Throwing a TedxTalk I Failed to Show Last Night Onto the Morning Blog (So I Don't Forget About It in the Future)

I've had so many influences on the way my mind works and contemplates the universe, including many from Syracuse University's strong Dis/Ability Studies program and dedication to inclusivity. The courses I took in my doctoral program added to the mission I came with and the experiences of a K-12 school that didn't track, embraced individuality, and cherished diversity. Years after finishing the doctorate, I came across a TedxTalk that added to my thinking, especially in regard to instruction. I share it here so I don't forget that I want to include it next year. How I finished a two-hour class without showing the very heart-beat of the point I wanted to make goes beyond me!!! 

I know that their is critique of the dis/ability super/hero motif, but I've always found this talk interesting, especially when thinking that each and every human being alive will, at one time or another, be disabled. My return to glasses mid-life, my various times in boots, and the moments I'm taken down will illness that numbs my brain are examples of this. Shoot, walking down staircases now and needing to hold a railing so I don't fall is more evidence. 

The point is that having an impairment helps us to see the ways dis/abled people are treated. I like to question the institutions and structures that impeded as an impediment the dis/abilities of others, without questioning what are we doing to uplift and enhance them....it's a good question, as it is also a mindset one.

Alright post, got to go. The dog is in super whine mode and needs to get outside. I also need to tackle a billion and one projects.

God Bless Us, Everyone. Yes, that's an intentional Tiny Tim reference. 

Briefly Bringing in This Tuesday Morning with News that the Dog Thinks I'm a Bed and When I Type, My Shoulders are Her Cushions

2024 has been about Karal's ongoing neurosis, including her severe separation anxiety. When I'm home, she needs to be on top of me, and she's learned that when I'm on the computer (which is most all of the time) that it's perfectly finde to lounge and snore on my shoulders. It's all good...She's 50 pounds, at best.

The blocking the doorway with her body as I'm trying to leave, however, is a little more dramatic. She thinks I won't lift her out of the way. I love that she's attached to me, but the clinginess is a little odd. Some say I should get another dog so she has a companion, and I think about this, but then I think about what a pain it is to try to go anywhere with one dog. Love her to death...great companion and all...but I'm thinking the Great Whatever is cursing me for the tremendous commitment issues I've had my entire life. 

I'm an isolationist. I do better inside my head. She should know this, no?

In the meantime, I need to keep this writing short, because it's a 14-hour day followed by a 14-hour day and I need to get my headstrong game going in full force. I came home last night at 8 pm and was too tired to plan any more, so it's time to go into innovation and improvisation mode. Too much needing to be done in a very short amount of time.

Yesterday I wrote about TP and today I live another day in this #$@# show where it is 100% necessary. 

Flashback to the Fall of 2020, When Stores Were Mostly Empty & a Sight Like This Was an Absolute Fantasy (If You Scored, You Scored for Friends)

It's sometimes hard to believe that we lived as we did in 2020, online, trying to ease an epidemic, as we were doused in political ire. There were three of us at home: Edem, Chitunga, and me, so when Kaitlyn & Dominik score a TP sighting at their local Costco, they sent out messages to their friends. I believe they filled two carts with the goods for delivery....maxed out their credit cards...then arranged drop-offs. 

It was still to dangerous to mix breath, so I told them to leave the stash on the front porch. I had put $70 in an envelope and soaked it with Lysol. Dominik still associates my house with the smell of that cash. I had so much of the loot from that finding that it wasn't until recently, Fall of 2023, that I had to buy more. That is why I laughed running through BJs yesterday seeing aisles and aisles of the rolled paradise. How soon we forget what a luxury it was during those days.

We have stories now for when grandchildren yell out, "GP, there's no TP left," and after slipping a roll between the cracks of the doors, you can glow with excitement. There will be a story for them when they're finished...a tale of a different time, a narrative of the darker days where soft wipes were like unicorns...magical in their existence.

Yes, this is the way I'm beginning my Monday morning, because I feel slightly rested. I watched football all day on mute (okay...it was on and I occasionally looked at the screen to check scores) while I wrote from my laptop and curled up on the couch to read books. After a C+ dinner of stir-fry which I ate between lunch and dinner to kill two birds with one stone (bawk bawk plop), I ran out to BJs to get milk, vitamins, and what I hoped to be egg rolls (to bring the C+ to a B in coming days). It was there I noticed the decadence of the toilet paper aisle and had the flashback to the time Princess Kaitlyn and Prince Dominik saved so many southern Connecticut asses. 

They were knights for us all. 

May you wipe with ease always, and cherish the simpler things in life. 

I Still Get a Thrill from Making Popcorn on the Stove and Settling in for a Night in Front of the Boob Tube

Actually, this was Friday night's dinner. I was exhausted and after the week, I just wanted something light and to stare into space. Last night, I actually went out for a steak and shrimp dinner and ate like a king. My stomach was very happy I treated it to a wonderful evening of good food. A bloomin' onion, however, is never a good idea, even if you only have a couple of bites. 

I'm also glad it is basketball season, as it breaks up the day into digestible chunks, making weekend grading, reading, and planning a little less monotonous.

Thankful, also, for a colleague from nursing moving nearby so we can do weekend walks and talks with out dogs, and we ran into Sonya Huber's husband, Cliff, and walked a short while with him, too. Movement still matters. 

Today, it's back to the books, the writing, the grading, and the planning, although I was smart enough to marinate chicken for grilling and I hope to make rice and broccoli to go with it. I always have a better week when I cook ahead, because Monday-Wednesday are impossible days of go-go-go. If I don't plan, I have terrible meals that are just stupid (like popcorn on a Friday night).

I'll always associate popcorn nights with Lawrence Welk and Little House on the Prairie, and sharing the kernels with Dusty and Tizzy. Karal likes it, too, and she's really good at catching kernels tossed her way.

Okay, Sunday. Time to get the work done...and we're off. 

It's 'When the Magical Warriors Move On' That Hit You the Most. Rest in Peace Coach Lofton. Your Impact Is Impossible to Put Into Words.

When you're a teacher, you learn the power of fellow educators who have the biggest impact on the lives of kids. You also see the importance of community leaders and coaches that dedicate their lives to them, not only in sports, but in the larger picture of their lives. I often present on the idea that youth are like koi fish, and they are always in search of the individuals who will feed their souls. When you enter a school, you easily can find the spaces where young people go to find safety, advice, support, and nourishment. This is how I met Coach Lofton. In my early years in Connecticut, I connected with Bassick High School and worked in classrooms on literacy initiatives, including the delivery of Kwame Alexander's The Crossover. This was before the Newbery medal, and in recognition that Kwame wrote a book young people needed. 

