SOLSC '19 Day Thirty-one: Just another Sunday?

My day started a bit later than usual...just another Sunday.
First, coffee.  Then turn on CBS...just another Sunday.
Breakfast, shower, let out the neighbor's cat...just another Sunday.
Defrost the meat for dinner, make some lunches...just another Sunday.
Wash the towels, make the bed...just another Sunday.
Check the weather, plan my clothes...just another Sunday.
Plan the week, catch up on homework...just another Sunday.

Write the last post for my seventh Slice of Life Story Challenge...not just another Sunday.

Congratulations to all of my fellow Slicers!  It's been a pleasure sharing this journey with you!

SOLSC '19 Day Thirty: Japangirl

We just finished a two-hour-long video chat with our Japangirl.  She is halfway through her five-year-maximum JET-ALT job , and is already researching and planning for her return back to the United States.  I think back to what I was doing at the age of twenty-five...

Japangirl:  Budget plans for next three years
Me at 25:  Sale at Target!   

Japangirl:  Paying the bills AND saving for the future
Me at 25:  Paying the bills and...sale at Target!

Japangirl:  Unsure of what job to pursue back in the U.S. (but in possession of a variety of great future-ready skills), already gearing up for the job hunt
Me at 25:  Unsure of whether or not I had the fortitude to keep teaching  (but in possession of...teaching skills, not really valued in the 80s-90s), no clue what I could or should pursue

Japangirl:  Fully bilingual in Japanese and English
Me at 25:  In possession of excellent...English skills

Japangirl:  Living abroad, traveling, maintaining great friendships from high school and beyond
Me at 25:  Living in my college city, traveling only to visit family, friendships mainly with colleagues and occasional phone calls/ letters with high school and college friends

Japangirl:  Pursuing musical and art hobbies
Me at 25:  Some crocheting here and there, some baking...nothing really connecting me with others

I'd like to think that in some ways, I was the same--hardworking, responsible, kind to others.  But in many ways, she is far more well-rounded and mature than I feel even now!  And I couldn't be more proud.

Way to go, Japangirl.  Keep up the good work; we look forward to having you back home in a few years.

SOLSC '19 Day Twenty-nine: A whole quarter left

A former colleague of mine from another school is a parent on my current campus, so I have the pleasure of crossing paths with her every now and then, mostly when I work late and she's picking up her children from afterschool care.

Yesterday, I asked how things were going back home.  "STAAR," was her first reply, the time-consuming, all-important-but-we're-told-is-not-important state standardized testing.  I nodded my head and shrugged my shoulders, feeling her pain.  Then she mentioned that we have nine weeks left (well, eight now), a whole quarter of the year--and people are acting like we don't.

"It's all the looming deadlines before then," I replied. The stress of the last nine weeks is palpable, even in the library.
***************

Looming deadlines:
Time-consuming STAAR
Budgets needing to be spent
Accounts needing to be balanced
Inventory, inventory, inventory
Monthly infographics
Annual report


So much still to do:
Lessons to teach
Books to read 
Professional development
Next year's events to be scheduled
A conference to attend
A mentee to guide
Club meetings to hold
Hunt for missing materials
Before children and teachers
Go missing for the summer

Evaluation--what have I done this year?

SOLSC '19 Day Twenty-eight: At a loss

I turn on the kitchen light at four twenty-five a.m., startled a little when a large-ish pouf of gray and white comes to its feet on my windowsill, a reverse silhouette against the darkness, pupils large and black staring plaintively.

"Mew," it says to me.

"Awww, Gracie, did you sleep there overnight?  You need to go home!" I say, pointing next door as if she needs directions.  She paws at the window.  "You know you can't come in.  Is there no furniture left in your garage for you to sleep on?  I know, honey, it's hard."  Gracie continues to watch me make my coffee and unload the dishwasher.

