SOL26: March 29 While Marines Landed

This month, I am writing with Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life group sharing bits and pieces of life, like this one, 

I met Diane, Claudia, Alba,

Waiting for the march to begin,

In a small train-stop-town

While Marines landed in the Middle East,

New casualties, the war expanded while

Bitter winds blew, encouraging us to go home.

Yet, we joined long retired, new graduates, 

Families, veterans, guide dogs, wheelchairs,

Worried about wars, bullying, unemployment, 

Panicked about inflation, international relations,

Saddened about those incarcerated, senseless murders

Hoping in some very small way to make a difference.

I remembered the "olden days" of watching the big kids

Long air flowing blowing in the wind, literally,

As they sat in protest at on the quad

As we marched slowly back onto the yellow bus

This was a far more diverse crowd!

 

SOL26March 28 Public Service Reminder

 

This month, I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Group sharing bits and pieces of my life. It is an amazing challenge that forces me to think like a writer at least for a few weeks a year. 

"You have 30 miles left," Jenna dinged as I went past the last strip mall and then the last gas station on Route 23. It was raining cats and dogs, at that moment, and there was no urgent need for gas, yet. I made a mental note to get gas closer to home as I sang along with Carly and inched onto the interstate.

The traffic was slowing and I assumed, wrongly, one of the many pot-hole -repair-crews that were trying to break the cycle of blow-out times was at work just over the hill. Slowly we inched over the hill burning more precious petrol than any of us wanted to do in order to go a mile.  There was no reason for the jam in sight when the traffic churned to a total stop as the angry rain increased its attack. 

I joined Bruce, for a minute, but seriously he was happier than I was at that moment, so I turned my focus o my good friend in need, Google Map-Man. At first, it didn't look too bad, so I just sat watching the rain and wipers noticing their rhythm and then noticing Jenna had alerted me to 20 miles remaining. 

Over the next hour, yes hour, I alternated turning on and off the car, checking Google Map-Man for updates, and watching emergency vehicles snake through the angry crowd. I began to wonder if I would get home in time for my appointment? I started to think of all the contingency plans I could think about. 

The rain slowly ebbed, sunshine came out as Jenna mocked me showing just 10 miles left. Then we began moving in a positive direction. I got off at the next exit and scolded myself as if I was a naughty new driver.  "You do know better!"

Consider this a public service reminder

SOL26: March 27 Grateful

II'm writing every day in March as part of the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life group. This slice is thanks to Ana who lead our Thursday night writing group this week. Ana suggested we all write about the hour before we zoomed into the meeting. I did!

She pulled down her cap and started swimming while I hopped over to the room where that fake running machine, otherwise known as elliptical, sits waiting to torture. I did the requisite minutes as fast as I could. I was on a mission, and the sweat dripping from my brown was evidence of my intent to get as much into the next hour as I could.

I quickly headed to the circuit where those foreboding machines were mocking me to come visit even though there were others with toned bodies and perfectly defined abs mulling around as if they had nothing else to do. I did the arm pull down machine, but my heart was already reading slices.

Fortunately, I had thrown my Chromebook into my gym bag, thinking maybe I might catch part of my writing group. I followed my heart and headed to the table near the pool.

I glanced over, She looked small compared to the others as she swam back and forth, almost effortlessly. She was clearly the younger sister in this cohort and I was feeling apprehensive for her; but, she was strangely confident practicing without her usual teammates as she prepared for the biggie Regional Meet.

For a moment, I lost my focus and returned to that morning, not that long ago, when her mom insisted I join the smiling toddler as she learned to jump off the side of the pool. If I am honest, I think she was confident even then. What I really remember is that I was a petrified new Meme, not sure of anything, learning to swim on my own in a new life that I could not even imagine. I did have one of those really cool Slice of Life moments thinking, "It is a good thing confidence is not genetic."

Then, filled with hope, I logged onto zoom where my friends were already gathering, grateful for this community where I too take risks, do hard things, and practice writing every day in March.

SOL26: March 26 Black Suburbans

I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life group this month.  I have tried to find joy in every day life. This post is different, feel free to not read. Yet, some days there is more sadness than joy, like yesterday in the immigrant heavy community where I live. I did see the Suburbans and that got me going. I debated not sharing, but this is real, even though I am not sure about the Starbucks part........

