Slice of Life 2026: 2 of 31- Scalloped Toiletpaper

Every 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. 

As this year's SOLSC has launched, I am visiting my aunt and uncle in South Carolina. My aunt is a retired teacher who loved teaching writng, and she is fascinated with the Challenge. (It helps that three of my four daughter who she knows and loves are slicing alongside me throughout the month.)

Today, she has spent the day pointing out possible slices. We saw a sunning alligator... slice of life. She missed a putt... slice of life. I put her club in the wrong place... you guessed it. 

My favorite was when she walked out of her bathroom with a piece of toilet paper. 

"It's a slice of life," she said. "Look, there are scalloped edges on the toilet paper. Who has ever had scalloped edges on the toilet paper before?" 

I can't say I have ever paid attention to the edges of my toilet paper, although my family does have its favorites. #charmin. 

"I couldn't even break it easily," she said. "It doesn't break in a straight line. It's a curved line."

For the rest of the day, any time I had to use the bathroom, I found myself noticing how the toilet paper tore... or didn't. And now, anyone who is reading this post, might pay attention to how their toilet paper tears... or doesn't. 

Slices really do appear throughout the day when you are paying attention and looking for them. 

Gotta love March. 

Slice of Life 2026: 1 of 31- Prepping for March

Every 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. 

Stepping into the space of March 2026, there have been no shortage of slicing moments in February. For the last few weeks, I've been prepping for this month, snapping pictures of moments to remember and fuel my slicing life in case March has a a story draught. 

Living in Connecticut, snow has pounded us; I haven't seen piles this high since I was ten. 

We've had a lot to celebrate as a family. Many of you might know about my book, but its birthday was the same day that one of my girls received acceptance into a competitive doctoral program. 

Competitive pickleball is new to me, and I'm especially grateful to be able to play since last year, my one little word was "heal" , and at this time, I had just gotten a full knee replacement. This year, my one little word is "laugh." I'm looking forward to writing a slice or two about that one! 

My mom's beloved and young dog is having a medical issue. I hope I don't have much to write about that this month. 

Students have won contests, colleagues have reached out, friends have planned milestone birthdays, daughters have debated favorite headshots. The Patriots made it to the Superbowl, and the UConn basketball world continues to dominate (exceot when my husband and daughter go to the game!) Random emails have arrived in my inbox that have made me smile. 

Life is full of memorable moments. I've lost track of how many years it's been since I've documented moments in March. Fifteen? Sixteen? I'm looking forward to the daily pause to pinpoint a moment to relive and share, connecting with a practice and a community that has braided themselves into my life. 

Onward. I'm happy to be here. 

Slice of Life- Olympic Moments as Writing Inspiration

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

  

During the two weeks of the Olympics, I'm a fan. Therefore, I was pretty excited when one of the students I tutor suggested wanting to write about some Olympic moments. How hard could that be? 

I gathered up some clips, and I started giving it a go. What I realized quickly was that capturing a moment in an athlete's life was tricky, especially when I didn't really know some of the key vocabulary. I started with a more complex skiing run, and dialed myself back to the more manageable ski jump, and I decided to write about Paige Jones. In full disclosure, I had to pause the video several times to zoom in on her form and body positioning. I also had to do some on-the-fly (pun intended) research to give some background information about her. 

A group of us have been Zoom-meeting on Thursday evenings in the spirit of being teachers who write. (All are welcome, and if this is something that interests you, send me an email or mention it in the comments. meehanmelanie@gmail.com) I was the "leader" last week, so I gave Olympic writing as an option, and we all agreed that it was hard to do, and great practice for close reading, careful word selection, and expanding a small moment. Anita, Giovanna, and Ana have generously agreed to share their samples. 

So maybe my morning slice will inspire you to bring some Olympic moments into your classroom. If you do, I'd love to hear how it goes! 

Slice of Life- How Lucky am I?

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

  

All four of my daughters share the endearing habit of calling when they are walking somewhere. Or driving. Or experiencing a few moments of nothingness. I will never not be grateful for the random call and the voice on the other end telling me "just checking in and saying hi." And also, I'm not sure that I will ever not worry until  I hear that line and know that all is okay. It really is a check-in. 

Tonight I had to laugh when Cecily, the youngest, checked in on her way home from classes. She has a fifty-minute commute a couple times a week, so someone is sure to hear from her. I was a little surprised to get her call, though, because I'd had a lengthy chat with her earlier in the day on her way to school. 

