So Close

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.

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.

"What, did you lose all your money already?" I asked.

My mom replied, "I went to the bathroom and that lady took my machine."

I laughed and reminded her that we had just had a discussion about her wearing Depends this morning. 

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.

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.

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.

March is Bustin' Out All Over

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.

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.

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.

I'm hopeful everything that needs to "bust out all over" will get busting soon.

Beach Memories

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. 

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.

In my early 20s, I'd take a day trip down on my days off in the summer keeping the beach tradition alive.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

Edgar Time

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.

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.

As a fellow introvert, I understand him more than he gives me credit for.

Crawling Towards Break

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.

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.

It's going to be a long week.

Tea Time

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.

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.

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.

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. 

It was always perfect.

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. 

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.

A Different Saturday

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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. 

So maybe this day started off like many others, but it didn't end that way. I like that.

A Study in Pink

I caught a quick glimpse of the cherry blossoms that surround the Tidal Basin in DC as the bus returned from our field trip to the Nation's Capital on Wednesday. On that day they were close to peak bloom. Talk of the cherry blossoms begins early in the DC area. It was about a month ago that local newscasters started talking about when peak bloom may arrive. Of course, those dates change as much as the weather does around here, so to be downtown on a beautiful day with 70% of the trees in bloom is quite a thing. Unfortunately, I never got a closer view since my group was hanging out at the Air and Space Museum.

I've seen the splendor of pink that surrounds the Tidal Basin many times. When I was working at the nearby Smithsonian Institution it was easy to stroll over during lunch hour.  Some years, I've pedaled my way into town, locked up my bike near the Jefferson Memorial, and taken my time to walk all the way around the Tidal Basin to enjoy a variety of views through my camera lens.

It's hard to tell if I'll get down before the blooms disappear this year. Whatever happens, I can take solace in the beautiful tree that was in full, 100% bloom outside of the window at physical therapy this afternoon. I took in all the shades of pink for ten minutes as I cycled away on the recumbent bike.

All Smiles Today

I count today as a perfect day simply because I saw a smile from one student who seemed to hate every moment of my class this year.

Max and I have misunderstood each other all year long. Even though I make it a point to greet him and every other student at the door as they arrive I've barely received a quiet grunt in return.

Today we took notes on setting and reviewed sensory detail. Then we viewed a series of pictures so the students could practice the art using sensory details to describe the setting. My only directions were to "put yourself in the picture and describe what you see, hear, feel, smell, or taste."

Max volunteered to share his writing each and every time, and it was darn good. Yes, I saw the smile that's been hiding for so long. It made me wish class could go on a bit longer.

In the Middle of all the Action

It's been nearly 35 years since I left my job in the personnel office of the Smithsonian Institution. Having a pretty much mindless job as a personnel assistant in the middle of so many museums offered a lot of perks. As a present-day teacher, I miss the lunch HOURS the most.

Warm days meant someone would grab the blanket stashed under Polly's desk so we could picnic on the mall in the shade of the old castle. Naps were common on those days and it was more than once that I or one of my friends slept past the end of our allotted time. 

Wintertime meant the lunch gang would head out to a restaurant nearby or maybe to the ice skating rink. There were pizza-eating contests at the all-you-can-eat Armand's and plenty of laughs when we watched our buddy and Minnesotan, Ted,  fall on the ice as he experienced toe clips on an ice skate for the first time ever.

I had a few different bosses during my time there and they were all extremely laid back. So when I found out they were filming a movie right in front of my office at the Arts and Industries Building I asked my boss, Pete, if I could go out to watch.

"Pete, can I go watch the filming?"

I was surprised to see him look so serious, afraid he'd say no, I upped my plea.

"C'mon, Robert Downey Jr. is out there," I pleaded.

No response.

I smiled, "Cybil Shepard is too!"

He stood up in a snap, "How does my hair look?"

With a quick glance in the mirror, we were out the door.

Bon Appetite!

Three after-school commitments and a stop at the pharmacy means this girl didn't get home from work until 7:30. I was welcomed by the urgent cries of two cats who demanded an explanation. Why? Why had I missed the usual 5:00 pm feeding time?

