We Are Not Getting Any Younger

The waiting area was comfortable and I had plenty to do, and yet I was feeling a little teary. Heidi was in out-patient surgery for a relatively straight-forward procedure, and I knew everything would be fine, but still.

"Is it awful being at the hospital again?" my sister texted.

"Kind of," I replied, realizing that the hours I had spent in hospitals over the last year had taken a toll on me. I had never once considered asking someone to come with me to wait, but I knew then that I should have.

In may ways I am stoic, like my mother. She understood that there are certain things you have to do and do alone, and I know that, too. In those situations, I lift my chin and walk, steady on, toward the unavoidable, like she did.

But those occasions are relatively rare; what I don't often do is ask for company when it would be welcome. Today, I learned that I should do that.

And the other side of that coin? Is to remember to offer my company to others in a similar position.

As it Happens, No

"Are you Vegan?" one of the students asked me this morning, and before I could answer she continued, "Yeah you are. You just look like a Vegan."

"What does that even mean?" I asked her. "What does a vegan look like?"

"Like you!" she answered.

Warm and Light

Another unseasonably warm day, this time with sunshine, made it a little easier to pack up the Christmas decorations. But although we are on the waxing side of the solstice, the daylight was still rather brief, and so rather than curse the darkness, we lit some candles. It wasn't too warm for that.

Climate Change

What is this day like? I asked myself as I walked about in 73 degrees in January. The light was a dull winter gray, the trees were bare, and the grass was dry and brown. Winter in the tropics? Would be greener and a little more lush. Early spring? Would be brighter and more verdant. As it was, the weather today was nothing like any I can remember, and I find that a bit unsettling.

Brain Break

One of our squirrelier sixth graders was particularly restless today.

It was his last core class of the week after Winter Break and we were working on organizing and outlining our argument essays. About halfway through the workshop, he stood up, tucked his black turtleneck into his black track pants and pulled the waist up as high it would go. Then he bent to roll up the cuffs to mid-calf.

The kid is natural clown, and he had the attention of the whole class. "How do you like it?" he asked in a warbly falsetto.

"Only you," I told him, "could rock that look."

"Do you really like it?" he asked, still in that silly voice.

"Oh yes," I answered. "But?"

He looked at me; it was I who had his attention now.

"Now that you've rocked the outfit, let's see you rock the outline."

He gave that one some thought. "I can do that," he said and sat down at his table and resumed working.

Opening the Basket

One of my not-so-binding New Year's resolutions is to use the food in my pantry and freezer before I go out and buy more food to sit in indefinite storage, or at least by the end of 2020. In addition to the staples, we have a lot of weird stuff, some of which has been given to us, some of which I bought for a one-time recipe or forgotten reason, and some of which I have no idea of its provenance. As such, committing fully to the concept would mean that every day would be like an episode of Chopped.

Still, so far, it's been going okay, and tonight I'm using some artichokes and an eggplant and tomato thing along with shrimp, salad greens and pasta to create a version of our go-to meal of the fall: a hot and cold pasta salad with butter, lemon, and a protein. I have no doubt it will be edible, although probably not super delicious. I guess it could be worse, though. I set aside the bonito flakes, rose petal jam and chickpea flour for another day.

Language Barrier

If there is a self-checkout at a store, then I usually prefer to use it. If Heidi is with me, we have the process down to an art: I scan and she bags; I pay while she loads the cart, and we are on our way in no time. Tonight I was shopping solo, but my hand basket did not have very many items, and so I naturally stepped up to the open station and set my groceries on the shelf.

Running my fingers over the touch screen, I accidentally activated the Spanish language option, and once I was in it, I could not find a way to exit. The store employee who was assigned to the area was occupied with another customer, so I made the decision to muddle through, despite the fact that I have never taken a lesson of Spanish in my life. I had my familiarity with the process going for me, plus all the parent meetings with Spanish translation I've sat in on over the last 27 years, and so early on, I was confident of my success.

I entered my número de teléfono to avoid scanning my shopper's card, and from there I quickly scanned my items. Hearing the transactions and discounts described in a robotic voice in Spanish was a bit disconcerting, and I looked around furtively to see if anyone was paying any attention to the blond Anglo lady checking out in Español.

Seeing no interest, I continued emptying my basket until I got to the last item I had, cilantro. The barcode on the twist tie did not scan, and I frowned as I looked at the options on the screen. I punched the big square that read sin código de barras and was presented with an alphabetical list of produce, in Spanish of course. I navigated to the Cs, but cilantro? was not there either in picture or word. Flustered, I swiped quickly through the alphabet without any luck. Fortunately, I recognized the back button, and by luck was able to navigate to the screen where you can type in the name of your purchase. C-I-L brought up hierba cilantro and with relief I entered the numero, 1.

After that, it was screen memory that allowed me to check out and tap my watch to pay for my groceries. As I lifted my bags to go, the attendant came to remove my basket and clear the station for the next customer.

"Esto es tuyo?" he said holding up the phone I had left behind.

"Oh my gosh, yes!" I answered. "Thank you!"

"Uh, you're welcome?" he said, slightly confused.

Walking away, I was so relieved that the transaction was over, but my mind returned to all the interactions I have had at school with parents who do not speak English. We do what we can to accommodate them, but now I had a tiny, firsthand view into how stressful it must be to navigate the whole world in a language you do not speak.