Allow Me to Introduce You…

Say hi to my Pinkie Toe. We have this thing. It’s attached, of course, but it’s also, electric? Magical? Possessed? Implanted with a microchip put there by an extra-terrestrial being when I was three? It has lots of stories to tell.

Here’s the back story. I have a reputation. Good? Bad? Well, maybe not that kind, but of the kind that breaks things. Specifically, technology type things. Like the Internet. A VCR/DVD combo from back in the day. The school’s network. Electrical wires and power outlets. My laptop. Printers. Cameras. Phones. Important things.

I’m not sure when it started, but I made sure our ITS on campus was on-call any time I planned for my students to use the laptops. He knew he’d earn his keep with popping in throughout the day to troubleshoot. These weren’t ordinary troubleshooting issues, either. A brand new cart of computers? There was always something wrong with them.

Yesterday, we were offline due to a broken server. I didn’t do it. Today, I taught a lesson on paraphrasing. Kids used Pear Deck to practice. For the last class, I scheduled my observation and evaluation lesson with my director. She came in, set up, and the students logged in, entered the correct code, and

a light flickered. My ginormous computer panel board shut down. Completely. I had set the Pear Deck to teacher led because, well, I had to teach stuff. There was no way to continue with the lesson. All of the other lights were fine. The other flat panel, where I had my March Madness Tournament of Books presentation going on loop was fine. My computer at my station was fine. This was the same lesson I had to complete at home last night because our server was down yesterday.

Seems Pinkie Toe needs an update, but I don’t know how to submit a tech support ticket. Perhaps watching E.T. will help.

Time Out

Today, the internet went down for our entire district. I couldn’t work on the lesson I have scheduled for tomorrow. My observation is for this specific lesson. Sigh…

It also happened during one of our busiest times. Most kids pop in to the library not to read books, but to play video games or watch YouTube videos. Got to sites they shouldn’t visit. What must we do to pry the devices out of their hands? We’re 1:1, but I’m not sure that’s a good thing. In theory it works, but there are so many important steps that were missed when the Big C forced it on us.

What did the teachers do? Some turned on a movie. (Yawn.) Some had students read. Others allowed students to play board games. Whip out real paper and writing sticks. What do we do with these?

Our group of regulars who come in every day during lunch skipped their usual comfy spots and made their way to the tables. Instead of taking out their Chromebooks, they sat there and talked. They made eye contact with one another. They spoke about favorite uncles. Not so favorite aunts. Getting in trouble. Bed times. Finishing a journal. I’m actually almost finished writing on every page! Wondering what they’ll do in the next class after the bell rings. Will the bell even ring? Mentioning all types of crafts they like to make.

They spoke with one another. They were smiling. It was glorious.

Twenty One

years ago 
I wondered why 
eating dinner
made me queasy

twenty one 
years ago 
we drove around
looked at an empty lot
paid for it and
stared
at each other
dumbfounded

did we just purchase
a new home?

twenty one 
years ago 
we found out
there's a baby
on the way to 
help us occupy it

so much expectation
in those
twenty one years

growth
pain
possibilities
struggle

lucky number
seven
three times over

Frozen Broccoli

“Someday I’m going to be a grown-up like you and I’ll have to use that fork thing when I eat. So let me be a kid and eat my broccoli however I want, even if it’s with my fingers.”

She’s not wrong. I mean, she is eating the broccoli, I observe as she kicks her legs back and forth in her seat at the kitchen table. Her seat since she turned one. Same spot. No one sits there. If they do, she reminds them there are other places to sit.

I’m the one who gave her frozen broccoli florets when she was three. I thought it was odd, but that’s what her home daycare sitter did. She’d give all the kids florets of frozen broccoli on hot afternoons. Any time I took some out to add the obligatory green vegetable side dish to our dinner, she asked for a piece. In my curiosity, I gave her one, expecting her to toss it aside. She ate the whole thing and asked for more. Then she ate more at dinner.

Okay, so broccoli is a thing. She likes it, so why fight it? Now, it only gets eaten with seasoned salt. Small pieces. Warm, not frozen. Sometimes she’ll stab a fork into it, but I still see her occasionally get some with her fingers. I don’t argue anymore, because yes, sooner than I’d like, she’s going to be a grown-up like me and have to use that fork thing when she eats.

