Taste Testing

I got an email early last week from SOB, Step Out Buffalo, describing "5 Hidden Gem Chocolatiers You Probably Don't Know About". They were right about that, living 381 miles south as I do, but I wondered if Heidi's parents were equally in the dark. And so yesterday I proposed a little tour of the five, and despite snow and ice, the four of us headed gamely out.

Heidi's dad actually grew up in a candy store in Buffalo, his father's business until business turned bad in the early fifties, and he was rather skeptical that these places might exist without his knowledge. We hit some matinee theater traffic on our way to the first one, and on top of the weather, it was closed when we got there.

The next stop was around the corner, though, and we found parking right in front of an early 20th century brick building wth plate glass windows and a wooden door with jingle bells. Inside wide floors creaked a little under a shiny pressed-tin ceiling. Wooden shelves held packages of handmade chocolate in holiday wrappers, and an old brass cash register sat next to a glass case full of single truffles and turtles and squares of bark. A green accountant lamp spilled yellow light over a big desk in a cluttered office, and in the way back of the place we could see stainless equipment in a tiny chocolate factory. The clerk offered us generous samples, and the chocolate was delicious-- creamy and sweet, but not too sweet.

We left with a shopping bag full of treats and headed off to the next place which was a vegan chocolatier and bakery. Heidi was especially pleased with the maple sponge candy, but I was impressed by the guy sculpting donuts and cupcakes with the snow he shoveled from the walk. We decided to stop for lunch to balance the sugar, and ended up at a fun burger place with 24 beers on tap, all offered in 5 ounces.

I could have stayed there for a while, but it was a little early in the day to start drinking, so we headed off to the last stop, a place outside of town and closer to home. They had ice cream and 25 different types of filled chocolates and truffles, but by then, I couldn't try another bite, and so I was content to sit in my wire and wood parlor chair and chat with Gary as he polished off a turtle sundae. The owner of the place overheard our conversation, and mentioned a couple of other places we missed. Agreeing to save those for another day, we piled into the car just as he was leaving too.

"Have fun with your chocolate crawl!" he waved, and I laughed, because that's exactly what it was!

Now That's What I Call Christmas Lights

There is no question that holiday light technology has come a long way in the last 50 years. A quick stroll through the neighborhood tonight furnished views of spiral trees and giant candy canes, illuminated reindeer, polar bears, and even a golden doodle, giant inflatable snowmen and minions, Santas with and without sleighs, neon-style snow flakes and trees and angels lighting up windows, and laser shows ranging from red and green confetti to messages such as Let it snow, Happy Holidays, and Ho Ho Ho. Some houses draped their trees and bushes with LED light strings, heavy on the blue and purple, and there were some with white icicle-style lights of the type very popular 20 years ago or so.

Collectively, all these lights gleaming in the snowy night were thrilling, but individually they were a little soulless, sad and cheap. Especially, when now and then we saw spotlights brightening up a decorated evergreen in the yard or wreathe on a door. Oh, and there were even one or two places with single candles glowing in each window, and a few others with old-fashioned strings of ceramic C-9 lights neatly following the roof line, in classic form.

One Stop Shopping

We were out running a few Christmas errands in an unfamiliar section of Buffalo early this afternoon when we came upon a wondrous sight:

a shopping center with both a huge Target and an enormous Wegmans!

Who Knew?

After dinner tonight we were all sitting around the table when Heidi's dad pulled a screenshot up on his phone. It was her brother's DNA profile. I glanced at it politely, but without much interest; after all, I had spent some time studying Heidi's DNA, so I really didn't expect any surprises.

Oh, me. It turns out I don't really know everything. As often as I learn that lesson, clearly it hasn't quite sunk in yet. Sibling DNA is not identical, and ethnic markers can be very, very different. For example, in the case of Heidi and Mark, she's 46% British Isles, and he's only 2%.

Holy cow! Maybe there is some American Indian in our past that I just missed out on! DNA tests all around!