Four black Suburbans sat waiting

Stealthily, at dismissal

While four engines were running 

In spite of the price of gas

While eight agents were sipping mocha lattes

Munching fresh croissants, bagels,

While ear buds were tuned to Opening Day, 

They'll catch the game, then

Nab a mom, babysitter, lunch aide.....

While TSA agents drive by in Ubers 

To put food on the table

While the lines grow at airports

Ticket prices increase by the hour,

While hikers are sent away from

Yosemite, Grand Canyon

While delis shutter their doors

As customers pray for another extension

While in Sacramento, gas nears $7

As bombs drop into the sea.

While we are distracted by Cuba, China

Greenland, Venezuela, Iran, China, Dubai,

While tariffs are tossed around like 

Lysol after the flu hits home

While carrots, peanut butter, hamburgers

Become treats saved for birthdays

While our hearts are heavy and our

Minds are distracted by daily legal battles..

We have not forgotten 

Thousands of unnamed souls warehoused in abandoned buildings, 

Flown to foreign lands where they have disappeared 

To live their days in punishment,

Reassigned to a country where they have never lived before 

Away from children, spouses, jobs, courses, loves,

Forced to give up dreams of making the world a better place

Altering their future,

Those around the world w

Who hate us more than ever before

Those lost including Virginia, Renee, Jose, Tyler, Alex, Luis,  

Geraldo, Victor, Heber, Noah, Cody, Nicole,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

 

SOL26 March 25 This Old House

This month, I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life group sharing bits and pieces of life. This post is about my little old house. I was locking the front door when the UPS person was delivering a package next door. You need some perspective to understand why they rushed over!

My house, like all the houses on my street, is a centenarian and has all the charm and quirks that come with old age. For example, the outside wall are made of lathe and stucco with absolutely no insulation. It also has radiators built into the walls that sound like drummers live inside; yet are amazingly efficient even if covered with about 20 coats of paint.  The floors squeak, the windows leak, there's a nest at the peak.

About 50 years ago, some strong owner hauled in a solid oak mammoth with a leaded glass inset and made it the front door. It weighs a ton and works as long as cold winds don't blow too much and the temperature stays above freezing. This has not been a good winter for entering and leaving my house which is why I keep a screw driver and an old shoe near the inside and outside of the door! I am sure you think I am quirky like my house, but let me explain.

I was locking my front door when that delivery person yells, "Let me help you up!" I guess they saw me sitting on the porch floor and thought I had fallen. Truth is, to lock the door you need to raise the door up and make the lock align. I kneel down and use a screw driver wedged into the bottom, and an old shoe to hold the door up about a quarter of an inch. Then, I get up and let  the key to do its thing before going back down to remove the shoe and the screwdriver. Phew!

I demonstrated to the UPS driver who watched and shook his head. I am pretty sure he is not participating in this writing festival, but if he were, we would both have found our slices!

SOL26 March 24 Perspective

I am writing with Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life group this month. In this chapter of life I teach in diverse settings. Sometimes, I wear nice clothes and students refer to me as professor; other times I am half-naked, in a pool,  a substitute gym teacher. Sometimes I cover the Stretch and Flex class which is what you think it is. Diversity is the spice of life, right? This happened in the second setting....

John Denver was crooning, "Sunshine on my shoulders," as the class wrapped up. Like students everywhere, some raced out past the row of swim bags, towels, walkers! Others lingered to stretch a bit more, talk to each other, or talk to me, the substitute teacher.  

"This song makes me so happy," Maria began chuckling, "and reminds me of my own children listening to records." I knew Maria from another class I covered. She is a talker and a cheerleader for her classmates. Plus she really gets into activities like the ball toss we did earlier.  She probably had many report cards suggesting she needs to talk less and listen more.

"Do you know Rosie?" she continued and then without my answer added, "she is my hero. She is 93 and still helps out at the food pantry!" 

"You are a reminder of what exercise does for your body and mind," I told Rosie and trust me I meant it. 

Maria continued, "I'm only 83 but I still downhill ski, just no more black diamonds for me! I try not to fall!" she added as she continued to sway in the water. 

