Like Riding a Virtual Bicycle

In a throwback to 2020, I worked from home today. 

On my first full day as a consultant, I spent several hours on Zoom calls, stretching my unused virtual communication muscles. By the end of the last call, I felt more limber, even though I had four browser windows with 10 tabs each open. Even so, I was able to turn my camera on and off, mute and unmute, admit people from the waiting room, and share my screen. 

One of my biggest challenges was leaving my morning meeting; it was a bit awkward to make the consulting company executives wait while I fumbled to find the exit button on my toolbar. A little while later, I had trouble finding the end-meeting button when my own call was over. 

To be honest? That one didn't matter much, because the teacher I was talking to was already gone-- I know from experience she had better things to do.

A Little Progress

I spent several hours cleaning and decluttering today, and although the place looks clean, there's still a good bit of clutter left to clear. In my defense, I worked on some junk drawers and cupboards, and you would see a big difference if, for some reason, you opened them. I did toss quite a bit of stuff, and I have plans for more, so, with a small sigh, I'll take all that as a W. 

Goldilocks Zone

"She's just a great big Mama Bear!" someone said of Heidi this morning in a meeting, which had the two of us in stitches when she told me about it this afternoon.

"Was she serious?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," Heidi answered.

That has been one of the unexpected challenges of Heidi's new job. After 30 years at the same school, now she's an unknown quantity to many of her colleagues. But she's a big personality, too, and it's hard to gauge how people are really reacting to her. 

Even so, while mama bear might not be the metaphor I would choose? The more I think about it, the more I can see the analogy (setting aside the mama in the Three Bears, that is). Heidi's professional persona is at times gruff, always strict, but also nurturing, which is just right for the job she has.

Just Literally

"How are your bowel movements?" the nurse practitioner asked me during my annual wellness visit.

"Fine," I reported, then added, "I do have to go right now, though!" 

She laughed at my candor. 

"I'm sorry if that's too much information," I said, "but once when Dr. C was examining me, she said, 'Oh! You're constipated!'" I explained. "But, really? I just had to go. And ever since then, I've felt a little self-conscious."

"Well," she said, continuing her examination, "you are full, though I wouldn't say constipated. I can also feel how tense you are! I know talking about this topic can be a difficult conversation, and no one wants to hear they're full of, well, you know--" she paused. "Poop."

"Even if they are," I agreed.

Go Bills

It's a thing at Heidi's school that the staff sports their team spirit wear the day after a game. Although she's never been into football, Heidi has taken to the tradition. She has a few Bills t-shirts, a couple of hoodies, and she even got some flashy Bills sneakers for her birthday. 

The tricky part is that you can only show your spirit if the team wins, and so Heidi, who likes to plan and prepare her outfits in advance, is left at the mercy of her hometown football team. So much so that on game days (or, worse, evenings), she's either asking me to check the score or checking it herself. Today at the bowling center, she left our lane several times to check the TV at the bar that had the game on. 

Now, after a close win, she has her Bills regalia ready to wear in the morning, and who knows? This intersection of football and fashion may just turn her into a fan!

Cold and Hard

I get it. 

It seems unsustainable to continue making the penny when it costs nearly four cents to manufacture one. Even so, the expected annual saving is only around $56 million a year, or about 16 cents per capita. I guess in the future, we'd have to round that to 15 cents, or three nickels, which by the way cost nearly a dime to make.

Facts.

My Sandwich Era

"How does it feel to be one of the young 'uns again?" one of the bowling ladies asked me. 

I had just overheard her talking to one of the best bowlers in the league, who had revealed that she was 74, which was less than half her average. I looked around at several of the other people outbowling me and imagined that they had at least a decade on me, too. 

Then I considered how being one of the oldest people in school whenever I substitute makes me feel. As an emeritus, I'm generally treated with respect for my experience, but I sometimes get the sense that I am considered irrelevant and out of touch. 

"It sure puts things in perspective," I laughed.