I leave her at the window.  On my way to the study, I think about my neighbor moving and giving Gracie away.  If I weren't allergic, resistant to vacuuming everyday and in possession of wooden furniture that I wish to remain relatively unscathed, I'd figure out a way to keep her.  I hope my neighbor has talked her daughter-in-law into taking Gracie in.

Within minutes of sitting down at the computer, a soft mew comes from the front windowsill. I spy Gracie through the space between the blinds and the window, lounging as I type this post.  A few minutes later, I turn and she's gone, probably hunting a moth attracted to our porch light.

I will count Gracie among my losses, when my neighbor moves. 

  

SOLSC '19 Day Twenty-seven: Fun at any age

Camp Write-a-Long is in full swing at my school, and I was honored to be the guest reader of the prompt above on Tuesday morning.  I promised to try my own hand at a response, to be subjected to the students' critique after posting.  Here goes...


I didn't want to turn eighteen.  I cried the night before my birthday, because I was afraid of being an adult, with all the vexing responsibilities that grown-ups have, worries that would replace all feelings of the hopeful, carefree moments of my youth.  

I was afraid that I would forget how to play and have fun.

In some ways, my fears came true.  I worked really hard in college and through my first years of teaching, too tired to go to many parties.  My weekends were spent catching up on sleep and schoolwork.  And truthfully, it's hard sometimes as a teacher to really let loose and have fun, because you worry about your students and their parents seeing you and how they might view you as a professional afterward.

Then I had children, and I re-learned how to play.  My home was filled with toys and Play-Doh and Legos, dolls and cars and craft supplies.  We went to a playground every week, had playdates with friends, and took field trips to zoos and museums.  Having small children can be really fun, when you join in on the playtime!

But children grow up, and start playing more with their own friends.  I was back to working hard at my job, and working hard at home taking care of my family and chores. Sometimes I would stop and realize that I needed to have more fun.  I even read books about the importance of play, looking for ideas on how to have fun.

I realize now that the definition of fun can change as we get older.  I have fun creating picture collage cards with a group that meets monthly.  I have fun volunteering at the hospital, rocking  and feeding newborn babies when they're fussy.  I have fun meeting my friends for lunch, or sitting on the porch and just talking.  I especially have fun reading!  There may not be as many parties, or toys, or nights out dancing, but I'm still enjoying myself.  No matter how old I get, I will find ways to fit fun in my life. 


So, my fourth grade writers, how did I do?  I'm looking forward to my plus/ delta chart, and reading some of your responses, too!  --Ms Margocs 

SOLSC '19 Day Twenty-six: The kindness of earthbound angels

I wrote a post this past weekend promoting scrubs for teacher workwear.  It struck a chord, because I got a lot of supportive comments.  But lest I offend those who are lucky enough to already wear scrubs to work...here are some words of affirmation for the earthbound angels who have crossed my path and marked me with their kindness and compassion.  

These are the nurses that have my heart:

The nurses from labor and delivery, who faxed a request downtown every Friday for nine weeks asking for updates on their 26 weeker, and wanted to see their miracle baby on our way home from the NICU downtown.  We gladly obliged.

The NICU nurses, so gentle with our daughter in the isolette, loving on her with extra cuddles when she graduated to a crib.  A couple even babysat her when she came home, spoiling her even more.  One has become an honorary aunt in our family.  We spoiled them with cookies, and many, many thanks.

My husband's niece, a PICU nurse who told us to bypass the ER at the hospital and come on up to her floor after our daughter projectile vomited across my father-in-law's kitchen, 1400 miles from home.  It took the doctor just minutes to diagnose a double ear infection.  My daughter felt better by the end of the trip, thanks to her cousin's care.

I count even more NICU nurses among workmates, during my years as a unit assistant and desk clerk in the same space my daughter occupied before.  They accepted me as a colleague, and appreciated my perspective as a former preemie parent.  I was honored to be in their presence almost every weekend for three years.

