This One Isn’t Handwritten

Tuesday, March 31, 2026

Dear Slicers,

Thank you for the 31 day writing adventure. I appreciate you for showing up every day and writing with me, taking me into your world, and showing me how I can, we, can still do this. Each year I believe it will get easier.

It doesn’t.

What it does, is bring us together to share a bit of ourselves in this big, often perplexing world. Perhaps it isn’t the world that’s perplexing, but the human behaviors that make it so. The world holds us in it. We can choose to make it spin one way or another.

I began year seven with a handwritten Sunday letter, inspired by The Correspondent: A Novel by Virginia Evans. Know what? It feels odd not to write this letter on paper. I suppose the analog life is pulling me back, a little at a time. And that is a good, good, thing.

March did it’s thing and marched right over me this month. Slowing down helped. Writing every day helped. Your stories helped.

Did I read more posts this time as I planned? Nope. Since I’m practicing slowing down, I’ll continue popping in to read posts I missed along with catching up on replying to your comments.

Thank you for your ideas, book recommendations, new knowledge shared, and new connections made. If you’d like to receive a letter in the mail some time as I continue with The Sunday Letter Project, I should be able to see your email address if you comment or reach out. We can exchange addresses via email from there.

Regardless of when we meet again, on Tuesdays, a Sunday, or next March, be well.

Write well. Write often. Write much.

Sincerely,

Alice

P.S. I returned home this evening from my librarian conference with a stack of books. My next book on my TBR pile is The Shippers: A Novel, by Catherine Center. We did a little line dancing yesterday before she signed our books. That sounds like an analog and whimsical spring activity. Line dancing. I’m not good at it, but it was fun!

What are you reading?

Frida @ MFAH

Sunday, March 29, 2026

Dear Slicers,

We’re almost done! Short and sweet today-I’m at TLA conference. Before getting to the hotel, roomie and I went to MFAH to view the Frida Kahlo exhibit! I’m fangirling! This is a portrait of her by Diego Rivera-new to me. It’s incredible to see the Queen of the Selfie at her ORIGINAL finest!

Sincerely,

Alice

Blizzard of Bucks

I frequently talk about how I rarely win prizes or get chosen for things. As random as prizes can be, so are some of the prizes I have won. Or were they opportunities? Either way, as a kid I watched one too many episodes of The Price is Right, The $10,000 Pyramid, Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy! Press Your Luck, you name it, I watched it. Stuck in Texas with nowhere to go, being on a game show has usually been only possible through watching on TV.

Zoom forward several years from my childhood days to college. Student services once sponsored a game show called The Blizzard of Bucks. Think along the lines of Minute to Win It games, but with money. A group of friends decided to go and I tagged along. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but watching a non-televised game show sounded better than a lame Friday night study session.

Taking our seats in the audience, the host explained the rules. There are games and several rounds. Lose a round and you’re eliminated, everyone else advances until there’s one left standing. The lone winner gets a minute inside a booth with a ton of cash. Get as much as you’re able to collect in one minute and you get to keep it. Of course, there are rules about what is and isn’t allowed when grabbing at the cash. Once the timer starts, so does the power blasted fan, sending cash up, down, and all around inside the booth. This will be fun to watch.

What we didn’t know is contestants would be chosen from the audience. No one needed to sign up and they didn’t take volunteers. The Price is Right style! I didn’t expect getting selected. My friends cheered for me and I had no idea why. After realizing my luck, I walked to the set-up in front of an audience seated in folding chairs, taking my place with other contestants.

The first game is a blur and I don’t remember not losing, but my friends cheered even louder. I made it to the next round. Okay, well, not expecting much, let’s get on with the next game. The host walks out with a baby bottle explaining what to do. These will be filled to the top. 8 ounces.

I’m losing this one. I hate milk!

All contents must be fully consumed, no spitting it out.

Oh no, I hate milk

The game crew returns with baby bottles for each of us. They’re filled with orange juice.

