Any Way You Slice It

I've been thinking about the title of the monthly challenge--Slices of Life. The word "slice" means something thin, a part, portion, or share. I even like the word itself--it feels slim, easy, and smooth when you say it.

--The title of the challenge is inviting in itself--it's a challenge that doesn't demand a lot of something or something whole, just a piece of something. Then my mind went to "What do you think of when you hear the word "slice?"

These are the wonderful thoughts that come to my mind:

sliced bread. sliced meats, sliced almonds,

sliced cheese, sliced egg, sliced olives,

sliced kiwi and bananas, slice lemon and lime, slices of watermelon and apple,

sliced onion, sliced pizza, sliced beets,

slices of cake, slices of pie

--Oh, yum!!! This word conjures up all kinds of good thoughts. This word can also be a noun, a verb, an adjective, and an adverb. How flexible can a word be?

--Oh, my, does a slice get any better than this? Yes, when you write a slice, and you're proud!!!

Step Up to ISTEP

--Today was the beginning of ISTEP for Indiana schools and my very own former middle school. I was asked to come and help the teacher that took over my 7th grade position after I retired. I was glad Shelley took over my former world and room that I loved--nice windows! She's a good teacher and works hard for her students and the school. I have been back many times, but this is the first time I was back in the scheme of things so to speak.

--I was to help Shelley out any way she needed me and also to go to other classrooms and check to see if any of the other 7th grade teachers needed a break. It was fun to be an outsider looking in for a change. I knew the procedures and felt comfortable in the ISTEP setting.

--Students surprised me with their readiness to take the test. Maybe they are just resigned to the fact that this is the way it is. Half way through the test and during the break, I asked how the test was going for them, and they remarked it was okay.

--None of the students knew me because I've been gone long enough that none of my students I had remain. I forgot how friendly and how much fun it was to talk to these middle schoolers. They didn't know me, but they were ready to share their thoughts and the dreams they had the night before--so funny that they just start telling you stories whether you want to hear them or not. I forgot what great story tellers they are. Time flew by after the second half, and soon it was time to go.

--I'll go back tomorrow and see how they really felt about yesterday. I wonder what new stories I will hear. Maybe one will be good enough to share.

Monday, Monday

Bloggers Log-Day 5: First Monday morning after the launch of the March 2012 SOLS Challenge

--Monday is still Monday whether you have a job or you're retired. Today I called to get insurance information, and my mind went blank on the phone. The next call I made, the person on the other line said their system is down, and they can't help me for another hour. I'm tired after a bad night of sleeping probably being too wound up from the weekend and thinking of the week ahead. The line breaks for my blog are messed up again, and the directions I received yesterday to fix it don't work today!!

--And nothing is coming to mind to write about today either! My "31 Slices" page of ideas in my writers notebook is not speaking to me. I visit posts of others slicers to get some inspiration. This year, I have read other slicers' posts before starting mine. I didn't do this last year. This seems to ease me into my stories--definitely a community effort! Today, this doesn't help me. As a last ditch effort, I go to my email again and see an AARP Bulletin--worth a try. I go from "8 Unhealthy Things to Never Buy at a Garage Sale" to a video on "Marrying at 100 Years of Age." That one catches my attention!

--The 100 year old bride is dressed in a beautiful, long, white wedding dress and veil with white flats, getting around in a wheelchair. The day before she attended her shower and received well wishes along with a bottle of wine, some perfume, and a garter. Her cake says, "You Are Never Too Old," and she comments that "Marriage is not what you got, but what you make out of a marriage." (I wonder if she got her dress at Kleinfeld's in New York?) Of course, the groom is in a tux and remarks that his new bride is the nicest person he ever met. They will reside in the Rosewood Health Care Center in Bowling Green, Kentucky. Their wills will have to be changed and all that other stuff, too. Congratulations, and good luck to them.

--This leads me to videos on the TV show "Say Yes to the Dress." I love this show. Most women I know do, too. I don't know why I love to watch it. My husband and sons worry about me and can't figure out why I watch this show, and I don't try to explain it either. I don't have to when it comes to a woman's world. All I know is, instead of making my dress like I did so many years ago, I want to go to Kleinfeld's and work with Keisha and Randy to find me the dress of my dreams! I wouldn't want to buy it or plan to renew our vows, but I just want to know what it feels like to be in that position. Looks like fun to me! I wouldn't mind just watching the brides and their families either. I worked in a cake decorating supply store years ago and had the opportunity to work in the bridal department with cake tops, wedding invitations, etc. Interesting situations.

--This is my Monday so far--scattered and gears just chugging along. Or maybe, I guess, I just needed to "get away" for awhile and--Voila! I have a post.

My Fickle Friend

We've had a mild winter this year, not much snow or constant frigid temperatures. We had a sixty degree day last week, and I mean one day! It broke records in some areas of our great state of Indiana, but sorry to say, some warm temps brought tornadoes and bad times for many. That's the nature of my fickle friend Spring!

More precisely, Spring is a prankster, a teaser, a heartbreaker, an unpredictable friend. Yes, a friend because I really like what I see and experience in spite if her impulsive behavior. I know eventually, Spring will bring the sunshine longer and brighter.

I don't think I feel friends with fall, winter, or summer. Fall is just beautiful and predictable. I get excited about the first snowflake/fall and look forward to holidays, and summer--summer is just crazy good. But I don't harbor around the windows at any other season, aching for that change like I do in the spring. I think it's really the coldness that defeats me after awhile and sets me longing for the warmth of the sun. I can take only so many hot showers, sit in so many hot tubs, or bundle up in a blanket and warm socks. I wish I could just fly South.

