What’s for Lunch?

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Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Entering Jason’s Deli, I was surrounded by the sounds of people chatting while enjoying their lunch. As I was scanning the multitude of choices, I overheard several of my co-workers announce they were having a Rueben sandwich. My taste buds tingled with anticipation. Yes, that is what I want too!

Soon the sandwiches arrived. With a sigh, I lifted the top slice of bread to rearrange the corned beef and sauerkraut. (I find it annoying that it is all piled in the center.)

How is one to eat this arranged like this?

How is one to eat this arranged like this?

Yum! Half a sandwich consumed.

I remove the top slice of bread to begin the process of rearranging the corned beef and sauerkraut on this the second side. What’s that embedded in the sauerkraut? Something dark. Thinking it is a cabbage leaf, I prod to remove it. It is NOT a cabbage leaf. It is the full body of a dead moth! Ewww! My appetite has just disappeared (and perhaps several others at my table).

The manager is called over to examine my plate. He is rather flippant as he refers to the moth as additional protein. However, he gives me a plate for the salad bar. At least I can examine my food for foreign objects as I build a salad. I am not that enthusiastic about the salad, but I manage to eat a bit.

The best part is at the end. I ask for a new salad plate, but instead of returning to IMG_0922the salad bar, I visit the ice cream machine. A little vanilla ice cream surrounded by chocolate sauce helps to erase the memory of the sandwich.

Post note: I will NEVER visit Jason’s Deli ever again!

 

New Car?

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Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

After weeks (maybe it was just days, but it felt like weeks) of discussions the car decision was made. We had our eye on a white Toyota Avalon with gray leather. Back and forth -offers for our car, how much more to pay, will side molding be included? In the final hours of the work week, we thought we had a deal, but we didn’t get confirmation from the salesman. We were left wondering. (Car dealers are not open on Sunday.)

New week begins, would we hear from the dealer? All day, no contact (or so we thought). Apparently the salesman did contact us, but the phone used had the ringer turned off while enduring oral surgery and recovery. How easy is it to forget the ringer is off? However, no message was left.

The next day we try to contact the salesman, but it is his day off. Assuming the deal is off, we look for other options in vehicles. Another day spent weighing options. This car? That car?

Just as a new decision is about to be made, the salesman calls. We got the deal on the first car! Yeah! Be there the next day to fill out paperwork.

Then the phone call we did not want to recieve. Our car of choice was sold on the salesman’s day off. He had not done his job. We were not happy. He apologized profusely. That did not help. We were not interested in the other cars on the lot. He promised to search and find another car like our first pick.

Fortunately, there was one nearby and they could do a dealer trade. So at long last we have the car we wanted. Now we just need to figure out how all the electronics work.

 

 

Peaches Galore!

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Branches quiver with the weight as a breeze makes it way over and under.

Peaches cling to the branch, waiting for that moment of ripeness.

Sheets protected tender blossoms from dropping peachestemperatures in March.

Summer sun and rain produce a bumper crop of peaches.

Each bite is filled with juicy sweetness.

Not all peaches wait to be picked.😦

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Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

 

 

Eighteen Months

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Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Eighteen months, is that a short amount of time for you or an endless period of time? Eighteen months is a lifetime for one person who entered the world and my heart eighteen months ago.

Living 1,600 miles away from family does not allow for frequent visits. So when an opportunity to babysit this summer for an extended period of time presented itself, I jumped on it.

I’ve spent the last two weeks marveling the knowledge gained in only eighteen months.

She knows:

  • sparkly beads are essential
  • climbing is an adventure
  • arms will catch and hold you
  • laughter is contagious
  • naps revive
  • water is fun
  • food nourishes
  • conversations include hand gestures (even when no one understands your language)
  • songs are to be sung at the highest volume of your voice
  • no fear in trying new things
  • Grandpa and Grandma will cater to your every whim

I can’t wait to find out more about this little one in the years to come!

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Ding!

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Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Ding! My phone announces a text. A quick look tells me It’s from the airline announcing my gate has changed, again. While I was in the air they texted two different gates. Now a third gate, PD6. That confuses me. I am fairly good at deciphering the signs in airports, but this one has me stymied. I check the monitors. Yup, PD6. There is no sign for a PD6, so I stop at the Assistance Center.