Juice? Orange juice? That’s my favorite.

The timer starts and we tip our bottles. This is easy. I start chugging. I hear my friends go hysterical. They’re cheering my name and I gain momentum.

Chug, chug, chug!

There’s a giant hole in the nipple of the baby bottle so I’m swigging it down like it’s in a cup. I finish it off and put the bottle down. Other people are still chugging, or trying.

I look at the money booth. Is this real?

Advancing to the next round, we get more directions. This time, each person gets a marshmallow. It has to stay in our mouths while we say “chubby bunny.” It must be pronounced properly and the audience has to hear it. They’re checking lips to make sure they touch at the b sound. Don’t eat the marshmallow. Marshmallows will be added until there’s one person left.

Marshmallow number one.

“Chub-by b-unny.”

My friends roar.

Marshmallow number two. I strategically tuck the marshmallow into the opposite cheek.

“Chuhh-by buhh-ny.”

I try to suck up the drool that’s sliming out of one side of my mouth. I take a peek at the money booth. Can I fit another marshmallow in my mouth? They’re bigger than they look.

Marshmallow three. I tuck it into my right cheek. Nope. I didn’t pay much attention to placement the first time. Can I shift it just right into the left side? I do my best to tuck it in and take as deep a breath as I can.

“Chwah-wee, wah-wee.”

“Oh no! So sorry, you almost made it!”

The audience lets out a sigh.

I swear I heard The Price is Right horn walk me off the stage.

A hulk of a guy next to me popped the third marshmallow in his mouth.

“Chubby bunny!”

As I get back to my seat, my friends high five me. They’ve had a great time and remind me how I got so close. We watch the marshmallow guy get into the booth to try his luck at the cash. Money swirls around him as he swats at bills filling the space around him like confetti, trying to grab them by the handfuls.

I didn’t make it to the money booth, but it was an unforgettable experience. My consolation prize was an Igloo cooler with a canteen. Not too shabby for a Friday night.

When I Was a kid

When I was a kid
I wanted to live inside Jeanie’s bottle 
and travel by magic carpet

be chosen as a contestant on 
the Price is Right 
get slimed on Nickelodeon’s 
You Can’t Do That on Television
make it to bucket number six on 
Bozo’s Grand Prize Game
walk off stage with a pile of prizes, 
a brand new bike

When I was a kid
I wanted to eat SpaghettiOs
we never had in our house 
raise cute little sea monkeys 
what would I name them? 
shrink myself to ride 
Mister Rogers’s trolley
go on a real field trip with him
feed his fish

When I was a kid
I wanted to 
sit on the steps of a brownstone
on Sesame Street 
even though I might have been 
too old
dance in a fire hydrant’s fountain
releasing its cool spray
on a hot summer day
claim the top bunk
at camp
write letters home by flashlight
swat at mosquitoes on 
my neck 
sticky with sweat

When I was a kid
I wanted to explore the woods and
Frank Lloyd Wright’s 
Falling Water
even though I didn’t 
know about architecture 
listen to babbling brooks 
as snowmelt
swelled streams and creeks and rivers
I wanted to wave at Santa 
from Broadway
at Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade
catch snowflakes on my tongue
wave at the camera
to kids watching from home
ride a subway

When I was a kid
I wanted to teach the 
world to 
sing
in perfect
harmony

and then I grew up

Formal

I walk into the main office to pick up a color copy I printed from my computer. Yippee, we have to share the color printer, but keep it on the down low because the color printer for everyone else is in the downstairs teacher’s lounge and the cartridge has been out of ink for months. Sucked dry by everyone printing everything in color rather than sending it to print shop…and there I go, down my rabbit hole.

“Excuse me,” I say, as I pass between the 8th grade counselor and 8th grade assistant principal. They’re chatting and obviously not about a student because they’re in the small hallway leading to the reception area. Counselor’s eyes brighten as she sees me. “Oooh…” I hear her say. I know what that means: you’re about to get hit up for something you don’t want to do.