"You okay?" I asked before I said much else. 

"Oh yes, yes," she assured me. "I just tried a lot of other people first, and no one else could talk or would pick up." 

"Cecily," I said. "Did you really just say that? Way to make a mom feel loved and special."

"No, no," she said, realizing the error of her ways. "I didn't mean it that way."

We laughed. She went on to tell me about her classes and the books her professor was having her read for several miles. I think I got her through a few towns, and who knows... maybe someone else higher on the call ladder was ready to talk to her by then. 

But how lucky am I to have daughters who check in and even feel comfortable enough to admit my standing on the call ladder.

 I'll take it. 

Slice of Life: Smelling like stew spices

   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 last slice was about a pickleball match, and within it, there was another clear slice. 

Before the match, I stopped at a CVS. I realized along the way that it could be a long afternoon, and I was likely to get hungry. With snowy roads, I had left extra time to get to the away match. Given that it was my first interclub adventure, I was already nervous, and the last thing I wanted was to be extra nervous because of being late. (Full disclosure: I tend to run on the late side, and doing that one last thing often causes stress.) Today, I was early, so snack-selecting seemed a perfect solution. 

At the register, the girl rang up my nuts and mangos. 

"Were you cooking?" she asked. 

Oh no!  I thought. Besides being late, another anxiety-producing attribute was smelling like stew. 

"Seriously?" I asked. "Do I smell?"

"You smell good," she said. "Like stew."

I pulled my ponytail to my nose, trying to determine the strength of the lamb tagine aroma. Tumeric, cinnamon, ginger, and saffron are strong scents. 

So, yeah, I was on time for the match. But I smelled like stew. 

__________

I will say: This recipe is a great one... just schedule your shower for after meat-browning... or be prepared to smell like stew spices.

Slice of Life: The power of a little positive talk

  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 had my first "big girl" pickleball match over the weekend. Back when Ben asked me if I'd be interested in playing on the interclub team, I wasn't sure. I still feel like I'm in recovery mode with a new knee (TKR in February 2025.) I know the other people who play, and it's a tight (and friendly, very nice) group. I'm not used to having time to do things like this (but I do). 

There was a time in my life when I loved playing inter-club tennis matches, so I expected and knew the drill. I got to the away club a little early with a full water bottle and some decent snacks. 

(Side Note: I stopped to get those snacks along the way, and I have a funny slice to share from that stop. I'm saving it for next week.)

Nerves were at play when they announced the first matches. I'd never met my partner until that afternoon, and she didn't share much other than how much she plays competitive racket sports. I have a lot of theories about her. Maybe she was also nervous. Maybe she'd had a bad morning. Maybe she wasn't happy to be paired with a newbie.

We fell behind in the match through a collection of their good points and our mistakes. After they won a second (or third) point by hitting in the middle and capitalizing on our lack of communication, my partner communicated. 

"If it's in the middle, it's my ball," she said. "You go for it, and then we're out of position."

I made sure to clear out when the ball was in the middle, but I also had to work to clear out my self-doubt and negative self-talk. All part of the game. 

But man, if you're wondering about the power of positive for anyone who is on shaky ground, don't wonder. Maybe it would have made the difference of the three points between us in the final score. 

Slice of Life: Learning to Snowblow

 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 husband pulled his calf muscle a couple of weeks ago. The whole family feels his pain in one way or another, but I especially felt it when we had some unexpected snow accumulation. 

"I can do the driveway," I said. "No problem."

He's always made the task look pretty easy, and he has only complained a couple times when the snow has been extra heavy or deep. The snow I was facing was the light and fluffy variety. 

It's good no one videoed my first couple of passes. 

Garth had to explain and show how to aim the blower, so it didn't send the snow into the part of the driveway that I'd already done. And even when I tried to do it, my aim was a little off, so the snow came flying back into my face. My fingers didn't understand how to pull and turn, and our driveway is long enough that by the time they had to remember the move again, they'd forgotten. (IYKYK.)

There were several moments during the experience that I wanted:

• to quit
• to tell Garth to be quiet with his (helpful) coaching
• to blow the snow right in Garth's face with his (helpful) coaching

I was not terribly proud of my far-from-perfect final product. I don't really want to do it again. If I have to, I will. 

Possible spoiler alert: 

This story and this picture will become part of my presentation when I talk about early writers. All insights to the connections between first-time snowblowing and early writers are welcome.