Old Dog, New Tricks: 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.

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Our dog, Indie, lost his hearing over the course of one summer several years ago. At first it seemed like he was just selectively ignoring us. We’d call to him to come, and he’d just stare back in a way that we interpreted as stubborn—but it turns out he probably just, legit, was not hearing us.

He’ll be fourteen years old in June. I’m not even sure what that would be in dog years - 80? 90? 100? In any case, although he’s small and shaggy and still looks puppyish, he’s a very old dog.

Since he can’t hear anything anymore, without thinking much about it I’ve started adding gestures whenever I talk to him. When I say “sit” I tend to wave down to the floor. When I say, “treat” or “cookie” I hold my fist in the air as if I’m holding a dog treat. To get him to come, I pat the side of my leg.

Even though it wasn’t intentional, Indie has picked up on all the cues and now he pretty much responds just as if he could hear us—unless of course he’s outside and out of eyesight.

Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

Hopefully when I’m his age, I’ll still be learning a trick or two myself.

85 Days: 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.

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Skiers are always talking about getting in “100 days in a season.” It’s a milestone that is meant to show that you are a true die-hard. If you get 100 days in a season, it means you’re not just skiing when the conditions are great - you’re skiing every chance you can — rain, below-zero temperatures, ice — whatever Mother Nature throws your way.

I haven’t had 100 days in a season since college—and even then it was only achievable because I worked at a resort as a ski instructor, so I was required to be there, rain or shine.

Last year, for the first time in a long time, I was on track to hit 100 days. I was only able to accomplish it by getting up at the crack of dawn before the lifts were spinning and hiking the mountain to ski before work, or hiking and skiing at night after work, as well as all the weekends and school vacations I could get. But then the pandemic hit. Ski areas didn’t only close, they put up cement barriers to keep everybody out—no hiking, no nothing. We had to stay away from the mountains completely.

So this year, I’m on track. Last night I hiked and skied after work with a friend, and that put me at Day 85! The resort doesn’t close until April 11, and there are usual at least a few weeks, if not more, of hiking the closed trails and skiing on the leftover snow after that. Last year we had a huge storm on Mother’s Day, so I’ve still got time to squeeze in the last 15 days of my goal.

Cross your fingers for me! I’m putting on my stuff now to go squeeze in some runs before my kids get home from school!

Duggie and Owl Blanket: Day 18 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.

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Inspired by a post by Heather Zimmerman, on the blog HZ Reflections, about transitional objects.

Before Lily was born, my friends threw me a baby shower. Along with silly games and fancy food there were gifts. One of the gifts was a swaddling blanket from a fancy baby boutique — and soft cream colored blanket covered with an owl pattern.

When Lily was a newborn, we would swaddle her constantly, and the owl blanket was just the right size. As she got older, and bigger and we stopped swaddling, the owl blanket remained her favorite. It traveled everywhere with us in her stroller and on car rides.

As she got even older owl blanket went with her to preschool every day in her backpack. Even in kindergarten and into first grade Owl Blankie went with her, tucked into the zipper pocket. And now at eleven years old and in middle school, she still sleeps with Owl Blankie, tattered and stained, under her pillow (though she no longer brings it to school).

Before Jackson was born I didn’t want a baby shower. Instead, I selected a raccoon “lovey” from a baby store and bought four copies of it in case it ever went missing. Somehow I knew that the raccoon was going to be “the one.”

Sure enough, the little raccoon went to sleep with Jackson every single night when he was just a baby, and traveled around in the stroller and the car seat. One of Jackson’s first words was “lovey…” only he couldn’t pronounce it yet, so it came out “Duggie” —and Duggie remains Duggie to this day.

Duggie went everywhere with toddler Jackson, and whenever he got a bit dirty we’d just secretly swap him with a cleaner one. Or if one was left somewhere in the house and we couldn’t find it, we’d just covertly grab one of the others.

When Jackson was about three or four years old he discovered two Duggies accidentally left out in different parts of his bedroom. Instead of being upset he was delighted! “TWO DUGGIES!” he repeated over and over, and slept with both of them for a long time.

When he finally discovered there were actually FOUR Duggies in a drawer up high in his closet, he was ecstatic. If two Duggies were great, than four Duggies was even better.

