September 22 came and went, the official beginning of fall, and it was 80 degrees (or close to it) in southern New England. Then it was 60. At least the most obvious, tell-tale sign of fall—the changing leaves—was a reality check. But even with the foliage underway, it sometimes takes other events or signs for it to really sink in that the seasons are really changing. This week has been a succession of such signs.
1. I made my first pot of chili of the season for my weekend in Vermont.
2. As you know, I am a coffee purist. I don’t like flavored creamers or coffee—except for pumpkin spice coffee. I had a cup yesterday. It was delicious.
3. The daily scent in my house is Yankee Candle Pumpkin Spice.
(Guess there's a theme there.)
4. When I got home from the Big E the other night, still frozen, I closed my windows.
5. I wore long pants three days in a row.
6. I know that I really should have worn closed-toed shoes today.
7. I took my fleece blanket out of the closet and put in on the end of my couch.
8. I wore the sweatshirt I bought in Vermont the other day.
9. I wore fuzzy socks to bed.
10. I've been eating apples.
11. I switched back to red wine from white.
Maybe fall is here to stay. Then again, this is southern New England.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Vermont
I spent this past weekend in Vermont, where it was a touch colder and the Fall Foliage Spectacular was a little farther along than here in Connecticut. Sweatshirts and a fire in the wood stove were in order, and insecurities were left at the door. On this girls’ weekend in Vermont, where my cousin Kristina is kind enough to open her second home to the women in my generation—my sisters and cousins— laughter punctuated periods of silent reading and peppered our shared meals and (nearly constant) snacking. Calories were not counted and foibles were fair game, fodder for the kind of comedy it is difficult to share with others upon reentry to real life. Knowing that location jokes are difficult to recreate and would require some sense of how close and comfortable we are with one another, I will not attempt to share them here.What I will share is the view from the kitchen window, the beautiful backdrop for our belly laughs and the canvas for our conversations.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Make My Day
I have been struggling this week. I am fighting a cold or have aggravated allergies or whatever it is I suffer from every end-of-September, after a few weeks back in this Petri Dish Dust Ball that resembles a high school. I’ve had a sore throat and I’ve been achy and not myself. Not wanting to stay home sick, I’ve been trying to take it easy at night, and get plenty of rest to make it through the week. I think it is working; getting up at 5:30 this morning wasn’t too bad, given that I went to bed at 8:30. I even made it in to school a few minutes early.
Once at school, I logged on to my computer—like every morning—and opened everything that I need to function: my on-line grade and attendance book, the on-line text book for my Biology classes, a few Word and Power Point documents, and my email account. But today—unlike most mornings— I had an email in my inbox not from another address in my district. It was from a former student.
“It's [LK]. I was just writing you to thank you so much for teaching me about neurons and the brain! I know it sounds random, but I am a psychology major and we are learning all about the structure of neurons (like the dendrites, and we learned about the end buttons) and all the different parts of the brain (like the frontal, occipital [lobes] etc.). Me and a few other kids in the class [sic] are the only ones who know what the professor is talking about. I just wanted to thank you because your class has made it so much easier for me to follow along in the lectures! Thank you again!”
I wrote back immediately. I had time to, of course. “Hi, [LK]! Thanks so much for writing. I’m glad you are finding it easier to follow along in lectures because of your experience in A&P. Your hard work is paying off! […] Your note made my day.”
I’m glad I didn’t stay home sick. Today I’m even glad that I choose to continue to work in this Petri Dish Dust Ball that resembles a high school.
Once at school, I logged on to my computer—like every morning—and opened everything that I need to function: my on-line grade and attendance book, the on-line text book for my Biology classes, a few Word and Power Point documents, and my email account. But today—unlike most mornings— I had an email in my inbox not from another address in my district. It was from a former student.
