Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by!
I will always be a Sunday procrastinator. This means all the things you think it might mean. It means I procrastinate until Sunday. It means I procrastinate on Sunday.
Side Quests are my thing, but so is closing my eyes to feel the sun on my face and pouring myself another glass of seltzer water over ice and breathing in the quiet of the chilly house while the kids play outside and staring at my open notebooks with plans started
I will always be a Sunday procrastinator. My house does not get cleaned on a Sunday. My closet does not get organized on a Sunday. This is not because I don’t want to do these chores.
I mean, I don’t – I don’t want to do the chores but, I still plan that they will get done but, then it’s Sunday and the sun is shining but, then it’s Sunday late afternoon and the house is quiet
I will always be a Sunday procrastinator. This means all the things you think it might mean. It means I procrastinate until Sunday. It means I procrastinate on Sunday.
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by!
I totally know better, but I still ordered mobile app Starbucks for drive-thru. It was just E and me in the van, but we wanted others to enjoy the coffee treat too. I texted to see if they wanted some, but didn’t hear back. . .
L and I have wanted to try some of their new oat milk iced lattes, and she had her driver’s test today. I thought I could bring her home a latte that would either be a “Congratulations!” or an”It’s okay! Better luck next time!” latte. I ordered hers without ice in case she wasn’t home yet. I’m considerate like that.
Then Mr. Thought texted to say they had gotten Dunkin.
There was nothing to do about it though, so E and I waited in the drive-thru line for over a half an hour. It’s just funny when you know better but you don’t do better, you know?
“Let’s just remember,” I said –
“Never to go to Starbucks on a Saturday?” E finished.
The thing about being in a line for so long is that you have a lot of time to chat, and to think.
I thought about how I should try to grab a spot and just walk in. But grabbing a spot with the traffic in that parking lot seemed worse than waiting in the line that curved around the building. So instead, we waited.
I wanted to know if L had passed her test. But I knew she’d want to tell me in person. So I just waited.
Finally we were just a few cars away from the window. At the speaker the barista informed me I couldn’t have it without ice because “for that drink, the ice makes the drink.” I maybe should have canceled her drink, since she got her Dunkin, but it was too complicated.
At last we were at the window and our drinks were on the way!
And then I knew why I had to go through the drive-thru today. It was because of the sign that makes me laugh. When I look at it, I think it is saying “Can drive! Can drive! Can drive!” Like a motivational cheer for those in the drive-thru. Last time I was at that window I tried, unsuccessfully to tell the barista why I was laughing.
It’s A CAN DRIVE. Like to collect cans.
This time I was able to tell E why I was laughing. I was also able to hope that it was a sign that L did indeed pass her driving test.
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by!
I miss the good ol’ days
I miss barbies on the floor with Keely where we built whole villages and had entire dramas play out for hours
I miss Kings Quest on the old IBM with the joystick and listening to Madonna tapes over and over until all lyrics were memorized
I miss drama class at the Art Center with Margie who walked up the steps from the snack machine with me before we took our acting exercises very seriously
I miss long walks in the neighborhood with Rachel when walking was the only way to have freedom and we would talk and laugh
I miss college lunch dates at the Hub with Sara where we piled salad, sprouts and ranch into plastic containers and chose a roll with care
I miss Must See TV on the couch with Greg and all the characters- from Friends to ER – that we had to check in with each week
I miss teaching in the 6th grade hall with the Wolves because once a Wolf, always a Wolf and if you were ever a Wolf, previously known as a Wolverine, you know what I mean without this verse of poetry
I miss late night get togethers in my living room with Kris and Mardi who would sneak over after my kids fell asleep, and patiently stay if I had to nurse a baby back to sleep
I miss traveling to New York with Kris and Mardi and Krista and the growing traditions of dinner and walking and the constant search for a perfect piece of pizza for Kris
I miss staycations that were really vacations with Sara’s family when the kids piled up to watch movies or play games and the grown ups talked and Jason made the drinks
I miss backyard fun which was actually inside at Kathleen’s when we gathered together to enjoy fine wine and also BBQ chips but best of all, each others’ company
I miss the good ol’ days which I get are also happening right now while I reflect on the good ol’ days from before
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by
Sometimes I like to write with a mentor text closeby… This one came to me when I thought about how the friends and enemies of writers have an interesting thing to think about every time they read . . .
You walked into our life like you were taking a bow with a wink Your dress strategically dipped below to appeal Your nails they were pink You had one eye in the mirror, as you watched yourself cartwheel And all the friends dreamed that they’d be your partner They’d be your partner and
You’re so vain You probably think this slice is about you
You’re so vain (you’re so vain) I bet you think this slice is about you Don’t you don’t you?
You had me several months ago when I was quieting my hunches Well you said that life was really grand and you would never pull any punches But you lied you stole you lied some more even to those you loved I had some dreams they were clouds in my Dunkin’ clouds in my Dunkin’ and You’re so vain
You probably think this slice is about you You’re so vain (you’re so vain)
I bet you think this slice is about you Don’t you don’t you don’t you?
I had some dreams they were clouds in my Dunkin’ clouds in my Dunkin’ and You’re so vain You probably think this slice is about you You’re so vain (you’re so vain) I bet you think this slice is about you Don’t you don’t you?
Well I hear you went and cut your hair And your life is going well Soon you’ll forget about the damage, the despair you caused to those in your spell
Well you’re where you should be all the time And when you’re not, you’re an underworld spy Or the wife of an old friend wife of an old friend and
You’re so vain You probably think this slice is about you You’re so vain (so vain) I bet you think this slice is about you Don’t you don’t you don’t you?
