Connectivity

Met up for pedis with one friend this morning and met our other friend for coffee afterward. We taught together years ago before the great split. A. went on to work as an instructional coach. About five years later, I shifted into my librarian position. C left the district to teach in a nearby district and returned as an instructional coach as well. She’s on my campus this year and I’m lucky we’re back together again, even if we don’t see each other every day as we once did.

We’ve watched our kids grow up and we’ve helped each other grow, professionally and in our friendship. Retirement is a much closer option we’re currently discussing although we’re still a few years from it. They’ll catch up to us.

My car took a few tries to start when we left the salon. A quick message: “My car isn’t starting!” followed by “Never mind. Got it.” I can’t tell if it’s the car battery or the key fob battery. Hubby and I begin bickering about it when I get home, he was called in to work a few hours early and doesn’t have time to check into it. He leaves his key fob so I can experiment and take it in to get the battery tested. Except, I don’t. I’d like to catch up on chores I’ve let slide.

S. wants to watch episode 3 of a series we started. I like to pin down any minute she’s open to hanging out with me. Last night, as we watched episode two, she fell asleep, her head on my lap. She leaned into me like she did when she was little, breathing deeply knowing I’m right there when she wakes up.

We agree to a speed clean to pick up bits of our spring break carelessness. I plan to pop in to get my slice posted and I notice the wi-fi is down. Uggg! My phone connection is slow. I troubleshoot and reset the router. Doesn’t work. I don’t have the patience to deal with calling our provider.

S. skips out announcing, “I’m ready to watch!”

“Wi-fi is down and nothing I’m doing is working. Give me a bit and I’ll see if I can get it working.”

A bit later, she changes her mind.

“Well, since we can’t watch anything, J. invited my to hang out and have dinner. Can you take me?”

It’s a nice day and I almost say she should walk to J’s, but decide to drop her off.

Arriving back home, I get my gear on and take a long walk. I found a new to me trail tucked behind a newer neighborhood. Earbuds are in, but about ten minutes into my walk, I decide to unplug. Might as well connect with sunlight and blue skies.

Ghost Mall

A canceled appointment led S. and me to the mall for something she wanted (and definitely didn’t need). The only place to get it is from a store at the mall. It’s almost 11:00 and the parking lot is deserted. Did we miss something? I turn a corner and find a small group of cars parked near the front doors of an anchor store. Prime real estate back in its hey-day.

We go through Macy’s bedding department. All of the beds are dull beige with lifeless and colorless bedding. They don’t look inviting. Gone are the days of wanting to curl up in a cushy and fluffy department store bed. I bypass Christmas themed super clearance dinnerware I don’t need. Someone else can get the deal. Geoffrey the Toys R Us giraffe from the kids’ toy section grins at no one, pink Barbie boxes line shelves willing kids to take a look, but there are no kids. We pass escalators that are either broken or turned off. To save energy? Who knows. We head to the front of the store that opens to the mall.

I haven’t been here in years. I missed the mark and parked on the opposite end of where we need to go. What was once an old Borders book store is open, full of giant stuffed Pokémon and other licensed stuffed toys in the windows, but more shops are caged closed with the lights off than those brightly flashing their wares. Jewelry stores. Candles. Shoes. A boutique announcing everything must go to no one but us.

Nearby escalators we planned to take are also not operational. What’s up with the escalators? We continue on, looking for people. I relay my “when I was your age” story about how spring break brought everyone who didn’t go anywhere to the mall. Even that was a treat for those who didn’t travel. We pass the food court. Every seat is available. Chick-fil-a lines snaking around tables are gone. A pretzel place is there, but most other well-known food court spaces disappeared. Pizza. Baked potatoes. Footlong corndogs. Panda Express. All gone. A shut down movie theater around the corner doesn’t send its buttery popcorn scent luring people to catch a flick.

Finding working escalators, we descend to the first floor. Gray covers robe vendorless mall carts stationed along the center walkways. No one asks us to test lotion, no cheap silver jewelry beckons us to take a look and politely decline. A mom with two littles smiles as they sit on the Easter bunny’s lap-likely the same costume used for the past thirty years-no line here either.

“That bunny is creepy.”

Formal dresses sparkle, desperately hoping for a prom queen or quinceañera to take them out of their misery and out on the town. S. doesn’t give them a second look, but if I were choosing, it would be the long emerald green one.

We arrive at the shop S. needed to find. Is this place open? It’s hard to tell. Half the lights are off, but the space is open, so we go inside.

