Slice of Life: A Lunch Date

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

  

As I turned right, a familiar SUV turned left and followed me. My friend's mom drove a car like that. A 4-digit license plate. An old Mercedes. How many could there be?

My friend's birthday was a few weeks ago, and I always think of her more around then. I'd texted her mom and suggested that we follow up on our promise from a year ago that we'd have coffee. Mrs. J. hadn't responded, but I knew she probably would. Our relationship is like that. We have a powerful tie, even without seeing each other for long periods of time. 

As I drove up Stratton Brook, I kept glancing in my rear view mirror. My certainty was growing, and I pulled over, letting her pass me. The posture was Mrs. J's. The age about right. My certainty was now 90% and growing. When she turned into Powder Forest, I was nearly positive. 

Would anyone wonder if I arrived back at my office five to ten minutes later than I'd said? Would anyone notice if I took a little detour into a neighborhood? On a whim, I followed her into the neighborhood, trying not to follow so closely she worried, but not so distantly that I'd lose her. I knew the name of her road, but not how to get there, and not the number. When she turned onto Bantry, any doubt was gone. 

Unfortunately, it was lawn service day in the neighborhood, so any chance I had of rolling down my window and having her hear me say hi was non-existent. Was I really going to follow her right then left then right then left to not say hello? I turned around at the end of her cul-de-sac, and I parked in front of her house, just as the garage was closing. All I could see was her sneakers and blue pants heading from the car to the door. 

"Linda!" I yelled. But the garage door kept closing. 

I was parked, and I thought about texting later and forgetting about giving her a quick hug. Instead, I walked up to the door. She opened it before I knocked. 

"It's Mel," I said. 

But she already knew that before I said my name, and she wrapped me in a hug. Even though I know how frail moms can feel, I was surprised at the boniness of her hug. 

"Sit down," she said about ten times. 

"I can't," I said about twenty times. "But let's make a date. A real one."

We have a date, and I think we'll keep it, even though it's a month away. I'm already looking forward to sharing memories, laughs, and tears. 

Slice of Life: A Picture Perfect Day for a Graduation

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

  

In 2018, I sponsored my entire family's trip to Michigan, including my mother, to attend our oldest daughter's college graduation. It seemed like the right thing to do, even though it was the end of April, and all three of her sisters had a lot going on in their own college and high school lives. We all sat in the UM Big House huddling in blankets as it snowed and the temperature hovered at about 32 degrees. This slice isn't about that weekend, but trust me. It was memorable for all the stories, and many of them involved being cold. 

I didn't fly sisters around for Daughter #2's graduation. Good thing. It was mid-May in Connecticut, and 102 degrees. We sat in the shadeless quad with hats and DIY fans. Daughter #3's college graduation featured sideways rain. The wind broke most of the umbrellas. Oh, and it was 2021, so there was an expectation to keep a distance from people. Our well-planned outside party was inside with lots of people in close quarters. Yep, another graduation full of memories, and many of them involved being wet. 

Cecily is our fourth daughter, and she graduated on Sunday. 

All week, the forecast was sketchy, except for Sunday. All week, the forecast was pretty perfect for Sunday. And it was. It was sunny and 70, maybe even 75 in the sun. We walked around campus, and we took pictures on the UConn letters. 

Then the crew hiked to the top of Horse Barn Hill overlooking the campus, and I happily took pictures of them along the way as I enjoyed the sun. 

I got a cute selfie with Cecily when they came back down. 

It was Mother's Day, and a picture perfect day for a graduation. And maybe the cold, heat, and rain made it even better! A great finale to our undergraduate graduations! 

Slice of Life: Coffee not the way I like it

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'm sure I'm not the only one who gets regular messages about what to eat, when to eat, how to eat, supplements to use, supplements not to use... Especially now, as I'm trying to rebuild atrophied muscle, I've been paying attention to protein and ways to sneak in a little more here, a little more there. 