A special nurse, Seel, worked at our birth hospital.  I'm not even sure how her name is spelled.  In labor with my secondborn, four-and-a-half-years after the first, I called L&D and heard,"Did you say your last name is Margocs?  You wouldn't happen to be Gaby's mom, would you?'  
"Yes," I replied.  
"Honey, this is Seel.  Please tell me you are past 27 weeks this time!"  
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, "they've got me at 37 weeks."  
"Then you get your hiney in here, we'll take care of you!"  And take care of me they did, through a delivery complicated by HELLP syndrome and followed by strict bedrest in the hospital.

Patty, my mother's home health nurse, will always hold a special place in my heart.  She took care of my mother's health and emotional needs.  Skilled at tracheotomy and wound care, she also scheduled my mother's haircuts and made sure her nail polish and earrings matched her nightgowns.  Even my father's coffee and vitamins were laid out and ready for him in the morning.  When my mother had to be taken to the hospital to end her life support, Patty insisted on accompanying her in the ambulance, to say her final goodbyes at her bedside.  A nurse willing to stand at death's door with her patient, Patty was no mere guardian; she was an Archangel in scrubs.

I'm sure there have been more--school nurses, hospital nurses from my childhood and that of my children that fail to come to mind.  But I am thankful for their care, nonetheless.  Scrubs are the uniforms of angels; I'm not sure my work makes me worthy of the garb.

SOLSC '19 Day Twenty-five: Quiet break

First day back to work after Spring Break, so you know what the main topic of discussion will be this week.

"How was your break?  What did you do?"

Me?  I did quiet.  Lots and lots of quiet.

Quiet mornings, sipping coffee, writing and reading Slices.  

Monday was punctuated by a lively lunch with old friends and some raucous radio-sing-along in the car to and from the restaurant, but otherwise quiet.

Tuesday found me back at school for five hours, catching up on work in the quiet of the library.  I played mellow 70s music for a time, but even turned that off after awhile.

Wednesday, gardening.  Thursday, some spring decorating.  Friday, taxes; I started to play music, but turned that off quickly.  Saturday morning was spent running an errand with hubby, Saturday afternoon in the quiet of the newborn nursery, where the squeak of my sneakers seemed harsh.

Yesterday I played catch-up a bit and needed some energy, so I put some CDs on shuffle as I did laundry and test-administration-prep modules.  I watched some PBS travel shows while I made lunches for the week, then dinner.  Even then, the energy was subdued, as the week has been.  It wasn't unwelcome.

This isn't the first quiet spring break I've had, and it makes me wonder about post-break Mondays of the past.  It often felt as if I was dragging myself to work...but now I wonder if it was just the quiet I was trying to bring back, the lovely sense of calm that I wanted to continue.  My true introverted self, floating in a peaceful bubble, not wanting it to burst.  

On an elementary campus, with nine weeks to go and testing season in full swing, can I make the quiet last? 

Will this feeling even make it through today, at our district librarians' meeting?  Or will I feel the pressure to be an extrovert, and tune into the chatter and energy of those around me, like switching radio stations from Muzak to heavy metal?  

I guess I'll find out in two-and-a-half hours.  Until then, I'm enjoying these last moments of quiet.

SOLSC '19 Day Twenty-four: A good neighbor

We have a neighbor we love.

For over a decade, we have shared good times.  Parties by her poolside, Easter Egg hunts in our backyard. We have said that we really have one big yard separated by a fence with a gate they put in just for us.  Carte blanche access to their pool, carte blanche access to our redwood playscape and our gate to the hike and bike for their grandchildren.  My children consider her a grandmother, the only one they've ever really known.

We have shared bad times.  Family illnesses and deaths, job losses and gains.  We have been each other's sounding boards through emotionally turbulent days and weeks.  And then the worst times of all happened:  her husband, the jester who loved her with his whole heart and loved our children like a grandfather, passed away after two rounds of cancer.

Since his death, she has been running, unable to stay long in their home alone.  A week with family in one state, home for two weeks, then a weekend away someplace else.  Three weeks at home, then a vacation in Mexico.  We understood, collected her mail, took care of her cats.