“We’re out of stock right now,” the lone sales clerk informs us, “but our shipments come in at noon on Thursday.” We’re the only three people in the store and she she stands behind the counter as if she’s afraid to come out, peering at us, confirming we’re real people shoppers.

Wanting to take a quick look, we walk around to another anchor store. The lights are on, sign still flashing brightly, but the glass doors are closed. All inventory has been stripped, fixtures bare, but signs still advertise manly cologne.

“Let’s get out of here. This place is sad and depressing. It has really low energy, Mom, I don’t like it.”

An empty coin operated carousel offering FUN plays an odd calliope circus tune as an animatronic Build-a-Bear waves, flanked by stuffed bears, pink Peeps, bunnies, and rabbits advertising spring.

Easter bunny sits alone, the mom and her littles long gone.

***

Today, I stepped into our version of the Jasper Mall documentary.

Sunday, March 8, 2026

Dear Slicers,

Thank you for reading my posts. Year 7 is one I almost skipped. I’m glad I didn’t. This is a challengeiing task, but its all of you who keep me coming back each year. New Slicers, I hope you enjoy being here as much as I do.

I considered writing all of my posts in letter form. However, it’s more time consuming gatheriing my stationery (I’m not an early prepper-I fly by the seat of my pants), scanning, & uploading said letter, and then inevitably I’d falter and maybe even quit. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter, but I also didn’t want to rush through the process.

Lately, I’ve reserved my Sundays for slowing down. Since I started the Sunday Letter Project (I wrote about it last week), I loof forward to writing Sunday letters. I’m penning this letter with a jazz playlist swaying in the background while teen girl mixes up a batch of chocolate-chocolate chip cookie mix for boyfriend’s birthday tomorrow. It’s an overcast day with drizzle willing itself to stay locked int the clouds while we recuperate from the lost hour of precious time.

How are your slices going? I find myself writing mini-slices as comments sometimes. I’ll either save these posts or take screenshots. I may or may. not revisit them for the inevitable writer’s block. Shout out to Cindy of mschiubookawrites whose deftly drafted comments tie in with the post. If you haven’t already done so, check out the inspirational posts each day, but also those highlighted by other writers. Writer’s block is ALWAYS an appropriate slice and definitely “counts.”

Spring break is next week for me, so I plan to read more posts. I’m also saving some for later. Some possible slice topics:

my late uncle’s 18 wheeler based on ~~a comment~~ another slicer’s post (I need to look for it)
“Information is disposable”-from a discussion with 8th graders
Amelia Earhart, Helen Keller, and a Bessie Coleman Barbie-8th graders again
Isn’t everyone “a creative” from a crafter I follow online
What’s in my analog bag

Eight days down, twenty three more reps to go. Hang in there. Have a fabulous week. I’ll attempt to wrangle the rest of this day and tell it to SLOW DOWN!

Sincerely,

Alice

P.S. I recently finished Twice: A Novel by Mitch Albom. It’s about time travel. What are you reading?

P.S.S. Is anyone interested in receiving a Sunday letter in the mail?

What’s in Your Analog Bag?

What’s in your ~~wallet~~ analog bag?

There was once a credit card company commercial asking what’s in your wallet. Today’s answer isn’t a specific credit card, it’s a phone and in that phone there’s a “wallet.”

Have you heard of the craze? My son, along with people I watch in thirty second blips while doomscrolling, introduced me to the term. An analog bag is a tote, backpack, basket, messenger bag, or any other type of portable container for storing items one can reach for instead of those little devices that are so much more than phones.

My son’s bag contains an MP3 player, wired headphones (they sound so much better, Mom!), a journal, a sketchbook, an actual book (he stopped reading for funsies in high school), pencils, a pen, a vintage Polaroid camera, and his Nintendo DS. There are still electronic devices, but said electronic devices can’t access the internet. The camera can only snap photos. The MP3 player only plays music. The DS only allows playing solo games.

The trend is popular among many Gen Z’ers. I’m hopeful the trend will trickle down and gain popularity among middle and high schoolers. I’ve gotta give my boy credit, along with everyone else doing this, for recognizing the need to slow down. I believe people are at a breaking point with the negative effects of device and social media overuse. People are exhausted from noticing how much time is spent online.

Gone are the days of surfing the net. We’re now drowning in the abyss of information and misinformation and short form video and endless subscriptions to everything we could ever want and everything we don’t need.

I’ve noticed many social media accounts run by those who became accidental influencers become silent, change, or disappear altogether. Some people behind said accounts announce they either stepped away or will be closing them in favor of getting back in touch with themselves. It must be exhausting putting your life online all day every day.