“Where would I find gate PD6?” I inquire.

Blank looks return my questioning look. The lady behind the desk looks at me as if I am nuts. I quickly show her the text to prove I’m not crazy.

She looks up the flight number, she tells me A30 is my gate. I just came from A30 which was deserted. She is insisting A30 would be the correct gate.

Ding! Another text from the airline. New gate will be B13. The lady updates her computer and now she agrees B13. I have a feeling this gate 13 is not going to be a lucky one.

No sooner do I get to the gate, ding! You guessed it, another text. What’s this? It’s not a gate change but a time change! A three hour delay from the original departure!

As I am beginning to notify my son that I will be later, ding! What now?! Your flight has been cancelled. You are rebooked but the airport has changed. What!? I have a rental car waiting for me at the original airport.

What a nightmare!

 

 

 

Panic! . . . Momentarily

All week long,

Sitting, planning,

Thinking, typing,

Creating,

Preparing

For a new school,

Teachers of K-2

Finished, sigh, save.

New week,

Begin again

This time

Grades 3-5.

Sitting, planning,

Thinking, typing,

Creating, preparing,

Review previous notes.

Continue

Planning, typing, save.

Later

Open file,

Look for K-2 notes,

No notes!

Quick search

Of all documents.

No notes!

Panic rises!

Solution found in

Undo, but first

Create document,

Use Save As.

Files reconstructed.

Two sets of notes

Saved.

Breathing returns to normal.

Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

 

 

 

 

Smart Mart?

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Be sure to visit Two Writing Teachers for more slices of life.

For four years I have been driving to Warsaw, Indiana to be with blogging friends and attend the All Write conference. Every year it is a challenge to get through Indianapolis and find my way to Warsaw in a timely manner. I don’t think I’ve ever been the same route twice. I have used a variety of methods to plot the route: GPS, phone/iPad apps, a paper map. There is no major interstate that will bring one to Warsaw. It is a series of roads that meander through the countryside. I always felt like I was missing something in the directions. Fortunately, I have had a navigator, Kim, beside me to help decipher cryptic signs.

After eating lunch in Indianapolis, I unfolded the map on the table, located Warsaw, and slid my finger over the roads to trace the route. I then listed the numbers of the roads needed to reach Warsaw. Sounds like a great plan, right?

It was working like a charm until there was a detour. We followed the detour, this time. Finally we were back on the right route following our list of numbers made at lunch. Another detour sign appeared, but this time we wondered if it really was meant for us. Time was ticking away. I decided to ask at the Smart Mart about this detour that said a bridge was out.

I walked into the shop, it was deadly quiet. I could not see a single body. I worked my way through the aisles heading to the counter with the cash register. A young man was crouched down, stocking the cigarette shelf.

I began my inquiry, “Hi, I’m trying to get to Warsaw, but I see this detour sign. If I stay on the road will I be able to get to Wabash?” As I am talking, I see confusion passing over this young man’s face. He doesn’t know where Warsaw is, he’s probably having a hard time comprehending my English. “Is there someone else around that I can talk to?”

He goes to the nearest doorway and mumbles something. Another young man, carry an iPad comes out. I launch into my inquiry once again. This time hopeful he will understand me. He does understand, but he has no knowledge of conditions of the road to Wabash.

His solution was to have me travel down the road and go south (Warsaw is north of where I am) to connect to two different roads. He comes from Fort Wayne once a week, so he’s never been to Wabash. His directions don’t make sense to me, because I would be going backwards in my journey. I thank him and leave to report to Kim, that Smart Mart isn’t too smart.

We continued on the road and did discover the closed bridge (only it wasn’t really a bridge, but more like an overpass). With the help of Kim’s phone we navigated that stretch and arrived in Warsaw in time.

Before leaving the conference, I enlisted the help of those who live there to tell me the route to take to get back to Indianapolis. I am happy to report that there were no missteps on the return trip (thank you to Mary Helen and Dianne). Now, all I have to do is find a safe place for those route numbers so I can use them again next year.