Slice of Life: A Greater Appreciation for a Colander

     I'm doing my best to keep up with slicing on Tuesdays! All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

"Where did that colander come from?" Larkin asked as I drained the pasta. "And what are the designs in it? I love them!"

I transferred the pasta, and the two of us studied the pattern of holes. Stars, we agreed. I love Larkin's appreciation for both current, trending items and also old classics. She embraces eclecticism!

"They were my grandmother's," I said, pulling out the matching colander and holding them up for Larkin to appreciate. 

Larkin is home for a couple of weeks, and it's a new home. She hasn't been here since we moved in March, and before then, many of our belongings, colander included, had been in boxes for several years. That's another story and slice, but I do remember unpacking the colander and being happy to see it. Not everything has to be new. Not everything is better new. 

And the truth was, I had never really studied and appreciated the colanders until Larkin's noticing. Leave it to her to notice as an artist and appreciator of patterns and design. That being said, I always reach for my old colanders as opposed to the new and shiny one from Bed Bath and Beyond. Thinking about it, there's something about the weight, the smoothness, and the shape that works better than the newer ones. And there's also something about having Tippie's colander in my kitchen. 

A few nights later, the girls were making pizza, and a friend with four much younger kids wanted to see what her future might hold, so I snapped a shot of the girls stretching the dough and chopping up toppings. 

"That colander!" was her response. Her grandmother had that colander as well. 

I love that a colander-- a tool that is for straining and cleansing-- has inspired memories, appreciation, and connections. 

Happy Slicing,

Slice of Life: The Girls Are Home

    I'm doing my best to keep up with slicing on Tuesdays! All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

The girls are home. 

There's chocolate cake 

Baked at 10.

(That's 10 p.m.)

And workouts that include

Too many abs

And frog jumps,

And burpees. 

There are debates over whether

to watch

The Bachelorette because 

it's home visits

or

The season finale of The Voice. 

There a new Taylor Swift album

Instead of my 

new Bruce Springsteen album,

And seltzer cans, empty,

On the piano

After a session of 

Playing and singing and composing.

 

There's extra laundry,

And extra crumbs,

And extra dishwasher loads,

And extra noise. 

And 

extra, 

extra,

joy. 

The girls are home. 

Slice of Life: How is it only December?

 

   I'm doing my best to keep up with slicing on Tuesdays! All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

In an email I wrote to teachers, I included the line: How is it already December tomorrow?  I reread it, thought about it, and I deleted that line. 

Maybe what I really meant, and as I sit here and write this post on the morning of December 1, how is it only December? 

If I think back to a year ago, my youngest daughter was waiting for a college acceptance. Since then, she's graduated, deferred, worked harder than she ever has, and has become a fitness junkie as well as a foodie. But wait, let's just consider 2020. 

 

It's hard to believe that in January 2020, there were only a few rumblings of a virus in China. Little did I know...  In January 2020, I was picking paint colors for the house we were building and would move into on March 9,  just before one of my best friend's husband's 400 person funeral a day later. And just before the state shut down four days later. And just before my third daughter came home early from her semester abroad six days later. 

How could that week have happened less than nine months ago? 

I could keep going with 2020: the highs and lows-- the game nights, toilet paper crises, Zoom sessions, family hikes, election results, new puppies... (yes, that's plural, as we got one and so did my mother. That's another post.) It's just hard to believe it's only December. 

I wonder what the response would have been if I had written: How is it only December?

My guess is that the teachers would have more than understood.