Month: March 2022

Fall is my favorite season because of all things fall. Winter is my favorite when the yard work is finally over and I can curl up under a blanket on the couch. Summer is perfect when I’m on a beach.

But spring. Spring is where it’s at. It’s buzzing with potential and unpredictability. I just took a walk, and the sky was breathtaking. To the west, a giant dark cloud loomed over the neighborhood like a tidal wave on pause. Stars twinkled in a patch of periwinkle between masses of dusky, gray-pink clouds.

A rabbit scurried in front of me while my sister’s dog stuck her nose deep into a shrub.

A couple strode by, hand-in-hand as they chattered, and other dogs on leashes wagged, sniffed, and yipped.

It’s alive out there!

We’re dog sitting my sister’s pup for a few days, which is great because she and our dog get along very well. It’s mostly smooth sailing.

However, dinnertime quickly became complicated. Each four-legged friend, cats included, wanted someone else’s dinner. Cats eating dog food, dogs eating cat food, dog eating other dog’s food.

The grass is always greener. The bowl is always…?

Amid a craving for sweets, I made a batch of chocolate chip cookies on Sunday. We’ve learned pretty quickly around here that a certain someone will eat far more than his fair share. Within a day, what began as a golden, chocolatey dozen and a half will dwindle to two or three.

Chris seems to be the most frequent loser.

“I thought we had cookies,” he declares, thoroughly confused as he rifles through pantry drawers and cupboards.

“They’re gone.”

“What? How could they possibly be gone?!”

We’ve run through this exchange countless times with very little variation. Perhaps it’s brownies or pie instead of cookies.

After witnessing this travesty too many times, I began divvying up treats. We each get a portion in a bag or wrapped in foil with our first initial written in sharpie, treats somewhat evenly divided (the kids always get more, unless it’s pie; I don’t give up my fair share of pie).

True to form, Edwin’s bag is now empty, Chris is closing in on nil, and Maxine and I are tied with three cookies left in our bags.

Today in class the students analyzed a relationship between two characters in a book I’m using as a mentor text before trying it out with their group books.

Part of the process was to skim through chapters we’ve already read, looking for examples of how the two characters have negatively and positively affected the relationship.

As we discussed the evidence they had been gathering, I was impressed by their open-mindedness and propensity to examine multiple perspectives. One character, for example, becomes snappy and cold toward the other, but the kids were quick to point out the struggles he faces at home.

A student shared that one character spares the other character’s feelings by playing down some very exciting news, which is good for the relationship. Voices immediately arose in (respectful) protest, declaring that you don’t keep secrets in a healthy relationship.

As we concluded out discussion and they turned their attention to examining a relationship in their group books, some groups quietly and independently flipped through chapters, gathering and sorting evidence, while others preferred to confer with one another.

As I worked closely with a few who were not ready to launch, I caught snippets of a very lively debate a few tables over.

“Are you serious?! You call that healthy?” Subdued rebuttals and exaggerated eye rolling followed. She demanded evidence to the contrary.

On her way out, the passionate one lamented to me, “I think I like to argue way more than my group. They like to agree on everything. How boring is that?” She is exactly what this group needs to keep them on their toes.

Baby Girl just left for a concert at The Anthem to see her favorite music artist, Mitski. Chris and I were able to get two tickets for half price, and we intended for Edwin, a mature 17-year-old, to shepherd Maxine through her first concert experience.

Edwin backed out this morning, citing a busy schedule and a chemistry test to study for.

“Don’t worry, Max! Dad will go with you.” Two thumbs up!…?? For some reason, her enthusiasm seemed to wane.

Chris imagined father and daughter, beaming and swaying to the music together, Maxine full of gratitude for dear, old Dad. I could see the wheels turning in her mind, trying to work out how to put distance between them, desperately attempting to hide the fact that she was there with a parent.

She began her campaign around noon to have her friend, “an experienced concertgoer” use the second ticket. After some mild handwringing and talking to the friend’s mom, and recalling my own first concert with a gaggle of girlfriends and no parents in sight, we decided to let them go together.

She just texted me that they are safely inside. It’ll be a late night (for Chris- he’s on pickup), but I am truly excited for her.

Rock on. Wait- this show is more emo, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say. My kids would probably advise, “Nothing, Mom. You don’t need to say anything.” And I would reply to my saucy children, “ROCK ON!”

Warm weather is around the corner, so I’m making a point of getting in the hot tub every night that is below 55 degrees.

Sights and sounds this 43 degree night:

The waterfall spilling over the rocks and into the pond where two koi poke their noses between rocks as rosy red minnows flick past them in a school of ten.

Low hanging white clouds to the southeast against a gray-blue sky that would be inky blue were it not for the towering Amazon building going up about 12 blocks north. To the west, about halfway up from the horizon, Orion’s Belt shines faithfully- you can always count on Orion.

Cherry tree flowers ruffling in the breeze on the other side of the fence, celebrating spring’s arrival while nearly naked river birch and oak branches stretch high into the sky, waiting for tiny buds to burst.

A plane takes off with a roar and fades nearly into silence moments before an arriving plane makes its descent.

A car beeps, a door closes, the engine turns on.

It’s official: civilization has passed its peak. Chris and I watched the last episode of Ozark, season 4, part 1. To kill 20 minutes before picking up Maxine from a friend’s house, he switched on the Netflix reality baking show, Is It Cake?

I thought it was an SNL skit at first. This couldn’t be a real show. Talented bakers make cakes that look like real objects, and the contestants have to guess which one is the cake hiding among the non-cakes. For instance, is it a small suitcase with clothes spilling out? Wrong! It’s a cake! Watch as host Mikey Day (actually of the SNL cast) takes a knife to the petit valise and exposes layers of vanilla cake and buttercream!

After about 10 minutes, we had to turn it off. I’ll admit it wasn’t only because I felt dumber than I had 10 minutes earlier; I was also starting to crave cake.

Standing in front of Union Station

A slight hunch to their stance

Soft, silver curls on one

Smooth white waves on the other

Cigarettes in hand sending swirls into the air

Two shiny black patent leather pocketbooks hanging

From the wrinkled crooks of their elbows

Fresh off the rails to see their grandson and son and

His wife and three daughters

Before they return north

They will

Beat us at gin rummy

Tell stories of Dad’s little-boy mischief

Buy us each a new pair of Easter sandals

And carve a ham with the skill of

A Grandma and Nanny

Every spring, as the flowers begin to bloom and we approach Easter, I think of my grandma and great-grandma (Nanny), who would take the train down from NYC to spend Easter with us when we were kids.

I caught parts of Ketanji Brown Jackson’s confirmation hearing today as I drove home from work and ran other errands this afternoon and evening.

I am so impressed by this woman’s intelligence, grace, knowledge of the law, and clear commitment to defend the Constitution. I’m also in awe of her superhuman ability to suffer fools (ahem, certain senators) and remain professional and articulate in the face of such obvious partisan theater. Some male senators repeatedly interrupted her while she was answering their questions.

I just read that she concluded her third and final day of confirmation hearings one hour ago. What a grueling experience. Her daughters and husband better take good care of mama.

Orange

Fur

Pot belly

Nose tucked under paw

What could you be dreaming of, Rick?

Inspired by Cindy’s Fib poem slice.