Now, at seven years old, he grabs a Duggie from the Duggie drawer each night before bed.

These objects—a blanket and a stuffed raccoon have helped our family get through the baby years, the toddler years, and beyond.

All Day Zoom Meetings: Day 17 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.

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Today

I will sit

in front of my computer

all

day

long

while outside

sun shines

snow melts

and birds chirp.

Bad habits

when I’m on Zoom calls:

drink three cups of coffee

eat all the Cheez-Its

poor posture and bad wrists

all day long

on my Zoom calls.

Workout Challenge: Day 16 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.

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Along with the March Slice of Life Story Challenge, I’ve taken on a second challenge in hopes it will help me get through the last leg of the pandemic with my sanity and my health. My other challenge is to exercise every day in March, and so far I’m really doing it.

Last March, when the pandemic first started and everything was closed, I signed up for a Peloton App membership. I don’t have a Peloton bike. I just do the strength and cardio workouts. It was free at first, and I loved it so much that not only do I pay for it now, but I’m never stepping foot in a gym again. I’ve always hated the gym—it’s always been just a chore for me—but I love the Peloton workouts.

Over the past year, I’ve gotten to know which instructors I like best. I’m a little bit embarrassed to say that I’ve done enough workouts with my favorite instructors that I know their voices as well as I know my closest friends’ voices. I’ve pieced together little bits and pieces of their backstories from the chatter that they provide during the course of any given workout. “Yeah baby!” “No ego, amigo!” “Get that glazed donut look!”

Jess Sims was a basketball player (college maybe?) and former teacher, Andy Speer was a gymnast, and Rebecca Kennedy was a cheerleader in the NFL. I know that Jess has a dog named Sierra, and I’m pretty sure Andy is dating a model. (That last detail actually came from a friend of mine who is also similarly addicted to the Peloton workouts, so I can’t verify it, lol). Would these instructors be weirded out that people like me are keeping track of this stuff? Probably.

Anyway. Today I’m on Day 16 of my exercise challenge. In those 16 days I’ve hiked, skied, done core workouts, full body workouts, cardio workouts, and yoga. During those 16 days I also had surgery, so I’m feeling pretty good about the fact that I kept it going despite the two inch incision on the back of my arm. So yeah, I think Jess, Andy, and Rebecca would be proud.

If We Still Lived in Brooklyn: Day 15 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.

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Today is one of those days when I’m feeling a tiny bit homesick for our old life in Brooklyn. I don’t usually miss much about our eleven years in the city, but now and then I feel a little nostalgic, and I wonder what our life would be like if we had stayed in Brooklyn, and hadn’t moved back home to Vermont.

If we still lived in Brooklyn…

If we still lived in Brooklyn, my two kids would be in the grade ahead of the grades they are in here in Vermont because of the difference in cut-off dates. Lily would be in 6th grade, and Jackson would be in 2nd.

If we still lived in Brooklyn, I think we would still go to museums every weekend instead of skiing or bike riding. We’d meet up with other kids to play at the park a couple times a week. I’d be paying for after school music and art programs, I’m sure.

If we still lived in Brooklyn, every few months we’d be loading our entire family into the car and driving to Vermont for a long weekend or a school vacation so my kids could see their grandparents and cousins.

If we still lived in Brooklyn, our kids would know what pizza was supposed to taste like, and they’d know what a good bagel was.

If we still lived in Brooklyn, their classmates would come from a much more diverse set of backgrounds and experiences.

If we still lived in Brooklyn, I would have definitely chosen the public school up the street for our kids. It was a really good school.

If we still lived in Brooklyn my kids would have friends who spoke multiple languages.

If we still lived in Brooklyn, would my kids still love snow?

If we still lived in Brooklyn, hiking a mountain would be a once-in-a-while adventure, not a weekly thing.

If we still lived in Brooklyn, would we have stayed in our apartment? We loved our apartment.

If we still lived in Brooklyn, would my kids know how to build a fire?

If we still lived in Brooklyn, Brinton and I would still be working a lot more than we do now. Our kids would have needed a nanny to drop them off and pick them up from school every day.