She is one of the Virgos my mother sent to watch over me, the only one who's really still around. Only soon, she won't be.  

A few weeks ago, she came over to tell us that she'd reconnected with a classmate at her high school reunion.  He makes her happy, and we are happy for her.  But...her happiness is taking her away from us.  I've spent my Spring Break watching landscape crews clean up the yard, power washers cleaning her walls and driveway, handymen fixing fence boards.  Her children arrived at the end of the week with rented moving trucks, loading them up with memories to carry on in their own homes.

There will be more good memories to come--her wedding, to start.  She has already offered to host us for visits to her new home, three hours away.  I know we'll take her up on her offer.  But it won't be the same as being able to walk next door to show her my new shoes or share our educator stories.

Happy for her, sad for us.  Good neighbors are treasures;  will the next occupants measure up?

SOLSC '19 Day Twenty-three: A case for comfy

Imagine yourself getting ready for work in the morning.  (If you're on Spring Break right now, like I am, I'm sorry for the painful thought.)

Did you lay out your clothes the night before, like I usually do?  I plan my work wardrobe for the week on Sundays, after checking the weather forecast.  Jeans days on Wednesdays and Fridays (and often on PD days) with college and school teeshirts, business casual on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays.  I try on the clothes as I plan, as they seem to be shrinking lately.  Can I zip the zipper and button the buttons?  Whoops, nope, let's try another piece.  This shirt shows too many back lumps, that one's sleeves don't cover my tattoo.  Feeling self-conscious over new spider veins, more evident on these winter-white legs...dress is out of the question.  These new pants should...fit...they're the same brand and size as ones that do....nope, *%^&*!  Once the tops and bottoms are finally chosen...do I have comfy shoes to match?

Then comes Saturday.

After a leisurely late morning shower, I slip into khaki-colored, no-wrinkle, machine washable AND dryable, elastic-waisted-forgiveness-of-a-couple-pounds-gained pair of cotton/polyester pants.  Checking the weather, I put on either a long-sleeved white knit shirt, a white workout tee, or a tank top.  Over that goes a loosely fitting, light blue, v-necked, no-iron, short-sleeved, cotton/polyester top.  Both the pants and the top have more pockets than I know what to do with.  My footwear?  Athletic socks with arch support, and clean, dark blue sneakers.

If you haven't guessed by now--I get to wear scrubs on Saturdays for my hospital volunteer gig in the newborn nursery downtown.  

I sometimes wish I could wear them every day.  Don't they sound like the perfect clothes for elementary staff members?  They are so comfortable!  Stains wash out easily, and the pockets--omigosh, they could hold pens and pencils and bandaids and kleenex and hand sanitizer and cough drops and stickers and your cell phone and lip balm and that extra ponytail hairband I am always carrying around.

Scrubs for teachers--I think there's a case to be made here.  Do you think the school nurses would mind?

SOLSC '19 Day Twenty-two: Be here now

Gratitude is the capacity to stare

doubt, loss, chaos and despair

right in the eye and say,

‘I am still here.’

DIANA BUTLER BASS

A gift from a Piscean Princess

Prompted me to sit on the back patio twice yesterday, 

just to pet the neighbor's cat

and feel her purrs rumbling in my palm

To breathe the crisp morning air

and watch the sun rise over the trees

before walking and noticing 

the unfurling of fig leaves

To soak in the waning warmth of the afternoon

and watch the dog-walkers on the trail

before getting lost in a book

the cat sleeping at my feet.

SOLSC '19 Day Twenty-one: Ecclesiastes 3 in a day

1  For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

2 a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
3 a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
7 a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

--Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8, NRSV

*********************
--Yesterday, 3/20/19, My upside-down version

War on TV, peace in our backyard
A kiss from my husband, a friend packing to leave
Alone in the house, talking to neighbors
Papers torn, no mending to be done
Photos downloaded, some deleted
Seeking solace, losing my resolve
Hugging my friend, not embracing the changes
Moving stones in the garden
Mourning a loss, no music today
Sobbing for thirty minutes, laughing over memories
Breaking through packed dirt and fertilizing soil
Thoughts of killing pests to heal my plants
Seeds sown and flowers planted, weeds pulled and dead stems trimmed
Baby spiders, the loss of a neighborhood pet

Delight, hate, love, loss, despair, hope in one day.
Almost too much to bear. 

