of year always involved playing an amusing little game called I See Christmas Lights. There was a sufficient number of houses decked out that we could repeat the phrase enough times to be silly, but not so many as to make it ridiculous.

Here in Buffalo, though, it is a whole other world when it comes to holiday decorating: almost everyone has lights and lawn ornaments. That makes it kind of fun to take a simple drive or even a walk around the neighborhood. At first it's thrilling to see all the twinkle and glow, but it doesn't take long before I become more of a discerning critic.

First off, any use of inflatable figures is dismissed on the grounds of being garish and non-traditional. Laser lights are out for the same reason, although I did sneak onto someone's lawn to see how the speckles of light dancing across their home were being projected. I hesitated just a moment before thrusting my hand in front of the device-- aren't lasers supposed to be dangerous?

Next, inconsistency with reality is also a disqualifier. For example one house had a big Santa Snoopy right next to another smaller Snoopy on top of his festive dog house. No! There are not two Snoopys. Likewise more than one Santa in any given yard is a no-no. You can have as many reindeer as you like, but only one Rudolph, please. It's also acceptable to mix secular and religious icons; a crèche surrounded by giant candy canes? Why not?

I'm rather particular about light choices, too. All red? That's demonic, but all green is too leprechaunic. Those new multicolor LED lights offer intensity, but most have too much purple for my taste. Simply tossing a few strings of whatever at the bushes is never a good choice, nor is running out of lights half way around the garage door and just going with it.

When it comes to lights, I love the classic approach of following the roofline, and I prefer it when it's done with good old-fashioned strings of ceramic C9 bulbs. Whatever you use, though, please make sure your lines are crisp, bulbs at attention and all facing one way. Lights are not forgiving; in the dark of night a wavering line seems careless, and even those dangling icicle-style lights are on the border of pretty and pretty sloppy.

The classy restraint of simple wreathes and candles in the window seems like a good idea, but around here, it just can't compete. Those houses need a few light deer and white spiral trees to pull it all together. There are also quite a few lighted Santas en sleigh with reindeer, but to be honest, I want them on the roof! Never mind the prediction of 50 mph winds tomorrow-- why would Santa land on the yard?

I have to admit, though, that in the aggregate, all the lights in all the yards together really, really work for me. It's magical and I wouldn't change a single bulb.

I'm Your Girl!

I reckon that, in support of our school district's one-to-one initiative, I've set up a hundred iPads or so over the last year, not to mention the devices I've helped to troubleshoot, nearly on a daily basis. So when Heidi's dad asked me to assist him with his new iPad mini, I only had one thing to say.

When Middle-aged People Travel...