tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16324641875251157422024-03-18T22:50:33.867-04:00Scattered ThoughtsMaryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.comBlogger916125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-9151244270067369312024-03-18T16:48:00.000-04:002024-03-18T16:48:56.061-04:00Really?<p>Today's SEL theme was resilience. I shouldn't be surprised that only 2 of my 16 homeroom students had heard of the word. No one knew exactly what it meant but we figured that out together. </p><p>The lesson asked students to write 2 positive emotions and 1 negative emotion they've experienced recently on a piece of paper. Past lessons have taught me that my homeroom students have a limited vocabulary when it comes to explaining their emotions, so I found a resource to help them identify what they've been feeling.</p><p>The last part of the lesson asked them to take their paper and fold it up to make a paper airplane so we could fly it around to one part of the classroom. Then students would choose a paper that was not theirs to see if they felt similar emotions to the ones that flew to them.</p><p>It was then that I discovered that 95% of my homeroom students did not know how to make a paper airplane. I found that statistic to be even more shocking than when I realized they don't know what resilience means.</p><p><br /></p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-16876754119711311582024-03-17T19:18:00.001-04:002024-03-17T19:18:21.988-04:00This Week's Advice <p>The weekend is usually my time to tidy up around the house and catch up on laundry. This weekend I was out of town so I'm sort of starting the week already a bit behind the 8-ball.</p><p>Spring break begins on Friday afternoon so I'm okay with feeling a little behind for five days. Of course, some things must be done. Clothes must be cleaned, and food prep of some sort must occur.</p><p>This week I'll take my advice from Anne Lamott and take it all bird by bird. </p><p>Before I know it, Friday afternoon will arrive.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-35841816093504570602024-03-16T10:12:00.001-04:002024-03-16T10:12:21.742-04:00Love Trains<p>My first big train ride was an overnight trip through the small villages of the Soviet Union. I was 17 and traveling with a small group from my high school. Somehow we all managed to survive 4 years of Russian class. The 8-day trip was the reward for sticking it out.</p><p>I can't remember where the train started or ended, but I remember traveling through the darkness only being able to see the occasional illuminated windows in the cottages that dotted the countryside. Russia was like nothing I'd ever seen, but when I think about it these days I'd say the director of Dr. Zhivago got the landscape right.</p><p>On that overnight journey, I absolutely fell in love with train travel. </p><p>Twenty years ago I was lucky enough to travel across the US and Canada by rail. I spent about 3 weeks on and off the train, sometimes for as much as 35 hours. At night I'd sleep curled up in my seat, unable to afford the luxury of a sleeper car at that time. I loved the gentle jostling of the car as it rocked me to sleep each night. Upon waking I would look out the window and see how the landscape had changed while I slumbered. I was fortunate to see a few bears, sea lions, and a moose.</p><p>Yesterday I boarded the train again. I left the tiny train station in Alexandria, VA ready for a 2-hour journey to Charlottesville. When I heard the first clickety-clack sounds of the train's wheels passing over the rail joints my heart soared as a smile spread across my face. I opened up my book fully intending to get some reading in but spent most of the time gazing out the window at the passing scenery.</p><p>I thought back to that first train ride in 1979 before texting my high school buddy Ed.</p><p><i>When we took the train in USSR what was our route?</i></p><p><i>Maybe we took the train from Leningrad to... I can't remember </i></p><p>I told him I was on the way to Charlottesville. Through text, we tried to recall the details of the trip that took place so long ago. We couldn't agree on where we were but we agreed on one thing. </p><p>Ed texted, <i>I love trains.</i></p><p><i>Me too!</i></p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-55701333277917072862024-03-15T15:12:00.002-04:002024-03-15T15:12:45.792-04:00Busy, Busy Day<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Student-led conferences means:</span></p><p></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Tons of talking.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Numerous head nods.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Smiles for miles.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Applause for all.