For Goodness Sakes

Lucy was awfully quiet this morning while I was in the kitchen packing lunch. On a hunch I poked my head out to check on her, and sure enough, she was in the living room surrounded by shredded cardboard and wrapping paper. Her project? A small gift addressed to Tibby and Milo. It didn't even contain food; a small cloisonne fish ornament lay among the ruins of the package.

As for Lucy, she was actually smiling and proudly wagging her tail...

right up until she heard the tone of my voice scolding her.

Splitsville

"Ms S.?" a student raised her hand just as I finished giving directions.

"Yes?"

"Your pants are split in the back," she told me quietly.

MY eyes widened in horror as my hand dropped to my bottom and felt a fairly large tear along the pocket. There was definitely skin and underwear exposed, and I racked my brain to try to figure out when it had happened. This was 5th period! How long I had been walking around with my booty hanging out was anybody's guess.

But then? I relaxed. This is middle school, I thought. If anyone noticed, I would know it.

I looked around; nobody was paying any attention to me. I took my sweater off and tied it around my waist and continued on, business as usual.

But then I went home and changed as soon as I could!

Demanding Curriculum

One of my students is off to India tonight for winter break, but before going she did the responsible thing and asked all her teachers for any work sh might miss over the next three days. I commend her, but lordy! The 3 days before vacation are crazy, and who knows what we'll get done.

Still, she (and her parents) are definitely in the Type A category, and so I pulled together a few resources to help her write the first draft of her essay. "Thank you!" she said as I handed them to her this morning. Then she frowned. "Do you happen to have a folder to put them in?" I did.

Later in the day I saw her again. "Have a great trip!"

"Thanks!" she answered. "I have my folder right here," she patted her binder. "You know what?" she asked. "You are the only teacher who had a packet for me today!"

I shrugged. "It's a busy time," I said on my colleagues' behalf.

She gave me a thumbs up. "You were right on point, though," she assured me.

"Thank goodness for that," I winked. "See you in January!"

Cookie Monster

8 dozen mandel bread
4 dozen chocolate peppermint crinkles
4 dozen cherry apricot rugelach
5 dozen chestnut spice
3 1/2 dozen thumb prints with bourbon chestnut cream

and tea cakes yet to come!

Making the Season Bright

A few months back friends of my sister-in-law were actually moving overseas because of the election results last year. Big foodies, they had an enormous pantry to dismantle, and we scored a few luxury items. The roasted hatch peppers are still in the freezer, as is the duck fat, but the demi-glace is gone, and there is a dent in the Chinese cooking wine as well.

Today I also used the roasted chestnuts in my Christmas baking. I filled brown sugar and bittersweet chocolate thumbprints with a homemade bourbon crème de marron, and I also made some chestnut spice cookies rolled in cinnamon powdered sugar. I'm pretty pleased with the results, and it was fun to try something new using such an old-fashioned traditional ingredient.

Rights and Wrongs

A couple of the boys in my intervention group came roughhousing in the door.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" I stopped them. "What are you doing?"

"He pushed me!" one of them accused the other.

"He called me gay!" the other guy defended himself.

"And?" I raised my eyebrows.

What followed was an interesting discussion among all 8 boys in the group about whether or not such a remark justified such a response. The pushing guy held his ground firmly. "If someone says something I don't like, I can defend myself," he insisted.

"Have you ever heard of the first amendment?" another guy asked him.

"No," he shrugged dismissively.

"Freedom of speech?" the other kid continued. "You can't just attack someone for saying something."

The first boy grimaced. "Well, that's stupid!" 

Report Card

I looked at my wrist when the text message alert chimed.

Richard got a  92 on his exam and a 98 on his free verse, my sister wrote. Yay! This 6th grade ELA teacher was strangely relieved and even a little elated by the news that my 6th grade nephew did well on the ELA assignments I helped him with over the weekend.

But why? Just this morning I had a conversation with one of my own students about her assignment.

"Is it an A???" she asked urgently.

"Probably," I answered as I glanced at it, "but more importantly, what did you learn?"