“Are you good at planning parties?”

“If it’s my own party, sure. If it’s a party for someone else, not so much. What’s it for?”

“Eighth grade formal,” 8th grade AP answers, “PTA is supposed to do it, but they haven’t done it in several years.”

“Do you have a theme? Or maybe you can let some of the 8th grader plan it. It’s their gig anyway, give them something to do.”

8th grade AP, sighing, “I want it to be a surprise.”

By now, Counselor and IT, with whom I meant to chat with about tomorrow’s lesson, make their way to AP’s office. I walk to the printer to retrieve my copy, hearing them run down a list of possible suggestions. I pass by AP’s office on the way back to the library. They’re all huddled over AP’s computer.

IT laughs and says, “She’s not gonna like this, wait and see. Get in here!” she summons.

Before I walk in AP’s office I know what they’re doing.

“You all put that in ChatGPT to see what it’ll spit out!”

IT knows where I stand with AI-mixed feelings. I use it, but typically struggle through my own ideas which seem to mostly run on empty.

“I knew it! Whatcha got? Ooh, you can do a muted down color scheme. A play on school colors, instead of green, black, and white, do sage, gray, and cream,” I suggest. They did ask for ideas.

“Well, we were thinking ‘A Night in Hollywood,'” AP answers.

“Wasn’t that last year’s theme?”

“No, it was a few years ago. Everything we had is gone. It just disappeared.”

“Who took it?” We all look at each other. Things disappear frequently and no one ever finds the culprit.

Counselor wonders if all the prom dresses are still in a no longer on our campus teacher’s classroom. “What happened to all of that stuff? Did she take the prom dresses with her?” No Longer On Campus Teacher collected a pile of gently used prom dresses last year for the 8th Grade Formal Boutique. Girls who may not be able to purchase a dress were free to “shop” for their items.

“No, it’s all gone,” IT replies.

“Hmm…what if you do a 90’s Hollywood theme? You know, all that is trending. Carolyn Bessette Kennedy looks, slip dresses, baby tee and long skirt formals, updos with curls piled at the top of the head, MIB-Men in Black, they’ll love it.” I’m almost getting excited for them, but not enough to volunteer to coordinate the event. Not even close.

AP and Counselor start reminiscing about a full length sequined gown. A two piece formal with a halter top. Those updos with the curls piled on top of the head. Prom dates.

“We can have teachers submit their 90s prom pictures, it’ll be so fun!” AP is gaining momentum with the theme. Counselor agrees and they’re having a great time pinging ideas between one another.

IT and I exchange looks.

“Umm, yeah,” I offer, “fun for those who went to prom in the ’90s. But some of us didn’t. go. to. prom. in. the 90s.” My voice trails…

They’re not getting it.

IT and I holler out laughing. “WE went to prom in the ’80s. Good luck with that!”

We walk out of AP’s office and get back to our regularly scheduled program.

Are You There Judy? It’s Me, Ally…

Sunday, March 22, 2026

Hi again. This is the 4th or 5th time I write to you (on my blog). I’ve had people suggest I send these letters (links) to you. Worth a try even though you may be buried in fan mail. I’d absolutely love it if you’d write back.

Thank you for writing books I needed to read when I was a kid. I’ve never forgotten them and I learned about the world in them. Looking back, I also learned about family dynamics. My parents worked long hours out of necessity. I had first born child responsibilities as a tween and teen, you know, be the little adult you’re in charge until we get one type of situation. My grandparents and extended family lived minutes away, so it wasn’t an unhealthy or awful situation, just one of those where we had some responibilities a little earlier than most kids do. Your books helped me be a teen with other teens and I enjoyed living vicariously through your characters.

My daughter and I recently re-watched Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret while she finished some homework. We both enjoyed watching it on the big screen and it was fun having it on again. She’s now older than Margaret’s character so she had a great time psychoanalyzing the family dynamics. She even offered Margaret advice through commentary about her friends and life change.