On that warm sixty degree day, I went outside, got out a lawn chair, and sat in the sun, feeling, smelling, seeing, touching, and hearing--soaking it all in as fast as I could. My spirits came alive, and I moaned with delight. Coudn't you just stay another day, my dear spring friend?

Today the snow is flying, the wind is blowing, and the sun is lying in wait, giving me new hope of more sunny days ahead. So, I'll put on another sweater, sip a cup of hot tea, and lean over and peer outside at my patio chair, imagining when I can see and feel my playful, reckless, and elusive spring friend again.

Lost in Color

What is it about crayons?

If there is one thing I remember as a child, it's crayons.

There was that bright yellow box trimmed in dark green with the same green lettering. Inside were the colors of the world!

Ah, the sharp, unused point of each crayon cried out to be carefully taken out of the box, eased into a set of fingers, and postioned on the coloring page to bring life into a plain, back and white drawing.

I could press very hard to get the darkest shade possible, or I could outline the picture and shade inside the lines. In my hay day of coloring (1949-1957), we could have up to 48 colors--unheard of since 1903 when Binney and Smith first came out with the first 8 colors.

In 1958, we could boast 64 colors, 72 colors in 1972, 80 in 1990, 96 in 1993, and 120 colors in 1998! (Crayola.com/"Color Corner, Crayola Crayon Technology." 2000-2012.) Where are you located?

My mom bought me crayons as a child and again after I started teaching. She would say, "Everyone needs new crayons every year." I continue to buy crayons for my grandchildren, now called Crayola Twistables.

I still color from time to time alone or with my grandkids, but there was something about the crayons back in the 50's that is not there now. The colors were deeper and fuller, not as waxy and dull as today. I did get lost when I colored as a child--lost in the picture of the day. Maybe it is I who has changed, not so much the crayons.

Just a Bar of Soap

--It's always fun to discover that a common, every day object you've taken for granted your whole life has become an objection of joy and affection by the very young--namely your grandchildren, ages 5 and 7.

--I was in charge of showers one night and prepared the shower stall with Johnson's head to toe body wash and two wash cloths. There has always been a bar of soap on the shelf but never was an issue in the past.

--It was my granddaughter Lilly's turn to go first. I got her settled in, and she asked for time to just stand in the shower awhile. I let her do that while I got her pajamas ready and tooth brush filled with paste. I pulled back the shower door, and there she was sitting on the shower floor with the bar of soap completely lathered up, coating her legs until they were white. She was completely enamored by the soap's effect. It took awhile to rinse off that little snow princess.

--Next, my grandson Lucas went into the shower and asked for some water time, too. I left the bathroom for a bit, but soon heard a bunch of knocking noises. I returned and opened the shower door. He was using the soap like a hockey puck, sliding it as hard as he could against the shower wall. The harder he smacked it, the higher it bounced off!! He was having a great time. Enough play time again!!

--I asked my son later if L and L had ever used a bar of soap before, and he admitted they never have been given that liberty.

--It's good to know that something so simple and basic can still catch the attention of the very young and create a little clean fun!

New Beginnings

--So much is going through my mind this first morning of the SOLS Challenge. I thought I was ready for it, but I feel like the person in front of the old fashioned typewriter, ripping out poor attempts at creating a worthwhile piece of writing.

--What's going on?

--I have mentally prepared for these 31 days, and now I find myself overwhelmed as usual. I've been thinking too much. And once again, I'm requiring myself to create the best story I've ever written!!

--"Stop right now! Just write what is on your mind!!!" I say to myself.

--There!!!!

--I've been reading a wonderful historical fiction book, The Silence of Trees, by Valya Dudycz Lupescu, and enjoyed a day of sun and warmth yesterday, noticing some bushes and plants that have started to come out of their sleep. Now I must put into words what has become a slice of my life through these two occurrences.

--Briefly, the book tells the story of the character Nadya who is recounting the story of her "secret" life to herself and finally to her family. As a youth, her family was a victim of communism and the German occupation of WWII in her Ukrainian homeland. She recounts not only the persecution that took place during this time, but also the culture and traditions of the Ukrainian people which is so closely related to the Russian culture. My maternal grandparents were from Russia, and as I get older, I find myself wanting to know more about my family's background. Sorry to say, I never asked enough questions.

--What really grabbed my attention was one story (and there are many fascinating ones in this book) told by Nadya to her grandchildren about the pussy willow tree. I have a tree in my front yard, and it is beginning to bloom. It's one of the first signs of new life in early spring. I've always been fascinated by it's fuzzy white buds. I might add, The Russian Orthodox Church my own mother and my grandmother Baba attended, passes out pussy willow branches instead of palms on Palm Sunday. The branches hung on the wall above a picture of The First Supper all year long.

--In the book, Nadya's family would take a pussy willow branch and lightly tap a part of the body of a visiting relative as a welcome on Palm Sunday and say, "It's not I, but the willow that taps you on this week of Easter." She then tells her grandchildren the myth behind that tree. I never heard it before, and I'd like to briefly write about it. As with many Russian stories, it has reason as well as darkness.

--An old farmer owned a small brown cat named Kasha who bore nine baby kittens. Since the farmer was not a good person, he put the kittens in a big brown sack and threw them into the river to drown. Kasha meowed and cried for her little kittens. A willow tree, who we know is kind and helpful, grew nearby and overheard Kasha's cries. The tree extended its branches into the water and pulled out the sack of kittens. Only one kitten survived. "Ever since, willows everywhere bloom with kitten-like buds in memory of the drowned kittens and the sad mother." (Chapter 5, The Silence of Trees)

--"Kitten-like buds." I like that.