It Was Worth a Try

"Can I charge my iPad? It's only at 5%" a student asked this morning gesturing at the bright red cable by my desk.

"I'm happy to cooperate with you," I answered him, "but I'm going to need some cooperation from you, too."

"What do you mean?" he said.

"Well," I continued, "I'd like you to do your assignments and participate in our class."

"I can't promise that," he told me dismissively.

"Why should I let you use my charger then?" I asked him.

"Isn't that your job?" he replied.

"Actually, charging your iPad is your job," I said. 

He shrugged.

"Give it some thought," I told him. "The charger is right there."

Turns out 5% charge is plenty when you don't plan to do much of anything.

When in Doha

To be honest, the World Cup has hardly been on my radar screen. Sure, I know it's the most watched sporting event in the world, and I had followed with mild interest of the controversial no beer in the stadium policy imposed by the host country, Qatar, at the last minute. I also read the darker reports of the exploitation of foreign workers in the push to get the venues built and running, which was not surprising to me, having lived in Saudi Arabia in the mid-70s and seen first-hand the poor treatment of Pakistani, Korean, Phillipino, and Yemani laborers.

But the competition itself? I had no idea of the groups, let alone the standings in the first stage when I got to school this morning. My mind was on catching up with what I had missed by being out for two days and planning for the formal observation my evaluator had scheduled for third period today.

As soon as the kids came in, though, it was clear that FIFA Fever had swept the school. Instead of sneaking onto game sites, they were checking scores and streaming matches, whispering updates like gossip. 

"Can we watch soccer for our brain break?" one kid finally asked, and I had to agree it was a good idea. Plus, Switzerland and Brazil were scoreless at 63 minutes. Hopp Schwiiz!

Dear Bill

Dear Bill,

By the time you read this, some of the work will be done. You will have made it through without ever having read whatever words of motivation I might muster, because you could. 

Like always, you could. 

Like always, you did.

What Are the Chances?

Three cars left East Market Street at the same time headed for the same destination. One pulled over a few miles later. Another stopped at a light to make a left turn. The third whizzed by while the second was waiting.

The second car encountered an obstacle and rerouted. One of the passengers wanted to stop for water. A few miles later a convenience center appeared on the left. The driver decided to turn. Pulling in they saw the first car.

Three siblings were reunited at what turned out to be a crucial moment.

Surely, this was more than coincidence.

Cold Feet

We walked down to the sandy beach at the end of our street in an effort to beat the rain yesterday afternoon. An unseasonably fair breeze met us as we crested the dune, and both Victor and I kicked off our boots and socks and left them by the picket fence.

"I'm a little worried it's too cold to go barefoot," I said. "I know it's almost 60, but it's still November."

"It's warmer than Iceland in July," he said and headed toward the water.

True enough.

Non-Traditional

Spatchcock the turkey? 

Roll the stuffing into balls?

Mash baked potatoes?

Bake pumpkin cheesecake

and apple-cranberry pie-cake? 

But still: be thankful for all we have.

That's Quite Enough Already

"Should we go to that meat market we saw yesterday?" I asked Emily as we out running errands this morning. "They'll probably be lonely on Thanksgiving," I laughed.

When we arrived a tall burly man in a bright red knit cap was standing outside the door with a clipboard. "Do you have a preorder with us?" he asked officiously.

"No," I shrugged. "Is that a problem?"

"It depends what you want," he said.

"We're just here for some steak," I said.

"I am totally sold out of filet," he informed me.

"Filet?" I laughed, for that is not what I had in mind. "How about rib-eyes?"

"We have those," he nodded and peered through the glass door. "That guy in the gray hat will help you."

Inside it seemed like a normal butcher shop. Maybe employees were hustling a little more than usual, but the case was full of beef, lamb, and pork. "What can I get you?" asked the gray-hatted man.

"Strip steak?" Emily suggested. "But what are those?" she pointed to the tray to the right.

"Rib-eye," I answered. "I love rib-eye! Let's get those." 

The steaks were thick, so I asked for two. The counter guy pulled out the tray and slid it in front of me so that I could choose my steaks. I selected a couple with nice marbling, and he tossed them on the scale. "Anything else?" he asked, and I shook my head no. "$96.08," he shouted to the cashier and handed me a white-wrapped package. It was then that I noticed there were no price tags anywhere.

Wide-eyed, I turned to Emily who was holding a small wheel of cheese and a bag of olives in her hand. "Those steaks were a hundred bucks!" I told her.

"I wonder how much this cheese and olives will be," she laughed.

"We're already in for a hundred," I said, "might as well get those, too." 

I placed the cheese and olives on the counter and pulled out my credit card. "That will be $140.47," the cashier said. "will there be anything else?"