It has been a day! I haven’t had time to reflect on this year’s SOL because it came at me hard and fast. A blur of writing.
My late night posts continue. This one is short. Instead of reflecting on my process, I created a Slice of Life 2025 playlist. Not all of these songs may appeal to everyone, but I chose 10 that best portray 31 one days of writing. Starting with today’s Manic Monday and ending with a Celebration I imagine all of us raising our glasses (and pens, er, keyboards) and toasting, “Cheers to SOL Class of ’25!”
I’ve called for those check ins only a mom can make. Two weeks in and it’s better. Plans are made to move on. There’s a lilt to the voice that wasn’t there before.
Invitations to come home for dinner are still left unanswered, but home is here when it’s needed. We’re only a short drive away.
What do you do other than hope from afar that everything will be okay? We all know it’s a growing experience. It’s wading through the muck where the learning happens.
I once enjoyed shopping. Putting outfits together, trying them on, and finding a deal. Maybe busyness turned it into a chore. Styling clothing isn’t in my toolbox of skills nor is it my love language. Two kids and midlife later, nothing seems to fit. Unless frumpy counts as a good fit.
The skirt I liked? The top paired with the skirt on the rack didn’t fit well with no option to size up. I can’t figure out what top to add to make it work. Plus, the fabric is ridiculous for wearing in sweltering central Texas heat. Back with your friends you go, skirt.
I debated getting a functional and cute cream colored jean jacket. I’ll use it for conference week. The perfect touch for layering. Do I need a jacket? No. It fit. I liked it. It’s getting added to my wardrobe. Should last a decade, much like what I already own.
There’s an oversized t-shirt perfect for layering over a workout tank. 100 % cotton, what a nice surprise. Is it too oversized? I size down and choose green instead of washed-out coral. Meh. I keep my first choice.
Pants. Endless racks of pants. All made for people with long, willowy giraffe legs. Too short for regular, too tall for petite. Black athleisure pants make the cut, but they’ll get two or three wearings before the heat and humidity kick in and I switch to wearing loose dresses, skirts, and cropped chinos.
The checkout line snakes around and grows to extend past the middle of the store, a retail python devouring materialism and must haves. This many people shot at brick and mortar stores even with people shopping online? If you think retail shopping is dead, try again.
Swift transactions keep the line moving surprisingly quick. I politely decline all of the offers for discounts, credit cards, rewards programs and everything else designed to get me back in the door. Know what would get me back through the door? Clothes in my size that fit.
If I could have something named after me, what would it be?
Wine. It would be wine. It would be called La Mera Mera. The best of the best. The big queso. Or maybe it would be tequila. Tequila or wine, it would be organic. It has a spicy, unexpected kick you barely notice until the last swig.
Looks can be deceiving. It’s the quiet ones who surprise you.
Observation tomorrow poetry stations but only three there's this thing called time you see it robs you of every good intention and test prep wrecks havoc as it tornados its way through schedules leaving intellectual debris behind poor kids grasp for consistency poor teachers, exasperated, know what works, yet unable to get it all done and here I am arguing with imposter syndrome struggling to create an engaging lesson because the kids are done
Escape rooms. I did one as a team building activity one year with our campus leadership team. We had a great time, but it’s the only one I’ve done.
I purchased one for the hubster’s birthday. Rather than giving material gifts, we’ve started gifting outings. This would be a first for everyone else. I made the reservation and consulted my 22 year old about which one to choose. The level of difficulty ranged from 7-10 with different themes.
“Choose a 7, we want to be able to get out and make Dad think he got us out of there.”
Based on availability, I went with Lost Cities, an iteration of Raiders of the Lost Ark. We’re mostly intelligent and should be able to bust out, but together, we’re kinda dumb. Way too much bickering. No one ever listens to me anyway, so in this setting, I kept my mouth shut. None of us tried working together. I kept reminding everyone the point of this thing is working together and helping one another.
