Droning On

They saw me coming.

The retailers at that discount store knew what they were doing when they set up the "pre" checkout line as a kind of a chute stocked with all sorts of appealing little doodads. As shoppers file through in an orderly queue waiting for the next available register, there are hundreds more things to look at, pick up, and perhaps even buy.

That's how I got my drone. Never even in the market for such a gadget, I got one glimpse of the flashy black and red quadcopter just as I rounded the last bend or that materialistic gauntlet and grabbed the box as I went by. It was paid for and in my bag before I even gave it a second thought, a bargain at $19.99.

That was Wednesday, and I held off even buying batteries for it until the weekend, thinking maybe, just maybe, I would come to my senses and return it. I'm so glad I didn't though, because once I got the thing operational, it was extremely entertaining. Oh, I terrified the cat and dog and crashed it all over the house, running its tiny battery down several times before I could even begin to control it. It gave me hours of Sunday fun.

And while I did improve a bit, there was still so much room for growth that I slipped it into my lunch bag this morning, so that I might practice a little at school. As I unpacked my food for the day, I set the tiny flyer and its controller on my desk and when my homeroom arrived they spotted it immediately and asked to see it fly. Only too happy to oblige, I maneuvered my drone like a big clumsy mosquito all over the classroom.

"Can I try it?" they all were desperate to know.

And here's where that teacher's motivational instinct kicked in automatically. "Maybe" I answered, "What would you do to earn a turn?"

"What do you mean?" they asked.

"Submit a proposal," I suggested, pointing to a stack of 4x6 index cards on my desk. "Think of something that would be good for you to do. It should be kind of hard, too. AND, we have to know whether you did it or not by a specific time."

"I'm going to get better grades in math and science!" one student said right away.

"Better than what?" I asked him, "And by when?"

They gave me a collective frown.

"I'm going to do my reading log tonight," another promised.

"You would do that anyway," I told her. "Think of something a little more challenging.

And in this way, I made contracts with about half of the kids to read more, write more, organize more, and be on time more.

The drone is standing by.

Consumer Education

Target was crowded this Sunday afternoon and, shopping done, we found ourselves at the front of the store searching for the shortest line. We had way too much for express, but as we passed, our attention was drawn to one woman who stood a little apart from the actual queue. "Are you in line, or not?" she asked loudly.

Eyebrows up, my head snapped around to see who she was talking to.

A little girl of perhaps 10 stood timidly several feet from the belt. "Yes," she answered.

"Well act like it!" her mother encouraged her. "Move on up!"

The child complied, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

"Whoa!" the woman advised from the sideline. "Not too close! Give the people some room."

The little girl took half a step back.

Her coach nodded from the sideline.

We pushed our cart past, secure in the knowledge that there will be competent shoppers for generations to come.

Maximum Sparklage

"Ya'll should bring your ukuleles over and I'll play piano," our neighbor suggested this morning. I was practicing my picks, rolls, and strums while we were hanging out drinking coffee.

I laughed. "Then we could start a band!" I replied. "But what would our name be?"

Our dogs, Lady and Isabel, were snoring contentedly at our feet. "How about Lady Bell?" I suggested, "or maybe just call it what it is: Three Chicks, Two Ukuleles, and a Piano."

Our conversation wandered on to other things, but later Heidi was telling me about a shopping trip she had taken with the same neighbor. who was shopping for outdoor lighting and couldn't decide between two fixtures, because, "She wanted maximum sparklage!" Heidi said.

I snapped my fingers. "Now that's a band name!" 

Define "Sense"

April 1 means we say goodbye to Slice of Life and hello to poetry in my sixth grade English class.

Oh, the hundred day writing challenge continues, and those who have the "write stuff" will also have 30 poems written by the end of the month. Such accomplishment takes some explaining however, and as I stood before my class this morning introducing the very first daily poem, haiku, a hand waved to me from the corner of the room.

"Wait! Do these poems have to make sense?" she asked.

"Well, yes," I answered. "Even though you are limited in syllables and lines, your reader should know what you are writing about."

"Why?" she frowned, "My slice of life never made any sense!"

Poetry, Found

I like my friend Ellen's idea to wrap up another fun month of Slice of Life! Thank you Two Writing Teachers for sponsoring this annual challenge-- it's been a blast!

Super Tuesday
What does the groundhog say?
Just you wait!

Wildly predictable
makes you stronger,
mush!

A stroll through time,
first hand knowledge,
busy town,
as writers do,
ooh ooh!
the time it is a changin.

Csi: the bunny trail,
checks and balances,
seen and unseen,
sixth grade rising,
highly unusual,
the name game,
natural rivalry?
TMI!

Companion ticket,
waffling,
two for lunch,
a day at the park,
a little bird told me--
tricks of time,
story starters,
she's seen the sights...

Golden treasure!

Golden Treasure

It was just a metal tube filled with mustard, and yet...

In this country we sell our mustard in jars and squeeze bottles, and that's the way we like it. Yellow, spicy, Dijon, honey, whatever the type, that's the way it comes, and why not? Such packaging is convenient and familiar to our nation of sandwich makers. But not long ago I was in an international grocery of the kind that is rather common in our diverse area.

Shopping there you can travel the world aisle by aisle, finding unusual products at every turn. For the adventurous American cook seeking a specialty item it is a treasure trove, but for others it is a bit of home.

Having had the privilege of living in overseas, I could appreciate both. There was a particular store in Lugano, Switzerland when I was in school there that stocked a variety of international items, among them such novelties as Oreos and Doritos. Some Saturdays we took the bus downtown simply to troll the aisle of American products, longing for a taste of the USA.

Now I picked up the toothpaste tube full of mustard and closed my eyes. I was back in Switzerland at Angelo's, the small general store right off campus, and Angelo's mama was making their famous ham and cheese sandwich. First she split a roll that had been delivered from the local baker just that morning. Next it was a foil wrapped disc of Bel Paese cheese that she spread on the bottom, topped with Italian ham and some sliced cornichons. The final touch was a squirt of mustard and then mayonnaise from the metal tubes on the counter. We growing teens couldn't get enough of them after study hall, but it's still one of the best sandwiches I have ever eaten.

Into my cart went the mustard, and down the aisle I headed, wondering what other treasures this place might hold.

She's Seen the Sights

News today that Patty Duke has died. For some reason this passing rather upsets me. It's not that I'm a huge fan, or anything, but I always enjoyed the re-runs of The Patty Duke Show that aired on nearly every afternoon of my childhood. Despite Patty's spunk, I was definitely team Cathy; I can still sing the song, which introduced me to Zanzibar, minuets, crepes suzette, and Brooklyn Heights, by the way.

It's true Patty Duke hasn't been around much in the last few years, although I loved her role as Meredith Baxter's wife on the last season of Glee. After that, I followed her on Twitter where she became more of a real person to me, tweeting and retweeting about nature and space, politics, the issues she advocated, and her friends and family. She was always gracious to the fans who reached out to her.

Of course her death was too soon: 69 seems ever younger, and the world just seems a little emptier knowing that Patty Duke is gone.