I hear ya, fellas! As I left my last appointment on the way to pick up some prescriptions I started to consider what I'd be eating myself. I was way past hungry and almost to the point of McDonald's drive-thru. I couldn't bring myself to go to McDonald's so I chose the somewhat healthier option of cereal for dinner. After all, I was going by the grocery store anyway and it could be in a bowl and ready for me to eat within about 3 minutes of walking in the door. (Three minutes saved to feed those demanding cats.)

I haven't had cereal in the house in about 3 years- it's one of those carb-heavy things I cut out of my life when I dabbled in the Keto diet during the early days of the pandemic. I chose wisely tonight and grabbed a box of Raisin Bran and a small container of fat-free milk.  

From the first spoonful to the last, it was a delight! I know better than to bring cereal back on a regular basis but every now and then it sure makes for a nice, quick meal.

Finally!

It took me about three years to realize the new bed I had purchased was not for me. Shortly after buying the bed, I began to have back problems. I was seeing my chiropractor on a bi-weekly basis just so she could straighten out my twisted spine and work on the muscles that were inflamed in my back. I went to several doctors and the first thing they asked was always, "do you need a new bed?"

My reply was always the same, "I just bought a new bed!"

The back issues continued. Last fall things really came to a head when I found myself so out of whack that I could hardly move. My back muscles were angry and spasming. Whenever I woke up in the morning my sheets were twisted around and pillows were kicked to the floor. I was a Class-A restless sleeper.

Finally, I decided to start sleeping on my old mattress to see if that helped. Honestly, it did until a friend suggested I try a memory foam topper. That suggestion sidelined me yet again but allowed me to realize it was the memory foam that was taking me down. My bed was firm but the memory foam had apparently lost its memory and I found myself sinking into the mattress each night as I twisted my body to roll over.

I feel foolish that it took so long to figure the problem out.

I hit up the local Mattress Firm for a new bed a few months ago and was determined to get the firmest mattress available. Turns out that isn't always great for the shoulders as I found them to be sort of numb each morning. Next, I worked on finding the best pillows, and then finally this past weekend I added a cushioned (not memory foam) mattress cover.

This morning I woke to find the sheets in perfect condition, only folded over where I had slid beneath the covers. All pillows were still on the bed and my back and shoulders felt good...at last.

Rankings, Team Names, and Tip-Off Oh My

After four days of March Madness, I find myself in next to last place in the family bracket pool. Fortunately, I don't have much of a competitive side and this bracket is really on for bragging rights. There are no cash prizes for the winner.

Trying to determine which team will win 32 different basketball games is as tricky as it sounds. If one chosen team fails to fulfill its perceived destiny your completed bracket starts to bleed. As I look at my bracket on the CBS Sports website I see red everywhere- signifying my losses. It's Sunday night and my head is spinning with team names, rankings, and tip-off times.

My sister told me she and my mom both had headaches last night. She was talking with my mom about the cause of those headaches and they came up with the same answer.

They'd watched too much basketball.

Happy Flowers

The daffodils are out. It's a chilly day here in Alexandria, VA but the blue skies and plethora of flowers and budding trees tell me that spring is here. Along my walk today I spotted daffodil after daffodil, showing off their yellow hues all over the place. The tulip trees are in bloom as well. Flowers of pink and purple dance with nothing but a bright azure sky as a backdrop. And if all that wasn't enough to impress a walker like me there were yellow, white, and purple crocus popping up from beneath the ground.

I walk my neighborhood in all kinds of weather during all seasons of the year. These days that give me the first peeks at spring are some of my favorite days for walking. Blue skies, tulip trees, and daffodils make me one happy gal.

My Irish Dad

My father and I spit into a tube and sent away our DNA years ago. The results came back to reveal that my father is 76% Irish.

"Wow, Dad," I exclaimed, "you are really Irish!"

I'm not sure if it's an Irish trait but my dad was a teller of stories. He loved telling stories about his family more than anything else. I knew all about how he used to scare his sister at night by stepping out his bedroom window onto the porch roof and climbing into his sister Betty's window to play all sorts of pranks. My favorite is when he scared her by putting feathers on her bed. Apparently, my aunt was afraid of feathers.