Coach, along with then art teacher, Kathy Silver, felt the same. They got it. They understood the importance that schools and stadiums have for the well-being of the students. We had an idea, "What's your literacy wingspan?" where we recruited players from Bassick High School, as well as Coach Sydney Johnson and Fairfield University athletes to do the same. The premise was simple - what if we challenged kids to read as many books as they could fit wrist to wrist? What would happened if athletes promoted reading with younger kids?

Coach Lofton stepped up immediately. I watched the magic Silver (Yellow) and her work husband, Bernie, accomplished. Sports, Words, Art, Leadership, and being the village for as many young people as possible. 

That is why I felt a 2x4 hit me across my head when I learned of Coach Lofton's passing. He was preparing to head to the gym for another generation of athletes, dedicated always to his mission and purpose with the Bassick Lions.

It's been a few years since I was fortunate to work with the school, but so much of my Connecticut welcoming arrived as a result of the team back then, their art teacher, and their coach...one camera and a neighborhood. 

I am paid now to write about schools, teachers, classrooms, and projects that work, and the difficult thing has always been in naming, labeling, and categorizing the very thing that makes learning magical. A mentor once told me, "All the research on what works often boils down to a personality of a particular leader, and those leaders are rare to find." I remember that, because both Kathy Silver a Coach Lofton had the magic. They had the hope that all schools need: a love for kids, an investment for a better tomorrow, and a dedication of time and their personal lives to get them there. 

I'm sad for the Bassick family today, as there are numerous generations impacted by Bernie's departure. Often, the behind-the-scenes work goes unnoticed and overlooked. I know, however, from my time working at the school, there was a wonderful coach that did what he could to keep his team and students in the school focus on their future.

You've deserved the wings, sir. It is a terrible loss for all who knew you.

I suppose middle-age is getting used to such news...such storying...such impact on how important the good ones are.

But my day is uplifted knowing you modeled the best ways to support kids.

Well, I Finally Got a Vacation...Not for Physical Bryan, But for Flat Bryan...Who Is Spending Time with Bev & Leo on the Beaches of Mexico

I guess I should be proud I finally got a little R&R on foreign soils. Bev & Leo are in Mexico for a week and it appears that Flat Bryan was discarded by Pam and sent offshores with her good friends. The photo arrived to my inbox yesterday. 

I hope I get a tan and soak some of my paper psoriasis in the salty ocean. 

Meanwhile, I'm in the dreary, wet, and gray northeast simply trying to dot t's and cross I's for the weekend. I will get a nice lunch with engineering faculty, so I have that to look forward to today.

Just look at the scene I'm enjoying/not experiencing. Hey, at least I'm getting a taste of what it might be like. Not sure why Flat Bryan shaved, however.

Celebrating, too, that I came home last night thinking I'd have to eat popcorn, when I remembered I bought stuff to make a salad, so that is what I had and it tasted delicious. 

In the winter months, it's always good to have these tastes of summer. I shall embrace them and use them to warm my soul. 

When Frogs Can Fly...Well, They Can Because the Dragonfli Sent Me a Series of Frogs with Wings Last Night to Check-in On How I Was Doing

I'm exhausted. That's how I am doing...back-to-back-to-back of evening classes with dark, wet drives home simply makes my brain fry into uselessness. I'm not even good at staring into space. I come home simply numb to the world.

But then a message comes from an ol' student asking me if Frogs can fly, and then the photographs. I said, "Oh, look. Offspring..." 

Nothing better than a frog with monarch wings. I'll need this wings. I believe in these wings. I have hope with these wings. 

Ah, but for today, I get to have lunch with one of my favorite colleagues who I haven't had time with in a few years, and if I look into the evening hours, I'm simply glad I won't be the last one out of Canisius Hall again. I have time to work on writing projects and bringing back mental sanity from the crazy that is life right now.

I am so thankful that I had the Brown School. Like I noted yesterday, it simply stays with me for life. The beauty, spirit, brilliance, and magic of those stunning human beings. 

Fueled me for life and, for that, I am thankful.

Confession to a Confessional. Throwback with Keef at a Syracuse Game in Louisville Sitting with the Devendorf Family & Putting Fate in a Score

It was January or February in 2007. I had an amazing crew of seniors, wonderful colleagues, and absolutely horrible administration. We also had Common Core breathing down our backs and we were slowly seeing decades of portfolio work fading away because of politics in the state. All that was great in the world was still great, but I saw the infrastructure crashing. Poor vision at the top (that never understood the Brown School) and state funding initiatives destroying all the good for teaching kids were at the forefront of my mind. I knew I couldn't live with myself working in such an environment with the changes to come...the anti-kid/anti-teacher sentiments of American politics. 

So, I gambled. I applied to do a doctorate at Syracuse University, return to CNY - my original home - and didn't tell a single person. It was all kept within me and by the time I had an acceptance and an offer for a doctoral fellowship paying my entire way, I decided that I'd make my decision at a basketball game. I always loved watching Boeheim and Pitino playing one another, and I knew my boy, Keef, captain of the Brown School basketball team that year, would be perfect to bring. We had nosebleed seats (Ron, the Principal we all loved before he left) was closer to the floor behind one of the goals. Ironically, we sat with the Devendorf family from Syracuse, mingled a bit, but watched the game. 

Syracuse came out strong and dominated the first half. I was resolved that it would be my decision to return to Syracuse and leave Derby City if they won. Then the second half came and Louisville was stronger. They pulled back ahead and it was the usual back and forth ending. Keith was screaming for the Cards and the Devendorfs for Syracuse (by the way...I got the tickets because I wrote to Syracuse and they held two will-call tickets for me....hence being with the Devendorf family). I didn't know anyone at Syracuse University, but I am good with words (and emails). 

I realized that Syracuse was going to lose the game, and according to my plan that would mean I would stay in Louisville and continue my teaching career in the Bluegrass. But something deep inside didn't feel right. I didn't want to stay trapped and I knew I had to leap from over a decade of teaching experiences or I might never have another opportunity to grow and live further on the adventure. 

Funny how the world works, as I know many put their necks on the line to get me to Syracuse on that fellowship and, to be honest, I always doubted my brains and ability to finish that degree. I had many  nervous breakdowns in my parents' pool thinking, "Phew. Leaving the Brown was a mistake."

Fast forward 17 years, a National Writing Project Director's job, publications, conferences, and much success all because I bring the Brown School and my students of yesteryear with me in all that I do. It's hard for me to think what I'd be if I chose to remain in Kentucky, except retired with all the others who were in my cohort at the time. I'm heading to my 30th year as an educator and I still watch Louisville and Syracuse when I can. Just because. And I'm not sure either team is giving me hope this year (ah, the faith has been in the women's teams). 

