Weather Report

It was a day spent sitting. 

Our school district scheduled 6 hours of mandatory professional development on diversity, equity, culturally responsive teaching, and Title IX in the morning and then social-emotional learning in the afternoon. In between we were served bbq and all the fixins.

As with many professional learning sessions, we were directed to try out some of the components they were hoping we would use with our students. One such activity was a restorative circle, where we stood in a loose ring in the seats of the theater in department groups and took turns answering a set of questions designed to build community.

Describe yourself in terms of weather was one. 

"61 and clear," I replied when it was my turn, but now, after such a day, I would have to revise my reply: still 61, but a bit of an evening fog has rolled in.

Back to School Shopping

Back to School Night is early this year, just a couple of weeks away, really, and it occurred to me this afternoon that I might feel better if I knew what I was wearing. These past few years my school attire has been almost strictly athleisure, joggers and the like, and so I wasn't feeling that I had as many options as I might have liked when it came to dressing a bit more professionally for the adult crowd I could expect that evening.

Whereas in earlier times I probably would have actually gotten up and gone shopping, today I sat in my chair and clicked through a few retail websites. Then, after making sure that each offered free returns, I ordered some slacks and loafers. As I was doing so, I remembered we have a wedding to go to at the end of October, and so Heidi and I ordered a few dresses to try on from Nordstrom. Next, I found some shoes to go with the dress, and ordered those, too.

Everything should be here within the next week, and we can try things on and return them if they don't work, with plenty of time to go shopping again.

Auntie

"Long time no see," my uncle joked as Heidi, Lucy, and I piled into their apartment a little after noon. He was referring to the fact that we had seen him and my aunt just last Sunday at their grandson's Eagle Scout ceremony. 

Although we live in the same sprawling metropolitan area, my aunt and uncle live on the northern outskirts, and the 39-mile trip never takes less than an hour, and often more. It is far enough that we usually plan our visits weeks in advance, and we never see each other as often as we would like.

On the drive over today, we listened to American Top 40, and Casey Kasem was playing the hits from this week in 1977. As always, I tried to recall what was happening back then, and I realized that Aunt Harriett and Larry had just been married a couple weeks before.

And then there we were, ready to learn how to play Mahjong, a game my aunt loves and plays often. Lunch was first, a light, seasonal meal of a tomato stuffed with tuna salad, served with cucumbers in vinegar, and biscuits, but then it was down to business as we took our seats at the card table my aunt had set up and ready to go.

As I settled into my folding chair I reviewed everything I knew about the game, starting with the iconic scene in The Joy Luck Club, where June, the protagonist, takes her recently deceased mother's spot at the table with three of her mother's dearest friends. "We are your aunties," one of the three players reassures June when she looks nervous. "We are very honest people!" It's a line my sister and brother and I have riffed on since we first saw the film in 1993. 

And that was pretty much the extent of my knowledge, but despite our inexperience and the complexity of the game, my aunt was a good and patient teacher. Heidi and I picked up the basics pretty quickly, and it was close to 6 PM when we left. 

"I'm so glad you came!" my aunt hugged us as we headed home, promising to come again soon. Out in the car, I switched on the ignition and punched the directions into the map app. It was 6:12 PM and the route took us right through Rockville, past one of my mom's old places. 

Eyes on the Prize

News today that for her next album Dolly Parton covers "Let it Be" with Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr. "Leave it to Dolly to reunite the Beatles," wrote The New York Times.

I laughed and remembered how a few weeks ago when we were down in Atlanta, I was talking with my sister about my upcoming trip to Asheville and the fact that Pigeon Forge, TN really wasn't that much further. "It would be fun to go there," I said. "I love Dolly Parton!"

My sister nodded. "If you ask me," she replied, only half joking, "Dolly Parton should get the Nobel Peace Prize!" 

I wouldn't disagree, but her husband did. "Dolly Parton?" he rolled his eyes. "No way!"

My sister wouldn't back down, though. Instead, she ticked through a list of Dolly's accomplishments.  "She has funded literacy and music programs at needy schools for years," she started. 

Her husband shrugged.

"She helped fund the COVID vaccine," my sister continued, and by the time she finished, her husband had come around.

"That is pretty impressive," he agreed, and we didn't even know about the Beatles, then!

Proper Mindset

We ran a few end-of-the-summer errands yesterday, ending up at one of those off-price department stores. Technically? We were there for fun and colorful poop bags, one of the items on Heidi's list, and since she picks up most of the poop, I am not going to question that. 

But of course, we sped-browsed through the other departments, too, Heidi looking at dresses and blouses, and I at kitchenwares and active clothing. It was on the rack in this second section that I found a lovely seafoam-colored crewneck sweatshirt from one of our favorite clothing companies. It had a little dragonfly in the center and the caption, "Change is Good".

Embracing change is not really how I roll, but I bought the sweatshirt anyhow in a conscious effort to be mindful of the concept. And I wore my new pullover today, on the first day of school for teachers. Perhaps it served me well, because there was talk of some big changes coming along, but I wasn't bothered at all.

At the risk of being over-confident-- Year 31? I got you.

Look Forward, Teacher!

Despite the desire to cling to that summer vacation vibe, something told me to check my school accounts on Monday. 

First I saw a message sent just a few hours earlier from a former student inquiring whether she could bring a friend, who was new to the school, to the open house next week. "Or is it only for sixth graders?" she inquired.

I was glad to be able to respond promptly to such a generous and welcoming spirit, and doing so reminded me not of all the work and time my job demands, but of how much I loved working with the kids. Next, I checked to see if my new students were loaded into the learning management system and grade book. A couple of clicks later there they were-- the class of 2030 and my next year's sixth-grade students. 

My first impression? Adorable! And the sting of going back to the grind was lifted entirely. 

For the moment.

A Little Progress

I went for a dreaded annual screening this morning. I don't know any woman who does not find her mammogram to be extremely uncomfortable, if not downright painful. So often I've heard comments that if men had to have any of their sensitive parts compressed every year, the technology would be completely different. Maybe, but here we are. 

This morning, though, my appointment was in the brand-new, state-of-the-art Outpatient Pavillion on the hospital campus, a building that only opened three weeks ago. Parking was a breeze; electronic signs and signals indicated how many spaces were free and where they were. There was a passage from the garage right into the building, and the Women's Imaging Center was located right inside. I checked in on an electronic kiosk that asked if I'd like to set up biometric verification to speed my future appointments. They even validated my parking before showing me right into the new changing rooms. 

The technicians there have always been professional, kind, and friendly, and this morning was no exception. My mammographer showed me into the screening room and explained that they were using a new machine. One improvement was that instead of making me move and get squished 8 times, the machine itself moved, so that I only needed to be adjusted twice on each side. The other big change? An automatic release! As soon as the image was complete, the plates opened and freed my aching boob. The entire procedure took about 5 minutes.

It was still uncomfortable, to be sure, but it didn't hurt a bit.