Whenever we drove through Baltimore Dad would point out landmarks of his childhood. 

"My dad died on the 5th floor of that hospital, " he said as we turned the corner on University Parkway by Union Memorial hospital. A few blocks before he recounted the story of the movie theater where he didn't get a job. His friend was able to secure a position but he couldn't.

"I couldn't fit into the uniform."

Growing up a huge, old portrait of an elderly woman hung on the living room wall. The frame was dark and ornate. The lady in the picture referred to as Aunt Annie, had a scowl on her face and eyes that seemed to follow you around the room. According to my dad, Aunt Annie came over from Ireland on a boat that had nothing except oranges for food. Family lore says she was kind of a cranky gal. Also, she never ate another orange after her journey to The United States.

I'm missing my Irish dad today but am glad I have all his stories to remember him by.

It's a Good Day

My lesson plan was kind of light today. With an assembly pushing into 1st period, I decided not to teach anything new. Students were at different stages of completing plot charts based on two different short films. Many had some online grammar assignments to complete. It was hard to know where each class was so I added a Nearpod introduction to the four types of conflict that my friend and colleague shared with me.

After yesterday's frustration, it was a lovely day. Kids scattered around the room to view the short films. They discussed things like inciting events, what characters wanted, and the always difficult-to-identify climax of each movie. They worked together and then on their own. It was easy for me to check in and see where students were having difficulty.

As they finished their work on plot, some caught up on those grammar assignments, and others worked in pairs or small groups to solve a crossword puzzle from the supply I keep in the back of the room.

Today was the kind of day that I appreciate. I look forward to repeating it tomorrow.

Keep Smiling!

This is not the best time of the year when you work in a school. Spring Break is just out of reach and there hasn't been one damn snow day. We may be smiling but many of us are not that happy. My colleague came in this morning and confessed that she's tired, and yes, a little grumpy. So, since we had professional development planned for the afternoon she thought it was in her best interest to take some time for herself. My very smart colleague took the afternoon off.

When I started teaching I judged Professional Development by what ideas I took from the presentation. I started in elementary school so my PD came from all different curriculum areas. Back then I returned to my classroom with all kinds of ideas. The math department always provided lessons and ideas to use in the classroom. The other areas did too, but I still remember those math meetings.

Professional Development has changed. This afternoon I reviewed my "Learning Plan" in the online Professional Development system. My county requires all teachers to complete 35 hours of PD outside of our prescribed contract hours. These hours must be completed by April 30- that's seven weeks before the end of the school year. Some of the online hours I finished were not showing as complete so I had to email the identified individual in charge to get those hours to show up. Ugh. 

PD used to leave me feeling energized, and ready to get back to the classroom and teach. Today, that wasn't really the case.

Don't worry, tomorrow I'll return to work with a smile.

Changing Seasons

It's the in-between time. Winds are howling today as tree limbs bend, unable to withstand the strong gusts that attack them. The temperature is much lower than I'd like it to be. Gloves weather is too cold for the date that falls just shy of a week from the spring equinox. Thanks to the manipulation of time the light stays with us for longer.

This shoulder week between the two seasons has me wanting to wrap up in a blanket by a warm fire but also thinking about throwing on my tennis shoes to get out for a long walk. Honestly, as long as the wind keeps kicking up I think this couch is the best place to be. My body is leaning into the pillow and blanket underneath me. Then my little gray and white cat tilts her head a bit as if to say, "are we napping?" 

No, Alice, we aren't napping but we are definitely relaxing. Jump on up and find your spot.

Mouse

There was a little brown mouse scurrying around my classroom this afternoon. Mouse, as I now call him, was kind enough to stay hidden during all of my classes. So at least I didn't have to deal with screaming 12-year-olds while trying to catch, or run from, a mouse.

On the bright side, Mouse's appearance was only about 10 minutes before I was to walk out the door. I wouldn't have to sit at my desk wondering if he would be scurrying around my chair or trying to get into my backpack which lay on the floor. I stomped my feet as I approached the desk and yelled, "Get out Mouse! Get out Mouse!"

My compliant guest listened and scurried behind the bookcase near my workspace. I packed up my things and did my own scurrying out the door.

