March 6 Slice of Life Story Challenge: Ski It If You Can

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 15th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate by posting a story per day.

Yesterday, was as close to a perfect ski day as I’ve ever had.

The sun was shining. It was warm (but not too warm). There was plenty of snow. And we were at Mad River Glen—my favorite place in the world to ski. Its motto is Mad River Glen, Ski It If You Can because the terrain is famously technical and steep.

It was my daughter’s first time at Mad River. She’s twelve, and, like everyone in my family, she’s been skiing since she was a baby. She’s strong, and fast, and confident. She’s the only girl on her freeski team! Yesterday, she competed in a freeski competition—her fourth comp this season—and she did great.

Watching Lily compete is so much fun, as her mom. I can’t even describe the feeling of pride. It’s overwhelming, really.

In a freeski competition, skiers earn points in several categories - fluidity, control, style & energy, technique, and line. So, if you aren’t super fast, you can earn points in other ways. Even if you aren’t doing huge jumps, you can still do fairly well. It’s a really fun sport for skiers that are not into racing.

Lily and I arrived on time, at 7:30am to get her bib and our lift tickets. She joined the rest of her team and we all listened to the organizers give a little welcome. Then, the athletes were allowed to get on the lift to go see the course and plan out their run (it’s called course inspection).

Mad River Glen is home to the oldest working chairlift in the country (maybe even all of North America?). It’s an ancient single chair lift that you ride by yourself. It’s very unique and special, and a point of pride for MRG. I have vivid memories of riding the single chair in high school, and it was super exciting to watch Lily get on the single chair for the first time. I took a video of her getting on the lift — I’ve never felt more like a mom!

Once Lily was off with her team, I was free to ski until it was time to watch her run. I had spent a lot of time at this ski area as a teenager and it was so much fun to have all kinds of memories flooding back. Nothing has changed at all at MRG since I was in high school! Even the music playing from the lifts was just how I remembered it.

A surprising thing happened, too. I generally do not have great memories of high school. I tend to talk negatively about pretty much everything related to my teenage stage. I was nerdy and didn’t have a lot of friends. But as I skied the same trails I used to ski, and explored the old woods I used to know so well, I was surprised at how happy it made me to remember this place and the time spent there.

When it was time for Lily’s run, I joined the other parents from our ski club and we all cheered for our kids, other peoples kids, all the kids. One thing about freeski that is very special is the close-knit community.

Lily did really well on her run, and we spent the rest of the day skiing together. At one point, her friends saw us in the lift line and asked Lily if she wanted to join them—and she (gasp) chose to keep skiing with her mom! Whoa, best day ever for me.

I hope someday, Lily will have that same connection to the places we’ve taken her so often, and to the outdoors, and skiing.

March 4 Slice of Life Story Challenge: Something Disgusting

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 15th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate by posting a story per day.

A few weeks ago I had a small surgery on my left shoulder to remove a patch of melanoma — skin cancer. I’m 43, and I’ve already had similar procedures three additional times in the past few years. The scars are kind of like tattoos —they remind me that I’m not going to live forever.

Each time I’ve had the procedure, the scars heal in a similar way. First they hurt like hell. There’s a visible dent in my body where they’ve removed the cancer plus some extra tissue just in case—like I imagine a bullet wound probably looks. Then the scar gets really itchy and hot. Then the area around the scar gets swollen and stiff and I’m supposed to massage the area to break up the scar tissue — and that’s when this really gross thing happens.

Today, I was pushing on the scar on the back of my shoulder and it… popped….or crunched is probably more accurate. What I mean is that it made an audible crunching and sound and popping sensation. I immediately gagged and felt dizzy with wooziness.

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwah! Why does cancer have to be so gross?

March 3 Slice of Life Story Challenge: Meet-Cute

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 15th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate by posting a story per day.

I learned a new thing today! Maybe everyone already knows what a meet-cute is, but I had never heard the phrase until today. It’s when two characters meet in a charming way that leads to a romantic relationship—like in a romcom. (However, when I say or hear the word aloud, I can’t not hear “meat-cute” which actually sounds disgusting).