If we still lived in Brooklyn, we’d still have to press pause sometimes because the traffic outside our second floor apartment was too loud to hear the television.

If we still lived in Brooklyn, we never would have met all our friends in Vermont.

Pretty sure we’d be broke by now if we still lived in Brooklyn.

If we still lived in Brooklyn, we’d be happy, but still dreaming of someday moving home to Vermont.

Pleasant Valley: Day 14 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.

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There’s a road I drive often called Pleasant Valley Road. It is aptly name. There is a stretch of several miles that provides a gorgeous panoramic view of Mt. Mansfield on one side of the road, and on the other side are rolling hills, farmhouses, and sugar shacks. Sometimes tourists drive down Pleasant Valley Road just for fun—it’s that beautiful.

I often see deer, wild turkeys, and all kinds of wildlife when I am driving Pleasant Valley early in the morning or at dusk. A few weeks ago, right around sunset I was driving past a picture perfect Vermont farm—the hills, fields, and forests covered in deep billowing snow. Despite the beautiful evening, I was feeling pretty down, actually. I had just been diagnosed with melanoma, was a new medication that had me feeling gross, had a pretty stressful work day, and hadn’t been sleeping much. Even though I was on my way to hike and night ski with friends, I wasn’t really feeling up to it.

But then something magical happened. I rounded a sharp corner in the road, and sitting in the snow field looking right at me was a gorgeous red fox. Her fur practically glowed red against the white snow in the setting sun.

I slowed down immediately to get a better look. Just as I pulled onto the shoulder of the road, the fox scampered forward, chasing something I couldn’t see. A mouse beneath the snow, maybe? Then, she leapt high into the air, and then dove gracefully, nose first into the snow, just like I had seen in nature documentaries. She emerged, face covered comically with snow. She shook the snow off, sat gracefully, and wrapped her tail wrapped around her, with a flourish.

I could have sat in my car and watched her all night. She was magical. It felt like she was a sign. What did it mean?

But, I was already running a few minutes late for my friends, and the sun was setting. Reluctantly, I drove away.

But her magic stayed with me.

First Creemee of the Year: Day 13 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.

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If you spend enough time in Vermont, where I live, you will eventually find yourself in a debate over where to find the best creemee. Just as when I lived in New York City, the best pizza was a common topic of conversation, so too are creemees in Vermont. (L&B' Spumoni Gardens in Brooklyn is the best pizza in all of NYC, by the way.)

A creemee is basically soft-serve ice cream, though some of my fellow Vermonters will say it is not the same thing at all. I was born and raised in Vermont, and I’m still not sure if there is truly a difference, or if it’s all in our heads. Maybe there’s a difference?

In my tiny town of 5,000 people there are FOUR different places to get creemees: Joe’s Snack Bar, the Jericho Country Store, the Jolley gas station, and Palmer Lane Maple Store. All of them are contenders for best creemee anywhere and come up frequently in local top-ten lists and best-of’s.

We are a Palmer Lane family. However, my husband grew up on the Joe’s Snack Bar and Jolley creemees, so he is a bit partial to those as well. Personally, I like the Country Store creemees equally as well, but everyone else disagrees with me on that.

This week the temperatures in Vermont sky-rocketed from last week’s below zero to a whopping 45 degrees yesterday. Everywhere I went this week, you could feel a tangible difference in moods. People were in tee shirts and birkenstocks (this is Vermont after all) the moment the sun came out.

Naturally, we stopped to get a creemee after school to celebrate the arrival of what locals call “fake spring.” Jackson got vanilla, and I got maple. We know this warm spell won’t last. We know full well there’s a very good chance for at least one or two more snow storms left before spring actually arrives in month or two—but we’ll take the sunshine and creemees while they last.

Parking Lot 1: Day 12 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.

How do I explain the significance of Lot 1 if you’re not from where I’m from? I’ll try.

I’ll start from the very beginning.

Every weekend, and sometimes during the work week, for years and years, I have spent my days on the mountain skiing and hiking. I’ve been skiing since I was toddler. I skied as a little kid, through my teenage years, through college, and now as an adult, with my two kids. It is a huge part of my life, my husband’s life, and my kids’ lives.