It's the storying. Sport is life and there's nothing better than a great game....but games are played everywhere and narratives come from the chances we take. 

Even so, this morning I'm thinking about that match-up in the ol' arena of the Fairgrounds. I'm thinking of the metaphors we can put in life...this or the team will make the difference...but in the end it is the gut that always leads you forward. This is the way. It's hard for me to imagine what life would be if I had not left with a leap of faith. 

Oh, Baby, Baby, It's a Wild World. Channeling the Beauty of Brown School Teaching Days as a Mantra to Get Through Other Complexities

 

Oh, Baby, it is a wild world, indeed.

I'm teaching three nights in a row, as one of the few people left standing after a tumultuous few years where the obstacles thrown at us climbing up Sisyphus' great hill was already a defeated task, and instead of getting assistance and help, we get reprimanded. Hard to be optimistic in these dark days. I don't see any solutions, except the ones I already know work: hard work, integrity, excellence, professional development multiple grants, relentless hours, and national networking, but instead of support and acting out similar traits, it's merely "Well, you need to do better." 

At some point I'm just breaking into pieces. I pride myself on doing excellent by being excellent, but at some point I have to be a realist and name the obstacles as they are, even if they don't want to hear them. An already 364 day schedule with 14 hours days, 7 days a week, has not been enough to keep going what I'm keeping going, but now there's more to be added to the plate because of the ongoing faculty-flight.

It's so frustrating, and it is a Wild World, indeed. 

I wish I wasn't making it up, but the truth is too insane to put into words. 

I know the only thing I've ever been able to fix is my attitude and I like to think I've done a mighty job with that....as a junior faculty member stated, "You and Ryan are the golden light for how to get the job done." I know. And it about did us both in. 

And it did do us both in. 

Prayers up, Great Whatever. I usually have a solution and an answer, but all I have at this point is honesty and exhaustion. 

Should be a time to celebrate accomplishments and achievements, but instead I'm realizing there's no time for that, because the impossible has been laid before me. 

Hoping this too shall pass. That's all I can do. 

Twenty Years Later, I Think I Finally Know the Recipe Lars Would Make When Visiting Roskilde, Denmark, with My Students

One of the joys of bringing students to Denmark in the summers while I was teaching in Louisville, was the wonderful communal feel of evening dinners, where all the adults in the house (we were all adults in the house) would rotate dinners, always with numerous bottles of wine. Lars Møller Kristensen, Principal of the the Lille Skole, would often make the most incredible mushroom dish with mashed potatoes. The house was vegetarian, so there wasn't meat. 

Last night, Dave and Kris had me over for Coq Au Vin, and I'm pretty sure that is the flavor Lars would achieve with the mushrooms. Dave also made it with chicken and it was absolutely delicious, something I want to add to the Mt. Pleasant eatery for special occasions. I'm perfectly fine with a vegetarian version, but the chicken version works just as well. 

Delicious. 

We ate while hoping Buffalo would get the win over Kansas City, but it didn't happen. They lost, but our stomachs won.

This semester, I had to pick up a third class to cover the major losses in our department, so I have to teach Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday evenings. I'll be on campus this evening, moving student teachers along in their placement experiences - the work is mostly therapy and survival skills. I coach them to hang on, do better, and meet the requirements of our state and accreditation. I wish I could make them dinner like I had last night, but that isn't the purpose of this class.

Here's to the work week. We're definitely off for a new beginning. 

Hey, Mom! I Am Legal to Marry Bo & Hope in Connecticut, Should You Want to Contact Days of Our Lives and Have Me Oversee a Tear-Jerker Ceremony

I've written often about being blessed to watch Days of Our Lives 3x's a day in my childhood as it was taped and I could watch it with Cynde, then with Casey, and finally with Mom when she got home from work. I'm officially ordained by the Universal Life Church and now can marry Calliope and Eugene, Bo and Hope, or Patch and Kayla should the occasion ever call for it...but unlike soap opera sermons, I'd legally be able to unite couples forever and always. 

I am super glad to get another milestone of the checklist in life I never anticipated or asked for. I am thrilled, however, that an ol' student asked me to stand in residence for his ceremony next may, allowing me another box to check and add to my resume. The only requirement...I now need to intern a little bit over a minstrel activity (although my argument is teaching at a Jesuit University should count over leading others in a discussion of faith, hope, and living a good life.

Add 'o' ot God and you have Good. That is what the Great Whatever has taught me over and over again. I am all about promoting good and that is what this wedding shall be (if only I can get rid of the acid reflux of middle age...that's really bad and I don't enjoy it). 

I'm glad I spend Saturday morning reviewing articles for academic journals and moving the wedding accreditation to the forefront. Now, I receive my pin, business cards, certificates, and planning guides. I'm already writing the ceremony, "Do you, Justin, agree to allow Juliet to make you financially stable and to do the taxes of the man who is marrying you for the rest of your life?" "Do you, Juliet, promise to accept Justin's philosophical pondering and questioning the validity of life's claims while working to get his thinking published in peer-reviewed journals?" 

If so, there shall be happiness for all...maybe even Horton Christmas ornaments on your annual holiday tree.

And yes, you can laugh. Crandall is laughing, too, and is honored to be asked. Here's to the summer wedding. 

Call Me A Total Geek, But I Gave In to Friday Exhaustion and Watched the Original 3 Star War Movies, Giggling at the Storyline in the Sequence (But Thrilled, Nonetheless)

My brain was incapable of doing anything else intellectual and after the first week of a new semester, I was feeling the winter session beat-down. It's cold, so I curled up on the couch, remembered my R2D2 lamp my mom made me in ceramics, and the space ship I used to keep in my room.

This is the 2nd time I've watched the sequence in order and, after last night, I'll just need another weekend to finish the sequence. I'm watching them on Disney so I don't have to deal with the commercials when they rerun them on this or that cable station. 

Are they dumb? Well, the old ones were not as effective, but the first in the series with Jar Jar Banks is simply ridiculous. But I do love the force, the premise, and the sequence of time and good vs. evil. 

It seems we live much of this in today's world as nations unravel and false prophets are worshipped in the way that Vader had his empire. Awe, Anakin...you were such a cool little kid with your races and all. 

Not sure what I'll do with the rest of the weekend but rest and pick up items I desperately need in the house: milk, a loaf of bread, and a stick of butter. Plus paper towels and coffee. I need them, too. 