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Delivering tough news directly, but respectfully.</span></li></ol><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I know it's not a favorite day for many teachers, but it's one of my favorites.</span></div><p></p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-85066827129688913572024-03-14T19:29:00.001-04:002024-03-14T20:49:29.319-04:00Let Me Tell You About Inflation Kid<p> The young man at the counter was probably about 10 or 11. He hadn't come to Ayers Hardware and Variety to get anything in the hardware department. He and his friend were there for the variety items, specifically, they were there for candy and a soda.</p><p>I remember doing the same thing at his age. Summer days in the 70s meant a walk up Route 24 with my best friend, Suzanne. Our destination was 7-11, and our choices were a soda and a snack. My go-to was a Dr. Pepper and a Slim Jim. Suzanne was a Mountain Dew girl, her pairing was usually a bag of Fritos. I have fond memories of those walks, which we usually took barefoot. Honestly, most of the summer was spent barefoot.</p><p>So, I watched intently this afternoon as the young man waited for his friend to pay before he placed his items on the counter. He had some delightful choices: a cold Pepsi and a dispenser of Bubble Yum tape. The cashier rang up his items and I'd say we were both surprised to hear that the total was $2.50. He did an obvious double-take before slowly reaching into the pockets of his blue gym shorts. He pulled out his young-man wad of ones and was obviously disappointed when his wad of ones turned out to be two folded dollar bills. His face fell a bit before he pushed the Bubble Yum tape back toward the cashier.</p><p>"Uhm, can I just put this back?"</p><p>The cashier was just about to delete the item. In that second all those memories of Suzanne and I came rushing back. </p><p>"I'll spot him the 50 cents," I piped up.</p><p>Because after all, how often are you presented with the opportunity to help someone and go back 50 years at the same time?</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-21046071154584171172024-03-13T18:25:00.005-04:002024-03-13T19:55:19.642-04:00Uhm, That Sounds Made Up<p>These days before Spring Break are always tricky ones. The pupils are having a tough time staying tuned in. I think if I could present my lesson on Snapchat I might have a chance. </p><p>This afternoon I noticed a student spending a lot of time looking down at the floor on the side of his desk. It was obvious to me that he was on his phone but I couldn't quite catch him in the act. Finally, I took a chance, "Brandon, give me your phone."</p><p>I was intrigued when he offered no resistance. There was no "I don't have a phone," he simply stood up and handed it to me.</p><p>"It's off, right?" I asked.</p><p>"Uh, yeah, it's off," he answered.</p><p>With the phone in my palm, I tapped the screen and watched it come alive- it was very much on.</p><p>And then there was a buzz.</p><p>"Hey," I called, "a new Snapchat just came in."</p><p>The phone sat on my desk all through lunch. By the end of that time, there were about 6 or 7 Snapchat notifications, a few text messages, a phone call, and a couple of TikTok notifications.</p><p>After lunch, I called Brandon out into the hall where he explained that his phone was off, but he turned it on to check the time.</p><p>I tilted my face and gave him a look. The kind of look a teacher gives when they know what they're hearing is absolutely made up. </p><p>"The time? That's on your iPad and the clock on the wall. So, how about you tell me the truth now."</p><p>He stopped and considered his options before finally relenting, "I was checking my messages."</p><p>"So, it was on the whole time?" I asked. </p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Thanks for telling the truth, I appreciate it," I replied with true sincerity, "Your phone will be in the office at the end of the day."</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-7658185996986426092024-03-12T20:04:00.000-04:002024-03-12T20:04:46.916-04:00Can I Get More Work To Make Up For The Work I DIdn't Do Before?<p>Spring conferences are this Friday. Since students are the star of the Student-led conference, interest in grades has increased in the past few days. </p><p>It's not uncommon to see a dip in grades during the third quarter. Teachers expect more and some students would rather put effort into their social life than academic life. I expect I'll be getting a few extra emails tomorrow and Thursday asking for advice on the steps needed to bring up a grade.