Over the years, we’ve become like family with many others who ski at our mountain. We ski together, carpool, and our kids ski together. In the summers we all hike together and bike together. We organize giant camping trips with a dozen or more families involved; we have big parties and celebrations; we do holidays and vacation trips together. And we rally together when someone in our circle is in need of help. My family doesn’t belong to a church, but I imagine that our ski community has a lot in common with many churches in the way that we support each one another.

In the winter, we love to end our days by setting up grills and chairs and having food in the parking lot. That’s where Parking Lot 1 comes in.

Pre-pandemic, our beloved Lot 1 was a bit of scene. It is the only place to park that you can ski to, without having to walk or take a shuttle, so it’s an ideal meet-up spot. At the end of any ski day, all the kids play on the giant snow piles and in the surrounding woods. Someone is usually playing music and handing out hot dogs or hamburgers. Just a few times a year the weather gets warm enough, and the sun stays out long enough for a true party in Lot 1.

Of course, all that had to stop during the pandemic. Now we all come and go. Get there, ski, and leave. But it’s still nice to see all our friends and say hi. We meet up and ride the chairlift together, with masks on, of course.

In response to the pandemic, the ski resort installed a gate, and began locking Lot 1 so that nobody can park there too early or too late. I assume that this is to discourage people from congregating in groups in the parking lot — but I can’t know for sure because the resort hasn’t done anything to communicate with locals.

As you can imagine, this has been a huge source of controversy and heated discussion amongst the local skiers. It’s easy to interpret that the resort really doesn’t care much about what the locals want. So, all season long, we have been grumbling about the gates.

A friend of mine started an Instagram account called “Free Lot 1.” It’s mostly memes and photos of the actual parking lot. You should look it up if you’re on Instagram. You can order bumper stickers. The money will be used to buy a big gift for employees stuck with the job of having to turn people away from Lot 1. The employees, after all, are locals too.

Free Lot 1 pokes fun at the resort’s decisions and how they impact locals. The resort administrators know about it and have been in touch with my friend. They asked that we make sure the stickers aren’t put on any resort property, which makes sense to me. So I have one on my helmet. So do both of my kids.

Locking up Lot 1 feels like we are teenagers that broke curfew and now we’re not allowed out of the house. Ugh. Now we have to park all the way across the road in Lot 3!? Gross!

Today, things got worse. They kept Lot 1 closed all day, and even put cement barriers behind the gate as if to emphasize the message: STAY OUT.

The pandemic is bad enough. Why do they have to take this away too?

Of all the things going on in the world, THIS is not the thing to focus on. I know that.

What a privilege to live where I live. To have a lifetime of outdoor adventure. To have great friends and a safe community. To have the resources to ski and be able to share that with my kids as well. We are so fortunate.

But dammit. Why’d they have to close Lot 1? Whyyyyy?

Car Wash Flower: Day 11 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.

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On my way home from running errands, I stopped at the car wash.

As I pulled through, I waved an awkward hello to the two young people spraying my car down with hoses and gesturing for me to pull forward. I always feel a twinge of discomfort — me in my nice warm and dry interior, while two people are outside in the freezing cold spraying my car down for me.

I got distracted by the music I was listening to and zoned out for a few seconds. As the two car washers pushed my car along onto the conveyor belt, the person on the passenger side tapped on the door’s window to get my attention. I looked up, and they drew a flower in the soapsuds. They smiled and waved. I smiled and flashed a peace sign.

“Have a good day!” I shouted.

“YOU TOO!” they shouted back.

Well, that just made my day I thought. And I smiled all the way home.

Banana Team: Day 10 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.

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When Jackson was in preschool, he invented something he calls “The Banana Team.” It started with Lego minifigures. He’d line them up, all in various costumes and configurations and teams with names like “Jackson’s Men,” and “Puppy Boys,” and “Banana Team.” Then, at school, he started referring to himself and a few of his closest friends, as the “Banana Team.”

Over time, we started finding funny banana-themed things for him. A short-sleeve Hawaiian-style shirt covered in a banana print against a bright red background. A banana-shaped plush stuffie. Last summer, a friend of his gave him a tank top covered in bananas.