This wasn't my light up ship, but it might have been a different style of painting of a joy that mom's found during the age of ceramics.

Oh, man, this aging thing is something, especially when you get tired in ways that you never did before. 

Pickles Seems To Have a Spy on the Shenanigans of Amalfi Drive - Even My Childhood. It Wasn't Just the Lava...It Was the Shark Played by Dusty

Mom keeps me entertained by posting Pickles cartoons on her Facebook page, but also sending me others in Messenger. This one made me laugh, because I have vivid memories of playing such games with Casey, jumping on my parents King Size bed to stay save from the jaws of a killer shark or the blistery boiling lava that sometimes boiled from the green carpet that still coats their bedroom floor. 

I am Nelson. Nelson is me. And I have no problem playing this game still in my 50s. And look at that? Do you remember newspapers?

Here's to everyone loving the imaginations of children, and supporting the fantasies that live in their head. Encourage their narratives. Let them jump, run, and scream. Those creative ideas in their head lead to great adulthoods. 

I'm Still on an Optical Illusion Kick, Probably Because I Love Working with HS Students About Questioning Everything - to Look Deeper at Their Worlds

When I find them, I put them in a digital pile to add to workshops I give across Connecticut shows to ask young people to tell me what they see, then what they really see. This one came across my feed the other day and I naturally stole it. 

At first they look like a pile of stones, but then when you pull back and focus, you see they also have words for you. The first time I didn't see it, but now that I saw it I can't unsee it. It's the first thing I see...before I see the stones. 

Weird. As is the world.

First week of the spring semester courses have been taught. Today, I actually process the last five weeks and start moving ahead to focus on this semester's batch of students. I also finished a video project and, with a crew of stellar scholars, am getting ready to submit an application that took us months to write. We love to gamble and see what we can get (says the grant writer who gets grants and then needs to implement them).

Speaking of, I have to implement several this semester and need to get on top of the budgets. What's good about the work is that I can invest in teacher leader projects and don't necessarily have to carry out the work myself. I just need to manage their work and then find a way to celebrate how awesome they are with classroom instruction.

It's Thursday. I'm getting a haircut and taking Karal for a longer walk than usual now that the ice has been cleared on the streets. 

I wonder what the stones are crying about. 

Writing Small...Love Me Some @RalphFletcher and His Notebook Advice...Altered a Little To Write This Morning

Step one: If you want to be a good writing teacher who connects with kid writers, you need to read The Writer's Notebook by Ralph Fletcher. I read it five years into teaching (high school) and it changed the ways I approached how I taught students. Yes, the book worked with high school kids, because it helped me to tweak the ways I developed writers in my care. Fast forward to teaching graduate students. It was awesome to see a re-release of the book last year. I can't think of a better first read for graduate students in a literacy course. The assignment...read the book and go forward to sketch in your notebook a story/ writing/tale/wonder as it hit your brain while reading. 

Now, Fletcher has a chapter on writing small, but I admitted to the students that I have a small brain and live forever as a 15-year old kid longing for childhood. I shared my obsession of putting quarters in vending machines every time I can and the joy I have when I find toys on my daily hikes. I found an astronaut lego lady last week, who I thought would be a great pairing with spider man to entertain mermaids in a gathering to fight of 2024 election blues. 

Of course, I started making up the story and students were engaged and I was thinking, "Wait. Don't believe me. I'm making this story up." This didn't really happen, it's just what I'm narrating because I put a little thing next to a small thing, and then I started asking, "What if?' 

The Peter Parker paper doll (and Spidey) I got from a box of Cheerios a few years back. That version of Peter sort of looks like a younger Crandall. The mer-men belong to Pam and I've been building the story in her bathroom - not my own. She just noticed the figures this week and asked me, "Are there your dolls?" 

I then told her a story about how the astronaut and Spiderman are convening with her mermaids because they'll need aquatic support during all the stupidity to come this election year. 

Truth is...Fletcher also discusses the power of a photograph, and since I now use my years blogs as a writer's notebook, it is here that seeds are planted...this post from writing "small" and photographic triggers. 

It's Wednesday, I have another graduate class to teach, and I need to thaw my morning bones with more coffee. Onward. I don't think an astronaut or Spiderman is what I want to be in the next year, and I hope to find another talisman soon to keep the mermaid story going. 

Baby Face. He's Got the Chubbiest Little, Baby Face. Thankful to an Ol' High School Friend, BOOMWA, Who Sent Me This Photo (She Kept Since High School)

Over the weekend, BMW, Brenda Marie White, BOOMWA, contacted me on Facebook to say, "Look what I have!" I had to admit to her, "Brenda, I don't even think I have a baby photo of me in my own house." Not sure why she had this in her collection, unless there was a project of collecting everyone's baby photos from high school, but I appreciated she sent it my way. I tend to forget I was this young once. Edem and his girlfriend were over last night and they said, "You've always worn your hair the same way, haven't you?"

It's weird to think that this lil' guy would be come this big guy lost in his thoughts all the time, contemplating the world. 

Yes, the three-day weekend was spent grading the winter session and getting ready for the spring semester, and all of that begins today...with the snow...the ice...and the hourly emails from students asking if the class is canceled. It doesn't change much in the higher education classroom, even though the learners are bigger.

I just wish we could teach online until the temperatures were above freezing and the sun was scheduled to set after 7 pm when we finally leave campus. 

Back to my neophyte days. I believe there's a similar picture in my parents' bedroom, alongside baby  Cynde and Casey. It's funny, because I can caption this, "Just checking things out, resting my head, and trying to figure our the meaning of it all with a joyous heart and true enthusiasm for this life thing."

Hey, babe. Whatcha doin'?

Alright, I need to sip this coffee and head out to the driveway and clear the snow. The long days continue in 3....2...1...

Lots going on. Things were much simpler back then.

Waking Up Thankful the Heat Works and We Don't Have the Temperatures of the Upper, Midwest. Brrrr. I Can't Imagine Those Windchills

I'm in a bizarre Star Wars throwback craze, but rewarding myself that yesterday, Sunday, I have all but two winter session research proposals graded and ready to submit. I've made contact with the students and am heading into Martin Luther King, Jr. Day with faith and optimism that we can make a better world and that the upcoming semester can continue to provide the next generation of teachers with instruction to meet the heterogeneity of the nation. 

Not a big fan of marshmallows, but do love a hot cup of cocoa every now and again. 

I should count my blessings that winter hasn't come at the northeast in its normal fashion, unless it's Buffalo or Tug Hill, and that this is the first opportunity to gripe about the temperatures. I like above freezing (which will return next week), but for now I need to shelter these old bones. 