</p><p>Oh, if only these students knew about the days of extra credit. It was only a few years ago that those student procrastinators could wait until practically the zero-hour before a teacher waved a white flag of sorts- the extra credit assignment. I broke up with extra credit assignments over 10 years ago. </p><p>When asked about such a thing I'd shake my head and ask, "So, you want me to give you work to bring up your grade? So you want to give me more work because you didn't do your work the first time around? Sorry, I'm not up for that."<br /></p><p><br /></p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-91797655176334504412024-03-11T17:34:00.002-04:002024-03-11T17:59:20.778-04:00Manic Monday<p>"She has a sub, but he's running late. I'm sorry I don't have someone to send downstairs. There are 26 staff members out today," the voice on the line responded.</p><p>There are 5 teachers in my small team area. Today 3 of them were out. Two had subs, one had a sub who would be coming at some point. When that point was? Who knows.</p><p>Fortunately, my classroom neighbor, Starr, was able to take over for the homeroom period. As the time passed and 1st period seemed even closer I knew I better check the status of the missing sub.</p><p>"Is there any word on Miller's sub?" I asked.</p><p>"He's running late, but we'll send him right down when he gets here," the voice replied.</p><p>I wasn't quite sure how I would handle two classes at once. Starr had a class in another area of the school in 10 minutes.</p><p>"Uh...I'm the only one down here. Starr has a class in 10 minutes. If no one shows up by 8:30, I'm sending the class to the office."</p><p>That did the trick.</p><p>"I can help," the voice replied, "I'll be right down."</p><p>Within two minutes one of the school counselors walked in with a smile and a let's go attitude.</p><p>She wasn't there long, eventually the late guy showed up. </p><p>The rest of the day went off without too many issues. Not too bad for a Monday.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-72147767117137956912024-03-10T16:55:00.000-04:002024-03-10T16:55:04.488-04:00This Too Shall Pass<p>Darkness will return for my Monday morning commute. After driving in post-sunrise for about two weeks, returning to the dark side will be tough. </p><p>Fortunately, I've learned everything is temporary. As I look at the calendar of sunrise/sunset times I see that the sun will return just about the time I return from Spring Break. So, I just need to put up with two weeks of darkness.</p><p>I can do that, but I will be whining just a bit along the way.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-69209915485589940382024-03-09T18:39:00.000-05:002024-03-09T18:39:13.371-05:00Rainy Days<p>I completely leaned into the rainy gray Saturday in the DC area. After throwing in a load of laundry I settled into my usual morning games and puzzles. It was almost 11:00 when I realized I hadn't written a "Slice" on my classroom discussion board. The 100-Day Writing challenge is underway in my 6th-grade English class. This year my English CLT friends talked me into writing each day with my students. Sometimes I add my post when I create the discussion board, but yesterday in my rush to leave work I did not get it done.</p><p>When I logged on at 11:30 I was surprised not one student had posted yet. Perhaps I wasn't the only one leaning into the rainy day.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-34544750667120374902024-03-08T17:20:00.002-05:002024-03-08T17:20:55.303-05:00Friday's Contest<p>The Washington Post used to run a weekly neologism contest where they would ask readers to come up with a new word for everyday occurrences. I don't think it's happened in a while, but I was reminded of the weekly event when I considered an everyday occurrence in my own classroom.</p><p>So, I ask you, the readers, to come up with a term to describe the following situation: The teacher has taken time to review directions orally and posted them on the Smartboard. She-that's me by the way- has also asked anyone with questions to raise their hands. She has also had a student repeat the directions and again asked if there were any questions. Not a hand goes up and yet when the said teacher returns to her desk there is a line of students with questions about what to do.</p><p>What would you call that line?</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-77714444394760579492024-03-07T20:09:00.002-05:002024-03-07T20:09:41.342-05:00Listen and Learn<p>My friend, and colleague, at <a href="https://tswalkingthedog.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Walking the Dog</a> has taught 6th-grade English for over 30 years. She's the kind of teacher that rethinks her lessons each year, never relying on what was successful, in years past. Like her, I understand what is good for one group of 6th graders may not be good for another group of 6th graders. </p><p>Besides having a firm grasp of the pedagogy of 6th-grade English she fully understands the developing brain of 12-year-olds. I even took an adolescent development course from her.