Tonight I hope he finds an old Jolly Rancher to nibble on-a green one maybe. Here's hoping that something sour and sweet will be enough to cause a rumble in his tummy. The kind of rumble that will make him pause and consider whether or not my classroom really is the best place to set up camp. After all, there are lots of nibbles to be had in my school. If he tries really hard he could find the cafeteria that is only about 20 yards away.

Moving Forward

Yesterday I awoke with a plan to mitigate the body exhaustion that comes with the change to Daylight Saving Time. With my first cup of coffee in hand, I reset the kitchen clocks one hour ahead. That simple act allowed me to go through my day with my lost hour in the rearview mirror. The hope was that I could trick my brain into thinking it was later than it was at bedtime. 

Around 6 pm Kitchen Zone Time, my friend Robin arrived for our planned Harrison Ford movie marathon. A few weeks back we had been talking about the sweet scene in the movie Witness where he and Kelly McGillis dance and laugh to Wonderful World by Sam Cooke. I mentioned that I wanted to rewatch Raiders of the Lost Ark and a weekend event was planned.

We settled into our comfy spots with shrimp salad and potato chips enjoying both movies. However, if you're looking for a review I'd say that Witness holds up almost 40 years later- Raiders- not so much.

As the last credits rolled Robin asked, "What time is it anyway?"

"Well, that would depend," I started, "Do you want the time on my phone or the time in the kitchen?"

"Kitchen, please, " she replied with a smile.

It was 11:45, way past my bedtime.

I have no doubt that tomorrow morning will be quite unpleasant. Driving into work almost 45 minutes before sunrise certainly won't help with my sleepy Monday morning mood. I'll do my best to stay positive and perky. One way I can do that is to think about Harrison Ford, as John Book, milking cows on the Amish farm at 4:00 AM. He'd understand what it feels like.

Free Time!

A cold rain fell as I walked to my car this afternoon. Even so, the weather wasn't going to dampen my spirits. The weekend was here!

If all goes well I'll sleep past 7:00 AM and enjoy those extra moments with a second, or third cup of coffee and my usual morning word games. With nothing but time on Saturday I'll catch up on all that needs catching up on- laundry, groceries, and cleaning (oh my!).

There will be time for some fun too. A friend and I have planned a movie-watching night which will no doubt include some good food and conversation.

With any luck, the sun will find its way from behind the clouds at some point just enough to allow for some quality outside time. 

Sunday will arrive with one less hour, but I'm determined not to let that get the best of me. You see,  my homeroom and I will be waging a contest come Monday morning to see who can pretend to be the perkiest in the room. It won't be easy since the sun will have only been up for about 20 minutes when we greet each other.

Is there anything better than the gift of free time?

Continuing in the Family Tradition

I didn't find out until later in life that my great-grandfather was a teacher. My grandmother was about 90 years old when she told me.

My brother is a teacher and so is my sister. Yesterday, I listened as my niece, Mary, told me all about the math lesson she taught to a group of 3rd graders.  Mary will be the next teacher in the family. She's still in school and somehow juggling classes, part-time bartending, and two different practicums. 

Schooling hasn't come easy for Mary. She's the kind of girl who has to work extremely hard to stay organized and to get things done. I marvel at the way she has just plugged along one step at a time.

When learning doesn't come easy it's common to list what a person doesn't do well. I know Mary came up against a few teachers who only looked at her deficits. Yes, she may be easily distracted but she's also the girl you want if you need someone to read a map. She had a hard time learning to read, but she has a gift for storytelling- especially when it comes to all the crazy stuff that happens with the bar regulars on any given night.

As Mary told me about the small group math lesson she helped with I beamed. How awesome is it that Mary, who struggled with learning for so long, will be in a classroom to help those who struggle? 

I'd say it's damn awesome.

A Slow Ticking Clock

This afternoon I listened to my body. After a department meeting, I trudged to my car at about 3:30 and headed straight home. There was no stopping for groceries, exercise, or anything else. 

I was focused on only one thing. Rest. My back and body were achy and my brain was tired- it had done enough for the day. I put on the softest sweatpants I could find, set up the ice machine for my swollen knee, and took care of me.