My husband and I met in a charming way, so I guess we had our own meet-cute. (Not meat-cute).

Picture it. 1999. Burlington, Vermont. It was the summer before my senior year in college. I had just turned 21 and I was having coffee with a friend, Maya, at a sidewalk cafe on a beautiful sunny, August morning.

I looked up from our table to see a tall guy, with jet black hair, wearing sunglasses, walking up to our table.

“Ooooh that’s Brinton,” Maya said in a low voice. “I have to introduce you to him.” She said this in a way that meant You’re going to like him.

I can’t really remember what else anybody said, except that he stood next to our table and when he took off his sunglasses, he looked right at me the whole time he was talking. Like in a really, really obvious way. And instead of being annoyed, or creeped out, I looked right back at him and everything seemed to go in slow motion—just like in a rom com.

Anyway, that’s how we met. That’s my meet-cute moment!

March 2 Slice of Life Story Challenge: Snow Report

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 15th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate by posting a story per day.

The wind howled as I pulled open the frozen door of the yurt. Although I was bundled in every kind of ski layer - wool base layers, fleece layers, down layers, neck warmers, helmet, goggles, ski boots - I was frozen to the bone.

I stomped my way into the yurt, and made my way over to the table where my two kids were already warming up by the fireplace. A group of men in their sixties and seventies was at another table putting on their boots and chatting.

As I started to take off my mittens I became aware that one of them was talking to me. “I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you with my helmet and all my layers covering my head,” I said, and I pulled off my helmet.

“Oh I was just asking these young people for the snow report!” said one of the men. I recognized him - I had seen him around the mountain over the years.

Jackson, my eight-year-old, piped up. “Oh! It’s pretty wind scoured up there! It’s dust on crust. Pretty bullet proof. The wind is gusting.”

We all chuckled, hearing Jackson’s squeaky little voice rattle off the weather report the way a seasoned ski reporter might.

“Don’t forget your hand warmers!” Jackson added.

March 1 Slice of Life Story Challenge: Legos Worth More Than Gold

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 15th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate by posting a story per day.

A study recently found that many discontinued Lego sets are more valuable than gold. Can you believe that?

As I write this, my eight-year-old son is building with Legos and two gigantic clear plastic storage bins of Legos sits in front of us. Both of my kids are Lego maniacs. Neither of them has really been interested in many other toys, so every birthday, every holiday, and all their allowance for the past decade has basically gone to Legos. It’s a lot.

Now I’m picturing those plastic bins filled with gold coins instead of plastic bricks — that’s a lot of gold!

“Jackson, did you know your Legos are worth more than gold?” I ask my son.

“Wow so that means that if I were to sell all of our Legos that would be fortune!” he says excitedly.

“Yeah… if you could get somebody to buy them. Do you think you could get somebody to buy them?” I ask.

“No way!”

“You don’t think anybody would want them?”

“No! Because it took years and years and years to collect them. You can’t sell them even if it’s a fortune.” He rolls his eyes as if this is so obvious it should not require any explanation.

I wonder if my kids will keep their Legos into adulthood. Will they tote these bins with them from apartment to apartment, like I did with all my mix tapes and CDs? Will they sit in our basement gathering dust? Will one of them someday have kids to pass them on to?

I guess, like with any investment, only time will tell.

January 4 Slice of Life Story Challenge: The Slow Round

Every Tuesday my Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I host the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Teachers from all around the world participate in sharing a story each week.

I’ve been listening to the podcast Working it Out hosted by comedian Mike Birbiglia. It’s a great podcast for writing teachers because he invites other comedians and creative people to work on “bits” together. He and his guests take turns sharing jokes or stories they’ve been working on and they give each other feedback.

One of the things Mike does (I feel like I know him on a first-name basis now) in each episode is something called “The Slow Round.” I think he mentioned that it came from a book on writing, but I can’t seem to remember now. Anyway, in the slow round, he asks his guests different questions to prompt ideas. As the guest shares their response, I can’t help think about my own responses while I listen. Here’s one of his prompts.

What’s a smell you remember from your childhood?

