A lot has been written lately about the etiquette of online meetings, but I don't think everybody has gotten the message. The basics are to mute your microphone unless you are speaking, especially in a large group. It is probably also wise to the same with the camera, or at least I intend to do so after sitting through an hour and a half meeting of 35 people watching folks scratch their heads, walk in and out of the frame, and drink coffee. Then the conversation came to an awkward halt when the unmistakable sound of farting blasted through the speakers. Props to the person facilitating, though, for her poised response. "We need to take a moment to remember our norms of muting the microphone unless we are speaking. I think we are getting some, uh, feedback, on the line."
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Monday, April 13, 2020
I'll Try Not to Sing Out of Key
Just like after any break, I wasn't excited about getting back to work today. Perhaps there is some cold comfort in that, and to tell the truth? Yesterday, I couldn't have said if online teaching made it harder or not. But knowing today was a work day did cushion the landing a little.
And as it played out, having time to reestablish connections and collaborate with my colleagues before getting back to this tele-teaching thing we are inventing together day by day was immensely energizing and comforting, too. With texting, e-mail, GoogleDocs, MSTeams, and (shhhhhh) face to face communication, they pulled me out of the self-involved funk that has been so easy to fall into, isolated as we all are.
At the end of day, we have some fun and engaging activities all set for the kids tomorrow; in fact, I can't wait to see what they do!
And as it played out, having time to reestablish connections and collaborate with my colleagues before getting back to this tele-teaching thing we are inventing together day by day was immensely energizing and comforting, too. With texting, e-mail, GoogleDocs, MSTeams, and (shhhhhh) face to face communication, they pulled me out of the self-involved funk that has been so easy to fall into, isolated as we all are.
At the end of day, we have some fun and engaging activities all set for the kids tomorrow; in fact, I can't wait to see what they do!
Sunday, April 12, 2020
Easter, Again
Usually Easter Sunday comes at the end of spring break, and sometimes knowing that we have to go back to work the next day drains more than a little of the joy from the holiday. In fact, over the years we've definitely minimized our celebrations, especially with no young kids nearby. And I thought that this year would be the same, except? Nothing is the same right now.
So, Heidi spent the week baking cookies to make little Easter bags for the local family and dog pack buddies, and at the grocery this morning I added white eggs and a dye kit to my cart. And then there were the plastic eggs we bought, long before the stay at home order, for Heidi to use with Lucy on nose work training.
And this morning? We rose in a golden dawn to deliver Easter treats, dye eggs, and have a couple of doggy egg hunts. This afternoon we visited with family, outside and ever mindful of distance, and tonight, there is lamb for dinner.
So, Heidi spent the week baking cookies to make little Easter bags for the local family and dog pack buddies, and at the grocery this morning I added white eggs and a dye kit to my cart. And then there were the plastic eggs we bought, long before the stay at home order, for Heidi to use with Lucy on nose work training.
And this morning? We rose in a golden dawn to deliver Easter treats, dye eggs, and have a couple of doggy egg hunts. This afternoon we visited with family, outside and ever mindful of distance, and tonight, there is lamb for dinner.
Saturday, April 11, 2020
A Different View
In an increasingly challenging attempt to kill two birds with one stone by getting in some steps while actually going somewhere, I walked the three miles up to my brother's house this afternoon. There, he and my sister-in-law and I spent a pleasant hour sitting six feet apart outside in the warm afternoon sun.
When it was time for me to come home, I ducked around the corner to a bike share station to take advantage of the downhill route. Perhaps it was the wind in my hair, but as I was pedaling, it seemed like a fine idea to pursue a more meandering path, and so I cut through the neighborhoods and past our school.
Once there, I could not simply ride by the deserted brown brick building that has been my work place for so many years. No, I steered the bike past the garden and around to the front and paused on the walkway in front of my classroom. The window faces west, and the golden April afternoon sun shone on it like a mirror. I squinted to see the bookshelves, the chalkboard, or something else inside, but all I saw was me on a borrowed bike remembering how the light used to fall across my desk at just this time of the day.
When it was time for me to come home, I ducked around the corner to a bike share station to take advantage of the downhill route. Perhaps it was the wind in my hair, but as I was pedaling, it seemed like a fine idea to pursue a more meandering path, and so I cut through the neighborhoods and past our school.
Once there, I could not simply ride by the deserted brown brick building that has been my work place for so many years. No, I steered the bike past the garden and around to the front and paused on the walkway in front of my classroom. The window faces west, and the golden April afternoon sun shone on it like a mirror. I squinted to see the bookshelves, the chalkboard, or something else inside, but all I saw was me on a borrowed bike remembering how the light used to fall across my desk at just this time of the day.
Friday, April 10, 2020
Stuck in the Middle
After several days of mild weather and many spectacular hours spent outside, the sunshine and blue skies today are such a tease when north winds gusting up to 30 mph bluster out there as well. Oh, we took our daily walks, but each time, streets transformed into howling wind tunnels turned us back in disappointment.
At home, I pulled out a the turtlenecks, fleece, and flannel for what could be their last turn of the season, put on a big pot of soup, and there will be a fire crackling on the hearth before dark. Such are the comforts of a cold day!
Just as the season can't make its mind between winter and spring, I guess I can't either.
At home, I pulled out a the turtlenecks, fleece, and flannel for what could be their last turn of the season, put on a big pot of soup, and there will be a fire crackling on the hearth before dark. Such are the comforts of a cold day!
Just as the season can't make its mind between winter and spring, I guess I can't either.
