Definitely a New Experience: Waking Up in Your Kid's Space Trying to Get Acclimated Over His French-Pressed Coffee

My flight was delayed and delayed and delayed, but I made it by 11 and we sat up talking until 1 a.m. - he had an 8 a.m. meeting. He's in a great location, and has set himself up nicely, although I have to laugh that every cupboard has items organized, efficient, and spaced perfectly. In fact, I feel like I'm a giant dirt ball going to ruin his things. He's also a man of a million smells and the air fresheners are thick - almost to the point of mall department store perfume departments. It's the Axe phase most middle school boys go through - it's just Chitunga has expanded and built upon the smells he likes in his spaces. 

He warned me about the train (he lives by the tracks) but so far no locomotion. The traffic outside can be heard, though, people coming downtown for work. I discovered the art of tying a black pillowcase over my eyes to block out the sun to sleep a little longer. My brain starts working as soon as it detects light. Funny, he's at the almost 30 phase where his brain doesn't shut off at night and he can't fall asleep. I hated that bit...the part where the frontal cortex comes to fruition and you realize your full rational self. All the logic (and worry)(and wonder) falls into place. 

He bought a new couch...and adult one (he said). Online. I will never understand this generation's online shopping obsession. It's nice, but feels like a couch you'd get online. Like sitting on bricks. 

But it's great to come into a space where you're so represented: Butch, Sue, cousins, Aunts, Uncles, Louisville, gifts over the years, books, artwork. He's brought Connecticut (and Syracuse) with him is his DesMoines space. It feels like home away from home. 

And with the 2nd bedroom, I also have my own bathroom. They are nice. Even the air mattress he purchased was comfortable. I laughed, though, because the towels he left me are tied with a bow (fresh from wherever her purchased them). It's funny, because I've always used out-of-town guests to advance my own home -- that is, new beds, new items, rearrangements, grown-up things as people came to visit. 

And I remember the Pier One gift card my mom got me so I could begin adulting in Kentucky. 

Heading to the terminal, the culture of human beings changed in the same way it used to as I headed back to the midwest. All the cultures, wonders, and diversity of the world, get rather weighty and milky as you head towards the gates. The people watching was irreplaceable. I'm still in awe, actually.

This coffee, however, is delicious. I just have to find the scent that is causing the headache. It's just one and it's a smell that pinches right at my temple.

Here's to the adventure. 

Heading MidWest for a Bit & Teaching a Grad Course from Des Moines. More Importantly, I'm Finally Visiting Chitunga in Iowa...Way Overdue

I won't land until 9:30 pm, Central, but I'm posting now. I finished a 4 hour grad class last night and need to get read for next week, but I'll grade, plan, record, and teach from Iowa because (a) I want/need a break, (b) I want/need to see Chitunga, and (c) getting there is long overdue. Even so, it's almost impossible to find a break with CWP-Fairfield work and the lack of colleagues to teach the courses required to get students certified. Picture me inside a balloon underneath the ocean. I'm trying to stay dry, but all the leaks have been starting and I'm simply trying to survive...

...and do my best for the students (some things will never change)

...and invest in a profession I love (and needs incredible support).

I booked the flight a while ago and will problem solve how to get the course taught, but I imagine Chitunga, like me, will need his alone time so I'll be left time to work on the materials needing to get done. And I will see a new part of the nation. Of course, I'm also having flashbacks of every Iowan I've ever met...recall taking in a kid named Joe when he interned at the Louisville Zoo. He was from Iowa. His host family couldn't take another second of him and somehow dropped him at my place never to be picked up. I was stuck with he kid for the entire summer....he never stopped talking...he talked at the pace of Droopy Dog...and he was as interesting as a fence post. Actually, a fence post is much more intriguing. And he didn't have a car and I had to drive him everywhere. I sort of have a bad taste about the State in my  mind.

Karal is staying with Shirley (I am so, so, so thankful. I owe her BIG TIME) and I'll return next Tuesday night late...Chitunga and I are hoping to meet up again in Syracuse at the end of June, too. Yes, Mom...I now know what it was like for you when I lived in Kentucky all those years. The distance is good, I suppose, but it's also not fun.

Also, I'm not sure who turned up the humidity in CT yesterday, but they can turn it back down. I love June for warm days and cool nights. I don't need to sweat as I type indoors. I also don't want to turn the air condition on...that's for July. 