</p><p>So because of all that I always listen up when she shares something new she tried in class. </p><p>Recently she reported on her use of stations in class. This former elementary teacher loves stations, but I was having a hard time seeing how I could use them in class.</p><p>"C'mon," she urged, "it's going to be great! You'll see."</p><p>I nodded and agreed to try but definitely dragged my feet a bit on implementation.</p><p>Eventually, I decided to jump right in. I mean, I didn't want my friend to be disappointed in me, right?</p><p>Stations are Awesome!</p><p>Why, you ask? Teaching in a 90-minute block is tough on 12-year-olds, especially 12-year-olds who spent about a year "learning" in their pajamas while in bed. Many of those kids admit to merely tuning into their class and not much more. For some, the pandemic years were lazy ones.</p><p>Thanks to all that laziness, many students are lacking stamina. When it's time to get down to work, many choose to go to the bathroom instead.</p><p>Students work at each station for 20 minutes. Restroom time is limited to the breaks that occur between stations.</p><p>As groups work it's easier to move around and help those in need simply because some activities are more self-directed than others.</p><p>The restroom sign-out sheet is down to an average of 3 students per class, about 1/3 of what it usually is.</p><p>That's some data I can get behind.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-21812188761536685792024-03-06T19:13:00.001-05:002024-03-06T19:13:54.988-05:00Price Alert<p>I don't typically do my grocery shopping at multiple stores. Since my sister keeps telling me to check out the low prices at Aldi I decided to stop in and give it a try. </p><p>I used to run into my local Aldi for one thing- they had zero-carb bread. That was a plus when I was trying a "Lazy Keto" diet. After a while, I grew tired of the second stop for groceries so I put Aldi on the back burner and focused on one-store shopping.</p><p>I picked up cauliflower, mushrooms, and some salmon and ran to my car to head to Safeway for cat food.</p><p>Out of curiosity, I checked the price of cauliflower at stop number two. The price difference was astonishing. </p><p>Aldi- $2.79</p><p>Safeway- $3.49</p><p>I'm sure I'll eventually return to my 1-stop shopping habit, but I'll be sure to stop in at Aldi whenever it's convenient and whenever I don't need food for the finicky felines.</p><p><br /></p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-36874597661520585192024-03-05T18:30:00.000-05:002024-03-05T18:30:44.153-05:00Right Back At Ya<p> For all the years I was in high school my mother's go-to wake-up call came from the bottom stair of those leading to the upstairs bedrooms.</p><p>"MAR-EEE!" she would yell, "IT'S TIME TO GET UP!"</p><p>It was not quite the June Cleaver method- more like calling pigs home after a long day on the farm.</p><p>If my bedroom door didn't open so she could see me walking to the bathroom round two came 3-4 minutes later.</p><p>"GET UP! GET UP! MAR-EEE! GET UP!" echoed in the hallway until I finally shuffled across the hall.</p><p>This morning, I finally got my payback. I was in Bel Air to take her to an early morning doctor's appointment. Honestly, the appointment was only early by her standards. I find a 10:00 am check-in time to be very civilized.</p><p>Last night she asked that I wake her up at 8:00 am.</p><p>"Really?" I replied.</p><p>I shook my head and asked, "Don't you have an alarm clock?"</p><p>I dislike waking people up, it's silly I know, but it seems like an adult should be able to get their ass out of bed on their own.</p><p>Walking over to her wing of the house this morning I felt a smile come across my face.</p><p>"MOM! MOM! IT'S TIME TO GET UP!" I screamed.</p><p>It took a turn or two, but eventually, I heard a groggy, "Okay."</p><p>As I turned to leave I pounded out one big bang on her bedroom door.</p><p>"I'm coming back in 15 minutes and you better be out of bed!"</p><p>Payback was 44 years in coming but it felt pretty good.</p><p><br /></p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-11566884557599917272024-03-04T17:27:00.002-05:002024-03-04T17:27:19.154-05:00Happy Sunday Night!<p>Some days it feels like there's much unhappiness in the world. You don't have to watch TV or scroll your computer for too long before your good mood starts to deflate. Last night I entered the doors of a local music venue and found myself in a room of happiness.</p><p>Mother's Finest, a band I've never heard of, was playing. The show was a sellout. As I sat waiting for the music to start, I watched as groups of friends chatted, smiled, and laughed out loud. Gary was sitting at the table next to us. He's from the class of '77 of a nearby high school and seemed to know almost everyone there. </p><p>"Is this some sort of reunion for you all?" Mary asked.