Has anyone else been listening to Mel Robbins podcasts? I haven't listened to many, but I did catch a recent one with Dr. Stacy Sims. On it, Dr. Sims shared about her morning beverage. She mixes protein powder into her coffee, and she described it as much like a latte. Caffeine AND protein? Brilliant. 

I'm going to admit here that my morning coffee is usually delivered to me (shout-out to husband Garth), and so I shared the idea with him.

"Maybe mix it into the milk," I suggested, and then pour the coffee over it. 

Garth brought the potion up, delivering it to my nightstand, and the aroma, was, well, a little disappointing. Not the usual Starbucks Verona. Instead, well, a little fake vanilla-y. 

I took a sip, and a clump of undissolved protein powder stuck to the roof of my mouth. Despite repeated efforts, that stuff stuck. I got myself a spoon and went to work stirring and dissolving. I drank the protein-laced coffee, but the morning java didn't hit like it usually does. 

Since then, I've tried small dosages and eliminated the flavor element. I've also upped the shrimp, chicken, and egg intake so that I can justify a return to coffee au naturál. If anyone elso has sneaky ways to up the protein intake, my aging muscles would welcome them! 

Slice of Life 2025: How did he find it?

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 month during the SOLSC, I wrote a post about my dad's cars. I'm not private about my writing, and many of you know that three of my daughters slice in the March community. We talk about each other's writing a lot in our family, and we almost always comment on each other's writing. 

On that post, a comment surprised me! 

JC3 would not be recognized by anyone but me, but I knew exactly who that was! My mother reads all of our posts; she must have mentioned it to my brother. 

       

                                                   

Okay, do I believe my mother who also reads our blogs? I definitely don't believe that typing the beginning letters of my blog would get you there. J-U-S-T has too many much more likely hits than mine. I texted him, curious. 

I have to say, he is not only very right, but also very funny. And yes, he's showing up in a slice. 

On a more serious note, I think about this event in conjunction with today's quote from Ann Lamott. Writing is a connecting and powerful force in this unbalanced world. 

Slice of Life: An interesting Monday morning for NYT games

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

  

 

Spoiler Alert: Answers to yesterday's Wordle and Connections included in this slice. 

Content Alert: Inappropriate innuendos

As I do every morning, I began my morning puzzles with Wordle. For reasons I won't get into, I started with PAINT. Not good. STARE? Still not good. And even a dumb mistake caused by playing too quickly so I could get to some slice reading. When I got to my fifth guess, I was reasonably certain of the answer, but surprised at the choice of words. I mean, I know the word has multiple meanings, but still, I was a little surprised. 

Our family shares the daily Wordle results, and, since Julia and I were the early players, I laughed at her text:

Thinking about the teacher I know who usually plays Wordle with his class, I figured he could explain the meaning of BOOTY if he had to. Yes, some of the kids would have some previous experiences with that word, but I could envision the possible giggles being manageable. 

Then I played Connections. Again, I was a little wide-eyed at the purple category. _____ PLAY? Horse, screen, word, and... wait for it... fore? C'mon NYT! It couldn't have been 3-point? Or childs? How about re? FORE??? 

I sent one of my colleagues a warning about Connections since his class loves to play. 

Booty and foreplay would be a tough double whammy for a Monday morning! Here's hoping no one had to deal with that! 

Slice of Life 2025: 31 of 31- Wrapping up the SOLSC 2025 Challenge

Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, an event hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

I've enjoyed hosting the final week of the Challenge, pushing myself to read different slicers, carving out time to check in on comments throughout the day instead of my early morning and evening routines. I've written before about how the slicing community reminds me of a coffee shop in that so many slicers have their posting routines. There's a cluster of people who I feel like I met every morning between 5:45 and 6:30. We all shared our comments in much the same way as we might line up and place our coffee orders. Dawn, Jess, Tracey, Molly, Amy, Cindy, Kim, Ana, Fran, Sally... I'll miss you in the early morning commenting brigade! 

