Slice of Life 2026: 30 of 31- Buzzer beater

 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. 

For those of you who don't know, I live in Connecticut. For as long as I can remember, I have cheered for UConn basketball players. Watching games is a core memory from my dating life with my now-husband, and I was a fan before out first date. We started dating in 1992, so... a while.

This is a rare and wonderful weekend when all four of our daughters are home. One is a Michigan graduate, one is a current Michigan medical student, and one is a UConn student. So our schedule had to revolve around:

• 1:00-UConn Women's game
• 2:15-Michigan Men's game
• 5:00- UConn Men's game

-------Spoiler alert: We went 3 for 3 in our house today! ------------

But before that happened, my mother arrived at the house at 5, just as Julia, Larkin, and I pulled in. This moment was going to be my slice for today until the end of the UConn men's game. Maybe some other day. 

In any case, she arrived, and I started dinner preparation which was a great distraction since the rest of the family was paying close attention to UConn getting slammed by Duke. At one point they were down 19. Ugh. 

My plan, and I was sticking to it, was that we would grill the swordfish and burgers at halftime, and we would all eat dinner while watching the second half. 

------------You've had the spoiler alert in case you don't already know and you have not gotten to see the unbelievable shot that Braylon Mullins made with .4 seconds left. ---------------

As the second half progressed the game got closer and closer. UConn continued to miss shots, but their defense was solid, and they made enough shots to whittle at Duke's lead. My phone started to light up as the minutes ticked off. I looked at one of the texts, and I said out loud, "HOW could she be texting me right now?"  And then, I read the text, and it was about the game. What a great reason! 

There were many more! I guess I forget how many people know what we'd be doing tonight! 

All of us were locked in, maybe even holding hands in the final seconds, ready to offset our moods with a great array of desserts, and then.... from the kid who had missed almost every other shot of the night.... came the shot of the year. Maybe of the decade. A shot that people will talk about for many years to come. 

We cheered. We jumped up. And someone stepped on the remote. And hit the power button. The shot went swish, and the TV went black. 

"What happened?" 

"Who did that?" 

"Turn it back on!"

"Did that really happen?"

The chaos that had been mounting was now complete, except the noise that was now flooding our house was only ours since the television was silent. 

One of my goals for 2026 is to learn how to use our television's remote better, and it takes a long time to reboot and get to the channel you're looking for, so the get-it-back-on movement took a while. By the time we were back on the game, I think they were on the 27th or 28th replay of Mullins' shot. 

It really happened. Regardless of the outcome, I was celebrating my family and the joy I feel with them all in hugging proximity, but wow! Let's go Huskies! And let's go Blue. What a fun day!

Slice of Life 2026: 29 of 31- Frozen shrimp

  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 knew I'd be cutting things close. Yesterday was one of those days when everything had to be on time, I needed a back-up plan in case it didn't, and I had to have things prepped for efficiency. With tutoring sessions, airport pickups, a pickleball tournament, and nine for dinner, the error margin was small. 

The day began with a message from Delta. 

Okay, I could handle that. It just meant that I went to the grocery store beforehand. My plan was to get shrimp at the Big Y. However, they only had the easy peel shrimp that I'd need in frozen form. I had decided that those were going to be worth the extra cost today given the schedule, and I really didn't want to deal with thawing shrimp. 

Okay, no problem. I'd stop at Whole Foods on my way home. They'd have the shrimp I wanted. Fortunately, it was cold enough that I could safely leave the ice cream in the car. (One of the few times you'll hear me say it's good that it's cold outside.)

"I need four pounds of these," I said, pointing to the lovely, unfrozen, easy-to-peel shrimp. 

The fish man shook his head at me. 

"I'll have to give you frozen ones," he said. He then went on to explain how to thaw shrimp. (I had a pretty good idea of what to do, but he was too serious and invested in his explanation to interrupt him. Good thing it was cold for that ice cream in my car.)

And so, the frozen shrimp went into the refrigerator, I did the all the prep I could do for the rest of dinner, and continued with my schedule-bound day. 

The schedule again went awry when matches backed up. And then there was the problem that my partner and I made the playoffs, and then the finals, so we had to stay for the medals. Okay, high fives to us (higher fives if we'd won the finals and came in first instead of second, but whatever...). I texted Clare and Garth for back up. 

__________________________

Aside and Important Background Information: One thing you need to know about me is that I am often overcoming a tendency to buy too little food, especially seafood, since leftovers tend to be left until thrown away. One of my four daughters regularly ask me, especially when boys are invited for dinner, "Did you get enough protein?"

__________________________

When I walked into the kitchen, Clare had things going in the kitchen. She's pretty awesome that way. But when I looked in the sink and the colander of shrimp, there were not many shrimp. The pile seemed small. 

"Where did those shrimp come from," I asked. 

"The freezer," Clare said. 