I may have laughed at the idea of an analog bag because it seems so logical. Grab a bag, put your favorite stuff in it and take it with you. However, Gen Z is accustomed to taking everything in one tiny pocket sized device. Seeing someone reading a book, knitting a scarf, writing in a journal, playing solitaire, or doing anything other than being on a phone is a great conversation starter. People are wanting more in-person connection.

If it’s analog bags that get us there, then I’m all for it. I hope it isn’t a short-lived trend.

Radio Caller

I’m one of those people who sometimes gets up early and winds up running late. It happened today. This morning, I beat my alarm by fifteen minutes after trying to recapture lost sleep when my daughter loudly pokes around my bathroom stealing more of my makeup wipes. She forgot to take off last night’s makeup. Again.

After getting dressed, I pack a proper lunch rather than flinging random items into my bag. There is time for toasting a slice of cranberry walnut bread without burning it. I slather it with butter. My coffee doesn’t get left on the counter.

Today, I’ll have the computers and lights on before the line forms outside the library doors. I’m in a great mood because I’m not rushing.

On the radio, the host discusses books. Audio, e-books, or physical? I’m stuck at the tail end of a car line waiting to go. She announces the phone number. Should I try to call? It’s hard to get through. Nah…

I call.

Thank you for calling, all lines are… I try again. Nope. One last time and someone, a human, picks up. I give the screener my information and hold on the line. In all of my years of life, this is the first time I’ve made it through. Twelve year old me is flipping out as if my letter made it on Casey Kasem’s long distance dedication.

I have plenty of time as I settle in for my commute. I’m ready. But there’s another caller in front of me. I listen intently so I don’t repeat anything. Next caller. I’m nearing my school as I turn off the highway. 7:25. 20 more minutes before my official start time and I’m almost there. I should leave at this time every day.

The next caller is on. I turn toward my campus. They’re discussing book fairs and scrolling on e-readers and annotating and listening only to fiction audiobooks rather nonfiction because one must take notes. Another caller discusses purchasing only the classics and noticing how the books one reads as a kid often shows up as a career. Yes! I agree with you, but I can’t say anything because it isn’t my turn.

How long do I need to wait? Patience is not my thing. I snag my favorite parking spot. 7:35 and I’m still waiting. I have 10 minutes. This guy keeps going, but I want to rush him off the line because I need to get to work. I debate hanging up. I’m still waiting, you can hold out! I decide to end the call if there is someone else after this one.

Hi, Alice from Texas!

Finally. I almost have a Cindy Brady TV quiz show moment where she freezes when the camera light signals they’re on the air. I share how I avoided chores as a teen because I hate stopping in the middle of a chapter. Thirty seconds of fame. I figure I’m the last caller for the segment since the host commented, thanked me, and my phone gives me the call ended beep.

I gather my bags, loop my badge around my neck, and head toward the building. 7:47. Two minutes late and there’s already a line of kids waiting. All of the waiting to talk about books.

Sunday, March 1, 2026

Dear New & Returning Slicers-

How’s it going? I wasn’t sure I’d slice this year, but I’ve neglected my writing and I NEED it, so here I am.

Tuesday slicing tapered off for me, not for lack of ideas, but lack of follow through on my part. I’m not the morning type, so by the time all of the things that need doing get done, I’m the one who’s done. I’m hoping this helps me course correct.

Do I have a plan or strategy this year? I’m still mulling it over. I don’t want to say what it is yet-I don’t want to jinx it, even though I’m not the superstitious type. Except maybe I am, just a little.

I started my fall posts-when I “started” posting on Tuesdays again-writing about the last time I did something for the first time. I started (actually, my brain did this) overthinking and arriving to at the conclusion that it’s impossible for me to keep up with the last time I did something for the first time because something else would knock it out of place. However, the real me just said-NO ONE CARES-pick one of the many on your list. Perhaps those will be revisited for future slices.

I like to see where the writing takes me, if I let it. (Still working on that one). Last year was tough for me. I can’t figure out why. Here’s to LUCKY #7! I’m okay with not having a plan. Why change what’s worked for me? As me this on Friday and I’ll likely have a different answer.

One thing I’ve been up to is writing a letter every Sunday (except I skipped one already, so today I’ll write two. I found the Sunday Letter Project some time in December. I’ll sign up for the reminders as if I need reminding that Sunday is coming. Its’ the only solid day of structure I have (ooh, didn’t see this one coming-saving it for a poetential slice). The point is to write a letter to someone-anyone, even yourself, on paper with a pen or other writing stick. Mail it or keep it. Do this for a year. Slicers, you get #8. #9 has a yet to be determined recipient since I skipped a week.

