Slice of Life: A Safe Secret

  On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

A lot of people had morning coffee on their agenda this morning, making a quiet spot at The Coffee Spot a tough spot to find. My friend and I ordered our drinks and peeked in various rooms on a quest for a place to sit and discuss some ideas for research and work. We settled on a corner table. 

For a while, the corner table was perfect. Several other coffee-drinkers chatted and worked around us, and we were able to focus on each other and our conversation. But things got a little trickier when she wanted to record my responses to her questions for a research project. The women next to us weren't exactly monitoring their volume. 

After perusing the room possibilities, we gathered our bags and coffees to head into the back room where two men were settling in, clearly with similar intentions. It was an almost perfect place until we realized that our corner, out-of-the-way spot was directly beneath the speaker...and the music was loud. 

"Do you think you could reach that volume button?" I asked my friend. 

She didn't need any encouragement to step on a chair and hit the "-" button. The volume decrease was far from gradual, and the room was suddenly silent. The two men looked at us. We weren't sure what they'd say. 

Then...

"Thank you," the one said. "What a better way for a conversation."

"Maybe keep this a secret," I said. 

"That's part of my job," he said. 

I hadn't noticed the black and white color around his neck. 

Our secret was safe, and both our conversations were had with a quieter background. How lovely. 

Slice of Life: Inspiration for Winter Planters

 On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

Last week, winter planters sparked my curiosity, and I spent time looking at different combinations of greens that could color up the grayness of my outdoor spaces. Lo and behold, facebook offered video after video of creative approaches for arranging white pine, cedar, and holly. Those digital algorithms were working in my favor. 

My mom loves flower-arranging, so on Sunday morning, I brought over an arts and crafts project that included several planters, vases, floral foam, dried hydrangea blooms, and six yards of mixed green roping. With clippers in hand, we pilfered her backyard evergreens for additional offerings. Her gardens are spectacular, even in late November on cold gray mornings, so it didn't take long to have a pile of rhododendron branches, leucothe stalks, andromeda sprigs, weeping hemlocks sprays, red twig dogwood branches, and holly swatches. 

"Think about heights and textures," she said as we clipped. I've grown up as a gardener thinking about heights and textures because she always thinks about that in her gardens. "But don't take any of the branches with berries on them. Those are for the birds." I've also started to plan my gardens around birds and butterflies, inspired by her commitment to nurture the backyard wildlife. 

Back in the kitchen, we went to work. 

"How about a border of the hydrangeas?" she suggested. 

I sat on the floor, clipping and snipping, aware of the mess I was creating, but also with a vision of planters and vases. 

By the end of our arts and crafts session, I had planters, vases, and pots that were rivaling some of the facebook videos. 

I used to love being on the lookout for the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon. The Baader-Meinhof phenomenon has to do with the concept that once you learn about something, you keep seeing that something or something to do with it all over the place. Social media has messed that up. Now, once I see something that's new to me or curiosity-sparking, I'm apt to google it. And then, that something shows up all over the place. I've learned the importance of selective googling. 

Turns out that googling holiday planters produced some inspiration for a memorable November morning and some beauty for the gray spaces of home. 

Slice of Life: A reminder about age

On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

On Saturday. night, I was in New York City and went to see The Queen of Versailles. Until this show became the group choice, I didn't know a whole lot about the plot. It's based on the documentary about the Siegel family who were hit hard by the economic crash in 2008. To be honest, the premise hit a little close to home (pun intended) because, as a builder's wife, I was also hit hard in 2008. (Another story for another day.)

All that being said, I'm 58. My one little word for 2025 has been heal, and I've had "old people" surgeries this year, including the removal of a toe cyst and a knee replacement. I've found myself avoiding activities I used to like doing because of the potential for pain or injury, and this tendency is a symptom of getting old, according to my wise (and older) sister in law. 

Before the play started, we had time to reader some of the bios. Kristin Chenoweth played the lead, and I already knew she was about my age (okay, a smidgeon younger), but I had not considered the fact that her character was married to a much older man. 

"Mom," Larkin said. "This is the old man from White Lotus."

We googled him, and it turns out that F. Murray Abraham has been in a lot more than White Lotus. It also turns out that he recently celebrated his 86th birthday. Let me repeat that. He just celebrated his 86th birthday. 

He sang. He danced. He remembered his lines. 

The Queen of Versailles had some good lines, some funny moments, and some emotional scenes. I definitely left the theater with curiosity about the Siegels and the references to some rocky historical moments. But I also left that theater with a renewed commitment to fight getting old. I won't be strutting around in the high heels that Kristin Chenoweth wears (but I've got three inches on her if she's really 4'11" as reported on the internet), but damn, do Kristin and Murray show what's possible for the AARP set! 

Slice of Life: A metaphorical orange Callaway

On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

I played golf with my friend Nancy last week, and I'm happy to report that my drive was going really well for the first several holes. Despite the orange leaves on the course that made it tricky to spot my orange ball if it was anywhere but in the fairway, I continued to play with it. For whatever reason, I resisted the easier-to-spot white balls. 

I'm not sure which hole it was when the Drive Demon struck. I set up, took my practice swing, and focused my eyes on the little Callaway insignia that helped my keep my eye on that ball. I guess I didn't. The ball skimmed off the toe of my driver, right into the creek in front of us. Maybe it went a few feet, a far distance from the soaring 250 yard rocket I'd been envisioning. 

"Hit another," Nancy said, words that rarely come out of her mouth. 

I did (a white ball this time), and she scooted toward the place on the bank of the creek where the orange ball had entered.