Someone joined Stevie Wonder, "You are the sunshine of my life," and I began clearing the beach balls. Kerry added quietly but proudly. "I'm going to be 90 next week and I am here 3-4 times a week even on cold rainy days like today." She picked up her pink metallic device and danced to the showers.

"I'm only 77," Sandy smiled as she headed up the ramp, "but I have replacement joints in all the areas! I loved the beach ball toss."

"This was a happy class. I feel sunshiny even if it is still raining," Valerie offered in appreciation.

I loaded up, clicked my heels and danced out of the pool grateful for water and perspective.

Ethical ELA: Claudia Sheinbaum

Today's Ethical ELA asked us to consider contemporary women in the news. I knew right away that I would like to write about the Nobel Prize winning President of Mexico. have watched her from afar with quiet admiration for her dignified stance in her relations with the United States. It would appear she avoids name calling, abusive language, and retaliation in favor of productive and focused dialogue. She appears to be, in my opinion, a class act who focuses energy on making the world a better place.

First
Female, Jewish

Nobel Prize Winner

Earned Pd.D, Nobel Prize,

Accomplished energy enginer, climate scientist,

Mexico City Mayor Introducing novel Cablebus 

Accomplished improved citywide commuting, addressed everyone's security,

Implemented gender-neutral uniform policy for students schools,

Landslide victory Presidenta Mexico, dialogue, de-escalation earning praised internationally

Her Excellency Claudia Sheinbaum

SOL26 March 23: Closer to Spring

This month, I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life  group sharing a slice of my life each day.  This slice comes from a tiny bite of the first Sunday morning of spring.

I thought I read or heard it was going to be in the 60s, so I pulled on my cropped yoga pants and the quilted vest yearning to see the light of spring, and dashed out the door. I turned around before locking to grab a winter coat. It was overcast, drizzly, and felt very cold even if it was the first Sunday morning in spring! 

I turned on the seat warmers, cranked up the heat, and realized it was 39 degrees. I jumped on the highway and was almost there when I noticed DD was next to the exit ramp. I made a fortuitous decision and stopped for a large, hot, black coffee.

There were SUVs lined from stem to stern and a field of preteen girls in shorts and tees tossing yellow balls from tiny baskets attached to sticks. Meanwhile, their parents caught up on the local gossip, children's sports accomplishments, and the costs of training clinics. "We did the travel program where they promised 100 games including some at Disney World," one boasted.  I cringed, wondering the cost, time and family energy.

I noticed a bevy of brothers playing soccer, a bunch playing football, and a few tossing Frisbees oblivious to the loud geese returning in the largest V formation I've ever seen while sipping my coffee. Meanwhile. parents wrapped in blankets and siblings snuggled under blankets, trying to warm themselves while the wind blew across the fields. Finally, the shivering girls began to play.  

It was 8:45 in the morning and it was finally spring on the calendar, at least. I smiled thinking of the poem, I Heard a Bird Sing.  We are at least nearer to spring than we were in September!

 I Heard a Bird Sing  by Oliver Herford

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.

"We are nearer to Spring 
Than we were in September,” 
I heard a bird sing 
In the dark of December. 

From Welcome Christmas! A Garland of Poems (Viking Press, 1955).
This poem is now in the public domain.

Ethical ELA March 22 What Makes Readers

I am doubling up this weekend writing also with Ethical ELA about female authors and banned books. It's funny that I am choosing to write about J.K. Rowlings  as I was not really a huge fan of her books in the beginning; however, I am a fan of how she turned on millions of readers and writers to the magic of stories. 

Joanne, it's strange that I would choose to honor your today

I had to plow through and was critical of what was not there

I had to make myself figure out what all the buzz was about

I had to find some of your magic that made them excited.

You, Joanne, have done more for more readers than I 

Could ever do in this lifetime even the with best idea, I

Could not turn on the millions your words spurred who 

Could devour your stories and your magical characters.

Joanne, you may have triggered a few of the naysayers

They didn't see that you knew what readers need

They didn't see the excitement the discussion the wonder

They still look at what isn't rather than what makes readers.

You, Joanne, found the magic touch and deserve 

Praise for staying with it in spite of great hardship

Praise for holding tight to your ideas that challenge others

Praise for helping generations of readers find the wonder.