I also should give my brain a rest so it is ready for all to come. I haven't really offered it an opportunity to rest in some time, except for evening sleep. There's always the next project or commitment to jump into. 

Here's to blankets, shelter, and the comfort of home. Best wishes to Chitunga, too, who has had a '@#$@#' weekend with sewage backups in Iowa due to frozen plumbing. Been there, lived that, and it's absolutely disgusting and miserable. And that stuff always happen on the weekends, especially on long weekends. We have to count our blessings for any day that doesn't deliver us such adulthood crap.

Going Into Sunday Doing What I Do Best: Spinning Plates to Keep the Performance Going. We Go This!

In two days, a new semester (and a new course) begin. I'll get to it on Monday, but for today I'm going to do all I can to put a bow on the winter session and 20 research proposals that were achieved in a very short time. I'm thankful for the Sealey, Wooley, Johnson crew for inviting me over for dinner before Val returns to New Orleans for school: potato pancakes, a pork roast, Brussel sprouts and salad. Also loved the cheese cake and lemon torte Jen brought. 

Yesterday, I accomplished a lot, but I'm still not finished. Kudos to this graduate crew who matched my serves with bouncing the ball effectively to my side of the court. It always makes me proud when they rise to the occasion (even if they think the final project needs to be more than it is: because I teach the way I do, it is simply a matter of putting the parts together and calling it a day.

Temperatures drop today, but I enjoyed getting outside for a hike yesterday without a jacket. 

Okay, universe. Send me power. I will achieve all that needs to be set forward to say, "All Done," hopeful for the last winter session I ever have to teach (it's a lot, I don't mind the teaching, but the pinch and inability to chill out is too much). 

Happy Sunday, y'all. Make it a good one. 

Doing My Best for Self-Care While Having Little Self-Care at the Moment. Grading. Grading. Grading. All Before Beginning Classes on Tuesday

I realize I have life patterns and I should probably think seriously about them. In Kentucky, my seniors did amazing work through research, culminating projects, and writing portfolios. A couple times, we had the #1 scores in the State, and there was one study that said Brown did the best job for preparing kids for college through research on undergraduate gpa's and retainment rates. I knew then, too, that it was the extra work of English teachers who put in the time for writing conferences, attending PD, and pushing kids to rewrite, rewrite, and rewrite again. It was also because the school had policies for holding kids to high standards...all kids. My job, then, was to keep that bar high. 

Often, over Christmas break, I'd read, reread, and offer feedback on all the work expected of students because if I wanted them to excel, I had to excel, too. 

I realize that I'm in that same pattern again, but his time with graduate students designing a research plan for the next five months so they can complete their capstone projects in the summer. It's the same bar, the same coaching, and the same insanity. What is irksome, however, is that it's me giving up time off in support of students because, well, someone has to do it.

Anyway, I spent another day yesterday grading and I'm thankful to the students who turned in work early so I can get ahead a little. I also attended the MLK essay meeting but signed off early because it quickly turned into everything I predicted. When it was announced they were going to read each essay aloud, I said I was going to go offscreen and email my top four student essays ranked. They could include this or not. Reading every essay out loud after reading every essay myself did not seem like the wisest idea to me. Others disagreed and argued that to be fair we should read each essay to each other. There were selections for 135 entries. I signed off and got so much more accomplished.

I'm thankful for my long walks, too. They are so mentally and physically necessary. And I'm getting there. It's why I'm flexing this Saturday morning as Connecticut washes away into the Long Island Sound. I'm just thankful I'm not with Chitunga in Iowa. Highs of -12 this week. Ugh.

And at 9:48 PM on Thursday Night, After a Final Winter Session Class and a Bout of Scoring 132 MLK Essays by Middle School Youth (a Contest), I Finally Ate

Yep, it was a banana for me. Granted, I did eat a bowl of Cheerios (I think they were a bit stale) at 6 a.m. and I found dinner mints near where I worked all day and devoured three of them. This is all to say, "The banana was delicious, the 30-hour winter session course no longer requires me in front of the screen of 20 grad students completing action research proposals, and now I simply need to grade all the materials flying into my inbox.

But first, it's time for MLK essays. A room of teachers would be able to select the top 4 pieces of writing in approximately 20-minutes. A room full of academics belabors the process for six house, painfully discussing each and the merits and drawbacks of them all. This is my 9th year of scoring...I couldn't do them when I served on the Rank & Tenure committee because we met at the same time. With this noted, each year, I put the 4 essays I think should be given awards to the side. Then, I watch as a room full of adults spend 360 minutes talking, talking, talking, talking, and talking to always come forward with the 4 essays I pitched in the first ten minutes of the meeting. It's all good. I multitask, as those of us who are used to 100s of kids each day and all their writing (in KY, it was all their portfolio writing) you learn how to read fast, apply rubrics quickly, and narrow it down to the award-wining talent. Now, if we had to grade each essay with feedback like teachers do, that would be a whole other story. Then I could see six hours spent on all the writing. 

And that banana was so good. Flavorful. Perfect. Delicious. But I slept awful because I kept waking up hungry and it was too cold to walk downstairs to make a Dagwood sandwich. 

I seriously was happy dancing while eating the banana in celebration that the winter session was over. As far as I know, I'll never have to teach during the holidays like that again. Of course, I now have to pick up the summer session after the data is collected, but at least it's warm then and I have my front porch and sunlight. 

I really can't believe those three weeks are finally over. Phew. It's too much. 

Well, Nothing Could Prepare Me for the Monkey Wrenches Thrown My Way for the Spring Semester (But Onward This Clucking Frog Shall Go)

It's always an honor and pleasure to work with students, and I find satisfaction and glory with supporting the next generation of teachers, vision, possibilities and hope. I knew this Spring would be interesting as the University offered sabbaticals to colleagues that were well-deserved and I was prepared to fill-in where I was needed. Stepping up is sort of what optimistic Crandall does and reviews of my teaching and data from my service and research, I believe, are a demonstration of the individual I am. Yet, the sabbaticals have turned into monkey wrenches as one faculty member has chosen work at another University and the other stepped out of our department. I'm filling in for them, but what happens afterwards, as we planned for the Spring, but not the summer and Fall to follow.

A colleague sent me a spreadsheet of the people my department has lost since 2010 and as people retired or moved on, they were never replaced. Meanwhile, the numbers of students pursuing professional teaching certificates also began to dwindle alongside the lack of faculty to support them. To economists of higher education, this equates to not replacing those that left, turning the lack of support to students to a higher level. The students we do have are reaching out with questions of what they are to do next and I am not sure, because I no longer have the colleagues I once had to go to in order to find the answers. I knew they'd be gone for a semester - this was deserved. But departure from the work altogether is a whole other level of challenge.

