Please Say Yes

Heidi has spent the last three weekends shopping for wedding dresses with our friend Lauren. Now, Heidi loves her some shopping and she also loves talking about clothes, about which she is super knowledgeable, but at this point, after dozens of dresses and discussions dissecting the lace and the beading and the bodice and the buttons and the train and the ruching and the neckline and the fit-and-flare vs the a-line and straps or sleeves or caps or sleeveless, I think even Heidi has had her fill.

Almost.

They have one more appointment Monday at 5. 

And Heidi? Is in!

Beautiful Mind

My reluctant writer finally made some progress on his essay planning today in class. Nevermind that the essay was actually due at the end of class, I was just happy to see him demonstrate his thinking and understanding of the process, which he has refused to do until now. The breakthrough seemed accidental: he was seated by the chalkboard, and as I probed his analysis of the story I wrote a few possible claims on the board. Excited, he jumped up and asked for the chalk. Ten minutes later? Here's what he produced:

It's a start.

It's on My List

I walked up to the dentist with Heidi after school today, and while she was in her appointment I continued a couple of blocks to do some grocery shopping at Trader Joe's. As I strode toward the sliding glass doors, I made eye contact with a young woman who was canvassing for the Nature Conservancy. "Would you like to help save the world?" she asked.

"Nope," I answered, and then laughed. "Well, of course I would, just not right now."

She nodded without disappointment or surprise. I'm guessing she gets that a lot.

Good Old-fashioned

The bottom drawer on my teacher desk seemed a little sticky today when I opened it to retrieve a bag of Jolly Ranchers. I thought perhaps something had fallen behind it and was preventing a smooth glide when I pushed it closed, but the design of the drawer prevented me from seeing or even reaching into the space without removing the whole thing. So I pushed my desk forward to clear the bookshelf behind it and lifted the draw free of its rollers and out. 

I was disappointed to find nothing there, and I stooped to replace the drawer but I couldn't make it go in. I was banging it all around when my colleagues came in for lunch. One of my handier friends tried to assist me while the others poked fun at our ineptitude. "Maybe it's time for a new desk," quipped one.

"I've had this desk for 30 years," I replied. "I'm not getting a new one now!"

"That could be the problem," she laughed.

"I think you're going to have to call the custodian," suggested another, and the friend who was helping me agreed.

I don't call the custodian to fix anything! I have a drawer full of tools and pride myself on maintaining the vintage furniture and equipment I have spent so many years with. In fact, I'm sure I can count on one hand the number of times I've asked for help. Once when I barfed, once when a kid peed on the chair, once after at least 10 years of fixing a cabinet latch that finally fell apart, and that's pretty much it, so I really did not want to call for someone to help me put a drawer back in.

But that's what I did. Our friendly custodian appeared within five minutes, and after another round of jokes about the age of my desk, he pulled out the roller assembly and fit it on the drawer outside the desk then slid the whole thing back in. I watched him carefully in case I ever need to repeat his repair, but since I only pull the drawer all the way out every thirty years, I think I'm safe.

Plus? How can a desk look old? It has a laminate top, steel body, and three drawers which lock, AND it's inaccessible to any of the creatures I share my room with. What improvements could a new desk possibly have?

Fresh Eyes

Years ago, when I first started teaching I would often take advantage of our free access to the gym and workout equipment that is part of the rec center connected to our school. Back then, my friend Wes and I would do the stairmaster, lift weights, and then play a little pick up basketball with some of our students who might be hanging around after school. It was fun, and I was in great shape.

But times change: Wes moved away to teach overseas, first in Iceland and the in England, where he is today, married with three kids and still teaching in a DOD school. My afternoons got busier as I took on more responsibility as a team leader and a basketball coach. I joined a "real" gym where I had to drive to work out, and I did so, sporadically. COVID hit, and I didn't go to the gym for a couple of years, then every time I went back it was somehow unsatisfying. Then my gym was sold to another company, and that might be the last straw in our relationship.

Before I quit sending my money to that gym, though, I wanted another option. This year, my nephew started working at our school, and often after the last bell he goes down to work out in the rec center. Last week, I invited myself along, and today was the day when I brought my gym clothes and headed down for my first workout there in at least 20 years. 

What fun I had! The pickleball court was open so we volleyed for a while, then there was a home basketball game I could watch from the treadmill. We each did a couple of weight circuits and we met again by the bosu ball and pilates drum which we spotted each other on. I had a pretty good workout, and we are going to go again soon. 

Coincidentally, Treat is just a little younger than I and a little older Wes was all those years ago. I'm glad that he reminded me what a great perc we have right downstairs.

Kitty Bowl

I was exchanging messages with my cousin during the NFL playoff game yesterday. 

"Sorry about the Giants," I texted.

She is an inveterate football fan, and after a lifetime of rooting for Washington, their recent name change on top of their chronic poor management has driven her to the Giants. "My parents were from New York," she reminded us this summer, "and all my uncles were Giants fans when I was growing up." She even pronounced the name of the team Gintz (with a long i) just like they did.

"Go Bills!" she wrote back, knowing Heidi is from Buffalo.

I sent her this picture of our cat, Tibby "watching" the game.

After Buffalo's disastrous defeat, my cousin texted, "Tell Tib I'm sorry her team didn't win."

"I think she might have been for the Bengals 🐅" I replied.

"Good point," she wrote back. "She is a tough cookie cat."

Our Daily

I was distracted as I mixed up the ingredients for my sourdough bread today. We had just gotten home from meeting an old friend for coffee, I was making a couple of different kinds of bread, another friend was here talking out a wedding dress crisis with Heidi. Even so, I feeling pretty accomplished as I finished the dishes and wet my hands to do the first stretch and fold. 

Something seemed a little off with the dough, and I paused a moment before putting the cover back on and allowing it to rest for another 15 minutes. What was it that jogged my memory? I can't say, but it occurred to me that I had never even gotten my starter out of the fridge. What was in the bowl in front of me was a pound of flour, some water, and salt-- basically a brick waiting to be baked. With nothing to lose, I kneaded the leavening in to the dough, covered it, and hoped for the best. 

Bread has earned its reputation as the staff of life over many millenium. In 2018, scientists found evidence of bread-making at a 15,000 year old dig site in Jordan. Fortunately, something so old must also be forgiving, and my bread was. Even as I write, my bread is rising in the kitchen, and so there will be loaves tomorrow.