Please accept this gift of gratitude as well as a reminder to respect the very diverse tastes of readers that mirror the amazing diversity of people.

SOL26 March 22: I Leaned In

I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Group this month sharing bits and pieces of life. In retrospect, I might have been supporting reading or I might have been sneaking a side-hug or I might have been enjoying the warmth of his heart. 

"How many more minutes do I need?" he asked after 5 minutes of looking at the same page without reading a word. I shifted closer hoping for at least a few pages even though I knew he was exhausted.

"I'll give you 30 seconds per page?" I offered figuring he'd give me a quick, negative response. Instead, he slowly but surely started to read, word by word, line by line. I leaned in to bridge that gap between what he might do alone and what he can do with support*. I'll swear that is what I was doing even if I was appreciative of the sort of lean-in-side-hug I was getting and the warmth of his heart. Then, the book was over. 

He got 5 minutes of screen time, which was just enough to find some game and feel as if he had won that round. He brushed his teeth while gaming, practicing multitasking, which is also an important skill. I'd say we both won, but I got the better deal.

Ethical ELA March 26: Quiet Strength

I am writing with Ethical ELA this weekend and the prompt asked us to consider women in our family in our poems today. There are many women I could write about as I am surrounded by strong women who go after what they want and live with their head high. This is a poem about my sister-in-law who was my model for being a mother, who left us too soon, but whose quiet strength is still a motivating force. She really had only one request from me and to be honest I would have done it anyway.

Because if you can be there, I will be forever grateful she said realizing her last grandchild would
Arrive before they returned that spring and knowing I would love on them all in 
Real life until she could be physically present might have been a prophetic wish
Because her timeline was shorter than any of us could have imagined 
And the love already was established allowing for someone to be there
Representing special dresses, concerts, graduations
And remembering we need someone who cares in the background, as I remember the day she said

Just take care of that baby as I struggled with my own crying one years earlier 

And she added, remember these days will fly past and you will wish them back, adding again and again

No problem with every question, request, while showing me mostly with

Examples like how to butterfly a wound and love on your child no matter what

SOL26 March 21: Special Delivery

This month I am writing with Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life.  Sometimes, the slices are right in front of you.....

I noticed her when I brought the trash cans from the curb, laying in the wet grass at the back of the garage. I banged on the can, but let's be honest, a plastic can does not make the kind of sound the old aluminum ones did. I rapped on the can with my hand again and again, but today's cans do not bang like the old ones. 

I saw her standing in the same place later when I glanced out the window at the rain on the horizon.  From the second story it was clear she had a newborn trying to find his first legs. 

I was mesmerized at the special delivery in my backyard on the first day of spring. I did think of trying to get closer and getting a picture (SOL duh!) but then I stopped myself and remembered those magical moments of newborn bliss before the realities of life come back into focus. "It's a dangerous world out there," I thought as his mom urged him forward, "but please spare my hydrangeas, Little Bud."

SOL26: March 20: Essie and Clifford

I am writing with The Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life group this month.  During last night's small group, Laney suggested we write memories about our cars. I started thinking about Patty, who looked like an inside out peppermint patty, and Heidi, who liked to pop her top! Then, I thought about the fuel efficient vehicles I have known, such as

Essie, who was part of my new-to-me school, with a longer commute, and my grad work, in the big city, era of life. Her back seat was not fit for passengers, but she boasted about getting 50 miles per gallon as she glided in the tailwinds of the bigger cars on the highway. 

Essie loved her morning runs and even if she was tiny, she proved to be mighty. She did have one issue and that was her lack of an automatic transmission. In order to enter the highway where cars where already moving as if it was the Indy 500, you had to in a engage her clutch and shift from neutral to first gear, and then to second, and then to third, and then to fourth gears. All this had to happen in less than 3 seconds, going from 0 to 65, in what always seemed to be the speed of light. Clearly, it was not a time to sip your coffee. Instead it was a two hands gripping the wheel saying a prayer you did not stall her delicate engine moment. EVERY single time, my life flashed before my eyes as I defied death and headed to school.

