In Praise of March

As I've mentioned before, March brings the annual Slice of Life Challenge. A month-long blogging challenge originally sponsored by Two Writing Teachers starting in 2008, it is not only the reason I post every day, but it has also inspired the writing challenge my students are participating in right now. AND, for the fifth year in a row, the other three members of my writing group have braved the contest as well, pledging to write regularly throughout the month.

Reading what they have to say is like unwrapping a little present every day. Our lives are so busy and we are too often preoccupied with details both large and small that prevent us from genuinely connecting. Just a paragraph or two shines enough light to span the time and distance between us. 

Write on.

Oblivious

I saw a former student at the grocery store yesterday; he was working as a bagger. He greeted me heartily and asked if I was still at the same school.

"Yep," I assured him.

"You must see my mom all the time then!"

I was stumped. "Who's your mom?" I asked.

"The cafeteria lady!" he told me. "She's been there for a few  years."

I don't really get down to the cafeteria very much at all, and I sheepishly reminded him that my room was tucked away in a corner where I don't often see many people.

He smiled agreeably, but an awkward silence fell as the cashier finished ringing up my order. "Did your mom enjoy her days off because of the snow?" I asked brightly, in an attempt to end the conversation on a happy note.

"Not really," he said. "If she doesn't work, she doesn't get paid, and she needs the money."

I nodded sympathetically, wished him well, and pushed my cart full of groceries toward my car. I don't think I'll ever look at snow days quite the same way again.

A Tale of Two Haircuts

It was the worst of haircuts.

I decided to make good use of my time off yesterday and get a quick haircut. While I am a bit picky about my hair, I've found that in general it is very forgiving. Most cuts look fine, and I can usually go a couple months before it is really really time for a trim. This was one of those occasions-- the static electricity that is so common in winter had only exacerbated my fly aways and split ends. So off I went to a budget salon not too far from my home.

When I entered, they were not very busy, but they still made me sit for a few moments and wait. After a little while, one of the stylists huffed up to the counter. "What does she want?" she asked the cashier, as if I weren't three feet away. "Cut and blow dry? I guess I can do that while she's processing." She jerked her head at a woman with foil in her hair reading a magazine.

I did not have a good feeling when she called me by name and beckoned me to her chair. I told her I wanted a similar cut to what I had, and that it had been a few months since my last trim. "Do you want go for the supreme moisturizing package?" she asked. "Since your hair is processed."

"My hair isn't processed," I said with irritation.

"Oh. I didn't think you were a natural blond," she shrugged.

I should have bailed then, but 20 minutes later I left with a weird greasy haircut, practically in tears. I know I should have demanded my "smile back guarantee", but looking in the mirror, all I wanted to do was flee.

It's not like I haven't had an unsettling experience at the salon before-- I know you get what you pay for-- but as I've said, my hair is much more forgiving than I am. In the past, I might go home and wash my hair and dry it myself, and leave it at that, but this time, the travesty seemed insurmountable, so much so, that I drove to another place and presented my abominable locks to them.

It was the best of haircuts.

The hair care professional there was much more amenable-- she talked to me a good five minutes and showed me pictures on a flip chart to be sure she understood what I wanted.

What I wanted was a change. She cut my hair much shorter than it's been in quite a while, and I really like it. 

Slice of Life Challenge FTW

Today (despite having a snow day) one of my students posted the following slice:

Yesterday, I went sledding after playing Madden 25 ultimate team. We went to Thomas Jefferson to go sledding. I had to push my dad down the hill, then I had to jump on to my dad's back. That did not work so well. Then we left early, because it was too cold! Then we went to Z-Burger. Yummy bacon cheeseburger with barbecue sauce. The burger tasted like someone sliced up heaven and let me eat it. I got lots of cold allegires on my back, arms, and legs. I couldn't sleep at all last night. By the way, I'm First!

To which I replied:

First again! My favorite line:
The burger tasted like someone sliced up heaven and let me eat it.
Nice writing!

To which he replied:

Figurative language FTW

Look at that! This little writing challenge is already working its magic.

(FTW? It means For The Win!)

Test of Time

"Was this nominated for any Oscars?" Josh asked.

We were spending a snowy afternoon watching The Sixth Sense. After spending three hours driving home from our awesome Oscar-party-at-the-beach through winter storm "Titan," and some more significant time on the phone trying to figure out if Josh's bus was running (those Greyhound folks are cagey when the weather turns... a crackling fire hot enough to pop corn and a movie seemed like a great idea.

Josh chose the flick. Years ago, when he and Treat were 8 or 9, and Riley was only a few years older, we spent a rainy August afternoon on Lake Erie baking cookies and watching movies. We had The Sixth Sense with us, along with some Star Wars and Pixar classics. "How about this one?" I asked.

I guess I was thinking about what a good movie it is and, of course, the epic twist, and perhaps my mouth was ahead of my brain. I back-pedaled. "It's kind of scary, though, we could watch something else."

"I saw part of it once," Josh chimed in. "It will make your eyes bleed!"

We ended up watching it, and although no one was scarred for life, I'm not sure any of us really enjoyed it, at least not fully. Today was a different story, though.

"I think it was nominated for a bunch," I said, skimming back across all those Oscar parties, then diving as deep as I could into the one 14 years ago. "Let's look it up."

It turns out that The Sixth Sense was shut out that year, despite nods for best supporting actor and actress, directing, original screenplay, and best picture. In many of the categories, including the top honors, it came up short to American Beauty. "What were they thinking?" I sighed.

A little while later, I wiped a tear as the credits rolled, and flipped to the onscreen guide for a suitable follow up. Believe it or not? American Beauty was playing. "Let's watch that," said Josh. 

"Really?" I shot him a skeptical look.

"Yeah!" he answered. "I heard it's better than The Sixth Sense!"

AND that lasted for maybe 10 minutes.

Quandary.com

So that big storm that's on its way? Sleet, ice, snow, stay off the roads and all that? Well it has hit at what some might say is an inconvenient time for us. We're supposed to pack up and go home tomorrow, but if the forecast holds, that might be impossible.

All day we've wrestled individually and collectively with this dilemma. Of course the responsible thing would have been to head home this afternoon to ensure that we would be safely there before the weather hits, but that plan would have made us miss the very thing we came down here for-- our Oscar party!

So, we've decided to hunker down here, bay side, and deal with the conditions that greet us when we rise in the morning. If we need stay an extra day? So be it. If we can get home? We will. School has already been canceled and we have plenty of firewood and food-- let the ceremony begin!

Let Evening Come

It wasn't long after the car was unpacked and our rooms chosen that we hit the beach. This year we decided to kick our Oscar Party up a notch and rent a place on the Chesapeake Bay just a couple of hours from home. The day had been sunny, but by the time we arrived it was growing late, and the light on the beach was almost as blue as the water.

This area is known for sea glass and fossils, and as much as I wanted to stretch my legs and walk briskly enough into the wind to warm away its chill, the long stretches of pristine sand and the piles of polished pebbles, broken shells, and other treasures were too tempting for me to simply stroll past. The dogs ran up and back at least ten times while I walked slowly, head bent, eyes scouring those caches deposited by the bay. 

I know better. Such a walk is never relaxing;  I can't shake the certainty that I'm missing something, and the truth is, I am missing something, something that sharpest eyes in the world wouldn't help me find.