Mid-Day Sunday Coffee

Summer Moon
my favorite coffee shop
oldies on
loud

espresso machine hisses 
and steams everyone's orders
stair-stepped mini-bleachers
hold a single to-go
order because
Sundays are for sitting
and sipping a steaming
mid-day cup 
on a cold, sunny
spring day
waiting for warm weather 
to pounce
and stay
soon warm drinks
will be ordered
over ice
cups dripping with
condensation

it's noisy
people catching up
winding down
sipping away the weekend,
a week-long break,
a few more hours until tomorrow
where we all wake up
and do it all over again,
with a quick
home-brewed coffee
to chase the sleep away

Perch

I've perched at the end
of the kitchen
table
in front of the back porch
window 
facing the 
front 
door

It became my 
desk
grad school homework
nonstop
for three years.

I nested there
awaiting my possibilities
adding to the space
making it as cozy
as one can make 
a kitchen table
competing with 
family meals
kids' homework
craft projects
during down time
and breaks
junk mail
wine glasses
coffee mugs
papers waiting 
to be graded

Time passed,
yet I still perch
at the end 
of the kitchen 
table
in front of the back porch window
facing the 
front door

It has become my
desk
morning pages,
three of them
every day (mostly)
for over four years
flanked on the right
with a writing
cabinet
wine glasses
and unopened bottles
of wine occupy the 
top shelf 
waiting
to be sipped

This morning,
I changed my seat
and now I perch
on the long side
of the kitchen 
table
to the right of the back porch
window
next to my son's 
favorite seat, 
occupied only when
he visits,
leaving the front door 
behind
enjoying
a better 
view

Are You There Judy? It’s Me, Ally

Hey Judy,

Me again. This time I’m not asking for advice on big life lessons. I want to say thank you. Thank you for writing great books. They got me through puberty. And now, there’s A MOVIE!

I can’t wait to watch Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret. Did this happen intentionally? Were you thinking about making this a possibility years after you published every pre-pubescent girl’s guide to body changes on purpose? How many pre, peri, regular, and post menopausal women will be in every theater across the country when it opens?

We’ll drag our daughters by the ears to watch it with us. (Do they even read anymore?). I’m orchestrating a watch party, at one of my favorite eatery theaters of course, because we must have access to fancy snacks and mimosas. Beer. Wine. Cocktails. I’m sure my favorite place will have a full menu of book related fare and fancy sips.

I might sneak in a pack of Oreo cookies, take a stack of four, and put two back as a nod to Blubber. I’ll drink a glass of orange juice before I get there in honor of Deenie. I’ll buy a brand new bra so I’m ready for “We must, we must, we must increase our busts!” However, in this case, it doesn’t need increasing, just lifting. I will mortify my thirteen year old with no shame.

I read this book twice in middle school. Years later, it was part of a Banned Books display in our school library one year when I took my class. Two boys were curious, I explained why it was my favorite, and they each checked out a copy. “There’s no better way to learn about girls than to read about them.” Sold!

I plan an adult me reading of it before the movie is released. I’m looking forward to loving it all over again.

Your Faithful Book Fan,

Ally

*Occasionally, I write to Judy Blume.

First letter is here.

Second letter is here.

Look, a Nook!

Fabled Bookshop and Cafe has another little hiding place. Upon entering and scanning the layout, plotting my first bookcase to peruse, I noticed an adorable writing nook (occupied) on the left side past Aesop. A writer, deep in thought, oblivious to those entering behind her. I glanced her way, took note, and on we went.

Later, I went back to that section where the travel books take you wherever you want to go. The nook was unoccupied, its writer a ghost of a memory. Who was she? What did she write? How long was she there? Is she a regular?

My daughter took a seat. “I can do homework here, no distractions.”

“I can write in my journals here, no distractions,” I agreed.

It’s a small desk with and a steel book holder and potted plant lit by a wall sconce. That’s it. We noticed a single desk drawer.

“Open it.”