SOLSC '19 Day Twenty: Critical mass

This is more of a rumination Slice than a narrative Slice.  Just to let you know.

I didn't sleep well last night, and didn't awake to any Muses flitting beside my bed.  So instead of opening Blogger first, I clicked over to the Two Writing Teachers SOLSC page for some inspiration.  They had reposted an announcement from yesterday:

"PLEASE JOIN US IN THIS IMPORTANT CONVERSATION

The team at Two Writing Teachers has been working hard to make our work more inclusive and representative of multiple perspectives. Please join us in this work. Read yesterday’s post to find out more."

Yesterday's announcement post was a request for more input from what I call "fringe teachers"--English language support, special education, instructional coaches.  I used to be one of them; as a librarian, I still am, so I appreciate their call for diversity in representing the profession and the need for narrative from all aspects of teaching, not just the general classroom setting.

This announcement reminded me of what I read last night; I think I know why I didn't sleep well.  Struggling through the last chapters of Whistling Vivaldi: How Stereotypes Affect Us and What We Can Do by Claude M. Steele before bed, I went from feeling hopeful to defeated.

Hopeful, because Steele asserts that by focusing on high standards for all students and openly welcoming diversity (rather than claiming "colorblindness"), we can help students overcome stereotypes and identity threats.  

"Critical mass" helps, too.  Having others like you in your work and school environment makes you feel more comfortable and less threatened.

The problems arise when we, as a mobile society, decide where to live based on critical mass.  It is natural for us to seek out like-minded, like-cultured people with whom to associate; it lessens the effects of identity threats around us.  One example would be ex-pats working abroad, living in the same apartment complex.  Another example is closer to home--self-segregated neighborhoods.  Which leads to segregated schools and workplaces.

This is great for lessening identity threats; not so great for learning about our differences, accepting diversity, and getting along with one another.  There's been a lot of talk about social media bubbles, but the truth is, there are a lot of geographic and socioeconomic bubbles, too.  The question is, how do we pop those bubbles?  How do we balance diversity with critical mass?

On a related note, Steele provides evidence for the harmful physiological effects from everyday identity threats that have little or nothing to do with overt prejudice.  So this isn't just a philosophical, cultural question--it is one that affects our health, too.

With no ready answers at hand, it's no wonder I tossed and turned last night.

SOLSC '19 Day Nineteen: March magic

I was running five minutes late.  I'm usually the punctual one, arriving early, but I'm moving slow this Spring Break.  The weather was beautiful, and the Universe had put my favorite driving sing-along song on the radio--"Come Sail Away" by Styx--so I shrugged off my guilt, sang along, and landed in the parking lot just as "I climbed aboard the starship and headed for the skies."

Hands laden with two gift bags, the expression on my face as I entered the restaurant had the hostess immediately asking "Are you here with two people?"  I nodded.  "Right this way."

The other two Piscean Princesses had already tucked into chips and margaritas, but stood up to give me a hug.  We chatted so much that the waitress had to come back twice to get our orders.

More talk of jobs, children, books, clothes ensued.

"Can you believe we've been doing this for nine years?" the oldest asked.  We all shook our heads.  
"And look how far we've come," I answered.  
"We are all in better places now," the youngest, my birthday twin, added.

An exchange of gifts, a group photo by the waitress texted to a missing friend, and we said our goodbyes.  We promised this time to celebrate our half-birthdays in September--a year is too long to wait for this kind of magic. 

SOLSC '19 Day Eighteen: Music memory

It was my birthday.  I was sitting in the driveway, ready to leave for work, when I tried something on a whim.