You can’t help think about your own response once the question is asked. A smell I remember is the smell of my grandma and grandpa’s house. It was a mix of cigarette smoke and lasagna baking in the oven. I can remember that smell so vividly and it brings back the sound of my grandpa’s loud, booming voice, always joking, always telling a story (and always a LOT of profanity—always very exciting for a young kid to hear). And my grandma chiming in and everyone cackling. The two of them had a little routine - like Lucy and Ricky Ricardo. They bickered constantly - but it was hilarious.

For years my grandpa had this running joke he’d play on my grandma - hiding rubber chickens in unexpected places. For some reason this pissed her off - or at least she would convincingly feign being angry. We’d all be eating lunch and you’d hear her scream from the bathroom, “Godammit Donald! Cut it out with the f’in chickens!” He’d shout back, “Jesus Christ, Peggy, calm your britches it’s just a chicken. Heh heh heh.” Then he’d turn to us , a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, “You see that, kids. Your grandma hates those goddam chickens. Heh heh heh.” Then my grandma would come out of the bathroom holding a rubber chicken between two fingers, as if they were roadkill.

Thinking back, they really understood how not to take yourself too seriously. They could find the punchline in anything. I wonder what they would say now, if they were still alive.

One Little Word for 2022: TOGETHER

Each year, my colleagues and I choose one little word to sum up our goals and resolutions for the new year. Last year, I chose inconceivable as my word, and 2021 lived up to the potential that my one little word suggested. 2021 somehow found a way to be inconceivably worse than 2020, on a micro and macro scale.

In 2021, as the global pandemic raged on, climate change worsened, and women’s rights took enormous steps backwards, I experienced the death of three different family members. I struggled with a health crisis, and worrying constantly about my kids It was, by any measure, a terrible year.

Even still, I’m aware of how lucky I am, and how privileged I am - to be alive, to have healthy children, to have a house to live in, and to be surrounded by love and friendship. The mental friction of being caught between so much stress and so much to be thankful for is something I think a lot of people can relate to right now, as the pandemic stretches on and on and its impact reaches deeper and deeper into our daily lives and relationships. I know I’m not alone.

So my one little word for 2022 is TOGETHER.

I have to constantly remind myself that I am not the only one - I’m not the only one who has lost someone this year, or who has had to deal with a health issue, or is worried about their kids. Everyone on earth right now is living through a collective traumatic experience. We are in the pandemic together whether or not we want to be.

Recently, a friend relayed a story to me about planning for a play date for her son. My friend had texted the other parents a friendly reminder that the kids would need to wear masks in the house. The other parent texted her back “WE’RE NOT DOING COVID.” Whaaaat? We’re not doing covid? What the hell response is that?

Wow, I wish I could simply say, “WE’RE NOT DOING CANCER” or “WE’RE NOT DOING OLD AGE” but unfortunately, I live in the real world.

I actually feel bad for the person who thinks that way. We’re not doing covid. By refusing to acknowledge reality, they are cutting themselves off from their community. Instead of tapping into the support that comes from being in it together, they’re choosing isolation.

I’m hoping to make 2022 a year where I can appreciate the people in my life who are “in it” together with me. They are what got me through 2021 — maybe this year I can return the favor.

April Powers: Tuesday Slice of Life Story Challenge

Every Tuesday my Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I host the Slice of Life Story Challenge. Teachers from all around the world participate in sharing a story each week.

April isn’t even over yet and already this month has been filled with momentous events for my family and me!

Early on in the month, my eleven year old daughter competed in her only Free Ski Competition of the season. Because of the pandemic, her team’s opportunities to compete were limited, so this was the only competition she was able to do. She was amazing!

A few days later, I had surgery for melanoma. The surgery itself was no big deal, really, just an incision on the back of my arm, a few centimeters, I could hardly feel it. But the cancer was a big deal to me. It has loomed over me all winter, infecting everything I do with worry… Now it’s gone!

Then, not long after that, my daughter’s ski team hiked Tuckerman’s Ravine! It was a milestone and bucket list item for ME, and doing it with my kid was just about the most amazing day I’ve had in my life. Graduation day, wedding day, the birth of my two children… hiking and skiing this famous bowl on a beautiful spring day was right up there.

