No Pressure

When the low tire pressure light came on in the car yesterday, I could have chalked it up to the cold weather and refilled it myself, but I decided to take it as a reminder to have the car serviced, especially since we had just returned from a long drive at Thanksgiving and have another planned for Christmas. And I already had the appointment when the low oil light came on, too, so I was glad I made the choice I did.

After bowling this afternoon, I drove down to the dealer and settled in to wait a couple of hours in their lounge. A little while later, though, my service representative came over to report that there had been a power outage in the repair shop, and my car was stuck on the lift until it was restored. "Can I get you into a loaner?" she asked. "We have no idea how long it will take."

I shrugged in assent, but told her I might not be able to return the car until later tomorrow afternoon, since I am scheduled to do my first coaching observation in Maryland and then have lunch with my aunt afterwards. She assured me that it would be fine, and I wondered if this was another attempt to persuade me to buy a new car. After I signed the agreement, one of the porters was thoughtful enough to pull the brand-new sage-green Crosstrek into the check-in bay so that I wouldn't have to go outside in the rain, which I really appreciated. 

I was nearly home when the tire pressure light came on in that car, too. Unfortunately, our electric air pump was in our car, so I drove to a nearby gas station. There was a black sedan ahead of me at the air pump, but the driver moved out of my way and then hopped out to help me. He checked my tires for damage and then filled them all. I thanked him profusely for this random act of kindness, and then drove home, hopeful that I'll make it to Maryland tomorrow.

Shrug

It was cold and blustery when I walked Lucy this afternoon, and I was glad for the gloves I keep stuffed in my vest pockets. Still, I was surprised by the email I received from the consulting company I'm freelancing for, reminding us of inclement weather procedures for the school system we are working with. A little while later, Heidi called from school. "Everyone here says there might be a delay tomorrow morning!" She paused. "Is it true?"

I told her I thought it was unlikely, though I admitted I hadn't checked any weather sources recently. What a difference a year of retirement makes!

Energy Vent

The bowling center was hopping when we arrived at 2:15 this afternoon. Upon reflection, though, we decided that we shouldn't have been surprised. It was, after all, a cold and rainy Sunday on Thanksgiving weekend, and most of the kids all around us were bowling like maniacs, wildly flinging their balls down the lanes. 

"Who's the kid?" one guy a couple lanes over shouted as he waved his arms. "It's me! I'm the kid!"

"It's a turkey for Thanksgiving!" another shrieked as his ball careened off the bumpers for an impressive third strike in a row.

And in the next lane over, a little girl named Lucy bowled three games against herself, precisely angling the ramp between each roll of her six-pound ball. She never achieved a score above 58, but she probably walked 2000 steps in the process.

I'm sure their parents were happy they were out of the house.

The Obvious

As nice as it is to be home? I sure would have enjoyed a few more days at the beach with my family.

Fending

Going to the beach for Thanksgiving is wonderful, but the slightest of downsides might be that there is only one day to eat leftovers before packing up to return home on Saturday. Historically, we have given it a valiant go, even consuming enough turkey and fixin's during the day to order pizza or go out for dinner on Friday night. 

But with the enormous turkey and all the other fabulous meals we've eaten this week, it made the most sense to stay in and eat leftovers for dinner. Even so, the foodies in us are tempted to do more than simply reheat. For example, this afternoon I made a pizza with a sourdough crust made from leftover cheese grits, topped with the rest of the ham we had for sandwiches, and strewn with roasted butternut squash, rosemary, and sage. 

Later, when I was reading an article called 53 Ways to Use Your Thanksgiving Leftovers, I proposed a competition where everyone prepares a new dish using only our leftovers and the limited vacation pantry we have cobbled together. "I'll be the judge," I graciously volunteered. 

And man! Did our group step up! We had turkey potato hash, homemade gnocchi with puttanesca, handmade wontons with butternut squash filling and chili oil, turkey cabbage salad with peanut dressing, spinach salad with black rice and warm bacon dressing, along with some good old-fashioned pepperoni pizza to round out the meal. 

As we planned and prepared our meal, I could tell that judging was more than a one-person job, so Treat and I put our teacher skills to use and created a Google form. After a ranked-choice voting ballot, the dumplings, a fusion of Julie and Victor's family recipes, won the evening decisively.

Now that's what I call leftovers!

Topsail Island, NC

I always like Thanksgiving
best--
you can eat leftover tart tatin
for breakfast
and drink coffee
and watch the parade
and the dog show
and walk on the beach
and solve puzzles
and quizzes
and ride bikes
and eat
turkey
and stuffing
and potatoes
and turnips
and gravy
sitting shoulder to shoulder
around a long table
with eleven chairs
filled with your family
and have pies
and pudding
for dessert
even though you're full
and go to bed
grateful
for the stars on the beach
and everything else.

Process of Elimination

"Wanna do the Slate history quiz with me?" I asked Treat, knowing his knowledge would boost my usual result on the six-question game.

We both knew the first one, that Japanese-Americans were interred in Manzanar, but I was lost on the second question about the late 19th-century split in the Republican party between the Stalwarts and the Half-breeds. Of course, the first and second Continental Congresses met in Philadelphia, but we weren't sure which of our four choices had been Secretary of State for a record eleven years. 

"Seward was in the Lincoln administration," I said, "could Andrew Johnson have kept him on?"

"Were any of them in the FDR administration?" Treat asked, "That would make sense with the number of years."

"Seward was Lincoln, Weinberger was Reagan, and Rusk was JFK," I said.

"Then it's probably Cordell Hull," Treat guessed, and of course, he was right.

In the end, we did miss one question about a former president of Mexico, but I didn't feel bad, and neither did Treat. "It wasn't really that hard," he shrugged, "except for that Secretary of State question."

"Yeah, but we really used our test-taking strategies, didn't we?" I laughed.