</p><p>"Nah, we all just ended up in the same place tonight," he smiled.</p><p>Mother's Finest was formed as a funk rock band in the 70s in, as Gary said, "the greatest decade for music."</p><p>Once the music started the happiness meter was off the charts. There was dancing, hootin', and hollerin'. There was also a whole lot of smiling.</p><p>It's been a long time since I've been somewhere that exudes such happiness. I have to say, it was a great way to start off the week.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-73659095935985100362024-03-03T14:47:00.000-05:002024-03-03T14:47:09.364-05:00Stepping Out<p>My biggest revolution as an adult has been that I work best with 8 hours of sleep. Since my alarm goes off at 5:00 am, I try to make my way upstairs at a time that is about the same time I begrudgingly went to bed in elementary school. Back then, I assumed there was all kinds of fun after my early bedtime. These days I often pass on school night invitations if they mean staying out later than 9:00 pm.</p><p>So when I got an email from a long-time friend inviting me to a concert tonight I hesitated at first. I have no idea who the band is other than they are a funk rock band that formed in the 70s.</p><p>What I do know is how much I enjoy hanging out with this particular friend, one of the first people I met when I moved to the area close to 40 years ago. So tonight, I'll stay up and enjoy some of that fun I was sure was happening way back when.</p><p>My 10-year-old self would be so excited.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-24556194212312069962024-03-02T18:24:00.000-05:002024-03-02T18:24:00.028-05:00Vision<p>I went to college about 90 minutes from where I live, so I have many friends from that time in the area. Our social get-togethers are so frequent that instead of trying to label what they are, we just call each gathering an alumni event.</p><p>Today's alumni event was cooked up by me. We met up to check out a fabulous photography exhibit at the National Gallery. Dorothea Lange was a well-known photojournalist. Her Depression-era photos are memorable and include the well-known photo entitled Migrant Mother. Walking through the gallery I studied the close-up of each face in the photos. The eighteen-year-old mother looked more like she was forty. Weathered faces looked outward with a blank stare. They were deep in thought. I can only assume they were wondering how they would get through another day.</p><p>I looked at Julie, "The Depression Era is depressing."</p><p>"Yea-uh," she replied as she took in a breath.</p><p>Lange's work offers a glimpse at life during the Depression and the day-to-day existence of those living in Japanese internment camps. She also traveled to Indonesia, Vietnam, and Ireland. Each close-up she took told a story of its own. </p><p>The quote at the end of the exhibit brought it all together for me. </p><p>"The whole world is a museum. To walk through the streets, as though down a museum corridor... To step into a supermarket as though setting forth in the National Gallery- is an experience and exercise in vision."</p><p>Yes, Dorothea Lange was a woman with vision and I thank her for that.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-51123882990574471462024-03-01T18:07:00.000-05:002024-03-01T18:07:08.219-05:00Watch Cat<p>My writing group came over for dinner last night. As usual, we had great food and wonderful conversation. The only person who didn't enjoy the evening was my cat, Edgar. He started raising concerns when I moved his heated blanket off the couch long before the guests arrived. </p><p>His concern amped up to full-blown anxiety when I started making dinner. He sat on the dining room table, smack in the middle, and raised his head to project his strongest, from the gut, meow.</p><p>Eventually, the writers arrived. Edgar sauntered over to the door to inspect Ellen as she came in. He let her pass, as he did the others.</p><p>Apparently, he wasn't quite sure they could be trusted. (They can.) Edgar stayed close to me throughout the evening. </p><p>Tonight he is curled up behind me on the couch. He's sleeping with one eye open and trained on the door. After all, you never know what kind of strangers may come walking through the entry.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-55187824879196312172023-04-01T18:23:00.004-04:002023-04-01T18:23:23.337-04:00So Close<p>I parked my mom in front of the 25-cent slot machine at the Ocean Downs Casino. I told her I'd be back as soon as I lost the $20 she gave me to spend. Wandering around the casino in search of some sort of sign I was surprised by the number of people, young and old, parked in front of some sort of gambling machine. With the ring of dropping coins in my ear, I settled in at the Hot Peppers penny slot machine, remembering the luck my friend Chuck had with a similar type of machine in Las Vegas years ago.