Thing #2: I randomly chose The Correspondent by Virginia Evans as an audiobook read. It’s an epistolary and enjoyed peeking in on Sybil Van Antwerp’s life. Chick it out, you might like it. This book, paired with The Sunday Letter Project led me to listen to the nudge to get back on track with writing. I signed up for SOL’26 and here I am, writing letter #8, giving a nod to a book I finished, and writing my first slice. Cheers to year 7!

(This is where I raise my glass to to toast with an orange mimosa)

Sincerely,

Alice

P.S. I’m currently reading I See You’ve Called in Dead, by John Kenney. What are you reading?

The Last First: Flat Spidy

One of the last things I did for the first time, aside from riding a train to New York City, was making a paper doll. One of my sisters, we call her Spidy, wasn’t able to join us on this trip. Disappointed, she made a suggestion that could work.

“Maybe you can turn me into Flat Spidy!”

So we did.

Angie brought construction paper and markers. I planned to make Flat Spidy the night before departing, but it became impossible. So there I am at our Airbnb scrawling out my most second grade looking drawing of Spidy, flattened so she could join us while riding in my bag.

Join us, she did. At the train station, Danny, our funcle asked a guy named Eddie about tickets. He tinkered on a machine others were grateful he was fixing while he gave us travel tips. In Texas, we pretty much only drive everywhere. We chatted about visiting places that aren’t conducive to urban hiking and public transportation. Great guy. Once I pulled Flat Spidy out of my bag, he about lost it.

“Whaddya mean? Of course I’ll take a picture! This story just keeps getting better. I’ll even let her wear my hat.” A die-hard Deadhead, that’s exactly what he did.

Her company added an element of playfulness we didn’t expect. Taking care not to get her soggy in the rain, we missed some photo ops, but it was one of the best ways for her to be present. In the evenings, we sent updates of her travels. Next time, we hope none of us need to become flat versions of ourselves to take that sisters trip we’ve been trying to make happen.

Family Sleuthing Skills

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.

We’re not ready for a level 10.

Vacation Slicing

March slicing is challenging. Spring break is typically my week for reading and replying to more posts and responding to comments. This year, after many years of staycations, we decided to take a much needed spring break trip.

We’re having a great time despite the lack of sleep and an early flight.

Routines are off the table for a few days, so slicing is a struggle.

Plans took a turn when Migraine packed her bags and arrived at 5:00 a.m. Who invited her? I booked a whole separate room for her and hopefully she’ll stay out of my space.

Going #Gray(scale)

I struggle with staying off my phone. #everything lives there. I’m not the #techie type, but it has gradually choked out all resistance I once had to keeping up with the times (and #Joneses). Every Sunday, my screen time notification lets me know how much of my life bled into #cyberspace.

This week will be different. It won’t be the ghastly #imnotsaying hours it is every week. Nopity, nope. It will be less. I’m cutting it in half. People say researchers say setting your phone to #grayscale will significantly reduce the amount of time you spend on your phone.

#bluelight #screenaddiction #doomscrolling all of the things will improve. So they say. I had to look up directions, because, you know, the #reel I watched went too fast and there I am, taking another #screenshot to add just one more photo to my 10,000+ collection I carry around every day. How much would that weigh in actual #photos?

Is it the #placeboeffect? I have reduced my time, although not by half. It’s about a third. What I have noticed is I #cantfindanything. My apps are organized just so…by #color. I have slowed my scroll because I have to read my screen. (Funny how I’m always telling the kids “Slow your scroll and #readyourscreen!”)

My bank account is a little happier, but Amazon is not. I’m not clicking on useless items to bulk up my #shoppingcart. I’ve taken less screenshots because I’m not scrolling as much. My messages may be a bit off since I’m struggling to find the right #emoji 😃

I do turn it on for a few minutes, especially if I’m getting (more) photos from family members, but overall, I switch it back. It’s #cumbersome to toggle back and forth and I’m not creating a shortcut. Also, it isn’t hurting my eyes. Well, my eyes don’t necessarily hurt, but it isn’t as jarring.

How long will I maintain this? Who knows. I’m curious to see how much of a difference it makes. I can go on with my life #inlivingcolor.

	Alice on Connectivity
	Alice on Connectivity
	Alice on Connectivity
	Alice on Ghost Mall
	Alice on Ghost Mall