That is why after 150,000 hard miles, she asked for and I happily granted her a retirement job going back and forth to the local community college.  It had been as stressful for her as for me.  That is when Clifford entered my life.  He who was still a puppy but a wee bit bigger than Essie.  He loved to run as fast as he could (although a Ford Focus was not considered a sports car in any market) and was thrilled to spend his days in the parking lot of an elementary school (where sometimes students read about his namesake) and his nights in a NYC parking garage! Like his namesake, he was energetic, bubbly, and bright red! 

Everything you might have heard about fire engine colored cars is accurate! He taunted the local police and managed to get us into a few squirmishes with the local constables; yet, he was a breeze to find in any parking lot and you could not miss him as he merged in the early morning darkness where only commuters go and shifted his tiny gears all by himself!  

SOL26: March 19: 30 Second Rule

This month, I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life group sharing bits and pieces of my life as they happen. I guess you could say this slice came from a bit of chocolate. 

My grands are growing like weeds after a summer rain and helping me see life from a new perspective. While I am still not a fan of video games, I am starting to see food dropped on the floor in a new light.  Here is the explanation that helped me differentiate when to eat and when to toss. 

He picked up a little piece of chocolate, the kind designed for snacking, from the floor, blew it off, and popped it into his mouth faster than you could say, "Don't eat that." 

"Ugh," I moaned, "it's yucky." I meant it.

"It's OK," he mumbled as he finished chewing, "there's a 3 second rule for most food but a 30 second rule for chocolate!" 

"I've never heard that one," I said and I meant it!

 

SOL26: March 18: Wind Woes!

This month, I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Community. Most days, the slices just pop from real life, like this one that shares the aftermath of a St Patrick's Eve storm that blew through the East Coast and left me wondering!

Wind, that seemed to go right through the windows, kept me up much of the night, so I quickly got ready, unplugged my phone, and dashed out the door. As the car warmed up, I noticed the huge branch on my neighbor's lawn and the debris everywhere. Then, I realized my phone had not charged, so I plugged in for a quick car-charge. "It's one of those mornings," I sighed. 

It was still bitter cold when I returned home and realized the electric kettle was not working and the light was off in the over. For a second, I assumed the power was out until I realized some lights were working!  I determined that everything on one outside wall of the house was out. I was thinking this was storm related. 

I checked the circuit breakers and reset them, one by one, wondering if there was something loose that could cause a fire? Clearly, I was working myself into a frenzy and making no progress! 

I searched Google and determined I should turn the main breaker off and then on which I did, again, to no avail. I was about ready to give up and call an electrician who would likely pat me on the back, flip a switch, and pat his wallet. 

Then, I realized the reset buttons on the kitchen counter outlets were popped out like they do when you come over zealous during a blow-dry. I reset them. Back to normal. Was it storm damage or a leprechaun prank? 

SOL26: March 17: Mugs of Coffee

This month, I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Community. I will be wearing green on this St Patrick's Day in honor of that part of my heritage, but this post is not about the wearing of the green and it's not really about coffee either. 

We ordered coffee and were deep in conversation before the first sip. We swayed between the usual topics of busy kids, crazy weather, long-standing passions, distant memories, heartfelt concerns, and deep fears in a meandering, unfocused way old friends do. Yet, we really aren't old, and the intersection of our friendship is still in the rear view mirror. 

We met someone on a tangential journey, flummoxed with a desire to be in two places at the same time. She threw out one of those ended questions that lingered in the air like the beans roasting nearby. The kind that don't really have an answer but bubble to the surface among friends who sense a common bond that overrides accepts, borders.

We did not solve world peace and we did not even solve our own issues; instead we laid them onto the table, respectful of the many small, middle-sized and enormous challenges, worries, concerns we each face. We were grateful for someone to listen and to help carry the load, for a moment,  Coffee was just the conduit.

SOL26: March 16: Losing Bridges

This month, I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life group sharing bit and pieces of my life and sometimes, memories triggered by others.  Today, I am sharing a memory that would be best left behind, but thanks to Diane who blogs at Newtreemom this was dredged out of the file of "bad memories." 

In college, thanks to dental incompetence, I lost most of my molars planning to eventually get bridges, when I had time and money. A decade of so later, my competent dentist suggested it was time. So I began the expensive, painstaking process of getting bridges that cost just a wee bit less than the original George Washington spanning the Hudson. 

