Predictable

"She's not going to show up you know," Heidi told me as we headed out the door to meet a friend we hadn't seen in a few years.

"What are you talking about?" I said. "Let's go or we'll be late."

Who knows what happens? Life is busy, signals get crossed, feelings get bruised, even the closest of friends can drift apart.

We met Jen and her partner at the dog park nine years ago, and despite the fact that they were considerably younger than we were, we bonded over being same-sex couples with adorable puppies. Over the next couple of years we spent a fair amount of time together, celebrating when they got their second dog and eventually trying to help pick up the pieces when they split (right before we were all supposed to go on vacation together).

There was a lot of drama, but we were able to navigate the bumpy road of staying friends with both.

For a while.
Until we weren't.
And then we were friends with Jen.
Until we weren't.

What can I say? Life is busy, signals get crossed, feelings get bruised, even the closest of friends can drift apart.

A couple of weeks ago Jen sent me a message that she was applying for a job in our county. Could I help? I told her that if she got an interview, I maybe could, but I couldn't help with the first part.

Fingers crossed, she wrote back. Then, We should get together. Reconnect for real. Deflate any elephants and talk about how or why we lost touch. I really miss you all and I think it would be nice.

And that brings us to tonight, when Heidi and I had a perfectly lovely dinner by ourselves.

Word of the Day

Ever since we started our forced word study, word parts have become of greater interest to me. (What can I say? I am a learner at heart.) And as such, the word-a-day calendar one of my students so thoughtfully gave me last year has become of even more fascination and relevance than it was before.

Take for example quinquagenarian. I'd say we folks in our fifties deserve such a fancy turn of phrase. Nice word parts, too!

Observations

It was a little gloomy when we parked at the Tidal Basin this afternoon, but the light filtering through the clouds actually made what was left of the yellow and orange foliage on those famous cherry trees really pop. The water itself was emerald green, and there were several cormorants diving for minnows as we walked the circuit.

It wasn't crowded, but we encountered our share of memorable fellow walkers to be sure, most notably the two guys in their 30s sitting on a bench, smoking cigars, and playing a video game, and the older woman talking to her smart phone, Are you a puppy? RUUUUFFF! GRRRRRRRR!

No doubt we made our own impression as well, and wouldn't it be disappointing if we didn't?

There's Something About Words

I just finished reading a 400+ page Gothic-style novel which is a far cry from my usual fare. I guess I was looking for something along the lines of The Night Circus or even Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore when I stumbled onto The Thirteenth Tale. I chose it using my Kindle app, so I'm quite sure I was not aware of its length.

Prudently, I downloaded the free sample first, and the the first-person narrative description of Margaret reading the letter that will change her life on the palely-lit stairs leading from her father's bookstore to her apartment definitely drew me in, but it was the letter itself from Vida Winter that made me buy the rest of the book.

As Margaret says, There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts. Inside you they work their magic.

OK it wasn't quite like that, but over the last ten days I have diligently followed my at-least-one-chapter-or-two-a-day regime, which is admittedly ironic, given the clearly high esteem in which books are held by the main characters in this one, until this morning. At a little beyond the halfway point my attention was captured, and it was only a couple of hours until I had finished the story.

And story is the right word for it, because although I cannot say it transcended either of the frameworks of fairy tale or Gothic novel, there definitely came a point for me when I was so involved that it almost felt like the way I remember being enthralled by stories when I was a child. And that was magical.

And that is what I work to help my students experience, because as soon as I finished? I wanted to read another book.

Divine

At a bit of a loss for inspiration as to what make for our evening meal, right before I left school this afternoon I hail-maried it and googled "dinner tonight recipe," and the first thing I found was this:

shiitake-kale-kimchi stew

Thanks Serious Eats!

Overheard in Writing Club

Grace complains so much about how she hates CJ that I swear he is her Mr. Darcy!

WWCD

Years ago I worked with a woman with whom, although I liked her personally, I considered myself almost diametrically opposed to professionally. She was 12 or 15 years my senior and rarely hesitant to speak her mind, especially when she disagreed with someone or something which was often. I thought her lack of diplomacy was kind of funny, and it actually made her much more manageable as a team member since not too many people took her seriously.

She retired five years ago in robust disgust at where education was headed. We wished her well, but welcomed the idea of a different teacher with a more positive perspective to take her place. Since then our country has elected a new president (who has appointed a new secretary of education), our state has elected a new governor, our district has hired a new superintendent, and our school has changed principals. With all of them has come an increasing over-reliance on unnecessary standardization, bankrupt assessments, and invalid teacher evaluation plans.

All of a sudden, taking a walk outside at lunch, leaving at contract time, and otherwise disengaging from all manner of oppressive policies seems like a really good idea.