I picked up a big acorn cap this afternoon on my walk with Lucy, and, wedging it between my thumbs and forefingers, made a V with the first knuckle of my thumbs and blew over them into the cap. Lucy turned sharply at the shrill whistle, and I wondered, a little apologetically, if it hurt her ears.
I showed her the acorn cap on my outstretched palm, and she sniffed it. Then she took it, chewed it up, and spit it out.
No more whistling today.
"He knows your nephew," the sub coordinator told me this morning, nodding to the tall young man helping her. And to him she said, "This is Treat's aunt!"
He reached out to shake my hand. "Treat was right across the hall from me last year," he said.
"He's our school-based sub," the sub coordinator introduced him. "And she taught here for more than thirty years," she said about me.
"And Treat's mother is the art teacher here," I added.
"Oh yes," he replied, "I do remember Treat saying he came from a teaching family."
I carried the warmth of that remark all the way to my first period World Geography class, where I was the substitute co-teacher. I knew the teacher I was working with, and it so happened that Treat had worked with her as well.
The block passed by quickly in pleasant consideration of various land formations and climates, and their appeal to the students personally. "You're pretty good at this!" the teacher joked when the bell rang. "Have you ever considered being a teacher?"
"Well," I laughed, "it does run in my family!
"Hey, Tracey," my former principal said smoothly as she and her sister, the president of the league, approached me at bowling this morning. "You've always had an exceptional attention to detail."
I smiled at this unexpected compliment from a past supervisor.
"That's why we think you would be a great addition to the audit committee!" she continued, smiling broadly.
My eyes widened, and the three of us burst out laughing at this brazen recruitment ploy.
"I have seen this opportunity in the weekly e-mails," I conceded. "I just didn't know if someone with more experience would be a better fit."
"Oh no," she assured me. "You would be great."
"Then I accept!" I agreed.
"The president will fill you in on the details," she told me and walked back to her lane.
"She's still got that management flair," I said to the president, shaking my head.
"She always has," her sister agreed.
"Do you want your cute little pumpkin in the bag, or would you like to carry it with you?" the cashier asked as he finished ringing up and packing my order.
"Oh, the bag is fine," I answered, gesturing at the small pie pumpkin I was going to steam and make a casserole from. "That one is food, not friend."
"Okay," he laughed as he dropped it in the bag. "Sorry, fella."
Our neighbor, James, was sitting outside this afternoon when the cab from the airport dropped us off. "That was a quick trip!" he said.
We laughed, both because he was right - we had flown to Atlanta for just the weekend - and because he knew how long we had been gone. James is a TSA agent, and he and his mom have lived right across from us for the last four years.
"Whenever we fly out of DCA, I always ask Heidi if she thinks we'll see you," I told him, and he smiled.
"I'm always there," he said. "And that side is always quicker than the other one."
Even so, we have never seen James at work, and Friday morning, as we entered the security line, I turned to Heidi and asked my customary question. She scanned the sea of deep blue shirts and black armored vests behind the glass and shrugged.
"I know he's working," I said. "His car was gone when we left this morning, and his shift is until noon." James and I often see each other when he's coming home and I'm taking Lucy for a walk.
"Wait!" Heidi pointed at a tall, bearded figure with glasses. "Is that him?"
"Yes!" I answered. "James!" I waved both my arms and hopped up and down a couple of times. All the TSA agents looked our way, and he did, too, with a bit of a scowl. Then he recognized us, smiled, and gave us a little chin nod. His colleagues relaxed, but with raised eyebrows.
When we were through security and on our way, he waved again from his post. "Have a good trip, guys!" he called across the hall.
"Thanks!" we waved back. "We will!"
"Everyone at work was like, Who are they?" he told us this afternoon. "And I was like, Those are my neighbors. They're cool."
"I feel like I'm living two separate lives," my cousin laughed this afternoon as she held her two-year-old on her lap. "In one, I'm a successful executive and people actually listen to me and do what I say," she paused and looked at her daughter, "and in the other, children ignore and throw up on me."
As we nodded in amusement, she gasped. "She's peeing on me!" Then she stood up quickly and deposited her child on the floor, standing.
Sure enough, a puddle formed at the little girl's feet, but the toddler did not seem bothered. In fact, she widened her stance and doubled down on the peeing, side-eying her mother with a devilish little grin.
Stunned at the perfect timing, we all stood in silence for a moment before scrambling for the clean-up kit.