"A lot!" she assured me. "So, is it an A?"

"We'll see, Franny," I told her.

Primary Sources

As part of my genealogical toolbox, I have a subscription to a searchable newspaper archive service. It hasn't proven to be very valuable when it comes to family history, but it is fascinating to look through scanned original news pages anywhere from 200 years to 2 weeks old. I can easily get lost for hours.

On a whim, tonight I did a quick search for "Christmas Recipes" for December 1962, and tucked between fabulous mid-century graphics and fonts, found a few fun cookie recipes that seem promising. I may try them, but imagining the breakfast tables where first the recipes were read, and then the formica countertops and linoleum floors of the kitchens where they were prepared, and finally the living rooms where perhaps the cookies were served, with Christmas trees and colored lights and tinsel and holiday records spinning on the stereo in the corner, was satisfying in its own way.

Home Remedies

“Are you sick?” a teammate asked me today, perhaps noting the hoarseness in my voice.

“Oh no,” I assured her. “It’s just a little congestion.’ Regular readers may recall that I refuse to use the verb to be when describing any health conditions. In my mind, I may have them, but they do not have me, and I certainly am not them.

A new teacher on the team seemed to get it right away, nodding with understanding. Later she poked her head in the door, catching me blowing my nose with more than a little gusto. “Hey,” she said, “did I ever tell you about my friend the naturopathic healer?”

I shook my head.

“She says that tea with honey and lemon and chicken soup really do have healing properties, especially when you have,” she paused meaningfully, “congestion.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “I love chicken soup!”

Peeping Teacher

Over the weekend I had the opportunity to help my nephew with his 6th grade English assignments. A book project and semester exam study guide on Google Classroom and IXL were an open window into the same class I teach 600 miles north.

It was interesting to peek through, and even more fascinating to see the whole shebang from the student and family's point of view. I wish I had some profound insights into the state of American education today, but to be honest, it was really just business as usual, and my nephew completed his assigned tasks with resignation and without joy.

Hmm.

Perhaps there is a bit of profundity there after all.

Richardisms

"Look how big Richard is!" I said to Heidi pointing the facetime phone in his direction. "Can you believe it?" It didn't matter that we had seen him 2 weeks ago, he just seemed older and taller than before.

"But he is as awesome as ever!" she answered from Virginia. "Think of all the things we say that came from him."

I nodded and laughed. "That guy is moooooving!" we said at the same time with double barreled pointer fingers, just the way Richard had at 4, racing out to the front porch as a dump truck hurtled by.

"Wouldn't that be a good idea?" I said, just as five-year-old Richard had at the aquarium, explaining why he should be allowed to get a giant blue fish-shaped lollipop.

"Oh! What a healthy lunch!" Heidi replied, remembering six-year-old Richard's approval when I presented him with a small plate of rolled up turkey, string cheese and a few olives and cucumber slices.

And now that guy is 12! And just past that tweeny shrug and beneath that mop of hair, still as quirky and cute as ever.

Cutting to the Chase

As I sat at the breakfast bar this morning, Jack whispered loudly in his mom's ear. "Can she play with me?"

"Who?" she asked, listening as he urgently whispered some more. "Courtney? Annabelle? Richard?"

He shook his head fiercely and then looked at me. "Her!" he pointed. "My cousin! Can she come to the playroom and practice my basketball with me?"

"You mean Tracey?" his mom asked, and he nodded vigorously.

I laughed. It's not every day a 55-year-old lady gets such an invitation from a 5-year-old boy. Plus, I liked the way my first cousin twice removed simplified our relationship. "You bet!" I replied hopping off my stool. "Let's play!"

Driving Conditions

A rare early December winter storm made its way from Texas across the gulf states and up through the mid-Atlantic on the very day that I was making a rare early December road trip to Atlanta. Winter storm Benji and I first met in Richmond; he heading north and I traveling south, but that did not prevent us from spending the day together. Freezing rain, sleet, and snow pattered against my windshield the whole 11 hours. Fortunately, the temperature stayed above freezing and the roads were clear most of the way, but even when they weren't, the snow was too pretty to complain, so I just turned on the Christmas music and sang along.