The very next day was the last day of the official season for our local ski resort. It was another beautiful spring ski day, and with all the tourists gone it felt like a giant family party — socially distanced and with skiing. People were skiing in tee shirts and bathing suits, music was playing. It was a beautiful day to wrap up a very strange season.

Then a few days after that, I skinned up Madonna mountain to celebrate my 100th Day of skiing this season. Getting to 100 Days is a milestone for me. The last time I was able to do it I was in college and working as a ski instructor. Because of the pandemic, my work schedule is cut in half, which isn’t great financially, but has been really good for my work—life, ski—life balance!

A few days later, with trails dry enough due to a stretch of unusually sunny and pleasant weather, I rode my mountain bike for the first time in the season. Another milestone and fun thing, especially because it isn’t every year that mountain bike season and ski season overlap!

Then a few days after that, in typical Vermont fashion for April, it snowed 2 feet! So I got to ski some more! In fact, I skinned and mountain biked in the same day! We call it a Double Dip and it’s rare! The stars really have to align for the bike trails to be dry enough while there is still plenty of snow in the mountains.

So… lots to celebrate over the past few weeks. I’m filled with gratitude for the amazing place where I live. And there’s still time for April Powers to grant a few more wishes before the month is over.

P.S. April Powers is something I just made up and I’m hoping it catches… lol.

An Old Dog's Sleep Cycle: Day 31 Slice of Life Story Challenge

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 14th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate in posting a story per day.

It was 2am. A full moon was illuminating our quiet neighborhood in a bluish light. A warm breeze rustled through the branches of trees. Lily, Jackson were each snuggled in their beds. Every member of the household was deep, deep asleep. The whole neighborhood was deep, deep asleep. Not a creature was stirring.

Except Indie.

Indie, our scruffy little thirteen year old dog, awoke from his sleep all of a sudden, and sat up straight.

“Ruff.”

Brinton and I only barely registered this. Indie stood up, turned around in a few circles, and curled back up to try to sleep. But he didn’t fall back asleep.

“Meeeeioo,” he whined. It sounded something a little bit like a cat’s mew. But Brinton and I still didn’t wake up.

“Meeiooo mieooo” he whined some more. Then he stood up, walked across my legs, stepping on them with his pointy paws, and hopped off the bed. He made a soft thump as he landed.

By now I was aware that he was awake but I hoped that if I just stayed asleep he would go back to sleep too.

But he didn’t. “Meeeiooo meeeooo mieooo” he cried, louder, and licked my hands.

I sat up in bed, dizzy with sleep, and sick to my stomach with how tired I was. “Ugggh.. Indie how could you do this to me?” I whispered, as I slipped out of bed and stumbled around in the dark.

Indie followed me down the stairs, and I let him out the kitchen sliding glass door to the back yard, hooking him to a long lead we use at night. He’s deaf in his old age, so he doesn’t hear us and he can’t see us when we call him to come in at night.

The moment Indie was out of the house he barked… and barked…. and barked…. after a few minutes I knew I couldn’t let him stay outside. He was going to wake up the entire neighborhood.

I tiptoed onto the damp deck to give his lead a gentle tug, just enough for him to get the idea to come back to me. He trotted back into the house happily, followed me back upstairs, and waited expectantly for me to lift him back up to the foot of the bed. He turned around in a circle three times, and then settled back in to sleep.

And so the entire cycle began again.

Magic 8 Ball: Day 30 Slice of Life Story Challenge

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 14th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate in posting a story per day.

Jackson reached into a bin of stretch plastic animals. “Look at this one!”

He squeezed a toy alligator and it’s eyeballs bugged out.

Together we browsed the bins of small toys: rubber finger puppets shaped like monsters, glow-in-the-dark squishy aliens, small jars of goo, and tiny erasers shaped like food.

On the top shelf my eyes landed on a Magic 8 Ball, just like the ones I remembered from my childhood.

“Jackson. Look! A Magic 8 Ball!”

“Whooooooooah. That’s it. That’s what I’m getting.”

