What it Is

Has it really been seven years since I first met my poet friend and annual classroom visitor? Wow. Tempus fugit.

As always, he was very engaging to my students and they produced some great writing that they were quite proud of.

As always, the same goes for me:

What it IS

It is impossible.
It is possible.
It is snake eyes, double sixes, a one-eyed jack.
You are a lucky duck.
You are a tragic hero.
You are a lucky duck.
It is a goldfish, a ping pong ball, a carnival prize.
It is wood, shadow, a hawk flying.
It is lunch time, children, trains, and trumpets.
It is the devil in the day lilies,
a sunflower looking down.
It is cabbage and potatoes today,
lobster and caviar tomorrow.
It is you.
It is them.
It is us--
in the mountains,
on the farm,
by the sea,
on vacation,
at work until we sleep,
and it is so much more.

Fashion Cents

I've lost a few pounds lately, and while I feel a lot better, it seems that my clothes don't really fit me anymore. Oh, it's kind of fun to "have" to buy clothes, but as warm weather approaches, I am feeling some serious pangs about giving away all the nice, plaid Bermudas that have been my go to summer wear for the last several years.

Complicating matters is the fact that that style is, how shall I put it kindly? Out of fashion? Still, in this economy, and in these days of plenty, I knew somebody, somewhere had shorts for me. Of course, a quick eBay search proved me right, and for five bucks a pop, it wasn't long before I was back in business with three new pairs of gently worn plaid shorts. 

Now about those cargo shorts...

Marketing Plan

An engine light came on in my car a couple of weeks ago. At first, I was optimistically convinced it was the gas cap, but that turned out not to be the case. So I made an appointment online to take it into the dealer, also optimistic that the extended warranty we bought would cover whatever the problem might be.

Of course, they were booked several days in advance, so I signed up for the earliest one I could, and relegated our main car to as limited use as possible. Bombing around town in our 15-year-old Jeep Wrangler lost its appeal rather quickly, though, even with the top down, and I was looking forward to dropping the Outback off.

Not so fast, Lady. I received a call from an unfamiliar number in the middle of class a couple of days before the appointment. I didn't answer, but the message they left was clear: because of a problem with their online system, they were waaaaaay overbooked. My car was going to have to wait. I sighed and returned the call as soon as I could.

The dealership was apologetic. They gave me the first available appointment, and they were happy to offer a courtesy car starting the evening before should I choose to drop off early. And so it was that I zipped away in a new blue Impreza this evening. It is a fun little vehicle, to be sure, and zipping around in it makes me feel a little disloyal to my until now faithful six-year-old Outback.

I think they kind of know that over there at the dealer, don't you?

Incognito No More

I was walking back to school from an appointment off-campus this afternoon just a little while after the dismissal bell, and several students passed me going in the opposite direction. Perhaps it was my sunglasses, or perhaps it was their eagerness to begin an afternoon of freedom, but I strode forward in seeming anonymity until at last one eighth grade girl who had been in my homeroom two years ago turned around a half a block away from me and shouted my name. I turned, and the smile on her face was so sweet that I lifted my shades, smiled back, and waved.

It is nice to be known.

Do My Dreaming and My Scheming

The other day, as I was invigilating the state math test for my students, I took a moment to do a calculation of my own. Pacing the classroom to ensure prompt attention for any calculator-computer-or-other issue, I considered how much time I had actually spent in that very room.

I set up shop there in August of 1994. Based on a conservative estimate of six and a half hours a day, 170 days per year, with a little rounding, I came up with about three years.

Three years! Five percent of my life had been spent within those four walls.

I gave myself a little half-smile then, a private snicker, and thanked the stars that most days? Were nothing like that day. 

Public Storage

In the classic 1985 film, Pee Wee's Big Adventure, the protagonist's bike is stolen, an event which precipitates a nationwide road trip in search of his wayward wheels. Somewhere along the way, Pee Wee gets information that the thieves have stashed his purloined bicycle in the basement of the Alamo, so he heads to San Antonio.

There he joins a tour led by the late, great Jan Hooks, who insists that all questions be held until the end. Hand on hip, Pee Wee taps his foot throughout her windy narration and tries several times to get around the guideline so that he can pose his single inquiry. "Where's the basement?" he finally blurts out at the end of the tour.

Hooks giggles dismissively. "The Alamo doesn't have a basement!" she tells him.

I thought of that scene today as I scouted the Tidal Basin for scavenger hunt-worthy locations. Of course I made my way up the stairs to the rotunda of the Jefferson Memorial. To be honest, although we walk there quite often, I can't recall the last time I made that climb since dogs are not welcome up the stairs.

Imagine my surprise, then, to discover that the Jefferson does have a basement. Complete with two gift shops, a short movie, and a couple small exhibits, I saw the whole place in a little over five minutes.

Sorry Pee Wee, your bike isn't there either!

Simple Machine

Three weeks ago we were in Atlanta celebrating my sister's birthday and three weeks from today we will be on summer vacation. 

Now that's a fulcrum!