I'm used to the PTSD of everyday teaching, especially with work in K-12 public schools, but I'm not sure what to do with it when it filters into those of us preparing the next generation. A single individual cannot accomplish this, especially with subject areas and grade levels I'm not qualified to work with. Meanwhile, there's mourning of the loss of good friends and colleagues who have departed (8 in the past seven months). It's not death, because they are alive and well, but it's also not human togetherness anymore  to keep the programs running. 

So, this Thursday, I'm simply scratching my head. Classes begin next Tuesday and I still have one more class this winter session - a responsibility I took on to ease the work of the others. Now, I have to pick up another class in the Spring because there's no support of the students we have who are currently enrolled. 

I know that things are somewhat bonkers everywhere, and I like to problem solve and figure things out, but I don't think I have a solution for this current quagmire. CWP work and National Writing Project remains strong and I love doing what I do in schools across the nation. My classes remain full and the ratings continue to be stellar (which always surprises me). 

And so here I am on this Thursday, simply wondering, hmmmmm. It's bigger than me and needs to involve leadership that gets it...I'm smart enough to realize this.

Oh, Serenity Prayer, I am reciting you by the hour. I simply hope I have the power to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to accept the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. 

New Specs for 2024...Progressive...As If I'm Modern (As In, Better Able to See What I Read Below, Straight Ahead on a Screen, & in the Distance)

I had to wait until January to pick up my glasses, because the University had a shift in his vision insurance and the frames/lenses I that arrived in December wouldn't be covered until January. I had laser surgery in my 20s and I can still see far away without corrective glasses. I went 20 years without them, but then the near-sightedness went with age and I couldn't read the letters on books or the words I typed to screen. Now I can...I am back to glasses, but I hated the off my face, on my face, routine of teaching and eating. I can always see ahead of me, but nothing in front of my face.

Hence, progressive lenses and a new pair. I still remember the first set I got and how I returned them and said, "There's no way I can use these. They are awful." I was told, "Give them a week. Your eye muscles will correct themselves quickly and all will be right." I did. It did. I ate crow. 

I have to say the new lenses needed no adjustment. In fact, I instantly realized the prescription was just right because I walk around without even realizing I have them on.

No compliments from 20 students last night. They didn't even notice. They just see me as the nutty guy who is cluckity-cluck cluck all the time. Hey, I try. I really do.

Nice winds last night. Glad it wasn't accompanied with snow. That would have been something. Glad my house didn't land in Oz.

Two more classes to go and the winter-session is over.

As I tell them, "We got this." We have to. There is no choice.

Look at those grays.

Stole This From a Friend's BackYard Because I Didn't Have My Camera To Capture the Same Scene (Now, with a Dusting of Snow)

Devon is this little burg existing between Stratford and Milford. There's an Audubon Center, houses, a couple of shops, a gas station, but mostly homes that align the Housatonic River as it meets the Long Island Sound. It is most definitely a lung of the area, as the watershed fills up at high tide and goes out at low tide. It is also an estuary for birds, fish, mammals, reptiles, and amphibians. Ever time I visit my friend, I'm mesmerized by the sight from the backyard. Yes, at low tide, it can smell like mud and salty after-math, but most of the time it's simply lush with life. 

Yesterday, as I stopped to visit, the sky was blue, the sun was setting, and a flock of geese flew over the open space. The coloring was amazing and I wanted to snap a photo but didn't have my camera (hence a stolen photo to be a simulacra of what I was witness to). 

Anyone who paints would love this space because like Weir Farm in Wilton or ANYWHERE New Mexico, the light is constantly changing and the landscape has different magic depending on the time of day, shadows, and clouds. A painter could capture it every day and although the same markers would be there, the coloring would be different. It's a great way to focus on life and that is why they live there.

Of course, they've been through a rough patch, too...a father passed, then a family dog. I stopped by to give them a couple of gifts and to catch up meaning, purpose, possibility, and sanity. It's another oasis that makes this part of the world extra-special, especially when you arrive at sunset (I've yet to see it at sunrise).

And it's calming. There is so much chaos in everything right now, so I need this calming and I wish I could look out at a similar landscape all the time...perhaps that is a retirement goal...to find a space similar to this to finish out the years left. 

But for now...so much work, and for these reasons a need for friends who have found ways to center their way of knowing in such location. I imagine if they ever left the space, they'd always long for the ways a look out the window was always magical.

We deserve more spaces that could almost be a painting if the right artist was nearby. I suppose nobody does a better job than Maude, however.

For The Enjoyment of a Steak Burrito and the Happiness of a Christmas Present Given & Shared with the Giver

I bought Chitunga's girlfriend tickets to Syracuse Women's basketball - three games for two people (1) Boston College, (2) Louisville, and (3) Pittsburgh. She was a high school and college athlete and now coaches and teaches in upstate New York, so I figured a few games to escape to would be a positive. Besides, she could bring a friend and make an event out of it. 

Last night she sent a picture from the floor (great seats) where she went with her younger brother. I also bought her a pair of SU socks and told her I needed a photo of those, too. She delivered. And she also texted at 8 pm that the Orange won 71-64. It was great fun.

I, too, enjoyed a getaway as Leo & Bev recommended we check out the new Walnut Beach restaurant, La Catrina. It was authentic Mexican food and the nacho plate, burrito, and desserts were incredible. I took half the burrito home. Thankful Leo & Bev let me have a bit of their flan - it was excellent. And look at that, I have lunch for tomorrow. 

Alyssa probably hasn't been warned that I tend to write about the ridiculous things I make people do - hence the foot photo at a basketball game.

I'm super excited about going back to La Catrina as it was delicious. I said, "Jeepers, this is cheaper than Chipotles and so much more flavorful. I hope their little restaurant is successful, although I wonder why anyone would go out for Mexican to order a pizza. Leo said, "You shouldn't knock it unless you've tried it." He hasn't tried it, either.

Clean up from the storm was simply an act of pushing Snoopy's snow cone ice-droppings to the side. It was heavy and that was annoying, especially on the back porch where I needed to life it up and throw it over the railings. 

It's hard to believe that it's another Monday again, but I've been staying on top of the course and grade as soon as materials arrive. I've sort of mastered the art of this winter session class and appreciate that there's no choice but to push all to get the work done. I also love to see how much they progress in a very, very short time. They're slowly getting to the place where I'll be able to say, "Hey...look what you can do when you put your mind to it."

And with that, more papers came in, so back to work I go. 