Be My Guest

My room is clean and organized, my lesson plans written with resources well-prepared.

Too bad I won't be there to actually enjoy it.

Selective Amnesia

When it comes to gifts, I want to be surprised. So much so, that I intentionally wipe my mind clear of any request or suggestion I may have made related to the holidays, and I refuse to even guess what this package or that might hold. (Of course there are exceptions-- I'm talking to you, record albums and books, but even then, one can never be sure of the title until the paper has been gleefully torn off.)

My policy even extends to our Christmas decorations-- I am delighted every time I open the box and start pulling them out. Each one is a perfect, oxymoronic, familiar surprise.

And this year, I also found a little note when I opened the merry red and green container.

Dear Heidi and Tracey,

it read in my handwriting,

Merry Christmas! Remember to pull out all the ornament layers this year before you start.

I have no recollection of writing it, but it was excellent advice! (And Merry Christmas to you, too, Tracey of 2016! I know your holiday was very happy.)

Right Here, That's Where

What was I thinking when I placed 10 of the wildest, non-readingest boys in my morning book club?

That I could tame them with the magic trick of staring into all their eyes without blinking once (and donuts!) and that maybe we would find a wild rumpus of a book to celebrate together?

It looks like I'll be sailing in and out of weeks to find out.

And I may need a wolf suit.

Birthday Surprise

"Can we bring our own birthday treats?" a student in my homeroom asked the other day. Her birthday was coming up, and it is my practice to bring donuts or some other sweet to celebrate.

"Sure, if you'd rather," I shrugged. "It's your birthday!"

I smiled and she did too.

To be honest, it was one thing off my plate, but I was curious when the big day rolled around. I announced the celebration with the same fan fare as always, and we all sang and wished her a hearty happy birthday.

"Can I help you serve?" I asked as she pulled a rather small bag out from under the desk.

"Oh no," she said, "I can do it," producing a stack of napkins, a ceramic soup spoon, and a plastic container of...

pomegranate seeds!

It was a brand new experience for most of the kids, and as they chewed the tart little morsels their facial expression were mixed, but they are a gracious group, and I like that about them.

Connoisseurs

I heard a story on NPR recently about how Paris is putting sparkling water fountains in parks all over the city. The objective is to eliminate plastic bottle waste, and indeed all of the Parisians interviewed for the piece were quite enthusiastic, many filling their containers to enjoy later at home. The high quality of water in Paris was definitely a subtext; one woman spoke about rotating the sparkling water she drinks weekly to optimize her mineral consumption, and how she was happy to include the new free bubbly in her regime.

"She's like Lucy!" Heidi noted when I recounted the report to her. "Lucy loves her upstairs water, her downstairs water, her kitten water bowl water, and now her Christmas Tree water."

It must be the minerals.

Counter Surfer

It gave me a little pause this afternoon when I found a glob of cinnamon roll on the floor. Did I drop that? I wondered. until I noticed that five were missing from the tray, and it became clear that our little puppy had obviously become a stealthy thief.

Oh, she paid for her transgression, moaning and sighing her way through the afternoon, but after a little bout of loose stool, she was more ravenous than ever for her dinner. Too bad! we thought as we cut her regular portion by half, a little moderation will be good for you.

Later on, when both the raw hamburgers on the counter were gone, we reconsidered.

Hooray!

You bought us a whole tree????? asked the puppy and two kittens.

Merry Christmas!

The Other Side of Town

There is a lot of diversity in the student body of my school, primarily developmental, intellectual, ethnic, and economic. In general, the kids take the differences among them in stride, but they are not always aware of what divides them.

Today, for example, my classes were reading "Raymond's Run", a short story by Toni Cade Bambara about a little girl nick-named Squeaky growing up in Harlem back in the late 20th century. The task was to find notable details that revealed something essential about the characters and discuss them with a small group. Squeaky tells the reader about another girl who used to be a friend of mine when she first moved to Harlem from Baltimore and got beat up by everybody till I took up for her. 