Thursday, April 9, 2020
Socially Distant Urban Adventures
Over the last several weeks I have expanded my knowledge of the immediate neighborhood, discovering places and paths I like to call "super secret" between and behind the historic garden condos right up the hill. I've found meandering 3-5 miles routes through the adjoining neighborhoods as well, up steep hills and past all manner of tear-downs and renovations.
On some days, we pile the dog into the car and take off for nearby places, too, as long as we're confident they won't be as crowded as the bike trails and running paths that everyone is desperate to use. An early hour is always helpful, as is a cloudy day, and this morning we made our way to the Washington Harbour at the foot of Georgetown.
At 8:45 AM traffic was light and we were there in 10 minutes, an amazement of its own. From there we walked the boardwalk south toward the boat house, crossed a bridge over Rock Creek and entered the C&O canal at its origin and followed it a couple of miles north counting the turtles basking in the sun, where we turned down some stone steps to pick up the Capital Crescent Trail.
By then the bike traffic was a bit heavier, and it was time to turn back toward the city, so we followed the river on a paved path lined with vetch, wisteria, dewberries, honeysuckle and purple dead nettle, past a sycamore tree garlanded with a dozen crested cormorants perched high above their usual watery domaine, under the old stone aqueduct, and through a landscaped park to our starting point.
On some days, we pile the dog into the car and take off for nearby places, too, as long as we're confident they won't be as crowded as the bike trails and running paths that everyone is desperate to use. An early hour is always helpful, as is a cloudy day, and this morning we made our way to the Washington Harbour at the foot of Georgetown.
At 8:45 AM traffic was light and we were there in 10 minutes, an amazement of its own. From there we walked the boardwalk south toward the boat house, crossed a bridge over Rock Creek and entered the C&O canal at its origin and followed it a couple of miles north counting the turtles basking in the sun, where we turned down some stone steps to pick up the Capital Crescent Trail.
By then the bike traffic was a bit heavier, and it was time to turn back toward the city, so we followed the river on a paved path lined with vetch, wisteria, dewberries, honeysuckle and purple dead nettle, past a sycamore tree garlanded with a dozen crested cormorants perched high above their usual watery domaine, under the old stone aqueduct, and through a landscaped park to our starting point.
Wednesday, April 8, 2020
Pandemic Productivity
The other morning I was lying on the floor trying to find the energy to put my sneakers on when my gaze landed on the top of the closet door. I'm not exaggerating when I say that we have been muscling one of the two doors open and closed for ten years, because its track is bent. It's just one of those things that never quite rises to the level of "need to repair immediately!", and there you have it.
But on this particular day, I saw how simple it would be to remove the faulty track and replace it with a functioning version. It literally looked like a six-screws-out, six-new-screws-in job. Still on the floor, I searched for the part at a nearby big box home improvement store, and saw that it cost about 18 dollars. And so, a project was hatched.
The new parts sat in the corner for a few days, but yesterday I was determined to get that repair done, but I found that the battery on my cordless driver was dead. This afternoon, battery charged, I headed upstairs to conquer that closet door.
Despite my awareness of how heavy they were, getting the doors off was harder than I thought. Once they were propped against the foot of the bed, I climbed the step ladder to remove the bracket. Unfortunately, those screws had been in there for thirty-five years and a couple of paint jobs, and they did not yield to me like the hot knife through butter I imagined. Thank goodness I have been doing some arm exercises, because it took some over the head muscle to get those suckers moving.
Once the old track was out, I eagerly unwrapped the new one and read the directions. It was a straight-forward installation, and I lifted the new piece to the top of the closet frame. Except... it didn't fit. I angled and re-angled and pushed and tapped with a hammer, but despite being standard-sized, the dang thing was literally a quarter inch off.
Sighing, I looked at the toolkit and my eye fell on the hacksaw.
Could I?
I could.
Thirty minutes of brute finesse later, I had SAWED THROUGH METAL and was ready to continue the project. And this time, everything went according to plan. The track went up; I replaced the hardware on the doors, I swung them into place, and installed the bottom track. For the first time in a decade, our closet doors open as they should.
Perhaps there is a better way to fill my pandemic isolation time than with long put off do-it-yourself home projects, but what would that be?
But on this particular day, I saw how simple it would be to remove the faulty track and replace it with a functioning version. It literally looked like a six-screws-out, six-new-screws-in job. Still on the floor, I searched for the part at a nearby big box home improvement store, and saw that it cost about 18 dollars. And so, a project was hatched.
The new parts sat in the corner for a few days, but yesterday I was determined to get that repair done, but I found that the battery on my cordless driver was dead. This afternoon, battery charged, I headed upstairs to conquer that closet door.
Despite my awareness of how heavy they were, getting the doors off was harder than I thought. Once they were propped against the foot of the bed, I climbed the step ladder to remove the bracket. Unfortunately, those screws had been in there for thirty-five years and a couple of paint jobs, and they did not yield to me like the hot knife through butter I imagined. Thank goodness I have been doing some arm exercises, because it took some over the head muscle to get those suckers moving.
Once the old track was out, I eagerly unwrapped the new one and read the directions. It was a straight-forward installation, and I lifted the new piece to the top of the closet frame. Except... it didn't fit. I angled and re-angled and pushed and tapped with a hammer, but despite being standard-sized, the dang thing was literally a quarter inch off.
Sighing, I looked at the toolkit and my eye fell on the hacksaw.
Could I?
I could.
Thirty minutes of brute finesse later, I had SAWED THROUGH METAL and was ready to continue the project. And this time, everything went according to plan. The track went up; I replaced the hardware on the doors, I swung them into place, and installed the bottom track. For the first time in a decade, our closet doors open as they should.
Perhaps there is a better way to fill my pandemic isolation time than with long put off do-it-yourself home projects, but what would that be?
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