MVT

We had the fourth quarter of the Bills game on the radio as we drove to get our Christmas tree this afternoon. They had been behind the Bengals for three quarters, and Heidi wanted to know if she could wear her Bills gear or not tomorrow. Buffalo was only behind by three points when I turned the ignition, but before we were out of the complex, Cincinnati scored a touchdown. "There's still plenty of time left," I shrugged. "Josh Allen is good under this kind of pressure."

And indeed! Allen scored as we turned onto Route 7. A few moments later, Benford intercepted and ran for a touchdown, and Buffalo did not give up the lead again. Even so, both teams battled it out in the snow, sacking and slipping and sliding and scoring 34 points between them in the final quarter. The game was not quite over when we pulled into the parking lot of the nursery where we have purchased our tree in recent years, and we sat with the heater running until Allen took a knee on the snap, and the win was assured.

"That was exciting!" I said as we made our way to the tree lot and started looking for the perfect fit. This place gives every tree a name, and we laughed when we saw Sarah Connor. "Come with me if you want to live," I said in my best Austrian cyborg accent. A couple of rows over, we saw Albus Dumbledore and the White Witch, but one was too skinny and the other too tall. 

"Look!" Heidi pointed, laughing. "It's Josh Allen!" As we inspected the Fraser fir, she added, "I feel like we should get this one!"

"Yeah," I said, "but look at it." I pointed to some gaps and broken branches on the tree, which was leaning heavily to the right. "It's so beat up! It's like it actually played in the game."

First Saturday of December

"We have three parties to go to tomorrow," our neighbor laughed last night as she told us about her weekend.

"We're in town this weekend for parties," Heidi's dogwalking pal, who has a place in the mountains, told her this morning when she texted to suggest a visit to the dog park.

"Why is everybody going to parties except us?" I wondered aloud this evening as I leashed Lucy up for a walk.

Heidi shrugged. "They have a different social situation than we do. I guess it could be age or job or personality." Then she laughed. "Do you wish you had a lot of parties to go to?"

"Not necessarily," I answered crossly, "but an invitation or two doesn't seem that far-fetched."

The sky was darkening as Lucy and I finally crossed the threshold and headed up the hill, and the streets were silent as we wended our way through the neighborhood past apartments and houses, she sniffing, I admiring all the holiday lights. We walked on, enjoying the quiet evening.

"I guess everyone else is at parties," I said, looking at my dog. "Lucky for us."

Irregular Joe

"It's very tea-like," Julie, my nephew Victor's fiancée, said thoughtfully.

I nodded and sipped my own coffee, considering her comment. Victor, his brother Treat, and I love coffee, and we love a taste test, too. That's why the morning after Thanksgiving found us weighing the Ethiopian beans Victor had brought from Germany and brewing them two ways —pour-over and Aeropress. We served the coffee in pairs of the dozens of tiny juice glasses our rental house came equipped with, soliciting impressions from anyone in the family interested in a blind tasting.

The end results as to which was better were mixed, although every taster was able to distinguish a difference of details between the two preparations. Treat poured his together, then declared that the best cup of coffee would have to be prepared both ways and mixed.

As for the tea comment, it stuck with me. For the last couple of weeks, I, an inveterate coffee and cream drinker, have switched to black, the better to appreciate the nuance of my brew. It's been fun, especially since we splurged on a coffee Advent calendar again and have enjoyed a different bean every day since December 1.

Memory is the Best Sauce

After my observation yesterday, I drove over to see my aunt, since I was in the neighborhood (sort of). School started early over there, and so I was taking off my shoes and sitting down at her kitchen table by eleven. "I'm heating up turkey soup for lunch," she told me. 

"Does it have tomatoes and rice?" I asked, remembering how my mom used to make hers after Thanksgiving.

"Of course!" my aunt laughed. "How did you know?"

I can't say I loved my mother's turkey soup when I was a kid; there was something about the combination of bony broth, tiny shreds of turkey, chunky tomatoes, and frozen mixed vegetables that put me off. And as she'll tell you herself, my aunt is not known for her cooking.

But that soup? Was delicious.

In the Wheelhouse

I was nervous this morning when I stepped into the first grade classroom for my first coaching observation, but I needn't have been. The 18 kids were adorable as they quietly listened to their teacher lead them through whole-class phonics instruction. I felt right at home as I slid into a tiny chair and pulled out my notepad and pen, jotting observations and questions as the lesson progressed. When it was time for independent work and small groups, I circulated through the class and assisted as needed. 

An hour after I arrived, I waved at the teacher. "I wish I could stay all day!" I laughed. "See you next time."

And as I headed back to my car, I couldn't help thinking that maybe? I should just unretire and be a first grade teacher!

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!