She opens the drawer. A pile of hand-written notes (the best kind) greet us, happy to get a breath of fresh air. “Ooh, notes! Do you have paper so I can add a drawing?”

No, I didn’t have paper.

Already having spent a chunk of time there, my companions’ patience wore thin. I’ll only read one. I’ll come back another time. Solo. I can spend the entire day here. Of course, I didn’t say that out loud.

I took one note and read it.

Yes, I do have dreams so big, it scares me half to death to chase them.

You?

Secret Spaces

Aesop-Fabled Bookshop and Cafe, Waco, Tx

Ever find that secret little spot unexpectedly? I found one last summer, a secret garden* of sorts, tucked into a cul-de-sac in my neighborhood. I visited agin this morning.

Monday, we took a day trip to a book store I had been eyeing. Local book shops are my favorite spaces because they’re full of charm and quiet energy.

Within walking distance from our lunch spot, we visited Fabled Bookshop and Cafe in Waco, Tx. Upon entering, Aesop the Owl welcomed us with a tip of his hat. The book cases, dark and cozy, held the usual sorts of books. Shelf talkers, scripted by employees introducing people to their next great read, persuaded me to choose them from the shelf, if not add them to my TBR list.

I always like to check out the kid’s section even though my youngest is thirteen. She upgraded to the YA section, but the lure of kid lit always draws me in at least to take a peek.

I didn’t find it, but my daughter did. I gasped in excitement, so much as to cause her embarrassment even though the two year old writhing away from her mom trying to read her a picture book on the blue velvet couch barely noticed us.

Faux fur coats hung neatly in a built-in wardrobe. We parted the coats on the rack, and sure enough, there’s a door! Is it real? Does it open or is it just for show?

She hunches down, pushes the door, and sure enough, it opens to the other side, the YA section, of all places. As she makes her way through, a group of college aged kids are on the other side, hunched down, making their way in.

“Come on in! The White Witch is gone and Mr. Tumnus has hot tea waiting for us,” I playfully say in my best Lucy voice.

“Oh, yes, we shall come in!” Through the door they enter the kid’s section.

What a gem of a book shop.

*You can read about A Secret Garden here.

Hiker-ish

Enchanted Rock. It’ll enchant you to want to hop on boulders and flit around like a mountain goat until you realize you’ve gone too far and the only way to a trail, any trail, is down. And it’s steep. If you hike often and lift lots of weights, no problem. We don’t. Sure, side stepping your way down works, unless the descent is too steep. Without rails and nothing to hold on to. Slide down if need be. If you’re wearing weather proof shorts, you’ve got the perfect seat to a fast slide all the way down a massive pink granite rock.

Don’t lose the trail map. On second thought, study the trail map, make a plan, and read about what’s on the other side. Not many people going your direction? That’s a slap in the face, shake you back and forth until your eyes pop out sort of sign that maybe you’re going the wrong way. The hard way. The way meant for experienced hikers twenty years younger. The guy rappelling down the boulders you went around? Yeah, he won’t be able to save you.

Toes slide to the ends of shoes as you have a death grip on the rock trying not to lose your footing. Stay balanced. Focus. One foot in front of the other, lean back a little, bend the knees. Be patient, be patient, be patient. Once you get going it’s hard to stop so if you want to jump step it down, you’d better be ready and balanced for what’s coming.

There’s a trail. No one is on it. This goes to the lake. The car is on the other side. How far to go around because we so are NOT going back up to the other side. Go back. Regroup. Thank goodness for the checkpoint telling us YOU ARE HERE with an arrow marking our spot. Yes, we are, here, but how do we get out?

Take the other trail. But Mom! It looks like we have to go back UP! I can’t do that again!

More people. That’s a good sign. Better than the map. Keep going. It’s a bit rocky, but nothing close to what we just went through. Aha! Here we are. Everything looks familiar. Stop for a snack. Guess who thought of packing them? Take more glugs of water.

Dad! This is the way we came up!

And the way we should’ve come down. Who says adventures are always fun?

Life lessons learned: Together, you’ll get through steep descents and boulders. Sometimes, you’ll slide down on your ass.

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