Me:  "Alexa, play music from 1966."

Alexa:  "Playing music from 1966, on Amazon Music."

Memories filled the air on my way to work.  "God Only Knows" by the Beach Boys.  "I Am a Rock" by Simon and Garfunkel.  "Bus Stop" by The Hollies. "Cherry, Cherry" by Neil Diamond.  "Uptight" by Stevie Wonder.  "You Keep Me Hangin' On" by The Supremes.

It was a good year for music.  And I knew almost every song, thanks to a father with a hi-fi turntable and a mother who turned the radio on as soon as she entered the kitchen each day.  Wherever we traveled in the world--and we did travel, far and wide--there was always music.

Link to songs from 1966.

SOLSC '19 Day Seventeen: Seamus and Spring Break

I am particularly fond of today's Google Doodle:

Threes crop up in major events in my life, and I'm half-Irish, so anything that features Celtic triad symbols brings a smile to my face.

On the home front, it seems that Seamus the leprechaun has struck again:

Our son has his work cut out for him this morning--eighty-six chocolate coins to find!  He can take the sweet treat back to college this afternoon, his Spring Break coming to a close just as mine is beginning.

I have grand plans for this week:  lunch with friends; one day (just!) at work to catch up; an artsy day with canvas, paints, and crocheting; taxes day (ugh); gardening, inside and out; spring cleaning and decorating; reading; and lots of time outdoors, weather permitting.

But today, it's all about lucky chocolate coins, and hopefully a shamrock cookie or two, before seeing our college boy off once again.

Happy St Patrick's Day!

SOLSC '19 Day Sixteen: Your brain needs words

One of the last students to check out, and he walked up to the circulation desk with one book.  A wordless seek-and-find, at that.

"It's Spring Break tomorrow.  Just one book?" I asked.

"I don't really read every day," he haltingly answered, "I probably won't read over Spring Break."

After a split second of shock, I looked him in the eye.  "This book is fine, it's fun.  And you should get it.  But you are in fifth grade.  You will be graduating in seven years.  Your brain needs words every day to get there.  Go find some more books."

I headed over to his teachers to report my rebuke, in case there was something else I needed to know.  They took a look in his direction; seeing him in the space section, they mentioned how much he liked that unit, was fine reading the material.

I walked over to him.  "You know we have two sections on space, right?"  He shook his head with a no.  "This section is the natural space books--planets, stars, galaxies.  But over here..."  He followed me down the aisle.  "Here are the technology space books--rockets, astronauts, moon landings.  There's even a book on space junk that I've been waiting for someone to check out.  Can you believe we're already polluting our orbit?"

He came back to the circulation desk a few minutes later, a book on the moon landing and the one on space junk added to his pile.  "Let me know what you learn in those," I said, "I haven't had a chance to read them yet."  He gave me a half-smile as he scanned his books.

Will he read them over Spring Break?  I don't know...but my half of the battle was won.

SOLSC '19 Day Fifteen: It's a matter of choice

"A dream is something you want.  A goal is something you work toward."

My guest yesterday was Dan Gemeinhart, author of several great books including Some Kind of Courage, a Texas Bluebonnet Award Nominee a couple years ago.  Mr G is a former teacher and school librarian who still has his "teacher voice"--no microphone needed as he visited with five fifth grade classes at a time in our cafeteria.

Gemeinhart spoke to the students about his life as an Army brat, sometimes fitting in and sometimes not.  He spoke about choices he had made, some he had regretted.  He told the students that they are writing their life story with every choice they make.

That's daunting to think of, isn't it?  Especially when I consider all of the choices I make in a day:

To hit the snooze, or not
What I eat and drink
How I choose to move throughout my day
The words I choose to say--or not
The tasks I choose to attempt
The tasks I choose to accomplish
The people with whom I interact, and how
The time I spend at work 
The media I choose to consume--and produce...

In a Psychology Today article, the author referenced studies that say we make 35,000 decisions a day.  A day.  That's a lot of chances to get it right, even if we make the wrong choices sometimes.  Chances to work towards the goals we dream about.