"Uh oh," I said. "You used the two-pound bag?" (I keep frozen shrimp on-hand for quick weekday meals.)

I opened the refrigerator-- the logical place for the shrimp that needed defrosting-- and pulled out my big bag of still-frozen shrimp. 

I have zero doubt that there were disparaging comments made about how I was going to starve all the dinner guests before I got home to the plenty-of-food rescue, and now there were some disparaging comments about my communication skills of which I could not defend. I tried for a moment to explain that I'd written my text in between matches with people talking to me and pressuring me to get to the court... but, still. I admit. I was not clear about the location of the shrimp. 

Fortunately, we had a good laugh, the frozen shrimp from the refrigerator defrosted, team-make-dinner made dinner, everyone had plenty to eat, and...

We have a lot of leftovers. This is a great recipe for anyone looking for a healthy and quick-to=prepare meal for shrimp lovers. 

Slice of Life 2026: 28 of 31- Procrastination

 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. 

What a lot I can get done when I have a writing project to work on! 

I had an aggressive to-do list at the start of the day. It went something like this:

• clean the bathrooms (like REALLY clean)
• Change sheets
• Check and edit podcast
• Write and comment for SOLSC
• laundry- lots of it
• grocery store (Trader Joes which is a solid 30 minute ride)
• write a student report
• about ten other things. Maybe more... 
• revise chapters in my novel

So, I got everything done and more, except one thing. I also volunteered for a couple of hours, worked out, and watched basketball. I wound yarn, made cookie batter, and walked the dogs. 

If I ever want to make sure that my house is clean, the laundry is done, and any other hanging-over-my-head chores are completed, I should remember that a sure-fire way to get those tasks crossed off is to put some butt-in-the-chair writing work on the list.

Maybe I'll work on those chapters tomorrow. Feel free to ask me. 

Slice of Life 2026: 27 of 31- Safe Space

 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. 

Over the last several weeks, I have gotten to teach a writing class at the high school, and I've gotten to do it in partnership with my book's co-author. A grant is paying for the class, and I'm not sure how students found out about it... bottom line is we have three to five kids each week, and they are... awesome. We have not taught much because mostly, these kids have just wanted to write. We've brought good food. Appealing notebooks. Fun pens. Responsive mentor texts. And ideas for them to try stemming from what they shared. 

Next week is the school's equity week, and we asked the students to work on something they might want to share. L. had a piece ready to go about the challenges of being an American-born Chinese person. S. had been working on a piece about her name which she has shortened when she's at school because it's hard to pronounce, but at home, she is still her name. She's developed her work into a poem about what's lost by fitting in. 

Yesterday, three of the writers were on a roll and ready to go-- in that just-let-us-write state of being. When we asked if they needed anything in the way of support from us, they were very clear: no. 

But, E. was stuck. She's a kid who has moved a lot, and she loved and related to Yard Sale by Eve Bunting. Maggie and I huddled with E. to hear about how it was going, what she was thinking, and how we could support her. 

"I'm not liking the words in it, and how my piece is sounding," she said. "Do you think I could do something with animation to tell my story?"

We had said to the kids early on that our answer would almost always be yes. 

"Yes," we said. 

And then she went on to describe what she was thinking. She had a vision, and she wanted to share parts of her life both with avatars and images. Would that be okay. 

"Yes," we said. 

I wish I could remember exactly how she said that she wanted to include being gay in her piece. When she shared this part of her identity, there was a nervous laugh or hitch or something that I can't quite name. I pointed to Maggie. 

"Me too," Maggie said. "I have a wife and a house and two sons..." She went on, reflecting on what it would have been like for her in her life if she had been confident enough to come out in high school. And I could sit and watch E.'s body language change from nervousness to total comfort. 

It's a moment that I wish I could read others' perspectives about, and who knows? Maybe I can one day. For the time being, it was incredible for me to watch the power of having a young person's identity reflected back to them. 

Slice of Life 2026: 26 of 31- Predicting and Preventing

  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. 

Most of the work I'm currently doing with students is individual, so I both look forward to and worry about my weekly group of four. The group is a little tricky since they're both friends and siblings, they are not all in the same grade, and the readiness and attention levels vary,,, a lot! We've had a three-week hiatus, so it was easy to predict that I would have some writer-wrangling to do. At a recent conference I attended, Anita Archer stated that "if you can predict it, you can prevent it." I love this line for all aspects of my life, and in this case, I was going to prevent chaos in my writing studio! 

The four of them came in predictably ready for chaos. I greeted them with hugs and welcomes and shhhh's. "Are we working on our books?" they wanted to know. 

"You will," I assured them, "but first, we're doing a warm-up activity."

There was zero-chance that their work on graphic novels would occupy all four of them for the full sixty minutes. It wasn't even a prediction. 