Late one night while eating a Fig Newton, a 3-tooth, a temporary bridge decided to go for an adventure through my digestive system resulting in some discomfort, multiple scans, multiple plans for extrication, and a week of uncertainty about its final resting place. All "worked out" well!

Many years later, I was setting up for a meeting at school when my growling stomach led me to pop a piece of cheddar into my mouth where a replacement, temporary bridge had been residing. For the second time in one lifetime, I swallowed my bridge. This time, it seemed to be lodged in my esophagus and it hurt! After a visit to the dentist (foolish), I headed to the ER where I tried to explain my story again and again to people who found it incredulous. After hours in the ER, an ENT consult and a cat-scan, the pesky plaster piece appeared to head off to the dark recesses of my gastrointestinal tract and to this day, its final resting place remains unknown.  

In time, I gave up on bridges, took out a car loan and migrated to dental implants. 

SOL26:March 15: A Cautionary Tale

 "I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Group this month. Today I am reflecting on the much colder and longer winter that has plagued the East Coast with a cautionary message for those who yearned for a snowy winter like in the ol' days!

"I'm tired of winter," I said to myself hunting for an ice scraper before realizing I foolishly put away the ice scraper the other day. "I'm ready for forsythia, spring,  lacrosse...."

"I don't care," snickered the ol' man as he prepared to blow from the deepest recesses of his belly. "This will teach you all a lesson," he snickered as he let a cold gust blow!

"But its my turn, now," the much younger one cried showing her frustration at the ol' man's stubborn behavior.

"I'm sticking around. I've got to get back at those folks who said I was a has been the past couple of years," he said in a voice that was clearly tired but also determined. "You remember the boasting just a year ago that it's no longer like the old days! We don't need boots or this snow blowers anymore," they said boldly!  I'm gonna give them a couple more good blasts before I rest for the year," he grunted like the proverbial grumpy ol' man. 

"Seriously?" she asked  with a childlike innocence, "they were so appreciative of my visit, however brief it was. I'm ready, in fact I can hardly contain my warm breezes much longer. You saw those crocuses and daffodils try to burst through the ground. I respectfully urge you to let me do my thing!" 

'Hmmf," he grunted, "I will let you give them a two day tease every week until April, but I am going to throw my weight in snow flakes, cold rain, dark skies and dreary days for as long as can so I don't have to hear about the demise of winters as we knew them or unused salt piles ever again."

Morals of the story: Words matter; Be careful what you wish for; Enjoy each day; You get what you get and you don't get upset; You cannot change the weather; Avoid talking to grumpy old men....

SOL26 March 14: Can Writing Make it Happen?

This month, I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Challenge. In our writing group, Giovanna shared a powerful story about a table and suggested telling a story about yourself through an object. I knew right away I would write about an old dry sink my dad made years ago. Perhaps, I am prodding myself to do something with it.
 

I have walked past her in the garage, her top off, her drawers and door removed thinking, “Next summer,” Yet, I have never taken the sander purchased to rid her of red paint out of its box.

I walk by and I start thinking of how he built it without a single power tool, not even an electric screw driver. I think of the cutting and sanding and nailing and, oh my, all the work in the garage late at night, cleaning up every last piece of dust before ending for the night, just so she could have a dry sink like in the Ethan Allen catalog. I remember when she lent it to me when they downsized to a condo and I gave back when they needed walkway space for his wheelchair.

I probably should just bring it into the house, but I cannot move it on my own. It weighs a ton and I can only imagine what is underneath it. I should do something, though, maybe this summer? Perhaps, writing about it can spur real life?

SOL26: March 13: Not Friday the 13th

This month I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Community. In case you were wondering, this is the second of three Fridays on the 13th in 2026. (the last one is in November).

In my defense, it was cold in the space they ask you to wait for those pesky scans looking inside of the recess of your body where nobody should brave to go. Plus, they give you a robe sized for fashion models washed 3650 times. 

Then you wait and the screaming monkeys reach their own crescendo inside your head. I was worrying about: my children their children, my students, former students, their students, the weather, time......as I wound myself tighter than a cuckoo clock.  UNTIL, the technician, turned my raging train of thought into a puddle of laughter with, "Aren't you glad you are getting this done today, rather than on Friday, the 13th?" I had to agree with that!