I have always said that returning to school at the summer's end is like laying on the couch for a few months and then suddenly jumping up to run a marathon. Returning after knee replacement is pretty much the same. The only difference is that the marathon is run with a noticeable limp.

No worries though- "time heals all wounds."

Back in Line

My first day back yesterday exhausted me. As soon as I got home I collapsed in the recliner with a bag of lime chips. Yes, there were healthier snacks in the house but ripping open that bag was about all I had the energy for. I was in bed by about 7:45.

I did the same thing this afternoon. In the door. Grab a bag of tortilla chips and head for the recliner. Fortunately, I stopped myself this time. Sure, I dished out a few chips and put them in a bowl. I even put my feet up for a few minutes, but then I pushed through my exhaustion and stood up. My back was killing me. The plan was to head to the gym and get on the bicycle. Certainly, some movement would wake me up a bit-but something else was more important first.

First, there would be a trip to the chiropractor.

Boy, do I appreciate the skills of my chiropractor. With nothing more than a quick check of my spine and a little conversation about my recent surgery she assessed the issues and then went about realigning things. Within 15 minutes I was out the door with a little more spring in my step and feeling ready to turn the pedals on the bike that was waiting for me.

Take Two

There were a few things that I knew needed some cleaning up as I got back to work today. Number one on my list was the way my students were responding to the first part of our 100-Day-Writing Challenge. 

The challenge began on March 1st with a month of Slice of Life writing. After reading their entries last week I knew a little reteaching was in order. 

My hope was that students would not see writing 100 words about a slice of their life as impossible. I wanted to show them the possibilities.

I started by comparing the idea of writing fluency to that of reading fluency- something most have mastered. We went back to the old motto, "practice makes perfect."

If asked for one thing I've noted as a fallout of the pandemic it would be writing skills. Students struggle with initiating writing tasks and many avoid them at all costs. I reminded them the world around them is waiting to be written about. The experiences they've had in life are a great jumping-off point. Field trips, family gatherings, vacations- there's so much more to write about than what they had for breakfast.

I'm smart enough to know that not every student heard me. According to Anthony, he'd never been on vacation or a field trip. Over the weekend he did nothing. NOTHING.  So yea, it's going to take a little more work to knock that wall down.

Max heard me. Last week he wrote: "Hello this is day 3 and I already hate this." 

Today, he took a more positive approach and began with "One of the best experiences that I have experienced is Space Mountain in Disney World."

I agree with Max. Space Mountain is pretty awesome, and so is teaching. Especially when you can see a student has learned something.

Back To It

My alarm is set for 5:00 AM, and a second one, just in case, will sound off at 5:15. After five weeks of icing, elevating, and general healing it's time to get back to work.

This afternoon, the only anxiety I'm feeling is in regard to a good night's sleep. I'll tuck myself in early this evening in the hopes of falling asleep quickly and spending a restful, long time in a deep sleep.

One thing that I'm not worried about is teaching. My classes will be starting a unit on Fiction writing. Fortunately, it's a unit I've done for many years. Students usually enjoy watching Pixar shorts to apply their knowledge of a plot chart. I enjoy watching them as well. 

Spring Break is four weeks away. By that time I'm hopeful that my students will be working on their own fiction writing and that my knee will be much less swollen than it is today.

Getting Things Done Together

My niece lives on what has to be the cutest little street I've seen in DC.  Walter Street is only one block long but has a real community feel.

At the end of Walter Street, on the 12th street side, stands an old run-down building- Mott's Market. A quick internet search tells me that some sort of corner market has sat on that site since 1912. Mott's closed down in March of 2022 marking the end of the corner market in the neighborhood. Corner markets are few and far between in DC. Even so, the market was special to the area residents. So special, that a group came together to buy and hopefully, save the market.

Today as we walked by the building, my niece told me how residents, many on her own street, came together to buy the property. They liked the idea of a market they could send their kids off to when they found themselves in need of a last-minute loaf of bread or container of milk.

So far, the group of buyers has been holding small events in the space. There was a Mardi Gras party a few weeks back and some sort of wine event tonight. The next step is to find a tenant to lease the space and bring their little market back.

