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).