I’d love to visit your book shop some day. I’ve heard that sometimes you’re working in the shop. you are at the top of my author meet-up bucket list. I’ve been lucky to meet great authors in person, so I know it’s a possibility. If I saw you out in public I’m sure I’d go right back to my twelve year old self in excitement. If I met you in person, I think I’d cry.

Do you still get massive amounts of fan mail? I wanted to write to you years ago, but I wasn’t sure if you’d read my letter. I find myself wondering the same question now. Maybe you’ll get this. Maybe it will remain unsent. Regardless, I appreciate how your books found me.

Sincerely, a long time fan,

Ally

P.S. Is there anything you wish you would have written?

Calendar

Mine. Yours. Ours. I’ve been using an official planner to keep myself organized. There was a time when my lesson planner was enough, but those days are gone. One kiddo is adulting and the other is smack dab in her teens. Hubby’s work schedule changes frequently so I have to keep track of that, too. I took a break from having said little boxes tell me what to do, but that week is over, so back to the boxes I go.

I could use the ones in my phone that will give me notifications, but said notifications get ignored. I’m a paper planner type of person with a side of phone calendar. Dates are transferred to the official keeper of time.

Keeping work at work, I focused on personal & family dates for the rest of this quarter and the next one. That takes us into summer break, and hopefully, a summer vacation. My niece turning fourteen two weeks ago launched us into birthday season. For March, it’s two friends, an aunt, a niece, and two nephews. There’s also a wedding I missed, an anniversary, and everything Lent related from our church calendar.

In April, it’s two nieces, a nephew and his mom, my sister-in-law (both on the same day), an uncle, my dad, two cousins-I might have lost count. Add Mother’s day in May, a niece’s birthday, a quinceañera, all of the extra celebrations, end of the school year shut down the library frenzy, and my parents’ anniversary.

Oh, and there’s testing. So much testing!

To plan ahead for S.’s appointments, I take a look at her testing calendar. AP exams. Uh-oh. AP exams. When are they scheduled? I poke around on the school’s testing website and find them. I pencil them in their proper calendar cells.

Then I get sucker punched to the gut. Wait. I did pay the registration for AP testing. Or was that last school year‘s World History test? Uh-oh. I check my inbox and search. It’s gotta be here, I rarely delete important information.

Sure enough, I have the testing confirmation and receipt. Calm down, heart, don’t jump out of my body. I jot down the two dates in May.

Returning to my inbox, I see the subject line: Important Info for S’s Senior Year.

It’s from the school’s photo company. Senior portrait session appointments are available for booking next fall. I start filling out the form and stop in the field to add her phone number for notifications. I don’t know her number and I’m not in the mood to check. It’s the last chunk of March. I’m working with the end of this school year’s dates.

I’m not ready to go there yet.

Not Today

Morning walk before heat sets in
Nope, not today

A three page date with my journal
Nope, not today

Coffee and brunch with a friend
Nope, not today

A family jaunt downtown for something fun
Nope, not today

Hiking and ice cream afterward
Nope, not today

Shopping to update my wardrobe
Nope, not today

Friday, you win,
but I'll be back tomorrow

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.

The Good, The Bad, and the Ominous

A little before I settled in for writing, running through a mental of list of zero topics, one dropped into my phone. E, my 23 year old, started the conversation. He loves pulling pranks on me, making it difficult to know whether he’s serious or not.

He drove through The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. Gotta love how builders select names for subdivisions and stick to the theme. Stories manage to find their way into every part of our lives. I read about a Friends themed subdivision being built a few years ago in a nearby town. Friends in Texas.

Today may be a good day to hunker down with a good Western.

As promised, I’m tagging his tumblr post here. *language alert

	Alice on This One Isn’t Hand…
	Alice on This One Isn’t Hand…
	Alice on Not Today
	Alice on Whimsical Spring
	Alice on Blank Canvas, Blank Page