Thanks for the reminder yesterday, Mr. G.  The students were listening, and this teacher librarian was, too.

SOLSC '19 Day Fourteen: Backyard breathing

I am not a cat person. That is to say, I'm allergic to cats, not fond of their hunting habits, and a little grossed out by the thought of them walking through a litter box then across a kitchen counter.

Nevertheless, I am enchanted by my neighbor's cats.  She entrusts them to our care when she is away, so they have associated us with food and a clean litter box, and have claimed our parcel of land as part of their domain.  We often find them on our windowsills, especially the one above our kitchen sink, facing the backyard and the hike-n-bike park beyond.

They were lounging there yesterday, and I decided to join them outside.  It was six in the evening, but really five o'clock, this fourth day past the time change.  The sky was still blue, the tops of the trees lit up by the descending sun, most of the backyard in the shadow of our house.

I took a bowl of ice cream and a book to read.  I finished the ice cream and never opened the book.  I decided instead to run back inside for my phone and camera, to try and capture the light.

I missed the most golden rays, but took pictures anyway.  

I took the time to breathe and enjoy this rare occurrence when the sun is bright, the temperature is pleasant, and the biting bugs are not yet abundantly present.  The air was filled with the chirping of birds; far overhead, a flock with startlingly white breasts and black-tipped wings few in tight circles before moving out of view.  Another gold-breasted flock flew into a neighbor's trees.  The cats, who had jumped down from their perch, chased each other around the yard and used our playscape as their scratching post.  Several people were walking the hike and bike in twos and threes, some with dogs; the cats kept a watchful eye on their foes.  

The butterflies are returning--big and small, orange, yellow, and black.  Some of my milkweed survived the winter, and I noticed buds--and aphids.  I'll be cleaning out the containers next week during Spring Break.

Something bit my ankle, jarring me out of my reverie.  I took one last look at my view, and said goodbye to the cats.

Scooping up my bowl, book, phone and camera, I headed inside, completely content.

SOLSC '19 Day Thirteen: Playing hooky

The kindergarten teachers started moving the furniture yesterday afternoon.  Today, they will take over the library for the annual Kindergarten Roundup, the district-wide registration of incoming kindergarteners.  Because of the size of our school (we had eight K classes this year) and the private-school-style-orientation they offer the parents and children (school tour for the parents, mini-lesson for the students), they need the big space to use as a waiting room and registration line.

So what am I doing to help this venture?  Well, yesterday I covered bookshelves with butcher paper to keep little hands from wreaking havoc with my fiction section.  I offered suggestions for traffic flow, and listened to the K lead teacher, affirming her plan of action.  Today, while the office staff is helping parents fill in forms and the teachers are giving tours and observing the class of 2032(!), I'm taking the day off.

It also happens to be my husband's birthday today.  Our son is home from college on Spring Break.  With three reasons to vacate my library, how could I resist?

I've already slept in an extra hour (oooh! 545a!  what a luxury!).  I'm enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee.  After posting this, I'll read six Slices instead of three!  Once I wake up my son, we'll go out for breakfast before heading to the grocery store to buy supplies for the birthday cupcakes my husband requested.  I will bake them this morning before we all head out the door for an early afternoon showing of "Captain Marvel" at our favorite dine-in movie theater.

Tonight, the niggling work thoughts will creep in:  tomorrow's author visit, several class checkouts, financial details I have to complete before Spring Break starts next week.

But today?  I'm playing hooky, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it.

SOLSC '19 Day Twelve: Do you remember your first log-in?

Happy birthday, internet!

Hovering over the Google Doodle, I see "30th Anniversary of the World Wide Web".  

We didn't get connected in our home until seven or eight years after www came into existence. I remember the plethora of AT&T trucks in the area, laying cables.  Southwestern Bell was our provider back then.  I remember my husband talking with the installation guy, the toaster-sized modem set up by my desk in the study.  