When he went to kindergarten last year, he often asked about the other members of the preschool Banana Team, and tried, I think, to recreate the Banana Team with new friends… until the pandemic hit and school switched to remote learning. He often wore his banana shirts to school. I think he knows they are great conversation starters.

This morning, Jackson came downstairs to breakfast wearing both banana shirts. They still fit! Picture: a child’s size 6 short-sleeve button-down, bright yellow bananas against a bright red background. It’s worn open, unbuttoned, over a grey tank top also featuring bright yellow bananas all over it. This is paired with maroon sweatpants, slightly too big for him.

“What’s up dudes?” he said cooly as he hopped up onto a stool for breakfast. Then laughed wildly with his sister.

His teacher sent me an email later in the morning.

“J is cracking me up today with his banana shirts. At one point this morning, he took off his first banana shirt, showed off his muscles, and said “It’s time to work out” and started doing push-ups.”

This note from his teacher meant a lot to me. Jackson relies really heavily on approval from adults, other kids, and his older sister. He’s often afraid to make mistakes. He’s sensitive and bottles up a lot of his big feelings. I often wonder how he’s really doing at school. Is he happy? Is he confident?

If he’s wearing banana shirts and cracking up his teacher, I guess he’s probably doing okay.

Uranus: Day 9 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.

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“Mama, I’m going to love you forever and ever,” Jackson said as we snuggled in for bedtime.

“Aww. That’s really sweet. I’m going to love you forever and ever too.”

As he shifted around under the covers in the dark, I moved by bad arm, the one with stitches, to protect it.

“No matter how many surgeries or cuts or bruises you get I’ll always love you,” he added.

“Aww, thanks bud. I love you too. Don’t worry, this one will heal really fast.”

“I just love you so much Mama,” he said one more time.

All warm and cozy, his breathing started to slow as he began to drift to sleep.

Then he turned over, sighed contentedly, and said, “Isn’t it funny how the word Uranus sounds like your anus? Hahahahahahaha!”

Alright, bucko. Time for bed.

Surgery: Day 8 March Slice of Life Story Challenge

This morning I had a small surgery on my right arm. The procedure will hopefully remove a patch of melanoma, before the cancer has a chance to spread to other parts of my body.

But even with that small patch of cancerous skin removed my body, no surgery can remove the thoughts and fears that have now been planted in my mind.

Wouldn’t that be wonderful? If each surgery on your physical body came with a corresponding mental surgery to remove the related fears and trauma?

Apologies for such a short slice of life story today, but, I’m in need of a nap… or two.

Alpenglow: Day 7 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.

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Upstairs, two children shout at each other from various rooms in the house. Their voices mix together into one, never-ending stream of argument.

“Mommmmm! Bring! Me! Jackson-I-told-you-to-stay-out-of-my My! Water! Bottle! Pleeease! I’m-taking-yours-since-you-took-mine! Fine!”

The younger child’s voice, in particular, gets louder and increasingly urgent.

“Mom! I need you to help meeeeeee!”

A tired-looking woman (in her forties, messy hair, wearing sweats) is coming up the stairs, one step at a time. She pauses, seeming to gather her strength, before rounding the corner to her son’s bedroom.

Her son is angry about something his older sister said to him. “I’m so mad at her! I wish I didn’t have a sister!” he shouts.

The mom looks around his bedroom and then steps out into the hallway, hoping to find something to distract him, to cheer him up.

Looking out the window, the view of the mountain stops her in her tracks. The snow-capped mountain faces west, and the sunset reflects off the snow, causing the entire snow-covered peak to glow pink and orange against a deep vivid blue backdrop. It’s breathtakingly gorgeous.

“Jackson! Lily! Come look! Alpenglow!” she calls. She feels pure joy for a moment, seeing the mountain this way. She is sure this will make her kids happy. Alpenglow is right up there with rainbows and shooting stars. They’ll scamper to the nearest window and forget everything they were squabbling about, surely.

After a few seconds, she calls to her son again. “Jackson! Sweetie! Come see! It’s so beautiful!”

“Aaarrrgh!” he roars from behind his bedroom door, and after a thoughtful pause, says slowly and darkly, “I hate alpenglow.”

