Slice of Life: A Small and Special Moment Within a Memorable and Magical Weekend

   On Tuesdays, I write slices of stories from my week! All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

During the last few summers, I took several trips up the Pawcatuck River, trying to spot the bald eagles my nephew talked about. 

"They're almost always in the dead tree across from Timothy Street," he'd say. 

One time, I saw a shadowy birdlike silhouette high in the tree, but it flew before I got close enough to know for sure that it was one of eagles. 

I've also gone for several hikes closer to home, but in places where other friends have spotted eagles. One friend reports that he sees them all the time at the bridge in Collinsville. All the time? Not the times I've gone! 

We spent this past weekend in Maine since our second daughter's soccer team played Bates and Colby. We stayed with many other parents at the hotel where the team stayed, and it was situated in an industrialized section of central Maine. When our friend Polly suggested a walk before Sunday's game, I envisioned navigating our way through Home Depot parking lots and busy roads. I should have known better given what I know about Polly. She had done a search using Google Earth and located a beautiful walking path along the Kennebec River within a ten minute drive from the hotel. 

In mid-October, Maine is colorful with changing leaves, but still warm. Four of us walked the path, analyzing Saturday's game, prognosticating the rest of the season, and appreciating the beauty. Walking back toward the parking lot, our conversations were interrupted with an unfamiliar bird call. 

"Did you hear that?" I asked. 

"We did," Polly answered. "It was definitely something because the people ahead of us are all looking up, too."

I followed their gaze toward the high branches of a pine tree. A white-headed bird made a quick movement. I pointed to it, describing to Garth, Polly, and Tracey where it was. 

"Is that a bald eagle," I asked the woman who was closest to us. 

She nodded. "There's a nest across the river. Sometimes we get to see him."

We stood and watched him for a while, and he seemed to watch us, as well, occasionally pruning or looking toward the river. 

I didn't have my phone with me, but Tracey took pictures, and maybe at some point, I'll insert a picture into this post, but for now, writing about it feels like enough. As we finished our walk and even now, as I think about the whole weekend, he was a special part of an overall magical couple of days. 

Happy Slicing, 

Slice of Life: The Bravery of a Kindergarten Writer

  On Tuesdays, I write slices of stories from my week! All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

Above his mask, Taylor's eyes widened and brightened as his teacher explained my role and my hope for his task. "This is the lady who teaches writing to everyone in the school," Mrs. B. explained. "She's wondering if she could hear about your writing."

Taylor headed over to where the writing folders were kept, and he found his red folder with several pieces tucked into the pockets. We sat down, and he explained his filing system. 

"The ones on this side are the pieces I've finished," he said. "This one is the one I'm working on now."

Watching this young writer explain his system and then tour me through his pieces was exactly what I needed this morning. He had no hesitation as he read his word approximations and explained his pictures, and I thought about other older writers who get paralyzed in their writing processes when they aren't sure of how to spell a word. His confidence and lack of inhibition was so different! 

When Taylor got to the picture where he'd come out of a portal to visit his teacher in a secret place, he sparkled as he explained the magic that was at work in his story. I couldn't resist teaching him the power of labels. 

"I can write the word portal and then you'll know what that is," he said. 

"Exactly," I said. 

I left him working through the letters he could hear in the word portal, and I am holding on to the hope that he stays as brave and excited about his writing for as long as possible. 

Happy Slicing,

Slice of Life: 'Twas the Night Before Leaving...

 On Tuesdays, I write slices of stories from my week! All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

It had been a nearly perfect week. Family meals, evening games, conversations... we'd had a lot of people in the house, and sisters, notorious for snapping and overreacting, had laughed and related. Everyone felt like friends instead of people I had to manage. 

Until...

On the almost last night, the dog got into a container of vitamins. (Winnie has been known to do that. She loves to chew the crotches of underpants, leggings, and even jeans, and she is a canine magician when it comes to getting tops off of anything. Fortunately, she seems to have a stomach of steel and a highly functional digestive system.)

