Slice of Life 2026: 20 of 31- Dad

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

Some days more that others, Dad is with me. Today was one of them, and I'm grateful for today and the memories. 

Maybe it was Larkin writing about the ides of the 17ths in our family. She was in kindergarten when my father fell on a 17th, but she understood the significance. 

And there was Julia's morning text, coincidentally arriving on her birthday. One of her professors invited her to present a paper which is a big deal when you're a medical student. Julia sent a picture of the official invitation, and I welled up when I saw that the topic was on tracheo-esophagus prosthetic replacement at the International Conference for Head and Neck Cancer. That was my dad's specialty. I could almost feel his high five. I could almost see him remove his thick glasses and wipe his eyes. He'd be so proud. So proud. 

And then, in our evening writing group, Lainie offered a choice of prompts, one involving recipes and one involving cars... two legendary topics when it came to my father. I've even written a post about Dad's life in cars during last year's challenge. Dad always liked to experiment with recipes. He tinkered as a winemaker, and for a while he was a bread baker. We all loved his molasses cookies. Even late in his illness, Dad would pull out the stained recipe card, make the dough, roll it, chill it, cut it, and bake it. Those were good cookies. Do I write about the day I came into the kitchen to find him watching frozen butter slam around the mixer trying to figure out why the batter wasn't creaming? It seems both relevant and irrelevant. There are days and events that are markers when a person you love is slipping away, and the day he could no longer surprise us with his famous cookies was one of them. 

Another memorable day-- a marker-- involved a car. My dad always loved cars, and maybe one day I will write some sort of anthology of car stories. (We talked about that at writing group, also!) Dad's cars had great stories. If only cars could talk! The first car I knew was a Plymouth Duster with a crocodile-textured roof. Dad liked to tell anyone who would listen (and our friends were a captive and responsive audience) about how he'd wrestled a croc in the Mississippi for that roof. We all believed him, although we couldn't really picture it. A light blue Saab, a paneled Country Squire, a sharp Sciracco, and an oversized BMW could all tell stories, but it was a red convertible that proved to be another marker. The red convertible showed up in our driveway (we lived with my parents for several years) a little over a year after we'd made the tough decision that he wasn't okay to drive. Dad didn't have many angry moments, but he often repeated his annoyance with having his car sold right out from under him. (He wasn't totally wrong about that.) We took his keys, but not his credit card. Neal from the car dealership must have been having a slow day at work because Neal took a deposit over the phone and drove that shiny car right on over to our house-- to my father's delight and our chagrin. Neal didn't get the credit for the sale, and the car returned to the lot with him. How could that have happened twenty years ago? 

I'm grateful for today and the memories. A slicer-- and I wish I could remember who it was-- wrote in a post that people are alive for as long as they're remembered. If Dad were here today, maybe we wouldn't shudder at 17ths, and he'd celebrate Julia's birthday and the awesome email she received. He'd laugh at some car memories and serve up a plate of chewy molasses cookies. 

How grateful I am for today and the memories. 

Slice of Life 2026: 19 of 31- Happy Birthday to Julia

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

One of the fun things about slicing every March is that March 19 is Julia's birthday. For those of you who haven't met Julia, you can get a sense of her here because she slices with us, even though she is a time-stressed, second-year medical student. 

As I wrote this post, it was fun to revisit some of the birthday posts I've written over the years. Here are a few from:

• When she was 17
• 22 in 2020
• Two years ago when she first started slicing with us when she was 26

Today Julia is 28. Our year had some roses and thorns, as I think back on it. Medical students had a break in August between first and second year, and it was awesome to have Julia home with us for more than a few days. A definite rose. 

Julia welcomed me into retirement by getting so sick she was in the hospital for five days. I drove to Michigan to help with icing and keep her fever down, and then to help her with basic life when she insisted on going back to classes even though she was far from 100%. (Of course she did.) I'm still traumatized when I think about how sick she was, but how lucky was I to have the time and be able to be there for as long as she needed? Lucky, but a major thorn. 

I got to go back to Michigan in a more civilized way a few weeks ago to present at a conference, but also to take her and her friends to dinner and have some good playing time. We packed a lot into 27 hours, exercising, cooking, shopping, and celebrating how much fun we have. Might have been a dozen roses packed into those hours. 

Even though I won't be with Julia on her actual birthday, she'll be home next week for her spring break. I can't wait. 

If you read her blog, make sure to wish this awesome girl a happy birthday! 

Slice of Life 2026: 18 of 31- Empathic farting

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

Clare is my third of four daughters, and in case you're reading, and you've missed it, three of my four daughters slice with us during the month of March. Clare is currently living at home since she is between jobs and a PhD program. With two slicers under the same roof, we have a lot of giggles over what constitutes a slice. In fact, in her post yesterday, Clare allowed that she had slices out the wazoo. (And, she kind of does!) Clare's post yesterday was one of her funnier ones, relaying the catapult of her electric toothbrush into an unflushed toilet. If you're looking for a laugh, you'll find one there, both in the post and in the comments. 

She started the post giving me dibs on empathic farting. Hmmm. What you need to know is that the Meehans have a lot of diagnosed and undiagnosed GI issues. Therefore, the status of our colons is rarely undiscussed. We know who's gone, who hasn't gone, and how much they've gone. While we don't have a family group chat about it, we probably could. Someone is always ready to talk about how much or little Miralax they need on a daily basis. 

Therefore, it should come as little surprise that people in our house own their farts and generally provide warning when the environmental smell is about to change. We tend to be quiet air polluters. My friends used to call them SBDs when I was in high school for silent but deadly. (Is that a thing? Or did we make it up? I'm not sure...)