Ah, here's to travel. Not sure what adventure the day will bring, but I do look forward to waking up in my kid's apartment. Curious what the amenities will be. Looking forward to spoiling him.

There Are Many Pleasure To Being the Mt. Pleasant Porch Writer, Including Progenitors Who Sing Italian Operas as They Walk By

The beautiful thing about spring, summer, fall writing and work is I operate from my front porch and am witness to the Universe of Mt. Pleasant. In addition to the diversity of the U.S. walking by my house to Wooster Middle School are the countless number of others who meander down my street doing as they do: exercise, strolling, running, taking kids for walks, and recollecting with Italian opera ballads at the top of one's lungs, including this fellow who I captured somewhere between grading a Think Piece and prepping an asynchronous research course for tonight. It's simply precious.

Last night, I had the honor of hosting perhaps the last Johnson, Sealey, Wooley gathering before their big move to Penn State, although we made arrangements that they might move in for a few days as they need to be out of their house before their house is ready (the Metallica concert is in August...that can wait). 

Dave made the most delicious lemon pasta dish (I'm so learning how to make this for my mom and sisters) and I grilled up a storm. I'm so used to the back and forth gatherings, that I haven't gotten my head around the fact that they are actually moving away from here. They are family and so much a part of my routine. I love them to death: intellect, craziness, laughter, and good ol' figuring out the life shit stuff.

I'm waking up to a household of dishes needing to be put away, a class that needs to be recorded for tonight, and a warehouse of supplies needing to be sorted in my office on campus. July is approaching fast. But if I could assist today's post with loud operatic male singing, I would, simply to capture the joy this man brings to the street every day.

Bio-Indicators. I Have Psoriasis and My Legs are a Barometer for the Stress in the Work I Do (This is What Happens When I Don't Stay On Top of My Health)

My sisters, Mom, and I have psoriasis. It is hereditary and it is invoked by stress levels that produce the excessive skin reproduction in spots that is out of our control (but in our control, because it is a measurement of stress). I am on medication, but insurance only allows treatments at a paced scale, and even when I am mentally feeling in control of the amount of work coming at me, my body has a different level of measurement. My legs get inflamed, and it tells the story of the internal material I am navigating, but have no control of...

...this is the work being put upon me. It shows in my skin. 

Next week, I go for treatment, which is 100 wasp stings of Kennalog that will subdue the stress on my legs for a few month. Still, the body reacts as it will to what we are willing to endure mentally. I'm in this to support teachers, who I know support young people, but our institutions wreak another havoc. I'm aware of this, as are my legs - and the are burning internal, biological warfare right now, articulating another scenario. 

Yes, I know I should do less, fight less, and operate to calm the biological battle in me, but this is the work of our times, so what do I do? I stay on top of it (thank the Great Whatever for insurance), but that might not even be enough. 

Little is known about psoriasis and the way it plagues our bodies, and I'm thankful it is only on my legs and not on my neck, scalp, or arms. Still, I know that one solution to curing it is living a calmer life of self-care, push-back, and human self-perseverance. I feel lucky when my stress level is subdued and 99% of the time, I like to think I'm on top of my game, but then the body has another story to tell. It is not liking the insanity of work that has been placed on me this year as so many of my colleagues have departed, and I'm doing what I can to sustain programs for our students.

This is what my body is telling me, and I have to rearrange the narrative. I know our systems most definitely don't care about how its workers are treated. I feel as if my legs are on fire. My symptoms show externally, and I imagine it is nothing compared to the internal damage such work causes. It will be gone upon Kennelog shots. But for now, I chronicle the legs as evidence of how a body reacts to the inequities, harshness, and realities of the work place.

I'm fortunate to work and to have work, but I wonder, "At what cost?'

This too shall pass (I hope).

Loved Celebrating 2023 Graduates in 2024 - the Science Trio I Had in Content Literacy, Action Research, and Capstone. Brilliant Teachers I Was Proud to Teach

There names didn't appear in a commencement program until 2024, because their graduate degree was confirmed in August. So, they called a few weeks ago to ask me for a program and I said, "I owe you dinner anyway. I promised to have you over." Last night they came, and it was wonderful to hear the experiences of their first year: one in Trumbull, one in Westport, and the other at Fairfield Prep. They were easily three of the smartest students I've had over the years and Fairfield University's Math and Science Departments should be proud. They were top-notch all the way.