Reminding me of spring puppies, they sat on each other's laughs, interrupted each other, and spoke in louder and louder voices. How could four children create so much energy in one small space? Wow. 

I handed each of them their notebooks and a pen, rolling my eyes at how much debate could happen at pen selection time. I explained that their job was to each take responsibility for a scene and write from the perspective of the character in the video. (I was using Snack Attack. If you've never used it, I highly recommend! It's a great one!) I let each of them know when their scene would start,  and then I hit play on the 3-minute video.

It both depresses and relieves me that a video has the power to settle children. Maybe that's another slice for another day. They watched closely, and they took notes when "their" scene was playing. As they wrote their parts, I played it again for them, so they could catch small details, and then I set the timer for six minutes, telling them that was all the time they had to get their scene done. During those six minutes, they wrote with the same frenzy they'd entered the room with, but it was a quiet and purposeful frenzy. My coaching voice was almost the only one to hear during that time. 

When we went around with each of them sharing their part, they were proud, and they should have been. Their renditions of their scenes were great! 

"You only have about fifteen minutes to work on your graphic novels," I said, knowing that they'd have more like 25, but capitalizing on the time-crunch sensation. 

For the rest of the time, they were focused and engaged in their work, almost annoyed when I began a closure conversation. 

Just the way I like it. Some accurate prediction, and some relieving prevention! 

Slice of Life 2026: 25 of 31- Edgy

 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. 

Over the last several weeks, I've developed a new community  at our local pickleball place. Dill Dinkers (yes, that really is its name!) has become a regular hangout for our family, as we all love to play. It's made me think about how you get to know people. T. has four kids like me, about the same ages as mine, actually closer in age than mine. #crazylikeme.  P. is a little older than I am, and her two daughters are married. One lives in town, and P. takes care of her granddaughter twice a week.  #someday! Y. is in her late thirties, and she's taking a year off from work. #howfun! J. is a retired state police officer and volunteers around the country clearing out natural disaster wreckage with chainsaws and other tools. #grateful. I could go on. 

We find out details about lives in between games and sometimes sitting around, beers in hand after play is done-- sometimes during play. #NotAGreatIdeaButStill...

I was with a few people when someone asked about the sticker on my water bottle. I have two stickers on my water bottle, one that says Dill Dinkers and one that is the cover of my new book. The DD sticker was first, and the main reason I put it on was so that I would stop confusing my water bottle with other people's. And then Maggie, my co-author, gave me a bag of book stickers as a publication present-- one had to go on the other side of my water bottle. They're so pretty, and Larkin helped design the cover, so... for now, the count is two for water bottle stickers. 

"It's the cover of my new book," I said. 

"What's your book?" they all wanted to know. 

Would we like it?

What's it about?
Where can we buy it?

In a group of non-teachers, it a little hard to explain an educational book that's about writing instruction. Maybe P. would appreciate some parts since she could develop her granddaughter's fine motor skills, but probably not a gripping read for any of them. 

I tried to explain it in non-teacher terms when they asked more questions. 

"It's a little edgy in my world of writing instruction," I said. (I'd love to talk about whether anyone who IS in the teaching world thinks this is true.)

"How does that not surprise me?" L. said. 

"Am I edgy?" I asked. 

"In all good ways," she assured me. 

I'm still wondering about that reaction. I know she likes me, so edgy must have positive connotations for her. Or maybe she thought nothing of the comment. I might ask her more about it the next time we play. 

 But, does going for low-percentage shots now and then relate to larger parts of my life? I'm competitive; is competitiveness edgy?  I'll have to think about that more. Thoughts and reflections are welcome!

Slice of Life 2026: 24 of 31- Outfits

 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. 

Last night I was finally home with some downtime. 

"Mom, can you come upstairs?"

I'm settled and comfortable on the sofa. I'm thankful she can't see my eyeroll. 

Cecily was debating outfits for the job fair today. She is in the final weeks of her BS/MS program from UConn, and there will be a lot school districts all in one place on the hunt for energetic, passionate teachers like her. 

"Which shirt do you like?"

She had on a striped one with my favorite brown blazer. 

"Does it go okay with the blazer?"

Sometimes, when the girls are getting ready to go out, I might not always tell the truth or have a strong opinion or even study the options that hard. (A risky thing to write in this post since they are likely to read it.)

"Which do you like better?" she asked. "The plain one or the stripes?"

I debated. I envisioned myself as the person meeting her. 

"I like the stripes," I said. 

I returned to my sofa seat, and a little while later, Cecily came down with the plain t-shirt and two tan blazers. (There are currently three women living here, so options exist.)

"The sisters like this better," she said. 

I'm frequently overruled. 

This morning, Cecily has been in my room a few times. She looks great in the plain t-shirt and shorter tan blazer. Her resume is polished, her hair is great...

And her excitement and passion? Wow. I can't wait to hear how her day goes.