Post PostHunt Post

My nephew and I tackled a yearly challenge today. We went downtown for the sixth annual Washington Post PostHunt. Treat was 12 when we did the very first hunt together, and over time he's gotten even smarter, even if he is a little ironic at times. Since he's going to college this fall, I was glad to have the chance to continue our tradition.

When I picked him up, I asked Treat what his goal for the day was. "I want to win, of course," he laughed.

"Me, too," I answered, "but I'll be happy if we correctly solve all five of the puzzles."

"I guess we've never actually done that, have we?" he replied. "Okay. Let's do that."

It was a really good day-- We stopped at my favorite sandwich place to grab lunch on the way, and the hot humid weather we have had this week gave way to a warm, breezy overcast day, and although there were a few sprinkles, the violent storms that are predicted for our area held off.

This year the hunt turned out to be pretty easy-- we met my goal and solved all five of the first round puzzles with an hour to go, and so we relaxed on a bench in the courtyard of the Reagan building trying to decipher what the clues we had found might mean in the second stage of the game.

When we returned to the main stage to hear the final hint, we were actually in it for a minute; we knew what the next step was supposed to be and completed it before being totally lost. Even so, when we admitted defeat and called it for the year, neither of us cared. We left for home satisfied after a fun day.

"Let's do this again next year," Treat said as he climbed out of the car, with only a trace of irony in his voice.

"Oh, we will," I told him. "We will."

First Responders

Since Heidi has been vegan, I've tried a few, shall we say, questionable, recipes. Well, I guess they are only really questionable in the sense that I would never have considered them before there was a vegan to feed around here.

Oh, sure, a few have been BINGO!s, and those have become some of our staple meals, but that mushroom paprikash was not one of them, neither was the mac and "cheez" (okay, the quotation marks should have been a clue), and those baked donuts were a definite never again.

Some cooks have a rule to strictly adhere to the recipe when at first they try it, and having worked in a commercial kitchen, I know where they're coming from. Most professionals test and tweak a dish as many times as they need to before it makes their menu, but where does that leave the home cook?

When Heidi was a little girl, her grandmother always had the same advice for anyone who didn't like their food: Put a little butter and salt on it and it'll be fine. These days we have a twist on her wisdom. We add tomato sauce and toss a salad if we're unsure.

Tonight I'm cooking a version of Cajun dirty rice that includes eggplant. The recipe seemed pretty good, but when I tasted it as I went along, I became a bit concerned. It's in the oven as I type, and we'll see how it turns out, but you can bet the sauce and salad are standing by.

Formative Experiences

With holidays, field trips, and professional development, I must say that it's been a mighty long week for what was technically a short week.

A quick glance out the window tonight and it is no secret that the solstice is only three weeks away. At 7:30, there are blue skies illuminated by a warm, slanting sun. We're having a heat wave, too, so this day seems much more like a day in July than the last day of May.

When I was a little girl, bedtime was at 7:30, no matter the season. We had no air conditioning, so on warm nights such as this, we shucked our pajamas in favor of white cotton briefs and, in my case, a sleeveless undershirt with scalloped straps and tiny bow at the bottom of the neck line.

Back then, it felt like such a terrible loss to go to bed when there seemed to be so much left of the day-- who knew what fun and adventure we might be missing? My mother turned the bed spread down, but I can still remember my regret as I slipped between the cool, smooth sheets and laid my head on the pillow.

On some level? I'm sure that's the only reason I'm awake right now.

Role Reversal

I spent the day in a teaching workshop today, and it's fair to say that my brain is mush. It wasn't that the information wasn't valuable, it was just a lot, and there's six more hours tomorrow.

I'm exhausted! How do those kids do it every day?

Industrial Food

As part of our annual water-testing field trip, the students do a physical survey of a near-by creek located in a well-used park. One of the observations they are asked to make is to describe how the land surrounding the waterway is currently being used. Is it agricultural? Urban? Forest? Industrial?

"What's "industrial"?" one of the kids wanted to know.

"It's like a factory," the counselor told him, and then trying to be helpful, she added, "Are there any factories around here?"

He gave it some thought. "How about the Cheesecake Factory?" he suggested.

Solution

One of my students finished his assignment a little early the other day, and as he turned it in to me, he asked, "Can I solve your Rubik's cube?"

The popularity of the cubes I have on my desk has taken me back 30 years. Students are constantly asking to have a go at those brightly colored objects. They just want to hold them in their hands and twist and turn them randomly, hoping for a miracle. I can hardly criticize them-- wasn't it I who bought that Powerball ticket just the other day?

At any rate, I shrugged and tossed this guy one of the cubes. I've found them to be excellent incentives for encouraging kids to finish their work.

In retrospect, I should have been tipped off by this particular student's choice of verbs, for it was less than two minutes later that he handed me a cube with six perfect faces. Certainly I gasped, and I know I clapped in delight, because

it

was

really

cool!

Sea Change

I have never been a countdown person.

25 days to go!