Tuesday Slice: Strawberry moscato in February

 

It was a long work day, stretching from seven in the morning until five...in the afternoon?  Evening?  What does five p.m. qualify as, anyway?  To my weary mind and body, it was twelve-plus hours and seven energetic classes-- spanning kindergarten through fifth grade-- after my pre-dawn alarm, so it was late.  I trudged to my car in the falling temperatures, glad that I brought my winter coat today.  I realized that late nights were going to be the norm for the next week-and-a-half with our spring book fair happening next week, and it made me feel preemptively exhausted.

The wind chimes are singing outside my window as I type, announcing the onset of our coldest night yet this winter.  As much as I would love a late start or an ice day, the thought of what it would do to my schedule and preparations gives me pause.  I missed two days last week due to the flu, and I'm still recovering both in body and in the tasks that have to get done.

I am bone-tired.  Maybe it's my age.  Maybe it's the barrage of bad news, much of it about education, that's wearing me down.  Maybe it's a sign that I'm a candle about to burn out, sputtering as the wick whittles down to the last bit of wax.  I think about retirement daily, vacillating between holding on for a teensy bit more financial gain and getting out while the getting's good.  I can't stop working altogether, not just yet.  But does it have to be at this pace?

And then there's the valentines I received last Friday from students and parents, kind notes attached, declarations of "Best Librarian Ever!", when I know that even a second's worth of comparison to my colleagues would quickly demote that status.  I must be doing something right, or at least making a really good show of it, for students to still like coming to the library.

So many thoughts swirling in my head...I tamp them down a bit with a cold glass of strawberry moscato, a summery drink out of step with this wintry weather, but sweet on the lips, nonetheless.

Tuesday Slice: Comfort

"What are you doing?" my husband asks.  "Looking for a book," I replied, sifting through the dusty stacks by the couch, "I bought in in August..."

"That makes it even funnier," he said, chuckling at me.  I am blessed with a husband who tolerates my ever-growing TBR piles.  

"I didn't have time to read it then, and then I wanted to re-read the first book before reading this one, and I just finished the first one again...here it is!"  I pulled the slightly dusty hardback out from under two other books and tossed it on the bed for my send-off to la-la land.

******

I am reading again, just like I am writing again.  I avoided quite a bit of both during the last half of 2024. I blame overconsumption of social media; exhausting changes to my job and the overwhelming, almost constant pondering of retirement; the election; and an overall negative attitude.  With a short attention span and a base desire not to add more pessimism to cyberspace, I bowed out of my reading life and my writing community.  Oh, I still read kidlit for my job, managing to push through a middle grade novel here and there, but the stamina was gone.  Laying on the couch to read usually resulted in a nap instead of a book coma, no matter how good the material.

Now, I am turning to books for escape.  I just finished re-reading The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune; its companion, Somewhere Beyond the Sea, is waiting for me to finally crack it open tonight.  Another series I read chapter by tender chapter was Becky Chambers' Monk and Robot.  I'm eagerly awaiting the next installment of that hope-filled, thought-provoking sci-fi story.

The Cerulean Sea series carries a strong message about overcoming fear of "the other", making room for everyone in this magical world for the betterment of us all.  Monk and Robot is a futuristic view of what life could be like if all of our basic needs were met through communal sharing, leaving us free to contribute what brings us joy.  Is it any wonder that both authors happen to be queer, writing about the need for acceptance in a kinder, gentler world?  Isn't that what we all want?

I'm off to bed, to drown out the current horrific political chatter by burying myself in a book, hoping that someday in the not too distant future, our world will look a bit more like the one I find between the covers.

Avoidance

 

January twentieth, two thousand twenty five..."Hey, it's nine o'clock.  Are you ready?"  My son ambled from his room to the couch, snuggling in under a fleece blanket while I clicked through the options on the Firestick to get to the Disney channel.  Our wifi is super-laggy, and it takes awhile for streaming video to load.

We settled in for a day of binge-watching "WandaVision".  Neither of us had seen it yet; he seemed to know more about the premise than I did.  I didn't take me long, though, to figure out that this was a story about immense grief and the lengths we can go to avoid the pain and heartbreak.  Having superpowers can't shield you from the agony, but it can amplify the actions of the aggrieved to Marvel-movie-worthy proportions.

The irony did not escape me.  There we were, avoiding all mainstream television and most social media--avoidance as an act of self-care.  We will continue to work towards an inclusive, kinder, more loving world where people are judged only by their character, and those who lack it are no longer in places of power...but in the meantime, we rest, Firestick in hand, in lieu of a magical force field.

Tuesday Slice: Four o'clock p.m.

My four o'clock p.m. reasons:

Chasing remaining sunlight

Checking in on far-flung family

Plants that need watering and weeding

Singing along to my playlist

Making appointment phone calls

A ripe avocado that needs to be eaten NOW

A drink with friends

The wildlife in my backyard

The load of laundry in the dryer

Online courses purchased but not yet taken

Books, begging to be read

Dinner to be cooked, lunches made

Planning for the weekend, the next break, the next holiday

That unfinished crochet project

The empty journals waiting to be filled

The unused bubble bath...or epsom salts, depending on the day

Time to think, breathe, pray, meditate

Time to prepare for seven hours of sleep before the four thirty a.m. alarm.

The new school year is beginning soon; what are your four p.m. reasons?

Tuesday Slice: Dancing on indecision

 

I'm dancing on a line

of indecision

weighing pros and cons

and my pocketbook

pulled hard one way

with a vision of greener grass

then tugged back

by a hug and a smile

what can be sacrificed?

what can be sustained?

what can be forgiven?

what can be gained?

only one thing is certain:

this dance has deadlines.

it will come to an end

sooner or later

whether I want it to

or not.

Tuesday Slice: Ain't no tired...

 

Educator types, say it with me:  there ain't no tired like standardized testing tired.

I wasn't even administering a test today, and I'm tired.  At my usual morning duty station, I talked down the nerves of two students who were testing for the first time.  After turning in my phone, getting the relief schedule, and gathering up a rolling chair, Kleenex, and my water jug, I monitored hallways, relieved teachers for breaks, delivered issues notices to the coordinator, replaced headphones, walked kids to the nurse, and watched classes while teachers turned in their materials.  I put in five thousand steps before nine this morning, sang "American Pie" in my head twice, and discussed cool stress balls with a counselor who also had duty in the hallways.

I've got ibuprofen on board and an eye on an early bedtime tonight.  I get a reprieve from testing next week, when I'll be "Speed Dating the Bluebonnets" at the annual Texas Library Association Conference.  But the week after that...we get to do it all again.    

Tuesday Slice: Getting back in the game, with different rules

 

Slicing instead of scrolling this morning

My words, instead of someone else's thoughts.

Oh, but there's doubt

(Do I have anything new to contribute?

Can I keep this space

from becoming a continual rant?)

I'm too old to fake it--

happiness ebbs and flows

that's just a fact.

I'm just now learning 

to be comfortable with "and"

happy and frustrated

joyful and sad

motivated and lazy

sure and confused

willing and stubborn

blessed and lacking

hopeful and cynical.

There's no more singularity of emotions;

you get both sides, now.

The game of life

has different rules

after half-time.