Keeping it Going

Once, when I was in highschool, my brother and I flew from our school in Switzerland to Washington DC for Thanksgiving weekend. It was impulsive: we had our airline passes and we wanted to visit our aunt and uncle. It was in their home that we celebrated every Thanksgiving of our lives until we moved overseas, and the notion of being home for the holidays had an irresistible pull, even to a couple of teenagers like us.

The things I remember about the weekend are scattered. The flags at Dulles were at half-mast. "For Congressman Ryan in Guyana," my aunt noted somberly. A clock radio in the room I was staying in went off in the middle of the night, and not knowing how to turn it off, I drifted in and out of sleep to top 40 tunes until at last I unplugged it. The meal was exactly as I remembered, but no children roamed the woods outside, and although the football game was on in the rec room downstairs, the bar stools were empty, and the air was clear of cigarette smoke. The table was only set for 8, not the usual 15-20.

I also remember that my aunt took us grocery shopping before we returned to Europe. We filled our cart with Dr. Pepper, Doritoes, and all sorts of other treats that were not available at school, and when we returned, we shared our windfall with all of our friends. The grocery bill came to just under 50 dollars, and my aunt insisted on paying it.

I thought of that moment today, for some reason. I could see her writing the check to Safeway, and I could feel the gratitude again. Fifty dollars seemed like a fortune then, and when I searched for an inflation calculator a minute ago, I know why. In 2019 dollars, it was 195.97-- which is a lot of money to spend on junk food for a couple of holiday crashers from Switzerland!

But my aunt and uncle were like that-- generous and gracious. Coincidentally, I am the same age now that they were then. At times I find myself in a position to support nephews, cousins, godchildren by treating them to a meal, or some clothes, or some other special little thing, and it's always a pleasure to do so.

Plus, I like to think I am honoring the example my aunt and uncle set.

Speed Bump

I was sitting in the comfy chair next to my colleague's desk when the dismissal bell didn't ring this afternoon. They had turned all the bells off for state testing, and without that common clarion of freedom, the halls were quite a bit less chaotic as teachers dismissed their classes on a more natural, rolling basis. Friday afternoon stretched agreeably ahead.

Even so, a few minutes later, I heard a commotion outside the room. Strident voices were met with the even tone of the social studies teacher. It sounded like it might be near my classroom next door, but from where I sat, I couldn't see what was going on, nor could I quite make out what they were saying. There were a lot of "she's" though, accusatory from the kids, and explanatory from the teacher.

Suddenly it dawned on me what they were discussing.

"Shit!" I swore. "I'm late for Anime Club!"

Bee There or Bee Square

"Thank you for coming!" one of my colleagues who helped organize the school spelling bee said to me this afternoon.

"You don't have to thank me," I told her, "I wouldn't miss it!"

"Really?" she said, "but it's soooo bad."

"So bad it's good!" I answered.

And it's true-- the student council kids run the event after school, and although teachers are encouraged to have preliminary competitions, at this time of year, literally any kid who shows up gets a seat on the stage. All the kids are so darned earnest about it, too, reading and spelling words in what they must think of as their most mature voices.

"Could you repeat that?" contestants often squint at the lectern.

"Can you use it in a sentence?" they will ask the kids at the judges table, and after a flurry of fingers on key boards, someone will officiously put some form of the word, not necessarily the form that has been asked, into an often quite cryptic fragment.

The spellers nod their heads in knowing appreciation, lean into the microphone and let the letters rip.

Back in Sorts

I confess to being a bit out of sorts as I left school at 4:30 this afternoon: It was too late to drop Heidi off and have any hope of finding parking at the gym; despite a rare no-teaching day tomorrow, I still had a lot left undone; the weather was hot and unpleasantly sticky. But on the way home it occurred to me that our pool was open-- I could put on my suit and get a little workout up there.

And that is what I did (after slogging through the temptation of simply staying home and squashing the anxiety of that first visit to the pool).

When I arrived, several families with young children were splashing in the shallows, and a couple was lounging in chairs by the diving board, but I had the deep end to myself. The water was perfect, and I swam and treaded and treaded and swam, watching the kids and clouds, and becoming ever more buoyant with each passing moment.

Wear and Tear

Other years: Yay! Memorial Day! Only three and a half weeks until summer!

This year: Oh... Memorial Day? What do you mean there's still three and half weeks until summer?

Baby Bottles

"My reading teacher called my dad," sighed that student who often hangs out in the afternoon.

"I heard," I told her. "I also heard you were cradling your new Hydro Flask like a baby, and singing to it during class."

"Well..." she said and then laughed. "I just love it!" Her expression turned stormy. "But now my dad took it away for a month."

I thought of her today when I used my annual coupon at the outdoor coop store to buy my own, limited edition, Keiki Rainbow Hydro Flask. After I carefully affixed the first sticker to it, I held it up to admire the pleasing blush of the sunset colors on my new water bottle...

...and then resisted the impulse to give it a little hug.

Last-Ditch

The top rack of our dishwasher is starting to fall apart-- a little plastic connector is broken from one of the side rollers, so the whole thing sags on one side. I could order a replacement rack, but it would cost about 150 dollars, which is well on the way to paying for a new dishwasher. Still, it's galling to dispose of a working appliance because of some small part.

I should know, I just went through it with my stove. A screw hole on the handle was stripped, and after ordering replacement screws (18 bucks) and then a replacement handle (35 bucks), neither of which worked, the whole door to the oven fell apart. A replacement door was not much less than a replacement range, and so we have a nice new stove in the kitchen.

I foresee a similar situation with the dishwasher, but before I give in completely, I ordered a package of Sugru, the amazing moldable glue that sticks to almost anything and cures in 24 hours to a solid silicone. I gotta say-- the stuff is amazing! Temperature resistant from -58 to 350 degrees, dishwasher proof, weatherproof, saltwater proof, and electrically insulating, one only need look at their Instagram feed full of images of clever repairs, hacks, and crafts.

And step one of my repair is curing as we speak. Will I be able to save the dishwasher? Time will tell, but this attempt has been totally worth it!