</p><p>I had no such luck and within about 10 minutes had cashed out with a mere 9 cents on my paper voucher. Returning to my mother I found her sitting on a stool near where I left her.</p><p>"What, did you lose all your money already?" I asked.</p><p>My mom replied, "I went to the bathroom and that lady took my machine."</p><p>I laughed and reminded her that we had just had a discussion about her wearing Depends this morning. </p><p>We wandered around looking for another suitable 25-cent slot and eventually settled in next to each other, me as the observer, and Mom as the gambler.</p><p>In the end, I left with $20 but only because my mom slipped me another twenty and I cashed out the minute it went to $20.50.</p><p>On our way out we passed by the first machine my mother had bet on. Her eyes popped when she saw the same older woman who had taken her seat, sitting in front of the same machine, waiting for someone to pay her the two-thousand dollars she had just won.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-62218135476845385332023-03-30T19:21:00.001-04:002023-03-30T19:21:43.120-04:00March is Bustin' Out All Over<p>My least favorite thing about spring is all the pollen flying around. No matter how beautiful the day, how lovely the breeze was, my windows stayed shut until July. Even so, my throat is covered in yuck and my nose is stuffed with more yuck.</p><p>The poor woman who sat next to me at physical therapy doesn't know my history of allergies. So, when I started hacking while sitting less than 1 foot from her I wasn't surprised to see her quickly and quietly pull a mask from her pocket to cover up.</p><p>This afternoon, I did my best to relax as the lovely lady at the nail salon worked on my pedicure. She didn't react to my first few coughs but by the time I really got going, she pulled up her mask and then graciously offered me a bottle of water.</p><p>I'm hopeful everything that needs to "bust out all over" will get busting soon.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-48258819610623779272023-03-29T19:22:00.001-04:002023-03-29T19:22:19.398-04:00Beach Memories<p>My parents met in a small beach town on the coast of Maryland. From that first meeting came a romance, a wedding, and then four children. I've been going to Ocean City, Maryland for as long as I can remember. First with my family and then with others. The summers I don't remember have been captured in old black-and-white movies and photos. </p><p>As a teenager, I started going down to the beach with friends. I spent a week with friends before my Senior year of high school and the requisite beach week of beer and shenanigans after graduating.</p><p>In my early 20s, I'd take a day trip down on my days off in the summer keeping the beach tradition alive.</p><p>Once I moved to DC the trips to OC were fewer. Even so, each and every trip was like a walk back in time. I could see myself as a 5-year-old laughing and screaming on the kiddie rides, then as a teenager banging into every car imaginable on the bumper cars. I have a vision of me walking the beach at night with my best friend Suzanne in search of the cute boys we'd run into earlier, and stopping in disbelief when I heard that Elvis Presley had died. Every block of the 9-mile stretch holds some sort of memory, so it's easy to get lost in thoughts when I'm there.</p><p>This weekend I'll be taking my mom for an overnight- the second trip we've taken there since my dad died over a year and a half ago. I like to hear the stories she tells of the times she spent there. Well, every story except for when she points out the hotel where my brother was conceived- that one not so much.</p><p>There was the hurricane they rode out in Ocean City, and the hotel she and her best friend Ruth stayed in the year they met my dad. She'll tell me how there was nothing past 42nd Street for many years, she'll wonder how they ever found room for all the condos that have been built in the last 30 years. </p><p>And then there will be times of quiet. Times when we will both be, no doubt, completely in our own heads thinking of our own memories that occurred in that tiny little beach town.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-67618429138583680372023-03-28T19:30:00.000-04:002023-03-28T19:30:21.139-04:00Edgar Time<p>My cat Edgar and I have a little evening ritual. He meows and meows until I sit down in the recliner so he can stand on my chest and knead on me. For the most part, Edgar is quite the introvert. He has no interest in being held and gives many a look of disgust when I pet him for too long. He likes companionship on his own terms.