You’re so vain You probably think this slice is about you You’re so vain Probably think this slice is about you You’re so vain
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by
There was so much daylight savings time change it’s still sunny hope when I sat down to write before 7:00 in between pickups and drop-offs and more pickups I even thought – – this is funny, really… I even thought “maybe I’ll also read a chapter of one of those books from that tall tall stack on the table.” The dog curled up at my feet I sipped hot cocoa while I read other people’s stories and left comments I started a few slices of my own you know the kind of writing? write, delete, write, delete 15 minutes before I had to leave, my eyes started to droop I set my timer and promptly fell asleep
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by
From my chair I see the same things I see every day. I work from this chair I write from this chair I eat lunch at this chair I help kids at this chair Sometimes I just spin on this chair trying to figure out what to do next
From my chair I can see out the window It’s dark, but I know My Christmas lights are off the porch now. They are shoved in the garage instead.
From my chair I see a protractor a bag of shapes a birthday card from December earrings hanging in case I forget to put them on okay – also this is where I often take them off a pile of math materials why are there so many binders and books for one math class? my trackpad, plus a wireless mouse, and a new wired gaming mouse because my computer is often used by children for Minecraft and nobody puts their stuff back
From my chair I see a pile of note paper dice left out from math today more pens than I want to admit work waiting for me and the window – the night closing in out there it’s dark but the sky is hazy and brighter than it means to be I think
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by.
I was stopped at a light on a hill on the way to my parents house. The sky is blue today, the sun is bright, the wind is cold and noisey.
I watched as a one of those extra large playground balls rolled down the street toward me. It was weathered and pink and bumpy. I wondered if had been a bright red last spring. I wondered if it would roll into my car, and what the plan was if that happened. Would I need to get out of my car to move it? Would it pop? Could I just push it the mile to my folks’ house? It was too big to fit under the car . . .
I watched it as it skimmed my front bumper, and rolled down past the car behind me. Cars started turning down the road, blocking my view.
“I’ll never know what happens to that ball, or where it came from.” I thought as I continued to my parents’ house with my laundry.
Our washer is broken and the repair place says they can come next week. So until we get it fixed, we bring baskets and bags of laundry to my parents’ house. I don’t care how old you are, if you carry a basket or bag of laundry from your car to your parents basement, you’re basically 19. Even if one of those baskets is your 11 year old’s laundry.
An afternoon of laundry at my parents’ house felt like quiet respite. Maybe I shouldn’t get my washer fixed . . .
My dad made sure I got the settings on the washer correct, since last time I accidentally put the detergent in the spot for bleach.
My mom darned my torn sock. It’s a special sock, Mardi’s sock. I gave her donut socks last year, and after she died, I was given a pair back. These socks are holy to me, but I really don’t want them holey. (You can’t blame me for writing that. Seriously. It had to be said.)
Yea. My mom darned my sock, my dad made me tea, my laundry churned around in the basement. It was quiet. Maybe I shouldn’t get my washer fixed.
I packed up and drove home.
When I stopped at the light on the hill, I started looking out for that weathered playground ball. There is a creek and a park at the bottom of the hill, and I really hoped I’d see it there.
I mean, doesn’t a weathered playground ball deserve to retire on the water? I can imagine it floating around in the sun, playing with the ducks and enjoying the sounds of children at the playground.
But, I didn’t see it anywhere. Not in the street, not in the park, not in a lucky child’s hand.
“I’ll never know what happened to that ball, or where it came from.” I thought as I drove home, wondering about the metaphor of laundry, darning, quiet tea and a lonely lost weathered toy on a windy day.
Part of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by.
Trust me
I’m a writer who can’t be trusted to sit in a doctor’s office after my second covid shot I watch like a writer I listen like a writer I take note.
An elderly woman parks her walker next to the vinyl chair The nurse reaches to help her The woman says, “I’m fine. I just have this for-“ “Security?” the nurse guesses and the woman agrees “Security.”
A nurse grabs a syringe from the counter “I like this one better now,” she says Another nurse agrees and they laugh “Well we get used to what we have, I guess.” and they turn around to help the next in line
Voices from each side of the room filter in “Hi my name is. . . I’m one of the nurses here.” “I’m going to give you your second shot…” “How did your first shot go?” “You might have a little more of a reaction this time…” “It’s normal. Chills, body aches – that’s your immune system responding…”” “Do you have an arm preference?”
A man in his eighties works to pull up his blue and black flannel shirt sleeve as he is ushered to a chair to wait his 15 minutes “Can I wait in the waiting room with my wife?” he asks They agree, remind him to wait 15 minutes before leaving “He’s going to wait with his wife,” the nurse explains to someone at the door And it makes me feel sad to watch him still struggling with this flannel shirt sleeve, walking to sit with his wife
The two nurses are talking again “This time is better” one says, “my back isn’t killing me this time” “I didn’t think I could make it through the last super Saturday. All that bending.” “I thought I might have to try it sitting down.” “That kid behind us was sitting down” “Well, I can’t kneel. I’m not going on my knees.” “No. Not my knees.”
My 15 minutes are up and I walk out I see the man in his blue flannel shirt walk to his car with his wife I wonder if his wife is already vaccinated, or will be soon What was that he said about why his wife came with him? And it’s not until later do I realize there’s no way they waited their 15 minutes and I hope he’s okay
On a Thought 