E kept hitting the button for hints. S was trying to figure things out, which was great, but inside the temple with a face staring at us, non-glowing eyes inactive because we couldn’t figure out the code, the kids transformed into 7 year old S and 13 year old E. They butted heads with sibling rivalry right in the middle, cramming them together. Bam! Bam! Bam!
I thought they’d outgrown it, but it still manages to sneak in.
I wanted to take everything in and work the clues to unlock the codes. The time crunch adds urgency. Divide and conquer doesn’t work well in this setting. We weren’t cleaning the kitchen after dinner, we needed to solve some puzzles.
With seconds to spare, we entered the last code and the door opened.
“We escaped!” exclaimed hubster.
“Dad, they practically gave us all the answers,” E reminded him.
“Yeah, I muttered, no thanks to you asking for clues every two minutes. Didn’t even give us a chance to think.”
It was a good time despite the bickering. We didn’t break the code of conduct and our language stayed clean. S and E went back to their teen and young adult selves, and sibling rivalry stayed behind to wait for the next contestants. We took our photo and parting goods–a printed wristband printed with We Escaped Lost Cities!–and continued with our weekend.
Not parent conferences, but TLA (Texas Library Association) Conference. It’s next week in Dallas and I already downloaded the conference app. I usually do it on the way there.
Our library services department is organized and provides a checklist of everything we need to do before, during, and after the event. This includes the appropriate forms and permissions from admin., budget codes, hotel accommodations, information regarding after hours vendor events, signing up for professional development credit, and copies of forms and suggested items to take (always take an umbrella).
In our TLA emails, there’s a thread regarding ways to prep and make the most of the conference. There are great tips. Pack sandwiches and keep them in the hotel fridge. Pack them for lunch so you don’t have to skip noon sessions. Stuff your bag with portable snacks. Take a large water bottle. Wear good walking shoes. Take a rolling crate or extra suitcase to pack books and swag (many books are gifted by publishers, plus steep discounts the last few hours in the exhibit hall). Dress in layers. Carpool. Take an Uber for a night on the town. Use a slide deck to take notes then share with colleagues.
The ideas keep flowing. I get ready to draft my response, scrolling through to make sure I’m not repeating something. It isn’t there and I begin to draft “Be sure you check the hotel amenities. Pack a swimsuit for the pool and/or hot tub…”
I stop dead in my tracks. Wait…the last few years, my TLA roommate and I have bowed out early from some events and made our way to the hot tub or heated pool. We’re usually accompanied by no one. We’ve encountered the occasional solo lap swimmer or person leaving the hot tub when we get there, but it has usually been quiet. It’s such a great way to relax after a packed schedule and being on our feet standing in long author signing lines, trekking across the exhibit hall, and making it to our sessions.
Grinning, I delete my draft. This one, I’m keeping to myself. We’re not quite ready for a bookish pool party.
It started with coffee. It wasn’t ready. And it wasn’t just coffee, it was three travel packs of coffee for a meeting. 7:15 a.m. pick up time. “Do you have your invoice?”
“No, I never received one, but I’ll pay for it now. I have my tax-exempt form.”
“Well, we don’t have your order. We could have it ready in fifteen to twenty minutes.”
“Sure, I’ll wait.”
Even waiting twenty minutes, I’ll make it by 8:00.
I didn’t, but I got there with three travel packs of coffee. The rest of the day unfolded as one of those Mondays.
The icing on my slice of cake with un-brewed coffee was finding a surprise gift from a friend waiting at my seat. A great tote bag stuffed with mini-notebooks, a cheerful pencil pouch, and fun pencils reminded me to regret nothing, even if it means being late.
Summer Moon Coffee's 1/4 Moon, hot those jeans that go with everything and always fit dress them up dress them down reliable chilly air between season transitions Babies, all cuddly and squishy Childhood no tantrums no attitude all fun Teens when they have a good speak with you day Adult kids stopping by just because contentment enough ups enough downs to make appreciation stick
Nerds Beget Nerds 