SOL26: March 12: Annie

This month, I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Challenge to write every day!  Today's post leaves me with questions that lead me to imagine....

"Annie" is all I really know about a picture I found in a box of bank statements, but I think it might be a picture of my grandmother from long before I knew her as a "little old lady" who cooked leg-of-lamb until it was blackened in her  Brooklyn apartment and then waited patiently until we left. 

I look at the grandeur of the hat, perhaps an Easter bonnet with all the frills upon it and wonder if those are real flowers pulled together for this rare photo shoot or if they were silk flowers if they even made them long ago? I would love to know if that is a big bow sticking up from the back?  It appears her posture is perfect, her waist is tiny, and her skin flawless making her seemingly ready to take on anything that came her way, but is she?

Why does she look off into the distance without even the hint of a smile? Is she thinking her lovely life in NYC is about to end as she heads off to the boonies to become a farm wife? Is she wondering how she will cope with bearing ten children, raising hundreds of chickens, washing a million dishes mostly in darkness without running water?  

I will never know for sure, but in the story running through my head ,Annie was living the good life in NYC with a little bit of money and a trousseau chest lined with negligees and silver plate. Then, after an illness, she went to the country to rest and recover where she encountered a charming young wanna-be overall-clad-farmer and as they say, had, as they say, fun, "In the Good Old Summertime." As fate would have it, love and perhaps those inevitable hormones lead them to sing, "Going to the Chapel."  Then, amidst the country air and pitter-patter of little feet, my grandfather hummed, "Having My Baby," again and again for decades.  

SOL26: March 11: When Darkness Covers Hope

This month, I am writing with the Two Teachers Slice of Life group sharing bits and observations about life from my perspective. I have struggled with events in our country and our world, but have not shared my heavy thoughts lately Yet, these thoughts are keeping me awake; thus, this is a real 2 hour slice from my night. 

"1:30?" my phone said indicating only 3 hours of sleep. I rolled over hoping to get back to sleep but...

That was not about to happen as I worried about my cousin paying $8.00 a gallon for gas to go back and forth to the hospital because...

I love and care about people fighting cancer and needing to drive to appointments as well as those who need to get to work, those pressured by rising food prices, even though...

"I know that their leadership was long oppressive to women, girls, and people who did not agree, but now there are even more people in Iran angrier than ever before and directing anger at us," I thought as my mind wandered again...

To the people who are growing increasingly angry, upset, frustrated with us in Saudi Arabia, Spain, Iceland, Cuba, Canada, Venezuela, England,.... 

And, who's talking about the ongoing government shut down, I am wondering, "Why aren't we talking about that? What about air traffic controllers and government employees not getting paid?" I mused noting the time was 2:30...

"Is this up and down stock market situation helping anyone? Should the markets be tanking?  Why do they recover every day? Is a big crash coming? " I ponder tossing to the other side.....

"How are we going to get out of this mess? Is there an exit plan?" I thought as I tossed....

"Why didn't he take off that hat as they went by? Did the rules for a civilized society change? "I teared up thinking about families, lives altered...

"Is he talking about unleashing unimaginable force with a bomb?" my sleepy mind proposed to that part of me that might answer in the morning.....

"Should I be worried about sharing my worries publicly," I questioned my sleepy self trying in vain to quiet my sleepy brain, wondering.....

"Will the protests make any difference?" I said to myself, too scared to hear my answer at 3:30 in the morning when darkness covers glimpses of hope....

SOL26" March 10: Coxa Saltans

This month I am participating in the Two Writing Teachers' Slice of Life Challenge. I started with a ten things post, but then realized this required a different format!  Here is a backwards or Before That slice of life! You might want to just save time and start from the bottom. 

Take a Tylenol, have a hot shower and go easy for a week or so. 

Snapping hip syndrome sounds horrible but it's harmless, probably due to tight muscles. 

"I'm almost positive it's coxa saltans.

It was visit your personal trainer day, so I told her my tail of woe. She listened and smiled.

The pain shot through my loin like a fire cracker, but was gone as fast as it came and I continued my routine, favoring the injured hip. 

That is when I heard what seemed to be my hip popping right out of its socket sending my into panic.

I was feeling pretty smug about my teaching (never feel smug about your teaching) when I might have implored my waterlogged students to kick a little higher from my land perch.  