The whirrs, clicks, and beeps of dialing up soon became household sounds.  Logging in could be a five-minute process, so it wasn't unusual to click through, leave the study to attend to a household task, then come back just as the connection completed.

E-mail and messaging were the first real draws.  Before texting on cell phones, email was the quickest way to reach someone without waking them up.  With family spread far and wide around the globe, this came in handy.

Oh, I remember one of our first internet searches with my preschool daughter on my knee.  She wanted to look for "Barbie".  The original results were not child-safe...I was thankful they were in text only, no images, and she couldn't read that fast.  (I learned to add "Mattel" to that search.) 

It's mind-boggling to think of the technological changes to the World Wide Web over the last three decades: almost instantaneous (silent!) access; burgeoning commerce; text, image, audio, and video communication. With these changes come challenges, as well: screen addiction; brick-and-mortar stores failing; trolling, hackers, and viruses. 

We've come so far in thirty years...but according to the World Wide Web Foundation, we still have far to go. We are privileged to have global access, but not everyone on the globe does.  There are those who would like to restrict our access, too; there is already a digital divide, which could be widened even more, most likely along socioeconomic lines.  We have to be vigilant in protecting our rights to privacy and protecting our devices from hackers.  With great access comes great responsibility.

Happy birthday, World Wide Web.  I wonder what the next thirty years will bring?

SOLSC '19 Day Eleven: The world is so much smaller now

My husband sees the message first.  "Do y'all want to chat today? C:" (I love our Texan-born daughter's use of "y'all", a phrase I've yet to adopt.)  

"Let's use your phone; my battery's dying," I tell him.

A few minutes later, I hear her voice coming from the study.  Sitting in my office chair behind my husband's, head on his shoulder, our daughter fills the phone screen, coffee in hand and wearing a new Twinstars sweatshirt.  We video chat for awhile about her finances, our dislike of Daylight Savings Time (they don't do that in Japan), her work and band practice, the neighbor moving, her upcoming sightseeing trip.

Our college boy, home on spring break, enters the room and I give him my seat so I can finish making dinner.  They start talking video games.  Pretty soon my husband leaves the study; we eat while the siblings continue chatting and laughing for another half-hour.

I think back to my college days here in Texas while my parents and brother lived in Germany, and all those overseas tours we had together, leaving our extended family behind stateside.  We were connected by mail and infrequent, expensive long-distance phone calls, carefully timed.

Our Texan Sunday night, her Japanese Monday morning--thanks to technology, we can be in the same digital time zone with our daughter any time we wish.  The world has indeed gotten smaller--and I am grateful.

SOLSC '19 Day Ten: Routines

Reaching into the drawer next to the stove for a specific spatula, I started thinking of the routines embedded in my Sunday morning.  Whenever I cook with this pan, this is the spatula I reach for; it is just the right size, and the angled edge is great for flipping scrambled eggs--a dish typically reserved for unhurried Sunday mornings.  It is old, stained, and slightly melted on one side, but I can't bear to replace it.

I make my own coffee every morning, even on Sundays, because I usually wake up earlier than my husband, who is particular about the freshness of his brew and likes to add his milk right into his pot.  This mug is my February-into-March favorite, about to be replaced with my usual spring mug.

In the spirit of "eating the frog first" , I empty the dishwasher while my coffee is brewing, so I can refill it throughout the day. 

Every Sunday, I watch "CBS Sunday Morning" from 8a to 930a.  It's my quick access to the news and stories that are informative, entertaining, and spirit-lifting.

During the commercials, I check the weather forecast for the week and write down the highs, lows, and precipitation percentages so I can plan my work clothes. I also start filling in my week's activities in my planner, including the habits I'm working on this month.  (Writing them down doesn't mean they'll get done, but I keep hoping...)

Most Sundays, I go grocery shopping with my husband.  He's in a hurry this morning, so I get to stay home, do laundry, and prepare for the week.

A slice of my Sunday morning; what are your favorite weekend routines?