Mom looks out the window again, baffled. How can someone say they “hate” alpenglow?

“And there’s no such thing as love." he added.

And now, for the rest of her life, she will think of alpenglow connected with love and her son. And whenever there is alpenglow, she will think about the time he when he was seven years old and he said this funny thing in the heat of the moment, when alpenglow and the existence of love were so tightly and perfectly connected.

The Big Clean: Day 6 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.

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Once a week

we clean the

entire house

from top to bottom.

I take the ground floor,

Brinton takes the upstairs,

And the kids are in charge

of the basement.

First,

we dust.

Next,

we wipe.

Then,

we vacuum.

And last of all,

we swiffer.

Beds are freshly made,

towels washed and folded,

and most importantly,

every toy in the house

is put back in its right spot.

Then,

for rest of the week,

beginning the moment the cleaning is finished,

we proceed

to make messes,

and track in dirt,

and spread toys from room to room.

Until the next

big

clean.

Type II Fun: Day 5 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.

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Grey clouds rolled in the wind above us, as we trudged along on backcountry skis, across the mix of ice and drifted snow. I pulled my face mask over my nose to protect it from the -8F chill, but quickly pulled it back down once the climb had my heart rate pumping and it was too hard to breath through the mask.

Brinton, with his long legs, walked along casually. One step for him, for every two steps for me. But he needed to keep moving in the extreme cold, so he soon was far ahead of me on the trail disappearing around a corner.

Near the top, we ducked under a rope marking the resort boundary and into some trees, hoping the snow would be better protected from the wind. We made our way through a tight traverse, surrounded by pine boughs. The ice below our feet was covered with deep drifts of wind-affected snow.

We switched our equipment over as quickly as possible. In place of my lighter layers for hiking, I put on my warmer down jacket, my helmet, and my mittens. Shivering, I buckled up my ski boots, tore the climbing skins from the bottom of my skis, and switched my bindings over to ski mode.

Every turn was a challenge. We call affectionately it “survival skiing” when the conditions are so challenging that everything you know about “good skiing” goes out the window. The drifted powder looked exactly the same as the white ice. I would point my skis through the tight trees toward deep fluffy snow, only to discover the snow was hard as a rock. Brinton and I tossed ourselves through the icy and heavy snow, making our way through the woods a few cautious turns at a time.

When we popped out of the woods onto the snow-covered road we were both exhausted.

“Welp, that was interesting!” we both said.

“Yeah. My legs are toast.”

“Those ice bumps were nasty.”

“The snow was so heavy.”

Then, after a long pause, we looked at each other, a grin spreading across Brinton’s face. “Wanna do it again?”

A Complaint Regarding the Process of Renewing a Teaching License: Day 4 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.

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I have to renew my teaching license this year. Anyone who has ever been a teacher knows what a pain in the butt this is. It’s one thing we can all agree on.

I could complain about a lot of parts of the process, but here is my main complaint.

Why the heck do I have to get new fingerprints done every three years?

It makes no sense!

In Vermont, where I live, the fingerprints are DIGITAL. They are IN THE COMPUTER.

Isn’t that the whole point? My fingerprints are already ON FILE so that if I rob a bank, they can look up my DIGITAL fingerprints IN THE COMPUTER and match them up and say Yikes that lady is a teacher. Better revoke her license! We can’t have bank robbers working with kids!

Right? Isn’t that the point of getting them done?

So, if the entire point is to keep them on file, where they can be pulled up at any point - I know they already have them. So WHY OH WHY do I have to waste a morning (and a bunch of money) going to the sheriff’s office to get them done AGAIN? Fingerprints don’t change! That’s the WHOLE POINT!

AAAArrrghgghghghgh! Make it make sense!

That’s my angry rant slice of life for today. Thank you for listening.

WTF Fortune Cookie: Day 3 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.

My husband and I have both been going to Silver Palace since we were little kids. It was the place our parents took us for birthdays, or getting straight A’s on a report card (well, that was me anyway, not my husband, lol).

Silver Palace is the place where we take grandparents out to dinner, or host a graduation party.