"They weren't mine," Larkin snapped when Garth came down with the bottle. 

"No one accused you," I said. 

"Yes, you were," she said. 

We continued with a dysfunctional conversation that mattered much less than how worried we should be about Winnie (who, spoiler-alert, was fine). Finally, we stopped, but tension fogged the air. 

Then, at dinner, the comment between the sisters about driving. 

"I'll go with you," Clare said to Larkin, "but as long as I drive."

Background info: Clare is younger than Larkin, but has always regarded herself as the better driver. At 16 and 19, that probably wasn't the case. Now, at 22 and 25, I get more work done in the passenger seat when Clare is driving. Please don't tell Larkin. 

With the boyfriends in the audience, Clare's comment lit a fuse. Garth and I worked to change the topic. Quickly. For the moment, the fuse fizzled, but didn't go out. I don't even remember what set it off again later that night during a card game, but something did-- this time between Larkin and me. 

"It's the night before you're leaving," I said. "Can we just let it go?"

Neither of us could. Neither of us did. 

"Why do we always have to end my visits in a fight?" Larkin asked once we settled back down. "It's such a pattern."

At least this time, it wasn't exactly her last night with us since we were all together again for a night in Rhode Island at our house near the beach. And, as it turned out, that night was great. 

Maybe the fighting makes it easier for her to leave. Maybe it helps me miss her less. Maybe it helps both of us handle being a half a country away for most of the time. 

Maybe next time I'll make sure this doesn't happen. 

Happy Slicing, 

Slice of Life: A PSA About Cheese Selection

On Tuesdays, I write slices of stories from my week! All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

For months, we've been waiting for the new Whole Foods to open, and Garth and I arrived at the new and finally open store, excited and hungry. 

With some out of town guests expected the following day, I headed to the cheese section. Sticker shock is a regular reality at Whole Foods, but I was ready to splurge. After all, we were celebrating a new store opening, having guests, and not going out to dinner, which costs a whole lot more than any cheese possibly could. 

As I perused the cheeses, resisting the urge to touch them unless I was sure I was going to purchase them, I watched a woman who was also involved in the cheese-deciding process. I didn't mean to stare, but I stepped back to allow her space to make her selections before I made mine. She picked up a cheese, turned it over in her palm, looked at it closely, then returned it. I was relieved that it wasn't one I was interested in at all. These days, who wants to buy a cheese that someone else has touched? She picked up another one and again went through her process. I made a mental note to avoid that particular one. And then... she picked up a cheese, looked at it closely, and tried to smell it through her nose-covering bandana (not a mask-- a bandana). I guess she couldn't smell it enough so she pulled the bandana down, brought the cheese right up to her nose, sniffed it, and then returned it to the shelf. 

Maybe guilt inspired her to turn and look at me. Maybe my wide eyes magnetized her. In any case, a single "Really?" slipped out of my mouth. Really?!?!?

There was a lot more I wanted to say. Don't sniff the cheese until you're buying it. Or better yet, until you've bought it. Or better yet, when you're home and about to eat it on a cracker!!!! I've developed a phobia over the last eighteen months and I don't want your nose anywhere close to anything I'm going to touch and eventually consume! 

"What?" she snarled back at me. (My one word, really, had been out loud...)

I decided to take a break from selecting cheeses and headed to the olive oil aisle without any further interaction with the bandana lady who liked to sniff cheeses. 

Consider this a PSA if you share any of my phobic tendency, and choose your cheese from the far back or extra high shelf!

Slice of Life: End of Summer

It's the end of summer, and I'm back slicing on Tuesdays! All are welcome! Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

In her book, Baby, Patricia MacLachlan writes about the end of summer. Some of you may know my daughter Larkin, and her name came from this book. The fictional Larkin lives on an island that attracts many summer visitors, and at the end of the summer, Larkin notices all of the artifacts left by the summer people as the island quiets and residents reconnect. 