A few minutes later, in the car he pulled the Magic 8 Ball from it’s box.

Lily, eleven years old, muttered something pessimistic about it just being a cube floating in water and rolled her eyes. Undeterred by his older sister’s skepticism, Jackson asked me, “Is it real? Is it magic?”

Without hesitation I replied. “Yes, buddy. But it only works if you actually believe that it’s magic,” and Jackson’s eyes widened and he gave a hearty, “Oh ho ho ho ho. This is is gonna be good." Lily grumbled some more.

Then Jackson proceeded to ask questions.

“Will we have a good day today?”

Signs point to yes.

“Is Lily annoyed right now?”

Certainly.

Then he gave it a question designed to test its powers: “Is it sunny today?”

YES

Having had three reasonable answers in a row his amazement and excitement only grew.

“Will I ever get married?”

The 8 Ball answered, “Certainly” and Jackson was thrilled. “YES!” he shouted, while his sister gagged.

All the way home, Jackson asked question after question.

Then, at home, he asked even more questions.

At dinner I had to set the Magic 8 Ball in a separate room, so that he would stop asking questions long enough to eat food.

And finally, at bed time, he was still filled with questions to ask. By now the Magic 8 Ball had foretold (in the form of yes/no responses) that Jackson would live for 500 years, that he would be happy, that his sister was tired, mad, happy, and hangry, that I had secrets, and that his father would lose all his hair. All that and much more.

Finally, sleepy and fresh out of questions to ask, Jackson climbed into bed with the Magic 8 Ball on the bedside table, ready to provide more answers the moment he wakes up.

Out Like a Lion: Day 29 Slice of Life Story Challenge

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 14th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate in posting a story per day.

March is supposed to come in like a lion and out like a lamb, right?

Not where I live. Not this year, anyway.

We’ve had a stretch of unusually warm and sunny weather through the middle of March. Nearly all our snow melted, leaving ski areas with just a few trails left, and everyone wondering how much longer they can stay open. For some people, the warm weather has been a welcome sign of spring, and with vaccines on the way, I think the warm weather has also had the effect of bringing people out of their homes and gathering together more. For a few days, it felt like “normal” life was coming soon.

For me, I’m always a little sad at the end of winter. The melting snow signals the end of a season I love, and the beginning of a long drawn out mud season. Spring in Vermont is cold and grey. The snow melt turns everything into mud. While states just a little to the south get green grass and daffodils, we usually don’t see flowers until much later—or if they do bloom early they wind up getting killed in an early spring snow storm.

Today the snow returned. As I write this, I’m looking out my living room window and the wind is whipping the trees, and big flakes of snow are dusting the ground. A spike in covid-19 cases, along with the spread of the new variant of the virus has sobered people’s moods about gathering (though it remains to be seen if it will change people’s behaviors quickly enough). Vermont set a record for its highest number of new cases in a day just last week. The snow is a reminder that winter in Vermont is long—and just when you think it’s ending, it’s not.

Just like the pandemic. Don’t be fooled by a few sunny days. We still have a long way to go.

Spring Skiing: Day 28 Slice of Life Story Challenge

After several days of beautiful sunny weather here in Northern Vermont, the wind picked up today, and brought rain with it.

Our first few ski runs of the day were fun. Even though the sky was grey, and the wind was gusty, the snow was soft and we all enjoyed having the mountain pretty much to ourselves now that most of the tourists are gone.

After a few groomers, one friend suggested we hike out to the back bowls and see if we could get one last run in the backcountry before the warm weather takes the last of the little bit of snow that’s left. I hesitated. I had hiked up there about a week ago and the snow coverage was already thin at that point…. but there was still probably enough to pick our way down.

We decided to hike out to the entrance we call the “Geriatric” (because it’s one of the easier lines in the back bowls), and just see what it looked like.

We got there and it looked okay - not a lot of snow, but the ground was covered. I’d seen it in worse shape. We headed in and picked our way down, hopping over bare spots, and traversing here and there to find the pockets of snow that hadn’t yet melted. We avoided parts we knew had been in the sunshine all week, and tried to head for what would have been in the shade.