A Day In Two Photos - Accomplishing the Creamy Tortellini & Sausage Soup & Participating in the Canine's New Game of Home-Stay Neurosis.

I'll begin with the neurosis. Ever since returning from Syracuse, Karal has resisted coming into our home on Mt. Pleasant. She loves going for rides, visiting friends, taking walks, and playing, but she's not thrilled to be indoors. Today, after a walk/run (yes, run) she wanted to go out back so I let her. She needs her time to do her lady things. But she didn't bark to come back in. One hour, then another went by and I kept checking on her but she sat in the middle of the lawn. The last time, as temperatures dropped, she was shivering. 

I went out to play with her (which she was more than happy to partake in) then tried to get her in, but nope. So, I did like she's trained me to do...I went online and watched training videos. This dog has a personality all of her own. In dog psychology, she has associated Mt. Pleasant with trauma, most likely being left alone. Now, Karal is a Covid dog and she was used to the company of three in the house, then two, but now one. She was also used to three, then two, now one walk(s) a day. Normally I take her every where with me, but I can't take her when I teach, and she hates being left alone. My thinking is, post Syracuse, she just doesn't want to be in the house by herself. This also has come at the time when the front porch has been closed for winter. It's too cold out there and although she loves the windows and laying on my writing chair I keep there, I can't leave her while I'm out because I'd feel guilty off the low temperatures.

So, I read about reintroducing snacks as a love gesture. First. I left a trail up to the back door. I let her be, but when I checked on her they were gone. Then I went out back with treats and laid on the back porch. She came up to sniff me, caught whiff of the snacks, and began licking my face. I did the 'shake,' 'down,' and 'stay' commands giving her snacks as rewards and reinforcing that she is, indeed, a good dog (a pain in the #$@$ @#$, but a good dog). I also left the door open with her favorite toys so my heat could run non stop - it was cold. I was patient, as she seemed to love being fed for doing her doggy things, but suddenly she simply ran inside, grabbed a toy, and went to her bed. 

Go figure. She keeps me guessing (and trained), I guess. 

Meanwhile, my one goal besides writing was to make a creamy soup, which I've never done before. It came out pretty good, but mastering the cream sauce didn't go as well as I planned. I think it's because I doubled the recipe without balancing out the heavy cream and cornstarch to match the onions, garlic, sausage, and carrots. They needed to cook first, with milk and spinach added towards the end. I never used the milk, because I kept making rue with the broth and heavy cream. It was still too thin, so I added two cans of creamy mushroom soup. Suddenly it thickened. I imagined it would need the milk today as it thickens over night (and I was right...it thickened most definitely)

I give it a B+. What I didn't anticipate was how heavy it would be. I wanted to use a new soup spoon, so got a bowl, a chunk of multigrain bread I got from a bakery, and sat down at 9 pm for dinner. I could only eat half of the bowl. It was thick and heavy with the tortellini. I guess it's like eating gnocchi - much harder to accomplish that initially perceived. I will share with friends tomorrow and wait for their thoughts....likely an A- after sitting for a night.

But today, I shall shovel whatever did fall in Connecticut and go back to writing...also grading. More projects came in. It's about an inch of snow and then a layer of rain. I need to attend to it before it freezes because that is a nightmare.

Ah, a day of rest for sure. 

Monday. Salad. Tuesday Salad. Wednesday. Salad. Thursday. Salad. Friday Bourbon Burger Because It Was Friday.

I've been going 14 hours a day planning, grading, teaching, coaching, cheering, and supporting 20 students in a winter session research course. And I've been good. Salads. When I got up yesterday, finished the two projects on my desk, I said, "I'm exhausted." So an invitation to the Dive Bar for lunch seemed perfect. I needed to drop off a gift to Yellow in West Haven anyway so it was two birds with one stone. 

Actually three. I ate and it felt great. I've been kidding that midlife is looking like a bulldog on its hind legs standing up his skinny legs. The round body is real. Mr. Potato-head on toothpick legs (covered in psoriasis). Beautiful.

I did grade last night a few more drafts that came in, rearranged furniture (which I hate, but will live with until spring because rearranging furniture is exhausting, and even cleaned floorboards because there was energy for it. This all means that guilt kicks in this morning and I need to get moving on semester projects because, well, the semester is here in just a week.

And I'll be grading. And planning. And all the above, but moving to soup. It finally feels like winter out there and middle-aged bones feel those temperatures completely different. I used to say, "I'm good to go above 32 degrees," but I want to add 10 degrees to that. It hurts to be outdoors moving. 

But I'll move, because....well, the walrus body. What else is new?

Soup-Soupa Soup, Dupa-Soupa Doopy Doop. Up Next: Tortellini Chicken Soup to Serve the Colder Days! My Asian Spoons Arrived

Happy New Year to me! Ever since I spent time in Tokyo, Japan, I've loved eating at noodle bars and sucking down incredible broth. I think part of the appeal is the spoons they use, then the slurping sounds of finishing the last bits in the bowl.

I'm happy to say that the spoons I wanted for Christmas arrived yesterday - a gift to myself. Every since Sue McV turned me on to eating Vietnamese, Korean, Japanese, and Thai, I've wanted to order good spoons, and for a long time, I've used the cheap plastic ones I found in an Asian market. I was down to two, so opted to go fancier and buy four more. Now I can serve soup to four guests. They are as nice as I wanted them to be. 

Good weight, too. Deep curves for more deliciousness.

I finished week 3 of the winter session class and have just one more week left before the new semester begins. I also have to grade 20 research proposals very quickly during the first week of the Spring semester. It's hard not to resent all the important emails coming at me with demands for the first week of classes, when I haven't taken a break like everyone else, and I don't have time for parties, retreats, lunch-meetings, and planning sessions.

It's easy. I can't be there. Simple as that.

But I am excited by the 20 students I have and am ready to admit that the Action Research class is one of my favorite classes to teach, especially since it continues in the first summer session with Capstone. I love seeing everything come to completion (and it reminds me of the Culminating Projects I sponsored at the Brown for so many years. Sadly, colleagues voted to remove the Capstone to quicken certification, and so our students will not get the full preparation they deserve (even after other colleagues and I worked so hard to reinvent the sequence. Ah, but I admit, too - it's a LOT. But I love accomplishing the work and so do the students. It's like we're thrown an impossible task and we achieve it. It feels good in the end and they definitely are prepared for a sustained career of action research in their practice.

Alas, it shall be no more, and now we have to figure out what it shall be. 

As I told my students, today is the first TGIF of 2024, as last week doesn't count with the holidays and all. Now we're all in need of a weekend. North of us, they'll likely get a snow day, too, but we won't be so lucky...just a coat over the weekend.

