Slice of Life: Banana bread for fresh tuna

Tuesdays are for slicing about life. Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

When my nephew Jack walked in with fresh tuna on Monday afternoon, I had just taken banana bread out of the oven. Outside in the driveway, I talked to his mom, Amy. I tried to give her money for the fish, but she waved me off. 

"How about I give you banana bread, then," I said. 

"I don't know that Jack will take it," she said. "He's on a fitness kick. He might just take it to be polite."

In the house, I asked Jack if he'd like hot banana bread to take home. 

He didn't hesitate. "Sure," he said. 

"You're not just being polite," I said. "You won't hurt my feelings if you turn it down."

"Actually," he said, "I was worrying about not being polite by accepting because I'd think you'd want it."

(I love that kid.) 

I wrapped it loosely and handed it to him on a potholder. 

"I got a good deal," I said. "I'll trade warm banana bread for fresh tuna any day."

Later, I got a text and picture from Amy. 

I guess we both got a good deal!

Happy slicing!

Slice of Life: The Last of the First Days

Tuesdays are for slicing about life. Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

Somehow summer gave me permission and excuses to allow Tuesdays and SOL to slide through without posting. Maybe it was my unawareness of days of the week --such a lovely aspect of summer. Maybe it was the other projects I was working on. Maybe...

Enough! I'm back. 

Yesterday, Cecily didn't argue and complain as much as she has in years past about her first day of school pictures. Maybe the lump in my throat was as obvious to her as it was to me. Whatever the reason, she posed for a picture in the front yard, and then even waved as she drove past me on the driveway. 

I know there will be plenty of milestones to come in my baby's life. However, since she is the youngest of four, the first day of senior year feels like a big one right now! 

Happy Slicing!

Slice of Life: I was mad before my first drive!

Tuesdays are for slicing about life. Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

"You're all set," the golf pro said as he handed me the two tickets to play nine holes. "Just check in with Rich at the starting gate outside and he'll let you know which course to play."

Garth was on the phone talking to one of our daughters, and Rich and I rolled our eyes at him. 

"That's why I leave my phone in the car," Rich said as Garth tried to get my attention, strap his clubs on a pull cart, and carry on his conversation. 

When I allowed that my phone was at home, Rich must have felt bonded with me because his next conversation starter was about the United States Women's Soccer team and the captain's unbelievable disregard for the National Anthem. 

"After they won an unbelievable game, that's your takeaway?" I said. "Really?" 

(I should not have even engaged in a word of conversation with him, but I couldn't resist the antagonism.)

"People like her," he went on. "It's why the country is going to hell in a handbag."

"You and I are definitely not going to agree because I have absolutely no problem with people like her and peaceful protests," I said. "I have a much bigger problem with the disproportionate numbers of Black people harmed by police brutality."

"And what about our state?" Rich continued. "Do you think we'd be in the mess we're in if we didn't have liberal democrats running it?"

I glared at Garth who was still talking on the phone, oblivious to my heightened blood pressure. How was golf going so badly on a beautiful afternoon when we hadn't even hit the first ball yet? 

"How can you relate the state's affairs to the captain of the soccer team?" I couldn't resist saying. "That's quite a stretch."

"People have no respect," he started. I can't remember what else he said, but he kept going. 

"Garth," I said. "Get off the phone. Now."

I turned back to Rich. "The last I checked, I was here for golf," I said. "Not political conversations with someone I don't know who works here."

By about my third shot, I'd cooled off enough, and I played fine despite a year off and an out-of-line starter. I also knew I'd have my slice thought through by the end of the round. 

But I've stayed sad about the interaction. No, I don't think this country is in trouble because of athletes who choose to kneel or not sing. We have larger issues, and maybe I should have handled the incident differently, although I'm not sure how. 

Slice of Life: "My Car is Gone..."

Tuesdays are for slicing about life. Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

Since Julia is working at an internship in Boston and has a fairly long commute in the mornings and evenings, I frequently hear from her as she's driving. At 8:22, my phone rang. Yes, it was Julia. As the director of our summer writing camp I was just about to head outside to greet parents and organize students, so for a split second, I debated answering. (I ALWAYS answer my daughters' calls.)

Mom: Are you just calling to talk or is there something you need me for now?

Julia: Oooh--I'm not calling to talk. I have something important, and it's going to stress you out. 

Mom: Yes?

Julia: You're really going to be stressed. I already talked to Dad because you didn't answer a little while ago.

Mom: What Jules? 

As I walked outside, she explained how she'd walked to get the car (MY car) from where she parks (we paid A LOT for a summer parking spot) and it wasn't there. 

Mom: My car's gone? You're sure it's not towed. 

Julia: It was in my spot. Why would they tow it?

As people started to arrive, I talked her through calling the police, and I reassured her it was only money. It was a beautiful day. They didn't give her anything important to do at work, so she could be late or not make it there. 