"They live in a tough neighborhood," one student noted.

"I have a connection," added another boy. "There are some older kids in my neighborhood who always fight and threaten us."

"Mine, too," said a girl. "And the police come all the time where we live."

"My neighbor has to call the police sometimes, too," another student told us, "because of teenagers being loud and disrespectful."

The first student's eyebrows got higher and higher as he listened to his classmates. "I never knew how lucky I was to live in my neighborhood," he said. "Nothing happens there."

Finding Fault

I was growing increasingly frustrated as I checked the work of my students right before lunch. "Anybody who isn't finished will have to stay until it's done!" I announced. "You'll have to show me your paragraph before you go."

When the fifth kid handed me an assignment that was missing the same essential detail as the four I had just seen, I gave up. "Forget it!" I said. "None of you are doing it right!"

The class looked at me with mild alarm, clearly wondering if they should stay or go.

I shrugged. "You must have a terrible teacher!" I laughed. "Let's try again tomorrow."

Sticky Criminal

"Give me that!" a usually mild-mannered student shouted over the hubbub of our class.

I stepped over and stepped in. "What's happening?"

Her randomly-assigned partner for the day was impishly dangling a piece of scotch tape just out of her reach.

"He won't give that to me!" she explained indignantly.

"Why do you want it?" I asked.

"He told me to put my thumbprint on it, and then he used it to unlock my iPad," she reported with wide eyes, "AND... it worked!"

He laughed even as I confiscated the piece of tape and crumpled it up. "I'm like a secret agent!" he said. "I'm going to get thumb prints of everybody!"

"You are not," I told him. "It's like making copies of people's keys, or stealing the combination to their lockers."

His face fell.

"Way cooler, though," I consoled him. "But still, not allowed."

Post-Vacation Coma

Like the grocery store yesterday, the halls here at school were eerily quiet this morning. Students silently dragged in a few at time, slumping sleepily at their desks through the announcements, and the day continued on like that.

"To be honest?" I told my reading class, "I kind of like this side of you!"

They groaned half-heartedly, my enthusiasm clearly overwhelming them.

"Well, lucky for you, I have an activity planned where you are supposed to be, are you ready for it? SILENT!"

The task was to line up in order of their ages without talking. The record time for them to beat was 2 minutes and 6 seconds, and when they were finished, I congratulated them on their success. "I have some good news and bad news," I announced. "The bad news is that it took you almost 4 minutes to do that."

Their faces fell a bit.

"The good news is that you were the quietest group I've ever seen!"

And to that praise they let up a tiny cheer, before wordlessly returning to their seats.

Mind Your Own

The grocery store was eerily quiet late this afternoon. When the whoosh of the sliding glass doors ushered me into the produce department, there was only one other family shopping. "I need parsnips!" the dad pointed at his teenaged daughters. "I'll go get the meat."

The girls and I crossed paths several times. As I picked up celery, avocados, and cabbage, they silently paced the vegetable case, unable to complete their mission. Watching them search, I started to look, too, and I spotted the parsnips right away. Should I point them out? I wondered, or would that be creepy? When at last they found them, I was relieved, but by then I had a predicament of my own.

Where are the carrots!? I scanned and scanned again, unwilling to believe they could possibly be sold out, even on the Sunday night after Thanksgiving. Finally I located them...

right next to the parsnips.

Salad Days

After several nights of huge, wonderful meals, the thing that sounded just right tonight was a great big salad. With turkey and a cranberry-orange-miso vinaigrette, of course-- it's still Thanksgiving!

Then Came the Real Escape

We did a Titanic-themed escape room today and, with eleven heads working to solve the puzzles to open the elevator doors before the portholes totally filled with water, made it out with a couple minutes to spare.

Which begs the question, if it had been the real ship, what good would getting up on deck have been?