And soup. Delicious, warming soup...with new spoons. I can't wait.

The Comfy Original - Waking Up to an Out of This World, Much Warmer, Morning-Ritual Experience. My Winters Are Forever Changed

The gift that kept on giving this year was that everyone was receiving The Comfy Original from my mom.  On Christmas Eve-Eve I saw the spread of walk-around, hooded blankets and guessed I would get one, too. I did. On Christmas Eve and, truth be told, I figured I'd regift it.

Lo and behold, the temperature dropped. I sleep in my underwear and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. I would sleep naked but the thought of that on my sheets is not where I like my mind to go (I'll leave that to yours). The result of these skimpy sleep attire is when I come to make coffee, I am usually not properly dressed...so much so that my dad always asks, "Aren't you cold?"

Well, I was. But not any more. 

I got my coffee and began my day...writing, as usual...when I saw the Comfy box (so original) and I thought, it might be a good idea to put it on. It was the first really frigid morning in my house. So on it went and I felt like a stripper...all decked out on top with bare legs sticking out underneath. An ugly stripper, albeit.

I now have it on a hook in the closet by my kitchen so I can put it on every morning as I come down the stairs. I also thought I looked like an idiot, so I grabbed a couple items from my foo foo fee potpourri bowl I got on clearance. Of course I thought, "I wonder what I'd look like as an alien?"

Easy peasy. I made it happen.

So, now anyone peeping in my windows in the a.m. to view my rituals will likely see (at least during winter) me in my Comfy Original -- a little toastier than usual. I won't do the alien eyes every day, because they are hard to keep in place for long. I do have alien glasses in my office on campus, though - I may bring them home so I can ritually begin my day this way. My life would be so much better if I was an alien (or at least abducted by) like I used to dream as a kid.

Nanu Nanu.

But nope. Just comfort instead. 

Day 3 of a New Year. Served a Turkey Sandwich on a Butter Dish and Now Have a Knob on My Head Thanks to a Hampton Bay Pull-Chord Disaster

I wish there was more blood. When I got up, I wanted to go to the emergency room because I knocked myself out with the Hampton Bay pull-chord on the ceiling fan in my bedroom. Truth is, I slept wonderfully on Monday night, so much that I messed my sheets up bad. So, I wanted to shake them as I made my bed in the morning. When I shook my bedspread, however, the physical wave I made added such force that it whacked the ceiling fan chord really hard, causing it to break and fling the "Hampton Bay" knobs off the metal branch directly into my noggin'. It was such a fast, hard hit that it knocked me to the ground. 

Funnier, probably, was me trying to untangle the chord on the ceiling fan from a step ladder on my bed afterwards (as I have vaulted ceilings)(probably not the best idea). 

I live a Jerry Lewis movie.

Class went wonderful and Chitunga made his way back to Des Moines, Iowa, safely after a long weekend with Sue and Dave (and a great night with Lys at the Galt House)(as Sue says, "He's such a romantic.")

Then, while prepping a fast dinner before class, I got a plate out of the cabinet. When I sat down to teach class, though,  with my dinner of turkey, cheese, and wheat bread, I noticed I put the sandwich on the butter-dish and not the plate. I ate the sandwich anyway. 

Funny how we can think we can turn a new corner just because it's a new year, only to find out that it will likely be the same ol,' same ol,' because I am who I am and it is what it always shall be this way.

Actually, it's the back to University world that always has my brain twisted in a million and one directions. Yesterday was the 2nd of January which means many, many people have returned and are back to their emails, needs, requests, demands, and desire to set up meetings. 

Um, I'm teaching (and loving it as I always do). Your emails have to wait.

But now, waking up, I'm thinking about doing coffee in a shot glass. I feel like a Bugs Bunny cartoon where the anvil fell from the sky and knocked my character out.

"It's a concussion," I hear them saying, "but tell us again how you got that bump on your head?"

"Well, I was making my bed." 

Here's to no concussion. Just a bump on my head, my storytelling, and this morning's post. 

Saving a Gift from Tunga for My Birthday Month...a Smoker for Bourbon Drinks (as I Had in Birmingham, Alabama &, More Recently, Milford, CT)

There was a mishap, a minor cluck-up, where a gift for me was not given to me because it was hidden in a place that was easy to forget about. Either way, the gift was found yesterday and given to me while sipping soup. A bourbon smoker, which I can't wait to try out, but I'm seriously putting it aside for a month. I want a life cleanse of everything (and I'm thinking back to my 30s & 40s where I ran every day and that was my therapy...I want to run again....miles and miles and miles...without any pain). Addictions are weird. Sipping bourbon is beautiful, but it's not exercise. 

We shall see how it all goes. Class tonight, tomorrow night, and Thursday night. I need to be on my A-game to get everyone to the end. I am starting to feel their panic, although they have this...I just have to get them to do the parts and be comfortable with each one. The literature review comes this week and a data plan next week and it is all done. They're then unleashed to collect materials for the semester. 

I am admitting here, I hit more stores for Clearance racks. I did pretty good, in fact, and am proud of my frugal purchases...spending money without spending money.

The report is that Alyssa made it to Syracuse by 10:30 a.m. and Tunga spent last night with Sue & Dave and is venturing back to Iowa this morning. I'm channeling the 13 years I did the same, driving back and forth to Syracuse from Louisville during my holiday break...this of course is different, because he's in Des Moines and she is in central New York.

I've also decided to keep the Christmas stuff up for another week. I like the lights and there's something about the three wisemen arriving with gifts weeks after the birthday of Santa Clause, so I can keep my tree up longer if I want. I truly love staring at it in silence (no t.v....just lights and my laptop and keyboard finger-tapping)

I finally made it to the grocery store but didn't stock up too successfully - just enough to tie me over a couple of days. I have milk, so back to Cheerios I will go. It might take a couple of days for the bananas to ripen, though. And I had pumpkin samosas for dinner....little late in the season, but they are always delicious. I need to get a good dipping sauce for when I make them.

New goal of falling asleep earlier and getting up earlier is on the radar. The last two days I've slept until after 9 a.m. and I'm thinking, "What is going on?" Of course, the sinuses/allergies/cold is still clogging me up, so it might be that, too. I wonder what it's like to have normal nostrils and no pressure...seems I live yearlong with the crud in my mid-life.

And as for the rain while I was gone, it must of been a downpour, because the sump pumps are still doing their thing all over Stratford. Because the ground isn't frozen and it's over saturated, it's coming up through the basement floors. We need a freeze or 90 degree weather soon.

Happy Tuesday. I like when we have Monday's off.