</p><p>So, most evenings from about 7 to 7:30 you can find me stretched out on the recliner giving Edgar time to show his love at his own pace, and in his own way.</p><p>As a fellow introvert, I understand him more than he gives me credit for.</p><p><br /></p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-30322028215789171612023-03-27T17:35:00.000-04:002023-03-27T17:35:37.892-04:00Crawling Towards Break<p>An overcast Monday means a low-key day in the classroom. I guess that's nice. But honestly, all that lack of energy just made me tired. Even with my own low-key energy, I stayed alert as long as I could after work. Long enough to grade a few projects that needed grading.</p><p>Once at home, I dragged myself out for a walk around the neighborhood in the hopes of perking up a bit. So far, that didn't seem to do the trick. So, I'll be eyeing the clock and the sunset time to see when I can crawl back into bed and dream about Spring Break next week.</p><p>It's going to be a long week.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-49573088197862263742023-03-26T18:37:00.002-04:002023-03-26T18:37:11.650-04:00Tea Time<p>Growing up soda was a luxury- the kind of drink I got on vacation, out on a boat while crabbing, or when I spent the night at Granny's house. At home, we had Kool-Aid, water, or Hi-C.</p><p>As I got older the Kool-Aid and Hi-C disappeared and were replaced by iced tea, my mother's fresh brewed iced tea, complete with the sugar boiled right in. The big iced tea container, complete with its own spout usually made its first appearance around Memorial Day. It could always be found ready to serve in our avocado green refrigerator.</p><p>Eventually, I started watching my mother make the tea. Every other day or so she would take out the small saucepan and fill it up with water. Next came a cup of sugar poured into the pan, followed by 10-12 tea bags. The tea bags were stripped of any tags so they would not catch fire while dangling so close to the heat of the stovetop. Once everything came to a boil, and before it started spilling onto the stovetop, my mom removed it from the heat to steep for what seemed like forever.</p><p>Finally, she would pour the brown liquid into the spouted container. Then came time to wring out the tea bags into another pot of cold water. That light brown liquid would be added, followed by whatever amount of water was needed to fill up the container. </p><p>It was always perfect.</p><p>When I moved out, I took my mom's iced tea recipe with me. I cut the sugar out of it and impressed many a housemate with my tea-brewing skills. Those first few years when money was tight I always had something cool and delicious to drink on hot summer days. </p><p>For me, iced tea season still starts around Memorial Day. However, today's clear blue skies and warm sun reminded me I need to fish out my small "ice tea pan" and check my supply of tea bags.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1632464187525115742.post-38944329491595624582023-03-25T21:53:00.000-04:002023-03-25T21:53:51.387-04:00A Different Saturday<p>This rainy Saturday started like most Saturdays. My eyes opened when they were ready and I had the first load of laundry going before I walked downstairs for coffee. Eventually, I made it back upstairs to deal with the growing piles of clothes, some dirty, some not, that had been growing on the loveseat in my bedroom. </p><p>Once the clothes were sorted and off to their next destination I laced up my sneakers and headed down to the gym for a little cycling. After getting permission from my physical therapist I ended my exercise session with a little elliptical time.</p><p>By 3:00 PM laundry was done and the house was sort of tidy, and my afternoon would have gone on like a lot of Saturday afternoons- me procrastinating grading by thinking up things to research on the internet.</p><p>This Saturday afternoon was going to be different, I needed to get myself cleaned up for a friend's arrival around 4:30. Julie and I were heading across the river for dinner and a play.</p><p>We took in a show called, "This Girl Laughs, This Girl Cries, This Girl Does Nothing" at the Anacostia Playhouse. It was a coming-of-age play about three sisters, abandoned in the woods by their father. They, in turn, go off into the world to find their passions. There were sad moments, tender moments, and laugh-out-loud moments. Thanks to the intimacy of the black box theater there wasn't a bad seat in the house. </p><p>So maybe this day started off like many others, but it didn't end that way. I like that.</p>Maryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14242185120771682606noreply@blogger.com2