Chillin on Turkey Day

The weather is variable around these parts in late November. Over the years, some Thanksgiving days have been practically balmy, others gray and rainy, but most are around 50 degrees.

This year we have my favorite type of weather-- sunny and crisply cold. Oh, it's beautiful, for sure, with the last of the leaves burning bright beneath a pale, winter blue sky, but the real reason I like it so much? Is that with temperatures in the low 40s, the world becomes my walk-in refrigerator.

The Directions

Years ago around this time of year I designed a lesson for the sixth graders that involved reading the ingredients on traditional holiday recipe cards and guessing what dish it was and then making up a set of directions for cooking it. The objective was for them to use analysis and sequencing strategies, but the results were often hilarious. Most memorable was Fill turkey with water and boil in the oven for an hour. After I while I realized that there were more age appropriate ways for them to practice those skills, but I still have that pecan squares recipe, and it’s a darn good one. In fact I made a batch today for our own Thanksgiving Feast. 

You're Welcome

In a gesture of giving thanks and expressing appreciation at this time of the year, there were stacks of little orange cards in the main office. The idea was for students and staff to jot a few lines of thanks and put them in our mail boxes. As simple, or even saccharine, as it sounds, I was very moved by the notes I got, and I made sure to slip some in my colleague's boxes as well.

As nice as they all were, my favorite none was penned a student from last year: Thanks for not ripping my head off! 

Model Student

“How was school today?” my mom asked when I picked her up from the airport.

“It was pretty good, but the kids were crazy! As you can imagine they would be on the Monday of a two day week,” I answered.

"Even Franny?" she asked in mock alarm.

"No," I laughed. "Franny was very good. As always."

Name Sakes

As I mentioned in my last post, I have known

a

lot

of

kids

in my teaching career.

A lot of kids means a lot of names, and although there are definitely some common ones, (Caitlyn, Anna, Zachary, and Jack) every year brings a few new names, too. This year, I have a Damaris, a Serenity, and my first ever Tracee, which is admittedly a little weird.

But more importantly, I also have a Franny, who shares my mom's name. And I have found that I L-O-V-E taking attendance and calling on her, because I get a warm little feeling every time I say her name. Oh, it helps that she is a model student, for sure, but now I'm hoping for not only a few more Frannys, but also a couple of Bills, Courtneys, and maybe even a Bob.

Experience Shows

"How did you know that???" a student asked me the other day when I predicted exactly what he was about to say.

"I've known a lot of sixth graders," I shrugged.

He was unconvinced. "How many?"

"Maybe 2,000?" I guessed.

"What???" another student exploded.

"No way!" someone else said.

I shook my head. "You guys know how long I've been teaching," I reminded them.

"Twenty-five years," someone piped up dutifully.

"Right," I said. "Let's do the math. I have 85 students right now; let's say that's the average." And I wrote the multiplication problem on the board. Solving it together, they were momentarily impressed.

Then the statistic flew out of their 11-year-old brains, which was fine, because I knew it would.

Brrrr

There was more than a little tension when I showed up for my semi-weekly meeting this afternoon. Just 2 out of the usual 5-7 of us were there. “Where’s everybody?” I asked as cheerfully as I could muster.

“I have no idea,” my grumpy colleague huffed.

I ignored her tone. “Well,” I said, “let’s look at the agenda and get to work.” I could see I was alone on the shared document, but still I pressed on, asking questions and taking notes, until at last one other person showed up, followed by our administrator. Things were a little more cordial after that, but not much.

“Wow! It’s cold in there!” the reading specialist said as we walked out.

“Yeah it is!” I agreed a little too heartily. 

Beyond Average

I ran into a student on my way out of the building this afternoon. "We had a really good class today!" she told me.

I considered the compliment. She is in my largest class, which is also the last class of the day. We have a lot of big personalities in there as well, so things don't always go exactly as planned. Some days it seems like I have to do more than the average share of redirecting in there, but today, with the benefit of new seats and a fun activity, they had seemed pretty engaged.

"Thanks!" I said. "I'm glad you liked the lesson!"