“It's [LK]. I was just writing you to thank you so much for teaching me about neurons and the brain! I know it sounds random, but I am a psychology major and we are learning all about the structure of neurons (like the dendrites, and we learned about the end buttons) and all the different parts of the brain (like the frontal, occipital [lobes] etc.). Me and a few other kids in the class [sic] are the only ones who know what the professor is talking about. I just wanted to thank you because your class has made it so much easier for me to follow along in the lectures! Thank you again!”
I wrote back immediately. I had time to, of course. “Hi, [LK]! Thanks so much for writing. I’m glad you are finding it easier to follow along in lectures because of your experience in A&P. Your hard work is paying off! […] Your note made my day.”
I’m glad I didn’t stay home sick. Today I’m even glad that I choose to continue to work in this Petri Dish Dust Ball that resembles a high school.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Who Knew?
The library media specialist (whom we used to call the librarian) at my school sends us interesting links and information about internet resources every Wednesday. The subject line in her email is "WEB SITE WEDNESDAY." Today her email was an announcement about National Punctuation Day with a link to the website that celebrates it. Who knew? It makes me happy; it made me think of Victor Borge who used to read stories and had different sound effects for different punctuation marks. Remember him?
Now if we could have a National Possessive vs. Plural Day or maybe we could just call that Apostrophe Awareness Day, and a Pronoun Protection Day that teaches when to use objective and subjective pronouns and eliminates the wasteful use of I when me is appropriate. We celebrate things like cotton candy (December 7--I looked it up) and baked beans (they get the whole month of July), so why not use these awareness days and month-long celebrations to brush up on grammar? Perhaps I should look that up before I continue on my rant....
Oh my! There is a National Grammar Day! March 4. I can hardly wait.
Now if we could have a National Possessive vs. Plural Day or maybe we could just call that Apostrophe Awareness Day, and a Pronoun Protection Day that teaches when to use objective and subjective pronouns and eliminates the wasteful use of I when me is appropriate. We celebrate things like cotton candy (December 7--I looked it up) and baked beans (they get the whole month of July), so why not use these awareness days and month-long celebrations to brush up on grammar? Perhaps I should look that up before I continue on my rant....
Oh my! There is a National Grammar Day! March 4. I can hardly wait.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Science
A student in my biology class asked the other day, “If you weren’t a science teacher, what kind of teacher would you be?”
I thought for a moment (more like a nanosecond) and said, “English.”
The class was somewhere between shocked and confused, and the student thought he could elicit the answer he expected by asking, “If you couldn’t be a science teacher or an English teacher, what kind of teacher would you be?”
“Social studies.”
Again, they were incredulous. They all thought I would answer that I’d be a math teacher. I was happy they made a connection between math and science, but not willing to tell them what I’m about to reveal here.
I became a science major because I was tracked in an honors program that was heavy in math and science. Biology came easy to me, and I liked it enough to major in it, to think I might become a doctor. But now I look away from the TV when they are showing someone get a flu shot. If I open up a fetal pig to demonstrate dissection I struggle not to vomit. I hate labs. The idea of counting individual grains of rice is more appealing than setting up dropper bottles and divvying up pH paper. And more than anything, I hate correcting lab reports. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t be a science teacher.
I do still love learning about science, hearing about the latest in research. I get thrilled when I hear something on the morning news that I can talk about in class, especially when it happens to be on topic. (Those are the days I feel like God is telling me to keep teaching…) I like being the one in a conversation circle who can shut up the blow hard who doesn’t know what the hell he is talking about when he starts to wax scientific about nutrition but doesn’t know the first thing about carbohydrates, which include both sugars and starches. Or the hypochondriac who confuses viruses and bacteria and whose doctor’s appointment suddenly becomes fictitious. I like being the one who friends call to clarify how one counts days in the menstrual cycle or to ask what mucous is.
But I don’t like being the one who understands genetics and mutations and can explain what the BRCA2 gene is to family members who are being tested, while the third woman in my family in as many generations is fighting “breast cancer, early onset.”
I’d rather be an English teacher.
I thought for a moment (more like a nanosecond) and said, “English.”
The class was somewhere between shocked and confused, and the student thought he could elicit the answer he expected by asking, “If you couldn’t be a science teacher or an English teacher, what kind of teacher would you be?”
