Tag: writing

Takeout Mishaps

SOLSC Day 10

I’m nervous. We have one of those busy-ish evenings. Prescription glasses are ready to be picked up before the office closes for the day, but they need to be picked up today for tonight’s orchestra concert. The concert doesn’t begin until 8:00 tonight. Between the glasses, dinner, travel time, getting ready, and arriving on time, it’s takeout night.

Usually it’s a treat. Lately, it’s been a disaster. It happens when I’m hangry. There are days when I skip breakfast, pack a sad little lunch, stay late for a staff meeting, and I’m ravenous when I get home. Takeout sounds like a great idea. I place my order. Everyone else makes their requests and off they go to retrieve the goods. I’m guzzling water to fill me up because if I start snacking to hold me over, I’ll eat too much.

Staying home to get started on household duties that pile up during my day’s absence, my husband volunteers to pick up our order. One night, I order a fancy salad and add a chicken breast for a more filling, yet light dinner. We unpack our food. The chicken is missing. I check the receipt. Sure enough, not ordered. I calm myself down using the strategies we use with kindergartners because I’m about to flat out wail. I find a chunk of chicken in the fridge, add it to my fancy salad, and devour my meal.

On another occasion, I order a burger from one of our favorite burger joint. We have ingredients for burgers, but we have to thaw meat. We’re not feeling the cooking tonight. The restaurant is less than ten minutes from our home. Picky eaters beget odd orders, especially for burgers. I order mine with mustard, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, no onions, add cheese and go ahead and add fries. I’m splurging today. We order with time to get it home in less than half an hour. No need for extra water or snacks.

However, it’s already 6:30. We ordered at 6:00. We should be eating by now. 7:00. Nothing. Hmmm…I message my husband. No response. 7:30. No food, voicemail kicks on. I could’ve already defrosted the meat, made the patties, cooked them, peeled the potatoes and made home-fries. I start snacking, just a little. He’ll be here any minute. 8:00. Another call, still no answer. I’m getting a little worried. 8:20. The delivery arrives, finally. There was a wreck. Okay, I get it, but it was that bad? I didn’t even hear sirens.

We unpack our food. Order number one: burger, plain, with fries. Check. Order number two: chicken sandwich, no pickles, no mayo, fries on the side. Check. Order number three: burger, everything on it, add jalapeños and an order of chilli cheese fries. Check. I’m salivating by now. My stomach rumbles. I can eat through the wrappers. Order number four: burger, dry, lettuce. Fries are missing. That’s it. Forget calming strategies, I implode.

Here I am an adult mom modeling behavior about how to handle not getting her way. “You will go back and get the right order, I’m so tired of this!” I put the brakes on though. Positive energy in (inhale), negative energy out (exhale). Check the receipt. All of the orders were correct. Of course. I went to the fridge, retrieved a block of cheese, found the mustard, and reassembled my burger after I reheating it. My kids share their fries. Two fries from each of them. After I chomped down my dinner, I asked why it took so long.

The burgers were ordered at the location 30 miles away. The wreck was in that direction, nowhere close to where we live. During rush hour.

Let’s order a family pack of tacos and add on the flautas. It’s Chuy’s night this week. Last time we had plenty of food plus extra for decent leftovers. Six taco shells, meat, rice, beans, queso, chips, plenty of jalapeño ranch, salsa, a dozen flautas…I’ll make my own margaritas. This is a great deal and we don’t have to special order anything other than adding the flautas.

Once again, hangry. We order. We unpack our food. Five taco shells instead of six. No flautas. Check the receipt. It’s correct, but we didn’t get our flautas. My husband calls, sorts out the order and goes back for them. I’m on my second margarita. I start with the chips and jalapeño ranch. I stuff myself until the flautas arrive. We serve ourselves cold tacos and warm flautas.

It’s takeout tonight. Again. Check everything before you leave. Unpack all of the food in the car. Check the receipt.

I’m waiting. We had a staff meeting today. Two more hours until the concert starts. I had a sad little lunch. My stomach rumbles.

I’ll get some water.

‘Zineology and Snail Mail

SOLSC Day 9

Years ago I found a book (or maybe the book found me) called Whatcha Mean What’s a ‘Zine? I don’t remember where I found it, but it looked interesting so I bought it. Well, hello, this was the best purchase I had made to inspire kids to write in my classroom. I shared it with my teaching bestie and we came up with a plan. After we both read it and started using them in the classroom, we presented a professional development session for secondary teachers in our district. I was hooked and the kids loved them. This was back in the day when foldables were all the rage.

If you aren’t familiar with ‘zines, they are small, self-published mini-books, or tiny magazines, on any topic. They’ve been compared to flyers or pamphlets that were used way before printing and buying magazines was the norm. Think Ben Franklin’s pamphlets. We liked using these and the students responded well because they’re small and less intimidating than writing on full sized sheets of paper. We had students use them for note-taking, free writing, mini-graphic novels for those who wanted to give it a try, publishing their personal narratives, and even for a variety of responses to reading. In our PD session, our handouts were two separate ‘zines that participants folded with us. They were a hit.

As COVID made its entrance, I became restless. Connecting with my friends on social media was great, but I wanted something different. I wanted connection with snail mail. I posted an invitation for friends to DM their snail mail addresses so I could send them a little something. Unexpected snail mail from a real person is a treat, at least it is for me. Close friends and family whose addresses I already had were default recipients. However, I wanted to reach out to those farther out of my everyday circle: new colleagues, old high school friends, new friends.

I planned to mail a quick note to say hello and sticker bomb the outside of the envelopes because as a true child of the ’80s, I’m a sucker for fun stickers. Then I got an idea. I’d make a ‘zine. I knew everyone was going through tough times adjusting. I’m not a naturally optimistic person, so I decided to make a Little ‘Zine of Happiness and send some happy mail. I created my first (and so far, only) ‘zine that isn’t classroom related.

After I made the original ‘zine, I unfolded it, scanned it, and printed copies. Assembling them was therapeutic. I bought stationery, collected addresses and sent them out. I used all the Christmas stamps I had since I didn’t get around to sending cards, a delayed little gift. I didn’t send them all at once. I’d send out two or three, wait a few days and then send a few more. I made sure to tuck in the little ‘zine.

I received delightful messages from recipients, some of whom snail mailed me back. Many told me it arrived at the perfect time and put smiles on their faces. I left a blank on the cover for personalization. My ‘zinester teacher colleague, now an instructional coach, passed them out to her teachers earlier this year to lift their spirits. That was my intention, to spread joy during a tough time.

More topics roll around in my head for new ‘zines. I even created an Instagram account for people to share there, but it’s quiet right now. I plan to make more, but following through has waned. I’m sure inspiration will visit soon. Feel free to get your copy here and share some happiness.

*This is sometimes referred to as a “smoosh book” or an 8-page book. No fancy tools required. Not even scissors, unless you want a clean line. Video directions for folding are here.