She looked at me blankly for a minute, and then recovered. "Yeah!" she replied, "and no one got in trouble, either."

You Talkin to Me?

Our school leadership team received the following email this afternoon:

Colleagues,

Please note that if you did not use the YJP Protocol, or if you placed students before using the YJP Protocol, you must use the YJP Protocol before placing students.  Should you have questions about how to implement the protocol please, please see an administrator or Ms T.  It is imperative that we properly place students to ensure they are all getting the specific support they need. Thank you,

And to be honest? The process (not to mention this message) is so convoluted, that I'm not even sure if she means me!

Forward, Ho!

News today that our favorite grocery store is opening a location a little closer than the 20-25 minutes it takes to drive there now. Oh, it won't be open for four years, or so, and it's actually going to be built in the parking lot of what was favorite movie theater until about, four years, or so, ago.

I suppose there's a certain symmetry to that.

Chop Chop

4 oz liverwurst
8 hot dogs
12 ounces of cheese

For Lucy's agility class

4 pounds of apples

For apple-cranberry sauce

5 stalks of celery
7 small eggplant
1/3 of a large onion
1 green pepper

For eggplant gumbo

5 cutting boards
3 knives
1 tired ex-prep cook

on a Monday night

Smarts and Braves

All of our young pets experienced their first fire in the fireplace last evening. The day had been cold, even for November, and the house was a little chilly, too, when I knelt to light the tinder and kindling. Six eyes were riveted, first on me, and then on whatever that was behind the metal curtain. As the flames grew higher, their fascination did, too, until a pop made Lucy dance away. The warmth was seductive, though, and soon the heat drew both kittens. Lucy kept her distance, though, even as Tibby moved closer and closer.

"Lucy has some smarts!" Elaine commented.

"Yeah, she does," I shrugged, "But Tibby has some braves."

And that's why I love her!

No Good Deed...

Elaine tagged along this afternoon as we ran most of our weekend errands. As is our routine, at each of the stores we split up and meet again near the checkout. Our first stop was Target, and it was hard not to get sidetracked by all the early holiday magic they've got going. Cat litter was on the list, and to get to it we passed several winter wardrobe items for dogs. 

"Should we get Lucy a Christmas sweater?" Heidi asked.

"Nope," I replied.

She wasn't surprised-- she is well aware that I don't really believe animals should wear clothes-- but that wasn't the end of the conversation. "What about a plaid coat?"

"No."

The next two stops were DSW and Safeway, where fortunately for me, animal clothing is not carried. The final stop of the day was Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Heidi and I went inside while Elaine waited in the car, enjoying the heated seats.

"Look at this fleece jacket," Heidi said. "It looks so warm. Don't you think Lucy would like it?"

"No," I shrugged. "She's a dog, and they don't wear clothes. Let's get what we came for."

Once home, Milo and Tibby examining every package and bag strewn about the kitchen and dining room table, Elaine clapped her hands in delight. "I have something for everyone!"

The kittens received a bag of treats made with real tuna, which they enjoyed immediately. "Lucy!" Elaine said, "Look what I got you!"

It was a sweater of marled red. "It's for the holidays!" Elaine told us.

"Thanks!" said Heidi. "Let's put it on right away!"

Merriment Got in my Eyes

I was drinking coffee at the dining room table with my neighbor this morning, enjoying the day off when I reached down into my crate of vinyl LPs and pulled out a vintage Benny Goodman album. The kittens ran over to see what was making that sound. Milo quickly lost interest, but Tibby, drawn first by the wail of the clarinet, was immediately spellbound by the turntable.

Leaping onto the sideboard where it was, she cautiously investigated, jerking her head back every time her whiskers brushed the spinning disc. As brave of heart as she is, it didn't take long until she was gently swatting at the spiraling logo at the center of the record. When that approach did little to stop the turning, she leaned down and grabbed the edge of the album with her teeth, and tried to pull it off the player.

Oh, I should have made her stop, but believe it or not, it wasn't harming the record at all, and besides, we were laughing too hard.