Skiing in the woods this late in the season is an entirely different experience. It’s warm, and you can smell the pine sap. For me, skiing on packed down snow and ice is a lot easier than powder, so I could maneuver through tight spots and jump over small dirt patches if I needed to. (There’s a reason Vermont skiers say we’re “Born from ice.”)

The Geriatric ends at a road, Route 108, that is closed in the winter. When we popped out of the trees and onto the road, there just happened to be a person taking nature photographs. He was so happy to see us. “I got some great shots of you three!:” he smiled and waved as we skated passed him.

The road, usually covered in snow in the winter, was covered in very wet slush and a thin layer of ice. You could see the yellow lines through the ice, and our skis made a clackety-clack sound as we coasted along. But there was just enough to get us nearly all the way to the bottom, and we laughed the whole way down, passing the occasional hiker or dog walker.

“How was it?” they each asked.

”Beautiful!” I answered.

Tuxedo: Day 26 Slice of Life Story Challenge

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 14th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate in posting a story per day.

On Monday, Jackson asked, “How many more days until my tuxedo is here?”

On Tuesday, he asked, “When will the tuxedo be here?”

On Wednesday, “Is it here yet?”

On Thursday, just the top hat arrived. Hooray! But it was a little too big for Jackson’s seven-year-old head, so he figured out how to wear another hat underneath it so it would'n’t fall off.

He wore the top hat with his tee shirt and jeans to school on Friday, and when he got home from school, he asked, “Is the tuxedo here yet?”

Finally, a week after it had been ordered, purchased with Jackson’s saved up allowance, the tuxedo arrived.

“YESSSSSS!” he shouted and ran upstairs to put it on.

A few minutes later he appeared in the living room, dressed head-to-toe in his tuxedo, and fake mustache.

“Oh, hello, madame,” he said in his fanciest sounding voice.

“Oh hello,” I said back, “and who is this handsome young man?”

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Planner or Pantser? Day 25 March Slice of Life Story Challenge

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 14th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate in posting a story per day.

This post was inspired by Cathy Mere’s post about traveling (She, in turn, was inspired by Bitsy Parks’s post.)

I just read two separate blog posts about people who go on family vacations with little to no planning, and my brain was like Whaaaaaaat?

For me, planning isn’t optional. I can’t even fathom hopping in the car for a road trip without hotel reservations, dinner reservations, multiple checklists, and a first aid kit. I would have a panic attack. In fact, now that I think about it, I have so many questions for these people who just hop in the car and go. Do they call for hotels on the way (!!) If they can’t get a restaurant table, do they just get take out or visit the grocery store? If something requires tickets, do they just not do it?

All this, to me, seems an insane way to spend precious vacation days.

However, now that I think about it… the best adventures I’ve been on have been when I’m with a mix of planners and non-planners. I think we balance each other out nicely. Even though I secretly think they are missing a crucial survival instinct, I love my non-planning friends dearly, and always have fun when I’m with them.

We’re planning a trip this summer to Block Island, in Rhode Island. Brinton and I used to go there in the summers when we were younger, to visit a friend whose family had a house there. We aren’t going until the end of June, but I made Air B&B reservations and ferry reservations back in January—and even then I felt like I had waited a little too long! Now that I think about it, I should start looking into restaurants soon.

Weeks ahead of time I will begin making a packing checklist for each member of the family (and our dog) using the Reminders App in my phone, and I’ll start gathering up everything and putting it into suitcases so that I can physically see what we’re missing. Then I’ll figure out where to get anything we don’t already have, so that everything for everybody (including the dog) is packed a few days before we need to go. (And in case you’re wondering, yes, I am the type of traveler who loves packing cubes.)

Even then I know from experience we’ll still be missing things things at the last minute, and it will still take us hours to get out of the house on the morning we leave, and we will still show up missing some crucial item - like Jackson’s “duggie” (lovey), or Lily’s bathing suit on the drying rack.

In writing, there’s the concept of “planner” or “pantser.” Planners prefer to plan out their writing ahead - using an outline or just rehearsing it in their head or telling the story out loud. Pantsers, on the other hand, prefer to just start writing and see where it takes them.