The other day, Clare and I were driving home from New Hampshire, and it was raining. When she opened her window, I was a little surprised. 

"I farted," she said. 

Almost without awareness, so did I. 

"Seems like you've inspired my system to get going as well," I said, opening my window and getting wet. 

And thus, empathic farting entered the car, our language, and our world. May it not enter yours. 

___________________

If you haven't found Larkin, Julia, and Clare, here they are. They are not educators, but they are funny, and they are good writers. I love connecting with them through writing when March rolls around. 

Slice of Life 2026: 17 of 31- Apology

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

I didn't expect the story I got when I checked in. I expected joy. I expected excitement. I expected a gushing recount. The anger, frustration, and tears didn't match the planned experience. 

As I listened, I wasn't my best self, and I interrupted. 

"Are you sure this wasn't a misunderstanding?"

"Could you wait to borrow so much trouble?"

"You're wasting a lot of anger energy on something you're not sure of."

She assured me she was sure. And now she was even angrier because I didn't validate. 

Even as she kept going with the story and the way things went down, it didn't make sense to me. Could a company really gaslight someone so much? The believer-in-humanity part of me wanted to believe that a misunderstanding would explain a deal that was made and then was taken away. 

No, she assured me, that's not what's happening. 

I guess it turns out, yes, a company can make a deal and take it away. 

When we spoke again, I apologized for not just agreeing that the situation sucked. An easy apology because I felt so bad that the situation happened and that I didn't respond with ultra empathy. 

And, I'll continue to believe in humanity, but with a little more skepticism. Damn. 

Slice of Life 2026: 16 of 31- Umbrellas

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

We were finishing dinner when Clare looked at her phone and checked the weather app. We were in New Hampshire for an admitted students day. She'd be touring campus and sitting in on classes while I had time to walk around town, maybe hike a little, and do some writing in coffee shops. 

She started laughing. 

"Have you checked the forecast?' she asked. 

I hadn't. I didn't want to hear why she was laughing. 

"We're supposed to get a lot of rain."

"Maybe they're wrong."

Clare held her phone up for me to see. Total rain. 100%. 

"Did you bring anything?" she asked. 

"Nope." I could picture my umbrella on the shelf in the mudroom. 

The two of us walked back to our airbnb (that had the cute outdoor sitting area where I guess I wouldn't be sitting) and found directions to the nearest umbrella-selling institution. 

As we looked over the selection, we debated for the mid-range option since said rain was supposed to be accompanied by lots of wind. 

A store worker was nearby and overheard us. 

"Pretty awful forecast," Clare said. 

"Not snow," she said. "Could be worse." 

True. Not snow. 

And we had umbrellas. 

Slice of Life 2026: 15 of 31- Old friends and shared wavelengths

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

After a catch-up walk, we sat down at the restaurant. We'd met earlier than planned because we both had afternoon commitments that bordered our long-standing date, and I was proud of us for both holding firm with the carved out time. As we had walked, we'd realized that it had been over a year since we'd seen each other, and K is one of my dearest and oldest friends. In an earlier post, I reflected on time. No, time isn't fast, and it isn't slow. It's always the same. It's the pace of my life that makes it feel different. 

In any case, I glanced at the menu and made a quick decision. I was hungry, and a burger sounded great. K. muttered something about a salad, and we went back to life catch up. We had a lot to cover. Even though we don't talk as much as we should, time and distance haven't gotten in the way of our wavelengths. Our lives have so many parallels, and it's joyful to spend time together. Old friends have a way of picking right up from wherever we left off. 

The waiter came over. "We have a few specials," he said. 

As he went through the shrimp soup, quiche of the day, and omelette ingredients, I stayed true to my burger plan. And then he described the salmon burger. 

"I'll have that," I said. 

"Me, too," K. said. 

Of course she would. 

Old friends and shared wavelengths. 

Slice of Life 2026: 14 of 31- Late Night Pickleball

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

"How about one more game?" Lexi asked. "I'm rounding up the Meehan girls."

 It was after ten on a Friday night, and Lexi and I had just finished playing one last game. Clare and Cecily were hanging out with other team members, shoes off, ready to go home. I stayed on the court as Lexi approached them with her charm. I knew they wouldn't be able to resist. Lexi is a few years older than they are, and she has especially taken Cecily under her wing. She's Cecily's favorite person to play with. 

"They're in," Lexi said. "They're lacing back up. We're taking them on."

The match started, and Lexi and I surged off to a hefty start. On the other side of the court, Clare and Cecily weren't smiling. In fact, they might have been frowning and rolling their eyes. 

"Are they okay?" Lexi asked. "They look like they're going to kill each other." 

I wondered if Lexi had a sister. 

"They're fine," I said. 

We won another point. 

The storm clouds got lower and grayer on the other side. 

"Should we just call this?" Lexi asked. "We don't have to play."

"Nah," I said. "They'll work it out." 

When we changed sides, Lexi and I were ahead 11-6, needing to get to 21. 

"Let's finish this off," she said to me. 

On the other side of the court, the girls were conferring. I didn't need to ask them what they were saying. Have I mentioned that Lexi is a VERY good pickleball player. 

Play Mom, I could almost hear them saying. All balls go to Mom. 

For the next several points, a lot of balls came to me, and a lot of points went to them. #wellplayed

The mood got a little lighter, even though the time got a little later. 

And at the end of the match, they were on the winning side.

"One more match?" I joked. 

NO way. 

As a mom, I'm proud of these women. If I'm going to lose to anyone, I love losing to them.