I'd thought about the important things I wanted to say in this post, but my imposter syndrome is real, and other slicers have already written such beautiful reflections about the importance of writing and of this community. I'm inspired to spend time in April returning to some of my posts from previous years; I think I'm consistent with my writing territories, but I'm curious to see if my theories align with the patterns I may discover. 

Thank you to all of you who have shared bits and pieces of your lives through your writing, and who have supported the bits and pieces of my life I've written about. March 2025 has been a healing journey, and my world has been much more confined that it usually is. I'm grateful for the connections of the community, maybe more this year than in any other. 

I know that I'll continue to connect with some of you throughout the year on Tuesdays-- as soon as tomorrow. Others, I look forward to March of 2026. 

Onward, 
Melanie

Slice of Life 2025: Day 30 of 31- Healing, automaticity, and writers

Throughout the month of March, I am participating in the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, an event hosted by the team at Two Writing Teachers. Every day in March, I will share a story and comment on the stories of other participants. Please join us in writing, sharing, reading, and commenting!

Today is Day 30 of the writing challenge, and it is also Day 32 of my healing challenge. I've accepted the fact that the two are phenomenally intertwined. Even though I am keeping up with daily videos and notes about my knee progress-- that was how I was trying to compartmentalize slicing and healing-- this damn knee keeps showing up in slices. 

But I had a moment of bringing many aspects together this week. Stay with me. I think I can make this make sense, but I'm using writing to process an idea right now. Over the last several months, I've been working on a book about the foundational skills of writing-- those skills and strengths that have to be in place or on the way to being in place for writers to have meaningful access to their writing process. Core strength to sit up, fine motor skills to make lines and curves, handwriting skills, spelling, sentence structure, oral language, and the metacognitive power to direct all of it-- and then start generating ideas, planning, drafting... What a feat writing is. 

As I've been healing-- Heal is my OLW for 2025, and a perfect one so far-- I've been paying attention to the work my brain has to do to accomplish basic tasks. For the first couple of weeks, I couldn't remember or make myself lift my leg. I'd lie there and will my left leg to move. Will my left quad to contract. Will that heel to get off the bed-- just a little. I'd lift and lower my right leg almost like a coach. C'mon lefty, this is what it should look like. Still, getting through those two sets of twenty leg lifts was a major accomplishment. I know that I closed my eyes and maybe even legit-napped after some of those early sessions. Now, thirty-two days later, leg lifts have regained automaticity, but I talk myself up and down the stairs, using verbalization to remind myself how to place that left foot ahead, contract, and balance to move that right one behind it. On about day twenty, I stood in front of an escalator, and I had to watch Clare navigate it in front of me in order to remember how to do it. 

I've known that healing is exhausting and zaps energy, but until now, I haven't thought about how part of the reason for the energy zap encompasses the amount of cognitive energy that regaining automaticity consumes. Walking is a very different activity when you have to think about and direct what part of your foot hits the floor first, how your leg should bend and straighten during which part of the process, and how high your foot should come up from the floor. All of those thoughts make a walk across the kitchen a significant effort. There's something about this that relates to the writing process. It's a very different process if you have to think about holding yourself up, manipulating your fingers, forming the letters, and spelling the words... I'd like to believe that I've always celebrated young writers and all they are pulling together, but I think that losing and having to regain my automaticity in activities as basic as lifting my leg gives my greater appreciation and awe. 

If you're still reading, Fran Haley's post this morning is a lovely thank you to the slicing community. There are so many reasons to write, so much insight, so many connections. Without sounding corny or overly dramatic, her post is a beacon for the importance of empowering every young writer with the automaticity they need to write with humor, sorrow, courage, encouragement, belief in themselves and in others... her words, but in a different format. 

This rambling, unplanned, post has brought me to how, like Fran, I'm grateful for writing and this community and the ability to be a part of it.