Not Yet on First-Name Basis

In order to practice character analysis, I try to have my students view and read a number of engaging short films and texts.

To start off with, we watched Small Fry, a Toy Story short, where a kids meal version of Buzz Lightyear knocks out the real Buzz in the ball pit of a fast food restaurant and hitches a ride home in Bonnie's backpack to replace him. There the other toys rally to figure out what happened and make a plan to rescue Buzz who finds himself in a support group for discarded happy meal toys.

Most students love watching an animated movie in English, and they bring their familiarity with the characters to the assignment. Today I was circulating to check in with students as they worked. "Who are you writing about?" I asked one girl.

"The cowboy," she told me.

"The cowboy!" I laughed. "You mean Woody?"

She shrugged. "I guess that's his name. I don't really know the movies."

"Wow!" I said. "So what do you think of Woody?"

The cowboy seems to be the leader of the toys, she read from her notebook. He is observant, because he is the only one who notices when the mini-astronaut tries to take the mega-astronaut's place.

Day after Day

"I can't take these weeks with Monday Wednesdays," a colleague said on our way out the door this afternoon.

I squinted. "You mean Wednesday-Monday?"

"Oh yes," she conceded. "See what I mean? It's so confusing."

"How about Thursday Fridays?" I asked.

"Those I can embrace," she laughed.

"Me, too!" I said. "See you tomorrow!"

Steel and Irony

How strange the world is! Less than 24 hours after I was walking in the rain in Pittsburgh, I found myself 250 miles away walking through the stainless gleam of another gray morning to vote in one of only two governor races this year. Oh, the stakes do seem very high, but it will be a long time before I get my hopes up in any consequential election.

I spent the rest of the teacher workday in my quiet classroom, surrounded by the plants I had rescued from the predicted freeze. As I sat still at my desk, the motion sensor lights kept turning off, plunging me into a surprisingly pleasant gloom. By the glow of my laptop screen I worked, rain pattering against the windows, uninterrupted by students and colleagues, and in full appreciation of the contradiction that this job would be so much easier without either of them. 

The Glass

The weather was threatening this morning when we headed out to explore downtown Pittsburgh with Lucy in tow. "Should we get our umbrellas?" Heidi asked.

"No!" I literally waved my hand. "It's just like yesterday, gray, but not raining."

She was doubtful. "It says there is a 50 percent chance of rain."

"That means there is also a 50 percent chance that it won't rain!" I shrugged off her concern, and so off we went.

First, may I say that Pittsburgh is a seriously cool town? Walking the streets lined with a pleasing blend of 19th and 20th century architecture, we found a fantastic coffee place and were just heading into Market Square when it began to rain in earnest. Taking refuge under the awning of a Greek restaurant, we watched dauntless workers setting up for the annual Christmas Market.

And we were more than a little damp just a block over when we stepped into the plaza at PPG Place. Pittsburgh Plate Glass was the first company to figure out how to mass produce plate glass in the late 1800s, and their 5.5 acre complex that spans three city blocks is literally a shimmering reflection of that origin. The six buildings and 231 spires surround a plaza that is festooned with a Christmas Tree and a skating rink at this time of year.

Oh, there was more that I would have liked to see, but the rain let up, and we decided to make a quick run back to the hotel, not soaked and somewhat satisfied with our tour of the town.

I prefer to think of it as a success!

Time Change

I woke in the dark this morning and looked at the clock on the unfamiliar night table. It was only 6:30, but 6:30 today would have been 7:30 yesterday, and it was really dark. I stretched and padded over to the hotel room window. Looking eastward, I wondered if the cloud cover was delaying the dawn, or if we were just that much farther west than we are at home.

Lucy woke up then, and I quickly pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt to take her out. As we stepped outside for a quick little walk, I lifted my wrist to check the time and realized I had left my watch upstairs, along with my phone. For the first time in years, I was untethered from any measurement of time. Undaunted, I walked briskly into the thin light of morning for who knows how long.