That's quite a community.

Practice Makes...

In some ways, my 5-week medical leave has been like a retirement practice session. How will I spend my days when I have no reason to wake up at 5:15?

One thing is for sure. I won't be waking up at 5:15 if I don't have a job that requires such an ungodly alarm time. I have found that I enjoy sleeping. I really enjoy sleeping for 9 hours. I'm not much of a night owl so I have yet to find a reason to stay up much past 10:00 PM. Anything I think I might be missing in the late-night talk show circuit is pretty easy to find on YouTube the next day. Besides, my cat likes to go to bed early as well so by about 9:30 she's staring at me from the bottom step in the hopes of shooing me to bed.

Obviously, not working frees up a lot of time during the day, so I haven't been in much of a hurry to get things done. For the last 5 weeks, the only thing on my schedule has been two visits to physical therapy a week. That left me with time to help out my mom and spend time on the exercise bike at the gym.

Unfortunately, my recent surgery has kept me from doing many things I plan to do in retirement. Except for helping out my mom ninety miles away, I have not traveled much beyond my couch, physical therapy, and some walks around my block. I have been able to see friends who were kind enough to help me out when I needed assistance.

I've also still been tied to my job. Throughout my time at home, I've been in touch with my long-term sub to adjust plans. I've also graded a few things in the hopes of coming back to as little work as possible. Back to work starts Monday- it will be tough, especially that early morning alarm, but that's okay, after 29.5 years of teaching I can see a lot of bright light at the end of the tunnel.

Signs From Above

 I lost a good friend to cancer back in the fall and boy do I miss her. Fortunately, she showed up in a dream the other night. I've experienced similar dreams with other friends I've lost in the past and it always seems that I'm aware that it's a dream reunion and I try my hardest to make the dream last as long as possible. 

This dream visit was made even more remarkable because my friend had another of our lost friends with her. How wonderful it was to see both Kathy and Martha. I recall that Martha didn't say anything but had her always-present smile. Kathy made sure to tell me that she was doing okay.

Seeing them both brought me a smile and a tinge of sadness. The dream stayed with me for a few days and then faded into wherever dreams go.

I suppose many of us look for signs when we've lost those we love. Maybe it's a rainbow or a butterfly, or a bluebird that comes out of nowhere. Later that week I was walking through the local Barnes and Noble when out of nowhere came a patron walking with her huge St. Bernard. I laughed. Kathy is the only person I've ever known who preferred a St. Bernard as her pet. She had two, Elsa and Winter, in the 25 years I knew her.

And then, if that completely out-of-place St. Bernard wasn't enough of a hello from beyond, I had one more last week. After turning out the kitchen lights before heading up to bed I walked into the living room to find one single electric candle twinkling in the group of three that sat on my coffee table. The remote was nowhere to be found.  I let out a gasp, looked up above, and smiled feeling comforted.

I miss Kathy, but it seems like we'll be staying in touch.

Ode to a Knee

It's been 34 days since my favorite orthopedist sliced open my left knee, yanked my arthritic knee out, and replaced it with the latest model. Honestly, the recovery has gone rather well. Eight days into healing I had ditched my cane and taken a half-mile walk with my at-home physical therapist. I've been back behind the wheel of my car since my two-week check-in. On Monday, I return to work and will try my best to kindly remind my students of the behavior expectations we have worked so hard on perfecting from September to January.

Even so, I still think about that old knee and the 60 years it gave me. Left Knee was an important helper as I made my first moves crawling from here to there. That knee straightened and steadied me as I clutched anything I could and tried to lift myself to the standing position. It held me up as I walked, and walked, and walked. Jumping, running, skipping- no matter the motion- Left Knee was there to help. My favorite orthopedist would probably say that running wasn't the best idea as I got older. It caused too much wear and tear on that poor hinge joint. Even if it wasn't, I wouldn't trade the feeling of freedom as my legs and knees helped me take in the sights of the nation's capital at my slow and steady 10-minute mile pace. (Okay, maybe 11 or 12 at times.)

So, here's to Left Knee and Right Knee too- she got replaced three years ago. These new knees may be fancy but they will never give me the years and memories that the originals did.