Tales of the Time Change

"Condolences on your least favorite day of the year," a colleague called snarkily over her shoulder on Friday.

"Enjoy your short weekend," I rejoined in the same spirit.

Grrrrr.

*     *     *

My brother is traveling to Texas today. "Is that like double Daylight Savings Time for you?" I asked. 

"No, it's like traveling back into Eastern Standard Time," he said.

Lucky.

*     *     *

"How's it going?" a neighbor asked this morning as our dogs sniffed each other.

"Fine, considering it's the worst day on the calendar," I sighed.

She was sympathetic. "At least dogs can't tell time," she offered. "On this end, they'll let you sleep in."

True.

The Emperor's New Salad

I like to think of myself as a bit of a foodie. I eat out, read food magazines, watch Top Chef, follow the trends on Twitter, and cook a little myself, too. So, I am aware of the recent kale rage and not surprised in the least that lately? It seems like any place that considers itself some place has a kale salad on the menu.

Before we go any further let me publicly proclaim my support of greens. I have a winter CSA, and believe me, I have spent the last five years devising new ways to prepare and eat greens. I plan to continue to do so. Greens are great!

To continue...

A quick search of the internet turns up countless recipes for innumerable versions of kale saled. All have one thing in common: you must "massage" the kale before serving. Shouldn't that be a clue?

Even so, it was with happy aniticpation and the unabashed praise of the waiter that I ordered my first kale salad a few weeks ago. It was lunch time on a holiday Monday, though, and so the kitchen did not send my order with the rest of our table's.

We were on our way to a movie, I had a main dish coming, my family had shared their appetizers with me, so I shrugged it off and asked the waiter to take it off the check. His eyes widened in genuine concern. It will only take a moment, he assured me, but I was already sure, no salad today.

A few minutes later, along with our entrees the waiter presented a kale salad. It's on me, he said. I didn't want you to miss out. I appreciated the gesture, but I doubt any salad could live up to such hype, and that kale salad definitely did not. We all tried a bite, and when we were finished chewing, (and chewing, and chewing), we agreed that perhaps this green did not lend itself to a salad.

Or maybe it just needed a bit more massaging.

Limitless

Parent-teacher conferences at our school are student-parent-teacher conferences, and I am a huge fan of that format. Once a child reaches the age of eleven or twelve, it seems silly not to include her or him in any meeting concerning academic progress. Seriously? No matter what we grown-ups decide, it's the student who must act. That is why we put them in charge of these meetings.

As a sixth grade teacher, I have the lucky job to introduce kids to this process, and in fact, one of the thing I like most about teaching this level is witnessing my students doing so many things for the first time. Their sense of accomplishment at opening a  padlock, finishing a book in a week, buying lunch and eating with their friends at a food court on a field trip, leading a conference, or even writing for 31 days in a row is infectious.

What other wonders await?

Reruns

I do not have a lot of time to watch television, and so the DVR has really simplified our lives. You might think that such a device would encourage one to watch even more TV, given its ability to record anything and everything, but we have found that it has pretty much eliminated channel-surfing. We watch one show per evening, maybe two, (no commercials), a few more on the weekend, then we're done.

So, it was a rare occasion yesterday when I sat in the waiting area of a local service station as my car was getting its safety and emissions inspection and watched a little daytime TV on the screen they had mounted to the wall. A few minutes after I sat down, the hosts of The Chew signed off, drinking merrily from their wine sippy cups, and the dramatic tones of what could only be a soap opera took their place. I looked up from my iPad, surprised to see the opening sequence of General Hospital.

It has been almost thirty years since I lived with my sister and my dad and we followed the show together, but I was curious to see what was going on in Port Charles these days. I expected to be totally lost, so my jaw literally dropped when they returned from the first commercial to a scene where Luke was quarreling with Laura over, of all things, Scottie. Not too long after that, Anna Devane and Duke enjoyed a leisurely lunch at the club, and then you could have bought me for a quarter(maine) when, in the next scene, Frisco tried to convince Felicia that they were meant for each other.

I guess I didn't miss too much.

Customer Service

When you're a regular customer at a place, even if it's a big box kind of a store, it's hard to avoid developing a personal relationship with it. This afternoon, when the storm local weather folks dubbed, "Snoquester" petered out, I ventured out to run a few errands.

The parking lot at Target was pretty empty when I pulled in and made a dash through the heavy, wet flakes. Inside, the store was just as I prefer: quiet, with the few customers there are of us spread out across the sprawling aisles.

I did my shopping quickly and pushed my cart purposefully toward the picket of check-out lanes. I eyed them carefully, both for length of line and cashier. I have shopped there long enough that if all things are equal, I will avoid the employees that I have found to be inefficient, or worse, overly-friendly.

Today was my lucky day! Because it was so slow, there were only a few lanes open, but all of the lines were building as I approached. Just then? I heard a familiar voice call, "Next customer-- Register 13." A couple people with a couple items moved over, but it was a no-brainer for me to join the line.

"Hello, young lady," my favorite cashier welcomed me. "How are you today?"

Young lady? I'd pay extra for that greeting!

Looking Ahead

What do you do when a storm's a-comin? Hunker down, of course: lay in supplies and prepare for some time at home.

But, this unexpected, late (late, LATE) winter storm has re-calibrated my nesting instincts. Tonight I don't want to prepare soup, stew, or cocoa. In fact, I'm making ratatouille-- a warm reminder of sunny days with summer vegetables. And if school is called off tomorrow? I won't be playing in the snow; I'll busy myself starting seeds.

Oh, I'm ready for a break... it's just not quite the one we may have tomorrow.

Xtreme Avoidance

I was dragging a bit at 4 this afternoon when a former student stopped by to see me. It had been a long day full of teaching and meetings and an after-school club, and I still had a few things to do for my lesson tomorrow.

Still, it's always nice when the kids come back to visit, even if it hasn't been too long. This particular guy was in my homeroom and my English class just last year, and time had not erased my memory of his struggle to focus, follow directions, and do his work.

Despite all that we have a very friendly relationship, and I was glad to see him when he plopped himself down in the chair by my desk and told me he was bored. I could understand-- he's in the after school program until his parents pick him up, usually at five. We exchanged pleasantries, but it wasn't too long before our conversation wound its way to his progress and grades this year. "I'm doing much better," he told me. "You should see."

"Well, I can see," I said. "I can look up grades for any student in the school. What do you think? Should we take a look at yours?"

"Um," he hesitated only briefly. "Sure."

With the exception of math, his grades were less than stellar. "Your math grade is great!" I said. "What's going on with everything else?"

I wasn't surprised when he had an explanation for each class. That's how it was last year.

"Mm hmm," I nodded sympathetically after every reason. "Well, what about tonight?" I asked when he was done. "Do you have any homework?"

"Actually, I do," he said, and then he shrugged. "But, I need a computer, so I'm just going to do it at home."

I pointed to the lap top next to him. "You can use that one," I suggested. "Since you have some time until your mom comes."

He leapt to his feet. "I gotta go!" he called over his shoulder as he darted out the door.