I am trying hard to find my joy at the end of August. On Thursday, I'll bring my youngest daughter to college. She deferred last year, so to say that she's ready is a bit of an understatement. I'm working on my own readiness. It's supposed to rain (a lot) on Thursday, so any tears will have great camouflage. As is the case for every summer's end, the transition is rough. I love ripe tomatoes, but not as much as late sunsets and the freedom to decide how to fill the blank pages of my days. And I love the presence of my daughters-- they're around much more during the summer. 

Today, I wore a skirt, but allowed myself the comfort of my summer shoes. There's joy in my worn down pair of Birks. I woke up early and worked out before leaving the house. There's some joy in knowing that's done for the day. And I have gotten my relocated office to a point where I can sit and do some work without being distracted by the boxes and piles that beckon me to unpack and organize them. There's joy in creating a work space. 

My return to work leads to my return to rituals, and I'm happy to be slicing. Full disclosure is that I've allowed myself some (several) Tuesdays off during July and August, and there's joy, for sure, in reconnecting. 

Happy Slicing,

Slice of Life: Raising the shoff for Paul's birthday

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

"So what's on your birthday list?" I asked my husband's brother, Paul. "Any wishes?"

Birthdays have been tricky for the last thirteen months for reasons we all understand. Mostly, 2020-2021 birthdays have been low-key affairs for our  family-- a special dinner and a cake with the family and maybe a few zoomed in guests. But Paul's birthday last week was a big one. Not forty. Not fifty. We'll stop there...

Here's what you need to know about Paul: he's busy. He always has a project, and we share a house in Rhode Island with him and his wife where there's never a shortage of things that need to be done. Especially in the spring, there's a lot to get the house into summer shape. 

A sly smile spread across Paul's face as he got ready to answer. 

"I want everyone in Rhode Island," he said, "working!"

Oh boy. 

Paul had decided that the back deck should be taken down and turned into a patio-- a decision we all agreed with. However, he didn't stop there. He also decided that the lawnmower shed should be demolished and the wood from the deck used to build a new structure: a two story shoff, he called it... a combination of a shed and an office. Somehow he'd gotten a permit, and he'd had my husband draw up plans. Paul, Garth, my nephews, and two other close friends who had passed the "pod" test would spend Saturday and much of Sunday concocting and pouring the cement foundation, then repurposing the deck wood into walls. I wish I'd taken pictures or videos because it was a little like a barn raising in our back yard. 

After a birthday dinner in Rhode Island, Paul happily wrote out a list for all attendants, having us sign up for the tasks we'd take on that didn't involve the shoff. Weeding, raking, sweeping, painting, sorting sheets, moving plants, fixing the stone wall, pruning... the list was big. 

By Sunday afternoon, there was a lot crossed off that list, a happy birthday celebrant, and a bunch of tired participants! Next year, I could just head to the store, pick out a present, and bake a cake. (Except the truth is we all had a really good time!)

Happy Slicing,

Melanie

Slice of Life: Do you not do Tuesdays? A slicing call to action!

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

Do you not do Tuesdays?

Larkin's text had come through a while earlier, and I didn't understand it when I checked my phone. 

My response: ?

Slicing. 

Oh no. Slicing. And I'm even hosting. I've checked for posts that have slipped through into the pending pile throughout the day, and when I woke up this morning, I planned on posting. I even had a few good stories to tell. Somehow, it kept getting put off. A workout, a meeting, a friend for lunch, a daughter to pick up at the airport, more friends for dinner. (It's good to have a warmer day and vaccinations!)

Today got away from me, I texted back to Larkin. 

Happens to the best of us. 

Did you write?

Yeah. 

That settled it. It's well before midnight, and even more so in Denver where Larkin lives. I'm so happy that my daughter associates Tuesdays with slicing. Her text was my slicing call to action! Larkin, this one is for you!

Happy Slicing,