Mom: I have to go. I'll call you in fifteen minutes when all the kids are with their teachers.

For those fifteen minutes, I tried to keep a calm demeanor, answer questions, even hold a couple of conversations. I also tried to think about when we'd have time to look at new cars or where we should go to rent one temporarily. My brain worked overtime for those few minutes. 

As I greeted kids, Julia texted me that it was towed. Okay, that's a better situation. By the time I could respond, she'd already figured out where she had to go and was heading there, and she was mad as she could be. 

Julia: They had no right to tow the car. I had the parking pass right there.

Mom: Talk to them, explain, be polite, and see what you can do. 

My morning continued with unexpected challenges-- one boy had to be carried to his class as he kicked and screamed (NOT MY program, but I was the one his mother found first!) and one of my girls didn't feel well and had to go home. (All this happened before 9:20!) And then, Julia texted again:

So now Julia knows what to do when her car is towed in a city, and she knows to make sure permits and passes are REALLY in sight, and she feels more confident in standing up for herself when she's been wronged. She might have been late to work, but she had a nice walk and she has a great story.

Happy Slicing!

Slice of Life: Delivering Breakfast to Clare

Tuesdays are for slicing about life. Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

Over the weekend, I had a special breakfast request from Clare. She had to be at work early-- before her favorite sandwich and coffee shop opened, so she left me a note. (Yes, a note... not a text!)

Would I bring her a breakfast wrap-- #1-- and an iced coffee latte with almond milk? Sift opens at 9. 

Of course I would! 

With her sandwich and her coffee in hand, I headed to the yacht club where Clare runs the harbor and drives the launch. My favorite boat was at the dock so I got a close up view as I headed up the stairs to Clare's office where she was sitting at the desk making schedules. I sat down next to her and passed over her coffee and sandwich. Before she could thank me, her radio/walkie-talkie went off with someone wanting a mooring. I wish I could capture her response right now, but it contained way too much nautical terminology for me to do her justice. A few starboards... a few ports... a bow... a stern...other terms that were less familiar to me. 

While Clare shares stories of her experiences at the club (my favorites have been the ones where men are surprised at her launch navigation since they don't expect a girl to be at the helm of a boat...much less one they are passengers on!), I don't get to see her in action firsthand too often. 

Listening to her, I couldn't help thinking of how proud her grandfather would be of his granddaughter. 

Happy Slicing! 

Slice of Life: Coffees, frogs, and skeletons

Tuesdays are for slicing about life. Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

What seemed like a normal stop at Starbucks created a couple of very strange stories. Garth, Clare, and I needed to pass about fifteen minutes before an appointment so we stopped, ordered drinks, and took them outside to enjoy the warm weather. (There hasn't been a whole lot of it this spring.)

I went to sit down first, but something was on my chair. I thought it was a napkin. Then I thought it was a rock or a piece of cement. I looked closer, and it was moving just a tiny, tiny bit. "It's a frog," I said. 

"That's not a frog," Garth said. 

"That's definitely a frog," Clare said. 

I looked it up when I got home, and I think it was actually a gray treefrog. We sat at a different table. 

As we sat there enjoying our drinks and watching the frog, things seemed normal. A few stopped and said hello. We talked about plans for the weekend... and then a car went by with an unusual passenger. 

"Did anyone just see that?" I asked. "There was a skeleton in the passenger seat."

"Right," said Clare.

"Right," said Garth. 

Luckily for my and my reliability/sanity, the driver headed back to his car as we headed to ours, offering me a chance to snap a picture.

(Or two.)

 

I couldn't resist asking him about the rationale for a skeletal passenger, and he explained that his children were too small to sit in the front. They had gotten the skeleton for Halloween, buckled her in, and have kept her there ever since. 

Fascinating... I think there's more than a slice of life in this story...

PS- About the frog... does anyone know what would have been the right thing to do for that frog? I feel like we should have moved him from the chair but wonder where we should have brought him. What would you have done with that frog?

Happy Slicing,

Slice of Life: That Moment When You've Got This

Tuesdays are for slicing about life. Join us at Two Writing Teachers!

So there's that moment that happens--

After you've tossed and turned throughout the night listening to your daughter get up and use the bathroom, probably several times,

After you've sat in the waiting room for a couple of hours trying to catch up on work, trying to respond to emails, trying to finish the book you've been enjoying, 

After the nurse has called you in because she's finished and awake and ready to think about getting dressed and heading home, 

After the doctor has talked to you about the results and the next steps, the ifs and the whens, the possibilities and probabilities, the studies and protocols, 

That moment when the doctor touches your arm and you are moms together when she asks if your girl is always this mature and this great, 

And you nod and say yes and your throat gets tight and your eyes get hot and the tears flash and splash before you can blink and hold them back. 

Then you smile, maybe even laugh, and you say, 

"We're good. We've got this."

Because you are and you do. 

Happy Slicing,