
6 words: A Spring Break Day
Paint basement,
do taxes,
walk dog.

6 words: A Spring Break Day
Paint basement,
do taxes,
walk dog.

I’m not complaining.
Last year for spring break we drove to Florida and took a million boat rides and saw a billion alligators and crocodiles. The sun was shining and it was warm.
It snowed here yesterday – and the sun does not seem to make it warm.
I’m not complaining.
I’d like to tell my pre-spring break self that being on spring break does not suddenly turn me into a person who likes to make phone calls and go to the UPS store. So, that long list of things to accomplish? Um…
Why are there so many phone calls on my to do list?
I’m not complaining.
I’d like to cross off more on that to do list. So I better add some things to help myself out.
Paint the basement
Drink hot cocoa and read a book
Take the dog to his favorite store for birthday treats
Play with the cats
Do the dishes a hundred thousand times
Play the piano
Take a nap
I’m not complaining.
Bored, weary, restless, yes.
But, I am not complaining.

I did the few dishes that were in the sink just now, looked up at my window and didn’t startle at the face looking back at me: Saul Goodman
I didn’t startle because I watched my 16 year old put that cutout of his art work up there.
In fact, I watched him cut it out on the way to dinner. He had laminated it with strips of packing tape, leaning against the dashboard.
It’s not exactly the art I used to have all over when the kids were little. It’s not exactly the decor I’m looking for in my kitchen. But, I left it up in the window frame. I live with teenage boys and I’m kind of used to nonsense. I mean, a million pairs of socks have been discarded in random spots.We laugh a lot, though, which makes it worth it.
So tonight I’m finding Breaking Bad character art — I think I noticed Walter White on my nightstand…

I looked out the front door window this afternoon and saw the trash truck up the street. It looked just like the toy we used to have.
The trash truck was an event when the kids were little.
“The trash truck is coming!” I’d say, and little feet would come running. In the summer we would sit on the porch steps watching it.
But today I didn’t even think to announce it.
I’m pretty sure if I had, nobody would have cared.
Sad, but also . . . My 16 year old was down in the basement fixing a door and installing a new lock.
So, there’s an upside to all this growing up my kids have the audacity to do.

My mom measured and marked giant pieces of cork today, and then drew straight lines before cutting with a small blade.
We’re working on my basement, but I kept thinking back to when I was in elementary and middle school and got big projects. My mom would measure and mark and help me make the lines straight. She’d also help me plan, draw and execute the best school projects.
Do you remember book reports? Research projects you did mostly at home? What was all that homework all about? I don’t know – but I do know that one year of elementary school I did my whole report on a scroll of paper that we then installed in a cardboard box. The box had a large square cut out of it, and was decorated like a TV. To view the report, you twisted a dowel rod to scroll the paper past the whole.
Man, I wish I had that Cardboard box TV report to look at one more time!
I might not have any of my old projects from school, but, 35+ years later, I still have my mom and dad helping me with new projects! How lucky is that?
I wasn’t sure I heard him right.
“I want to do some writing today.”
Apparently my son isn’t getting as much done as he wants on his story he’s writing in school.
I had a quick idea. I didn’t think it would work. I said, “Well…where do you want to do your writing? Do you want to write here, or do you want to like go to a cafe or something?”
Knowing that usually my ideas are not my 13 year-old’s favorite, I waited with bated breath.
“That sounds fun,” he cautiously said. “We could go to Barnes and Noble, and then we could maybe look at books too.”
Score!
We packed our bags, dropped my 16 year-old off at work, and drove to Barnes and Noble.
(Bonus point for me: Before I could forget, I dropped off the 5 goodwill bags that have been in my van for a week since Goodwill is next to Barnes and Noble!)
With our bags slung on our shoulders, we walked through the store to find a table. A toy played “If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands.”
Like the embarrassing mother of teenagers that I am, I clapped my hands. Lightly.
My son smiled and said a little sarcastically, “Are you happy?”
And just as I thought it, he said it. “Is this your dream come true?”