Can you guess which one I am?

Magic: Day 24 March Slice of Life Story Challenge

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 14th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate in posting a story per day.

“Jackson, Lily, we’re leaving soon!” I called.

Jackson gathered up handfuls of his favorite rocks he’d collected from the riverbed and Lily started putting her socks back on. She’d been drying her feet off on the sunny rocks, after wading in the freezing cold March water.

I watched the two of them as they packed themselves up to go. They were so funny and cute, my two kids. Lost in my thoughts, I packed up my things as well.

I knelt down to untangle Indie’s leash. And as I unwrapped his leash from his legs I suddenly had the feeling someone was watching me.

I looked up and found myself surrounded on all sides by three very old, small dogs of three different colors and varieties. They simply stood there, calmly studying me and my dog, who also had not noticed them until just this moment.

“Where’d you three come from?” I said aloud, somewhat stupified by their sudden appearance. It was truly as if they had materialized out of thin air. Were they… magic dogs?

It took me more than a few moments to snap out of my confusion, and just as I did, the dogs’ owners came walking along the trail to the riverbed.

Cute dogs!

Thanks!

Cute kids!

Thanks!

So the three old dogs went one direction, and Lily, Jackson, and Indie and I went the in other.

Distracted: Day 23 March Slice of Life Story Challenge

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 14th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate in posting a story per day.

I’m finding it hard to write a slice today. I’ve drafted a few different starts—a funny thing my daughter said, my son listening to the Macarena in the shower, a sunny, snowy hike I went on today. But I’m having trouble focusing on these lighthearted moments.

Because each time I write one of these stories that begins and ends in the moment, what’s getting left out is the fact that in between all the lovely bits of my day, what I’ve really been doing is checking the news on my phone obsessively. I’ve been thinking about my family members and friends who are Asian-American and hoping they are okay. I’ve been reading about yet another mass shooting, this time in Boulder, a city that I know well.

In the past, I’ve felt compelled to jump into action, my thoughts and opinions fully formed, and a strong sense of exactly needs to change. Now, I’m less sure of what to do. Demonstrations and organized movements are ignored and legislation never passes. Maybe it’s because I’m older. Maybe it’s because I’m personally in a bad place. Maybe because this just keeps happening.

I just don’t know what to say or what to think or what to do. For tonight, I’m going to read my kids their bedtime stories, hug them a little tighter, and give them a few extra kisses.

The River: Day 22 March Slice of Life Story Challenge

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 14th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate in posting a story per day.

“Lily! Stay out of the water!” I called.

“I’m going swimming!” she said back to me. She giggled, but I knew she might actually hop in the freezing cold water.

She stopped in her tracks, standing barefoot in the snow, just a few steps from where the water met the shore.

With her hands on her hips she looked at me with a silly, but also defiant face. She already had her pantlegs pushed up, ready to hop in the shallow water, knowing it would get me “riled,” as she would say. (“Mom, I like to get you riled up” she has told me many times.)

When did she become such a middle schooler?

“Lily do not go in that water…” I warned. But I might have let the tiniest hint of a smile slip.

Smiling right back at me, she took an exaggerated step closer to the water. I thought about how cold her feet must be, standing on the snow and river rocks. She didn’t seem to mind at all.

The sun was shining. The snow was melting. It was a the first tee shirt weather day of the year. Spring was on its way.

“Fine. You can wade in. But don’t get your pants wet.”

And just as I turned away, I heard SPLASH.

Spring Skiing: Day 21 March Slice of Life Story Challenge

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 14th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate in posting a story per day.

Sunscreen

Tee shirts

Rock skis

Fold-up chairs

Barbecue grills

Corn snow

Skiing in a pack

Worm turns

Chairlift snacks

The kids

As a team

Bomb a straight-away

Jackets unzipped

Flying

Flapping in the breeze

All of the kids

Kindergarteners, first grader, fourth grader, middle schoolers

Faster than most adults

Passing strangers

Taking every jump

Screeching past everyone

With us,

The parents,

Laughing

Trailing just behind