From the very beginning, there was lots of singing.  When Gladys Night and the Pips started belting out  Heard it on the Grapevine, they went wild.  For some reason, the music got louder as the Isley Brothers bellowed Shout and there were hands waving in the air.

The traffic was lighter than normal and the microphone was working, both small miracles. I was ready to go with 5 minutes to spare. I even remembered my water bottle.

I woke up in the dark, before the first alarm?  I assume I was excited and will be exhausted later.

I headed to bed with a smile on  my face and triple set my alarm because "time change" sleepiness is real in those early days of "springing ahead." 

I was pleasantly pleased when it worked! (Thanks Epson for the unnecessary scare!)

The printer said, "very low on ink," but I held my breath and hit print anyway, hoping it would have a few more sheets of ink left. 

It was after 11pm (after 9pm old time) when pleased with my "lesson plan" and excited about my music selection, I hit "send."  

Taking some cues form a Friday night songfest, I did an AI search for "Motown oldies 120-128 bpm" and had more songs than I needed for the early morning class. 

I was already tired when I agreed to teach The Guru's Monday morning, Aquacise class; however, she sounded sick so I got to work.  It was 9pm (or 8pm old time). 

SOL26: March 9: A Cloudy Slice

 I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice Of Live group this month. As I drove home in the thick fog, I did think, "This is a slice-able moment," and then....

I stepped over the pile of

Filthy snow

Slowly and cautiously.

It wasn't that late, yet darkness
Enveloped my car making it almost

Invisible with a mist,

Cloaking  the windshield; so

I pulled away from the curb

Slowly, cautiously.

The cloud enveloping me was 

Immune to wipers, washers,

Forcing me to open my eyes, 

Open the windows, listen,

Watching for others, moving 

Slowly, cautiously. 

Blankets created almost white out 

Conditions where cars moved

Slowly, cautiously,

I admit to smiling while thinking,

"This is going to be a slice," then,

Realizing my exit had come and gone

In spite of moving

Slowly and cautiously.

SOL26: March 8: After the Show

This month, I am writing with the Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Community. 

I went to see one of those groups that perform at State Fairs during the summer and YMCAs during the winter. The Great American Soul Book exceeded my expectations with singing, dancing and laughter. Remember those songs they now play at 8th grade dances like Shout, Heat Wave? 

As I nestled into bed, I was thinking about the performers (thanks Melanie) who likely worked all week and needed a Netflix night more than a show. Yet, they were shaking, sweating, changing sequin outfits as if it was their mission. 

This is what I think they might have said after the show.

"I don't care how long they clap, there is nothing left in my tank. We're good. It's been a long week," the lead singer said shaking her head, hands and kicking off her shoes.

"Get changed quick and don't forget your shoes again. I want to be on the road in 20 minutes. We've got over two hours home," the electric guitarist implored as he shoved wires into boxes.

"These sequins are all over the place but the spandex is glued to me," one of the pretend Supremes said simultaneously ripping off her wig.

"They almost got a real show when my top started to slip. I gotta fix," the other Supreme-like moaned as she shoved all her glittery outfits into a bag.

"Do you ever watch American Idol and wonder how far you would have made it?" the trumpeter asked the drummer who was sweating more now than during the show.

"Do you ever wonder what will happen to those souls who get sent home?  Some of them are really good!" the keyboardist joined in the discussion as the stage was cleared before the crowd, remembering proms, savoring friendship, and holding onto their long-ago youth slowly headed home, just like in 8th grade. 

SOL26: March 7: Hold On

 I was recovering from Theo of Golden and too exhausted to start a new book when Netflix offered The Wedding Singer, nearly 30 years old, new to me. I can fall hard for a sappy love story in this chapter of being alone, and I "hung onto" the words as reminders to hold onto those you love. My Nonet has the chorus at its heart. 

Real
Tears found

A way out

As the words struck

A hard-to-hear chord

Reminder: hold tight

Wanna make you smile when sad 

Will carry you around when your 

Arthritis is bad, I wanna grow 

Old with you, he crooned, a promise

We all intend to honor 

As we start uncharted 

Paths, full of hopes, dreams, 

Working, living,

Together

Till we're

Old