When I woke up this morning, I was already hours late for work. We had driven and driven, but I could not get to school.
I had also burned a bunch of bagels for my daughter and her friends in some big old house I’ve never seen before. There was an unsuccessful search for vegan cream cheese at a very strange Walmart.
I’m not going to look that up in a dream dictionary. I am going to blame the dream for my all day headache, the jelly I somehow spilled on my hair this morning, and the fact that the dog woke up early and I had to take him out when it was still dark.
Shoot. I actually did look up dreaming of bagels. Did you know this was a thing? Especially the cream cheese part. Wild.
“…An unfilled cream cheese bagel symbolizes the absence of an essential component of one’s life.” That’s what this website says anyway.
Do you look up your dreams? Do you remember your dreams? I find them fascinating.

I want to know how my cats know it’s 5:42, and also why they can’t just wait 3 minutes for my alarm to wake me up.
Maybe they know I’ll hit snooze.
But, I can’t snooze Theodore. He’s the fluffiest cat I’ve ever known, and usually the chillest too. But, like clockwork he jumps on my nightstand and starts swatting things off of it to wake me up. It is almost always at 5:42. It’s not really my favorite way to wake up, hearing my books hit the floor. This morning I noticed the spray bottle I had set out to try to stop this situation was also on the floor. Well, that strategy won’t work I guess.
The cats pace around until I get up and then then chase each other down the steps, ready for breakfast. It’s actually super cute, or would be if it weren’t 5:45 in the morning.
If they are this smart, I could probably teach them to press “Brew Now” on my coffee maker.
This morning they were heartbroken. I forgot to set up the coffee maker last night, so before I fed them, I had to get the coffee started. Luckily they get over the sting of betrayal much faster that I do, and they were able to enjoy their breakfast.
Just like every morning, Clyde kept me company while I drank my coffee. Although, I think he was wondering why my hands were busy writing instead of petting him.


I’ve been spending time in third grade lately. We’ve been writing up a storm in our notebooks. They are filled with our thinking work: words and sentences, claims and reasons, taped in pieces of evidence, to-do lists… They are a beautiful mess!
Today, the teacher started by reading Abdul’s Story by Jamilah Thompkins-Bigelow and the kids were rapt with attention. So was I.
In this story, Abdul loves to write, but struggles too. (So do I.)
But then a published author comes to his classroom, sees how upset Abdul is about his messy work and says, “I want to show you my notebook.”
This is one of those picture books that cause watering eyes and a tingling nose.
Of course, the author’s notebook is messy. Writing is messy. Abdul is a writer!
The story is sad before it’s uplifting, and when Abdul was having a particularly hard time with his writing, the boy sitting in front of me couldn’t hold in his comment.
“That’s where he needs YOU as a teacher!” He shouted out to his teacher.
That might have been when my eyes started to water and my nose started to tingle. It was just so sweet, so perfect. I must have made a sound like, “Awe.”
He turned around, eyes big. I think for some reason he felt bad that he didn’t include me. It wasn’t necessary but it was nice when he added with a smile, “Or you!”

Part of Slice of Life at Two Writing Teachers
The live Verizon agent wants me to
allow them
a
moment
they want to know
“how your day going has been so far.”
Oh, Live Agent
Let me speak to you in poetry
instead of expletives
Maybe poetry is the
magic
my phone bill needs. . .
How my day going has been so far —
My dog chewed something he found in the trash
again
My dog keeps trying to sneak upstairs
again
My cat is trying to steal the onions
again
This is how my day going has been so far
From my couch, I can see the laundry
I folded it
last week
and the bills I just paid
bills!
I should be working
This is how my day going has been so far
I am once again on my phone with
yet another live chat agent
This is how my day going has been so far
There have been so many
lies
on these live chats
I have renamed them,
Lie chats
This is how my day going has been so far
This Verizon Agent
Oh, this Verizon agent
is trying their best
I appreciate them
doing their job
but I might throw my phone across the room
anyway
“You’re like family to Verizon and we can’t let you unhappy at any point.”
This agent tells me
And maybe this poem
is magic
because this Verizon agent
My favorite one so far
Assures me that they will take care of it for me
There is hope
The sun is going down
My dog is resting
and my favorite Verizon agent signed off
“Your appreciate is my trophy,” they tell me
It’s like they know I’m writing poetry
the musings of a high school science teacher
Tales of a Doc student's readings
erratic thoughts too loud for lines
Small slices of my life, in one place!
Celebrating the Randomness of Life