The Chicken Dance

Some people may think it's a bit much to drive 90 miles just to eat some wings. My sister and I are not those people, so yesterday we headed out from her house north of Baltimore to Philadelphia to visit Moriarity's Tavern, home of our favorite wings.

We discovered Moriarity's about 20 years ago when we were hitting up some of the historical sights with my nephew, Michael. The three of us were walking down Walnut Street on our way to an evening walking tour around Constitution Hall. We decided to check out an Irish tavern and were delighted to find some great food. We started with wings. Each of us took a bite at the same time and instantly raised our eyes to each other.

Michael swallowed, "These are amazing."

Michael knows his wings, after all, his dad had been cooking them up in an air fryer for years at this point. Wings were a staple during our beach vacations.

The wings were amazing. We talked about the crispiness and the perfect amount of sauce. As cool as that nighttime walking tour was, the wings were the highlight of the trip.

As great as they were, they were eventually forgotten. Actually, it wasn't the wings that were forgotten- it was the name of the restaurant. 

Ten years later, I was back in Philly with a college friend. We were in town to go to her niece's college lacrosse game at UPenn. We arrived late Friday night around eight. The first thing we wanted to do was to find some food. In a lucky twist of fate, the hotel concierge directed us to an Irish Pub a few blocks away.

Walking in, I recognized everything about the place immediately. My friend didn't quite understand my excitement, but my sister did when I sent her a picture.

It's the wing place!

I made sure to grab a complimentary magnet on my way out. I was never going to forget the name again.

Feeling Groovy

My 3-part plan for feeling 100 percent!

Part 1-As part of my continual quest to work on my general aches and pains, I started physical therapy for lower back pain today. It was just Friday that I received a referral. Being able to get going today seemed like a good sign for the new PT place that I chose. Today was a simple evaluation, so I did a lot of bending and strength showing. This is my baseline data. In the meantime, I'll be bridging, squeezing each knee up to my chest, stretching my hips, and doing some isometric exercises.

Part 2- My eyes! It's time for this ol' gal to get her cataracts taken care of. In the next three weeks, I'll be taking care of both eyes and working toward better vision. Sometimes I feel like I see just fine, but then this morning, as I waited for PT to begin, I noticed just how fuzzy people in the distance looked. I will still use my readers for anything small and up close, but that doesn't bother me. After all, most of my friends have readers atop their heads serving as a hairband and a ready-to-go vision tool.

Part 3- It's time for an iron adjustment. I've been anemic for as long as I can remember, but sometimes my iron levels drop low enough to warrant a little help. Mostly, it makes me lethargic, so motivating myself to get out and exercise can be a struggle. The funny story is that my high school friend, Ed, recently told me he thought I was stoned in high school. I was not. Well, maybe once, but that's a whole other story- one I'll blame on my brother, Joe. I haven't had to get any infusions for over ten years, but I still remember how great I felt afterwards. I'm excited for Iron!

Right now I'm feeling about 75%, but just you wait until June. I see that number shooting way up!

Sunny Side Up

Today's activity was a fundraiser for an area non-profit. Homestretch, in Falls Church, works with unhoused families to provide training and shelter to improve their lives. I certainly like the work I do, so participating in a "Brunch Crawl" wasn't a big ask.

Our small group started at a Turkish restaurant for a lovely flatbread egg sandwich,  a side of baklava, and tea. From there, we ambled around the City of Falls Church to five other restaurants for small tastes of brunchy deliciousness.

There was a beautifully plated "Mini Brunch Poutine" topped with a tiny sunny-side up quail egg. It was paired with a yogurt, granola, and berry combination and a pomegranate mimosa. This was by far my favorite. I also enjoyed a small taste of chicken and waffles.

Everywhere we went was lovely, but as you can probably imagine, by the time we wrapped up at the final location, everyone in the group was pretty full.

Dinner was a light one tonight.

Waiting On A Friend

I didn't know many people in the Arlington area when I first moved here. I had a few college friends over in Maryland, but I really didn't know anyone other than my three housemates, whom I'd just met.

Fortunately, that all changed when a new employee started in HR at the Smithsonian. Mary C. was sent down to my office so I could train her on the latest computer program in use. I had been in HR since April,  and Mary C. arrived sometime in July. Obviously, I was the expert with 3 months of experience.

It didn't take long for Mary to become my first friend in Arlington. That was 40 years ago. 

We may be 40 years older, but every get-together is just as fun and silly as those first ones we shared way back in our twenties.

My job at the Smithsonian may not have led to a career in Human Resources, and that's okay. I got something better- a lifelong friend.

Growing Up

By the time I was heading to kindergarten, we had already moved from our house on Hollen Rd. south to Silver Spring, MD.

It wasn't until my siblings and I drove by on Saturday that I realized how hard that move must have been for my dad. Silver Spring was not his wife's choice. She found him a job opening back in Baltimore a few years later, and we headed back to Baltimore. I can't imagine it was his choice either. He had grown up so close to our house on Hollen Rd., and by all accounts, his childhood was nothing short of magical. He was only ten when his dad died, but that became just about the only sad memory of his time on Govane Ave. 

Driving home after our drive through family history, I thought about what it would have been like if we had stayed. We would have been so close to my dad's family. His cousins actually lived up the street from us, and his mom and aunt lived in an apartment nearby. Silver Spring was 40 miles away from the magical land of Govans.

I have a feeling that when he bought that first house, his only hope was that his own children would be able to experience the same magical childhood that he did. If I could, I would tell him that my childhood was full of stories, just like his. Maybe I didn't have his childhood, but I had mine, and it was pretty darn good.

Under Pressure

My niece, Mary, is closing in on her first year of teaching. Her group of 1st graders has been quite the handful. Just yesterday, her principal acknowledged just how tough her group is. He told her that other teachers have seen her class in the cafeteria and just shake their heads, wondering how the first-year teacher is handling such a tough group.

Fortunately, Mary has an aunt and a mother who have a great deal of classroom experience. We both know that just coming home and talking through the problems of the day is helpful. We've both been there, and we know advice isn't always what's needed. Sometimes you need to just talk it out. 

Even so, it's been a stressful year. Yesterday, thanks to her new Oura Ring, Mary was able to show me how stressful her days can be. 

"Do you see how the graph shoots up here around noon? That shows my stress level increasing, " she said.

"What happens then?"

"So, that's when I pick them up from specials, and all I'm doing is freaking out, wondering what kind of shit show the afternoon is going to be," she laughed.

It's great that she's laughing. Every teacher knows the first year is one of the hardest. Mary knows that figuring out your own classroom management isn't learned in school. It comes with practice. She knows every year will get better; she also knows she's had a lot of wonderful moments teaching this year, mixed in with all the stress.

Unbelievable

My working self always saw Sunday afternoon as the start of getting ready for the workweek. Somewhere around 4 pm, I would switch from weekend mode to work mode. All of my friends recognized the pattern. If we were out of town for the weekend, they knew I would start getting antsy to head home as soon as noontime was in sight.

Well, those days ended with retirement. I'm still a gal who likes to get in bed early, but I no longer have to worry about last-minute grading, food prep, or figuring out what to wear.

Yesterday, my younger friend, Julie, and I went out for a late afternoon stroll. Since our walk took us right by a neighborhood tavern, we decided to pop in for a beer to reward ourselves for getting out and getting moving. 

"Can you believe it's been a year since I gave my official notice of retirement?' I asked, "I mean, I still can't believe it!"

Julie laughed, "I don't know about that, all I know is I can't believe I got you to have a beer at 5 on a Sunday afternoon."