"There it is," she said. "I can get it."

I encouraged her to leave it-- I had plenty of balls in my bag-- but she was already flexing her quads to scale the creek cliff and retrieve the orange Callaway. 

"Pass it to me," I said, reaching my hand toward her. "And don't fall into that mud."

Nancy handed me the ball, and, just as she set the ball into my hand, her fingers slipped, and mine failed to close, and the ball... that ball plunked right back into the creek into an even deeper and steeper spot. 

Once I was able to stand straight after laughing so hard, I retrieved it. And I played the white ball for the rest of the round. 

Sometimes people go to great extremes for small things. 

Slice of Life: A Bathroom Takeover

 On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

Over the last week, I've spent a lot of time on my own in a city I don't live in. You generate a LOT of slices by yourself in a city you don't live in. 

The other day, I took my daughter for a haircut, and, rather than sit there, I decided I'd get some steps in. The salon was at the entrance of a mall, and it was raining, so I opted for mall walking. On my first pass by the restrooms, I ignored the bladder pressure; there were several people in line, and I didn't have to go that badly. On the second pass, the line was gone, but the women's room was closed for cleaning. I could hold it. I walked another lap and then down the hallway to the entrance. Still closed for cleaning. 

(It's important to know at this point that I was doing a full mall lap, so this cleaning was taking quite a while!)

I debated. At this point, the bladder pressure was stronger. And how long would the haircut take? I'd go one more lap. 

After that one more lap, I had to go. But... guess what. The cleaning was STILL GOING ON. Another woman joined me outside of the restrooms. 

"I think we should make a deal," I said. "I'll keep the men out for you if you keep the men out for me." I explained that the women's room had been out of commission for a solid twenty minutes, and my bladder's patience was used up. 

She laughed. "You can go first," she said. "It was your idea."

Just then, a mom and a daughter walked up, also needing the facilities. We explained the situation and invited them in with us. Mom, daughter, and I staged a men's room takeover. The little girl, I'm guessing between 7 and 9, thought it was hilarious. 

As we washed our hands, I couldn't resist pointing out the writing opportunity. "I'm a writing teacher when I'm not organizing bathroom takeovers," I said. "If you have to come up with an idea for a small-moment story, this would be a great one."

I got a blank stare, and I'm not sure she knows about small moment stories...but I do! 

Slice of Life- The Annual Talent Show

On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

The doctor's office called at 7:50 yesterday morning to cancel my 11am appointment. Not a big deal, except that it's a two-hour drive with traffic factored in. Given the ride home, as well, I had taken the day off. Faced with the dilemma of not going to school or going, I went. 

I hadn't paid any attention to the events of Monday-- I wasn't planning to be there!-- but when the halls were quiet and the classrooms were empty, I figured there must be an assembly. Which one? As I approached the gym, it dawned on me. The talent show. 

The annual talent show never fails to surprise me, and this year's was no exception. 

• One sixth-grader who is still non-verbal and bigger than all her teachers danced with paras and other students. Her mom was there to video, but had to wipe tears now and then. Until this year, B. tantrummed about coming to school, and her mother brought her and left her every day. 
• Two fifth-grade girls demonstrated and explained wrestling poses. While I couldn't make eye contact with other adults-- (the person next to me couldn't either but I saw her phone screen as she was reading someone else in the gym's text about the morning porn) I had to give them credit for the commitment to being on stage, the boundaries pushed to participate in wrestling, and the accuracy of explanations. All that being said, I don't think any of the first-graders left the show ready to try out the demonstrated pins. 
• A couple of girls acted out a comedy skit they'd written. The skit about a singing lesson was funny. We don't have any play-writing in our curriculum--- I'd love to teach that!-- and I'd love to see their script. I might work to track that down... 
• After many sub-par performances, a fairly quiet sixth-grader closed the show with her rendition of Defying Gravity.  Describing it to my family over dinner, they didn't believe me when I said that this kid nailed the last notes. Fortunately, the principal was only a text away, and she sent me the video. "She needs to keep singing," my daughter said. 

Maybe not all the kids who performed need to keep doing all that they're doing-- there were some duds-- but talent shows always impress me because of both the audience and the performers. Students in the audience are compliant and respectful; students on the stage are resilient, creative, and courageous. 

Today, I was grateful for the found day and the talent show. 

Slice of Life- Wishing Larkin a happy birthday!

  On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

My father wore a pink coat twenty-nine years ago today. We didn't know we were having a girl, but we suspected it. And he must have suspected it, as well. Who knows? Maybe he knew since he had been friends with my doctor. He wore a pink coat. And it was twenty-nine years ago. 

I thought I'd resist the epidural, but I didn't last long. Garth had gone to get food when those contractions started, and I was pretty beside myself by the time he returned with his egg sandwich. It was much better to watch the contractions come and go on the monitor, betting that they would have hurt, and instead, watching the French Open. I was cheering for Steffi Graf and Andre Agassi on those almost-pink courts. 

We got to watch a lot of tennis that day since it took all day for Larkin to make her appearance. All of her grandparents were there to greet her. I could dig out those pictures, but it's fun to conjure up my dad in that pink blazer having finished his rounds and beaming with a swaddled newborn in his arms. 

Twenty-nine years ago in that pink blazer. 

Today, I think of my dad, and I celebrate my daughter. It's a strange juxtaposition of life celebrations. He left us ten years ago today on Larkin's 19th birthday. 

Today, I think of my dad, but I celebrate my daughter. The girl who made me a mom. Happy birthday to one of my favorite people on this planet.