E is for Extended

We gathered today in Lynchburg for the high school graduation of Heidi's goddaughter. The last time we were in this little city on the James River was nearly 18 years ago, when the same child was born. Shortly after that, her family moved to New Jersey, and over the years we've attended christenings and first communions and other milestone events of hers and older sister's where we have met her grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and other close family friends. It's been about 10 years since the last celebration, though, and in that time the family has returned to the same private school where her dad  worked when she and her sister were born, and it was from that school that she graduated today. 

How strange it is to spend the day with people that we know and keep up with through our mutual acquaintance but have only met a few times and haven't seen in ten years. Dining on sandwich wraps and cookies, the quality of interaction shifts from superficial to friendly to almost intimate. But then the conversation flags and we stand awkwardly to throw our paper plate in the trash, refill a solo cup with ice tea, and repeat the ritual with another partner until it's time for good byes. There will be the decision to hug or not to hug. "Safe travels!" we will say. "It was so good to see you again."

"Until next time!" they might answer, 

And because it occurs to us that these meetings are most definitely numbered, we nod and lean into that hug.

Life Lesson: Live in fragments no longer. Only connect! ~E.M. Forester

L is for Lynchburg

We are headed out on a pre-summer road trip this evening. A goddaughter is graduating from high school down in Lynchburg, VA, and we are off to cheer her on. The ceremony will be held tomorrow morning at 10:30 out on the lawn of her school. Far from calling for rain, tomorrow's forecast is sunny and 95. 

Of course we hope that the day will heat up slowly, but it is 97 down there right now, so there's a chance that it will be warm and muggy from the get go. Even so and despite leaving the dog behind in the good hands of my brother, I'm looking forward to going somewhere, being somewhere, and seeing somewhere other than this old town. 

We were talking about the upcoming trip with a colleague whose son graduated from college in Lynchburg yesterday. "It is a pretty little town,: she declared, "despite the unfortunate name."

Life Lesson: Sometimes a change of scenery will do you well.

Q is for Quest for Pao de Queijo

One thing that still amazes me about the global economy and online shopping is the ease with which I can obtain specialty ingredients from all over the country and the world. Even in our very cosmopolitan area, there are still some things it is hard to come by, especially without visiting several of the many international markets around. So black garlic, organic beeswax, pizza flour and crushed tomatoes from Italy, celery vinegar, glacéed cherries, and specially processed coffee, and more have all been delivered directly to my door.

My latest acquisition is 2 pounds of sour cassava flour (polvilho azedo). Made from the same root that produces tapioca, which is known variously as cassava, manioc, and yuca, this type of flour is fermented before it is dried. A common usage for polvilho azedo is in a Brazilian quick bread called pão de queijo. Essentially a version of the pate choux and cheese puffs known as gougere, these crisp little bites are often served hot out of the oven for breakfast.

When first I read of the dish on Kitchn,

I had my first pão de queijo at a Brazilian restaurant in Atlanta over five years ago, and I still dream about it. It was crispy outside but amazingly soft and chewy inside, and its cheese flavor was so haunting that I had to eat several more just to fix it in my mind 

the description was irresistible, and I knew I had to make them myself. I had cassava flour in the pantry from a vegetable gnocchi recipe that I've made a few times, but I quickly discovered that although it was possible to substitute the "sweet" variety I had, the fermented version was preferred. Fortunately, a quick internet search revealed that I could order the real stuff from Brazil and have it here in Virginia within a couple of weeks.

So guess what's on the menu tonight?

Life Lesson: It's a small world.

U is for Under a Month

 "This is really fun!" a student said today about the lesson and activities. "We should do things like this more often!"

"You mean in the 4 weeks we have left together?" I asked with a touch of snark.

She shrugged, unimpressed by the brevity of the remainder of the school year. "Yeah!"

Life Lesson: Who's counting?

D is for Do or Die

"I just realized we are all 15 years apart!" one of the teachers in my CLT commented this afternoon. With 2 of us turning 60 in the next 6 weeks or so, age has been a big topic of conversation. 

"I'm looking forward to 60!" my friend Mary proclaimed.

"I am not," I sighed.

"I'm embracing it!" Mary said, "me and all the other people turning 60."

"Like Tom Cruise?" I said. "Jody Foster? Demi Moore?"

"Right," she nodded. "Jim Carrey, Jon Bon Jovi, Sheryl Crow."

"Rosie O'Donnell, Mathew Broderick, Emilio Estevez," I continued.

"Paula Abdul, Ally Sheedy," now Mary was reading from the internet. "It's like the whole Breakfast Club! And Steve Irwin, but he didn't make it."

"He won't turn 60," I agreed.

Our colleagues were doing their own research. "I have Kanye West," Kerry groaned. "But also Tom Brady!"

"Orlando Bloom and Liv Tyler, both elves in The Lord of the Rings," I noted, looking at her year. "And Brittney Murphy, but she didn't make it either."

"I have Ed Sheeran and Da Baby," our fourth coworker, Shaina, reported. "And Emma Roberts, too!"

"This isn't make me feel any better," I said. "It's just reminding me that I'm 15 and 30 years older than all those people, too!"

Life Lesson: Don't complain about growing older, especially considering the alternative.

K is for Kid Stuff

The brain break for my classes today was a 50 yard dash. Between the first set of interviews and the flip flop to the second, I took the kids right out front, lined them up, paced off 50 yards, and let them run. The brain break is always optional-- and I said so today to the students in Crocs and the other in ankle-high boots. "You don't have to run," I advised them, but the Croc-wearing kids secured their back straps and took a starting position and the girl in boots kicked them off to run in her socks. And when they had sprinted the distance, they just lined up again so they could run back.

5 minutes after we had left, we were back in the classroom, and the writers were rocking those interviews.

Life Lesson: Kids just need to run sometimes!

O is for Overdoing It

How glad I was when I pulled my gardening clothes on at 3 this afternoon, leaving behind hours of grading and planning! I hadn't intended to go to the garden until later, but a colleague had texted,  reminding me of her offer of rhubarb and peppers to plant, so off I went. Stopping first at her home to pick up my seedlings, I headed directly to the garden afterward. 

By then the clouds had cleared, and the day was warm and a bit muggy. A slight breeze made the work bearable, but it was a balmy hour and half later that I coiled the hoses, snipped the peonies to bring home to Heidi, and locked the gate behind me. 

Once the flowers were safely arranged in a mason jar, there were still a couple of errands to run and after washing up I went back out to the grocery and garden center. Arriving home after 6, I finished planting the hanging baskets on our deck and started dinner. 

And just now, as the gumbo simmers and I settled wearily into my chair to compose this daily missive, I had the notion that it all might have been a little too much.

Life Lesson: Too much of a good thing is still too much.