The owners of the restaurant recognize us whenever we stop in. They ask about our extended family by name, and they let us order our favorite things that haven’t been on the menu for years - like the dim sum with oyster sauce.

Yesterday was the last day of the kids’ winter vacation, so to celebrate we decided to get take-out from Silver Palace.

To be clear, this wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. This was planned days ago. We all looked forward to it for days. When will it be Silver Palace night, Mom? Soon, sweetheart… soon. Yum.

But when we opened up the containers last night, we immediately knew something wasn’t right. The lo mein was a darker brown than usual. The crispy pork was very obviously over-cooked. The ginger chicken didn’t smell right. And worst of all, the dim sum with oyster sauce came coated with some other sauce.

Being optimistic people, we all gave it a try anyway, and tried to see the positive. I kind of like the new sauce, Mom! The lo mein is different—but still good, right Dad? But we all knew it wasn’t very good. In fact, if I’m being honest, it was nasty. (Sorry Silver Palace owners, but it’s true!)

By the time we got to the fortune cookies our spirit was broken. The pandemic had taken away many things, too many to count, and now this.

So when I opened my fortune cookie and read:

THE GREATEST MEDICINE IS THE EMPTINESS OF EVERYTHING.

I burst out laughing and couldn’t stop. What the f*ck? Seriously? The EMPTINESS OF EVERYTHING? What kind of fortune was this?

“Your fortune is saying that the best medicine is to just… die?!” Jackson cried hysterically, laughing. He’s seven years old, and even he understood the dark humor, the irony of it all.

The fortune feels about right, honestly. On the anniversary of our world getting turned upside down, after twelve months of just awful, awful events, it makes sense that our family’s favorite restaurant would deliver this cryptic, but (possibly prophetic?) message.

Perhaps the emptiness of everything doesn’t mean death, necessarily. But just an emptiness of my mind. Maybe all I need to do is just forget about what’s wrong (burnt crispy pork, ruined dim sum), clear my head, and focus on what’s right.

Wait A Minute: Day 2 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.

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We have a saying in Vermont. “If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.”

Yesterday, my kids and I cried as we watched the thick warm fog and dreary rain melting our precious snow.

Later that night, I awoke to the house making loud CRACK noises in the -40 F temperatures that swept through, along with the gusts of 50 mph winds.

This morning, a snow squall swept through, leaving a dusting on top of the hard ice that had formed from the previous day’s melted snow.

And now the sun is shining brightly against a bluebird sky, as if nothing ever happened.

The weather over the past 24 hours has matched my mood.

One moment, I’m dwelling on all my problems and ailments. The next my heart swells with pride over something my kids did.

Just when things seem about as dark and depressing as they can get, there always seems to be a change in the wind, a temperature adjustment, the sun comes out and things look a little brighter.

Like they say, if you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.

Pretending to Play: Day 1 March Slice of Life Story Challenge

My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 13th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate in posting a story per day.

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My little dog, Indie, is asleep on the couch next to me as I type this. He’s very old. He’ll be 14 in June. His breathing is labored, his breath is stinky, and he has a lot of warts now. He sleeps away most of the day, most days. His hips are sore and his legs are stiff. He’s got scars and sore spots from old injuries. But he still loves to play. In a few minutes, he’ll wake up, hop of the couch (as best he can), and gingerly pick up one of his toys and bring it to me. His teeth are sore from a recent infection, so I’ll know not to actually pull on the toy. Instead, I’ll pretend to grab it from him, which will make him super excited. He’ll hop around with the toy in his mouth “pretending” to play like a puppy—but more carefully so as not to bump his mouth, or hurt his sore hips. His little legs are stiff, and sometimes he falls down. But he still plays with us.

You know how they say owners grow to resemble their pets? Lately, I’m feeling a lot like Indie. One ailment or injury after another seems to plague me; I’m exhausted all the time. I could list all the diagnoses and issues I have, but who really wants to read all that? The pandemic is already depressing enough. Instead, just take my word for it. Just like my little old dog, I have a lot of issues. Aches and pains, old injuries that still haunt me, but also some more serious stuff too. Most days I just want to sleep the entire day, like Indie.

But… just like Indie, when I’m not sleeping, I still know how to play.