"I'll only eat chicken," admitted Amanda, so that is what I cooked (with Kris Sealey's Trini spices). Also made potato salad, grilled vegetables, had appetizers, and a good bread. They brought many desserts (of which I drove over to friends after they left - I love desserts, but no my tastes and Italian desserts are not my style...will never understand why they are favored by people. But I am thankful....and giving. Let those enjoy them that enjoy them.

Back to grad classes for the next four weeks (all online) and to balance out CWP's summer programs along the way. Always fascinating to meet with old students to hear more about their experiences and to recognize, well, I'm one of the only ones left. They have no idea the turbulence behind the scenes the last few years...I did my best to keep them all protected. This is the way of good teaching, I've learned. They don't need to know the uglier side of it all.

Wishing the best for these three educators and loving that a beautiful yellow Jeep was in my driveway. I sent to Chitunga right away, as that was the plan all along, but both of us are economical strategic and know that Jeeps look good, but guzzle gas. We dream, but live on Earth.

Perhaps, one day. 

K-12 teachers have just a few weeks left. Here's to all of them and the incredible work they do.

Pool Boy. Pool Boy. Can You Come Help Me with My Deck? Why Yes. My Son Purchased Me a Powerwasher and I'm Quite Magical

10 a.m. - 3 p.m. I worked on my friend Oona's deck. She bought an apartment near Walnut Beach but knew the back patio needed work. There were barnacles growing on everything, and layers of black and green mold. She wants to repaint it, but first it needed to be cleaned. 5 hours of power washing, with an incredible roast beef hoagie from Lassies. That was worth the entire time of labor. So good.

Oona sat in a sun chair watching and simply said, "This is therapeutic." I said, "I know." I imagine this is what a hygienist feels scraping tar off of teeth. It's laser sharp water work removing all the stains. Even the furniture. "Oh, Bryan. That came with the place. I'm throwing all that out." Ah, but when I got the power washer to it, the furniture was like new. It simply needed all the years of mold washed out. Then it was like brand new. "It even has a print of leaves." 

Yup.

I do find power washing hypnotic and I'm amazed at all the good it can do. Of course, Oona's sons still need to prep for a paint job, and that will be a long, tedious task (I hope they beat the heat). 

I even power washed the green electric box outside of her home. "This isn't supposed to be black, you know?" I returned it to its green state so the grandkids can use it as an Island like we used to do as kids.

And someone filled her fridge with fancy sparkling water, which I drank enthusiastically to fight off the heat. Beautiful day. But after 5 hours, my hose needs some rest.

At night, I was also paid in dinner....two great meals in one day. Chitunga did great buying me a power washer. I will be sure to make a living with it for some time now. 

I Always Figured My Mid-Life Crisis Would Be Something Unique, But I've Promised the Boys and Family, I'm Not Taking In Any New Kids (Just Sneakers)

I have a thing...I like my sneakers with suits for work, but I also love my sneakers for long hikes (and a vision of returning to running, although my hernia and knees desire otherwise). I wear off treads of shoes quickly, because I'm always on the move, whether intentionally or unintentionally. So, I cycle in and out of Saucony purchases, and I wanted both new running and walking shoes. So I did both, although I like them so much I may wait until Fall semester to break them in (just work out the platforms I currently have).

And I napped yesterday. Maybe it's the pollen, but it definitely is the Cottonwoods. My eyes were swollen and I woke up wanting to go back to bed. By 4 pm I gave in and napped for an hour. I didn't want to cook. I didn't want to see people. I didn't want to work or thing. I needed to sleep, so I did. If I look back in history, this is normal. The pollen does me in. 

My goal for this Saturday is to enjoy 85-degree weather, to plant the Milkweed for monarchs (fingers crossed it works) and to simply settle into the warmer days of summer. I still don't have my air on, and I don't want it on. I like June because it's warm during the day and cool at night. You can keep the windows open for sneezes and watery eyes. 

But it will be warm, which does change the directions of things, including how I hope to best spend my days...hopefully outside....definitely in soil with seedlings.

And with that....we have a Saturday. It is now June, and technically I'm off contract with the University (years, right).