“Social studies.”
Again, they were incredulous. They all thought I would answer that I’d be a math teacher. I was happy they made a connection between math and science, but not willing to tell them what I’m about to reveal here.
I became a science major because I was tracked in an honors program that was heavy in math and science. Biology came easy to me, and I liked it enough to major in it, to think I might become a doctor. But now I look away from the TV when they are showing someone get a flu shot. If I open up a fetal pig to demonstrate dissection I struggle not to vomit. I hate labs. The idea of counting individual grains of rice is more appealing than setting up dropper bottles and divvying up pH paper. And more than anything, I hate correcting lab reports. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t be a science teacher.
I do still love learning about science, hearing about the latest in research. I get thrilled when I hear something on the morning news that I can talk about in class, especially when it happens to be on topic. (Those are the days I feel like God is telling me to keep teaching…) I like being the one in a conversation circle who can shut up the blow hard who doesn’t know what the hell he is talking about when he starts to wax scientific about nutrition but doesn’t know the first thing about carbohydrates, which include both sugars and starches. Or the hypochondriac who confuses viruses and bacteria and whose doctor’s appointment suddenly becomes fictitious. I like being the one who friends call to clarify how one counts days in the menstrual cycle or to ask what mucous is.
But I don’t like being the one who understands genetics and mutations and can explain what the BRCA2 gene is to family members who are being tested, while the third woman in my family in as many generations is fighting “breast cancer, early onset.”
I’d rather be an English teacher.
TJs
I believe I have mentioned that I love Trader Joe’s. That is, I [heart] TJs. I don’t have one very close, but find it is worth a stop in Natick on my way home from Boston or the twenty-five minute drive to West Hartford, especially since Lord and Taylor is just across the street. If I can get over the nightmare of parking in both of those lots, a success at both stores can be a double shot of joy, as it was on Saturday. After buying a suit skirt AND a pair of pants for only (get this!) 50 dollars with clearance prices and my coupon, I had money left over to go to Trader Joe’s.I love Trader Joe’s because I can get some things there that I cannot get elsewhere, and all things I can get reasonably priced—with no coupons or gimmicks. I don’t mind printing a coupon to get an outfit at L&T for a steal, but I resent coupon clipping for groceries. I do it, begrudgingly, but I resent it. At TJs, there is no need. I bought a half gallon of milk for $1.49—with no silver coin. I bought arugula for $1.99, without having to buy 2 to get the bargain (BOGO) price. Aseptic quarts of broth are always 1.99 and a package of eight 6-inch whole wheat pitas is $1.49.
I love their Soyaki, which I always have on hand in the fridge along with their mango chutney and Thai yellow curry. Their tomato-less corn salsa is addictive—a cycle of heat and sweet that keeps you coming back for more, and their gyoza is a freezer staple for a quick dinner in a pinch that can ward off a Chinese take-out call. I have been happy with their cheeses and flash frozen fish, and am never without a bag of their haricot verts.
In addition to my standard fare purchases, there is always something new that catches my eye and appeals to my culinary curiosity or stimulates my appetite. Their confections, on shelves above their freezer bins, are always worth a second look. Try as I might to look down and focus on the frozen vegetables, my eyes always find something sweet to consider. Saturday two things made their way into my cart: Seriously Nutty and Seedy Wafers, and Dark Chocolate Crisps.
Imagine a lightly candied disk of pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, sesame seeds and cashews atop a wafer that without said mixture on top looks like a giant Eucharist, presumably to keep the nut and seed disks separate, and possibly an alternate route to Heaven. And picture Pringles, only thinner and made of dark chocolate, with just the right amount of crunch provided by tiny puffed rice. A. Maze. Ing.
But maybe the best part is that after all my shopping, I still have money left to buy flowers. The bunch of roses and alstromeria in the picture was 3.99. The fifteen stem bunch of alstromeria on my dining room table was 5.99.
So, do you get why I [heart] TJs?
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