And Many More

When Emily requested flan as her birthday dessert, building the whole menu around that Spanish favorite seemed like a good idea, and so tapas it was! And today, as I peeled pears, deveined shrimp, marinated swordfish, cooked chickpeas, shelled fresh beans, scrubbed clams, sliced mushrooms, rolled meatballs, chopped a lotta lotta garlic, so that I could grill, seer, sauté, poach, and braise, it was fun pulling everything together. And this evening, when I plated the jamón ibérico, manchego cheese, marcona almonds, apples, dates, and homemade sourdough toasts, and popped the cork on the champagne, I was really glad to have a chance to celebrate Emily with Bill and Treat and Heidi and Nadika.

No Fault Manufacturing

The wheels were falling off of our top dishwasher rack, and no amount of macgyvering could make them stay on more than one or two cycles. I did some research, and it quickly became apparent that this was a common problem with this model of dishwasher. Indeed, it was a similar situation with our last model that led to its replacement: then the parts to fix the problem were not available, and a new upper rack cost more than we paid for the whole machine. 

But this time, the part was readily available, or rather a redesigned version approved by the manufacturer was easy to obtain, although every supplier made it clear that installation directions were not included. I was a bit daunted by all this, but upon continuing my research I found a YouTube video that made the job seem very doable. With that, I ordered the part. 

And everything was going smoothly this morning when I unloaded the dishwasher, removed the clips and pulled out the rack to begin my repair, until I noticed the extra piece that was not mentioned in the video. Frowning, I disassembled my work, and tapped on the comments. Most were quite positive, but several mentioned a couple of missing steps, and one provided the link to a companion video that helped me finish the job. 

There was one comment that has stuck with me, though. Let me get this straight. They make a defective part, and then they charge to replace it with a "better" version, but don't provide directions, so you have to pay somebody else to do it? Why wasn't it a recall? 

Dress Rehearsal

Now that we are week into October, the neighbors are starting to trim their homes with spooky lights and decorations. Darkness fell as we walked the dog this evening, and the streets were aglow with islands of orange and purple, as well as a few inflatables-- Jack Skellington, Oogie Boogie, the Headless Horseman. 

There were also a few gourds and pumpkins on the stoops of those who either do not know or do not fear the squirrels that will probably eat them long before the 31st. Fake skeletons are also popular, as are the companion fake tombstones, but those decorations are not to my taste. 

We even saw a pack of tiny tots dressed up as princesses and super heroes, riding their little three-wheeled scooters. 

"What do you think they're doing?" I asked Heidi. "Birthday party?"

"Maybe they're just practicing for Halloween," she laughed.

Blinded by the Light

"My doctor is so nutty!" Heidi told me when I picked her up from her eye appointment this afternoon.

"How do you mean?" I said. Because of COVID restrictions, it's been a while since I've accompanied her to any appointments, and so I've never met the guy.

We laughed as she filled me in on his idiosyncratic comments and behavior. "And you know, I have no idea what he even looks like, because I'm dilated whenever he examines me. To me, he's just some tall, skinny shadow with a soft southern accent!"

I shook my head, because I knew exactly what she meant. One time, years ago, we were at a craft show on Thanksgiving weekend. As we browsed the aisles of pottery and painting, a woman walked toward us. Seeing Heidi, she tilted her head and smiled, but Heidi ignored her and continued on.

"Wasn't that Doctor Keyes?" I said, pointing my chin in the direction the woman had gone. 

"Where?" Heidi asked.

"Right there," I rolled my eyes to the next stall where the woman was shopping.

"Her?" Heidi shook her head. "No way!"

And yet? It was. I recognized her from all the appointments I had sat in on, and of course, she recognized Heidi as a patient. But Heidi had no idea what the doc looked like, because by the time she came into the examination room, Heidi really couldn't see too much.

Just then we heard the woman ask a question about the jewelry she was looking at. “Holy shit!” Heidi said. “That’s Dr. Keyes!”

Mutable

Even though it has been chillier than usual here in the mid-Atlantic these first days of October, we refuse to turn the heat on at this time of year. Just knowing that we'll certainly need to switch on the air conditioning at some point before autumn begins in earnest makes it seem silly to change the setting on the thermostat. 

That said, 61 degrees indoors is a wee bit nippy to be padding around the place barefoot.

Fortunately?

Temps are rising, the firewood lady rang the doorbell today, and we have plenty of fleece and flannel to keep us warm.

Let's Shake on It

I was feeling even more frustrated than usual when I sent my 4th period class to lunch. Despite my commitment to abiding by the never speak ill of others precept, I complained bitterly to my lunch buddies. "I hate my 4th period class! They are total a-holes!" Of course I eagerly shared the evidence for my proclamations: 

the kid who copied and pasted an entire list of rhyming words, after being specifically instructed not to, and then lied about it (when I bluffed and told him I could look at the HTML code on his response to see where it came from, he gave it up immediately) 

the boys who were crashing their tables into each other and throwing highlighters 

the kid who wrote Ur dad on every single sensory detail anchor chart (this because last week I expressly forbade him from using the expression your mom) 

the kids who had completed less than half of their classwork when it was time for lunch because they "forgot" 

and the kid who posted tree, pee, tea, and virginity for his rhyming words. 

And my teacher friends were sympathetic; they, too are struggling to tame this new group of sixth graders. Deep down, though, I felt like I had to flip the script on this class, and I needed to do it sooner, rather than later. But when they came charging back into the room after lunch, I stopped them crossly, and directed them to line up outside the door. 

Rather than scold them into a compliant line, which Im sure they expected, I invited them to come back in, one at a time, and as each entered I held out my hand, and when they shook it, I clapped my left hand over theirs and made eye contact. I welcomed them back by name and asked if they were ready to learn and do their best. Every one assured me that they were, and I smiled and told them how glad I was to hear it.

And although it was far from a perfect class, it was much better, and I didn't hate them any more.

I Blame the Former Administration

 We were doing a quick mini-lesson on rhyming couplets when a student raised her hand to clarify. "Rhyming words don't have to spelled the same," she confirmed, "they just have to sound the same, right?"

"Exactly," I told her. "Rhyming is a sound tool. Take for example these words-- and I wrote sleigh, way, and Santa Fe. I made my way to Santa Fe on a sleigh," I laughed.

"That's stupid," said another student. "There's no snow in Santa Fe." 

"I beg your pardon," I said, "there certainly is. In fact, both times I've been there, it has snowed."

"No," he insisted. "It's too warm to snow in Southern California."

"Santa Fe is New Mexico," I said.

"Whatever," he replied. "It's hot in New Mexico, too."

"Not all the time," I told him, "and Santa Fe is in the mountains. Have you ever been there?'

"No," he shook his head dismissively.

"Well, I have, and I've literally seen snow there twice!" I said.

"It doesn't snow there," he repeated. "It doesn't snow there."

"Why don't we move on with rhyming couplets," I suggested.