Once an English teacher, always an English teacher…
I had carefully planned and shopped and done everything in my power to avoid shopping on Christmas Eve. When our … Continue reading Once an English teacher, always an English teacher…
I had carefully planned and shopped and done everything in my power to avoid shopping on Christmas Eve. When our … Continue reading Once an English teacher, always an English teacher…
I dreaded the dance. I saw it as an awkward mother-son performance in front of a room of spectators, but of … Continue reading Dancing with my son…
My only daughter was having an emergency C-section, but my oldest son was getting married and we were driving to … Continue reading Will the real mechanic please stand up?
I woke up this morning fully intent on attending church. Sundays are generally awkward because my husband has to work … Continue reading A camera blinded by the light…
I spent the first day of the year erasing the old. It was dreary and drizzling and too chilly to … Continue reading Like it never even happened…
Last night, my oldest sister sent a text that included the photo at left, above, and the sentence, “Recognize anything besides … Continue reading A throwback at Christmas…
A few years ago, when I was in high school :), I tried out for the pompon squad. My sister … Continue reading Affected by the threat of loss…
For months I have been working with colleagues who are mothers of young children, newly entered into childcare situations and … Continue reading Still a mama…
We arrived in Seattle for a wedding, knowing that we were to share a two-bedroom apartment with my sister-in-law and her … Continue reading A queen for five days…
Writing about my “hostage situation” in McDonald’s made me think of my father’s week-long experience as a McDonald’s hostage — at least … Continue reading Singing to free the hostage…
Dear Diana, When I awakened at 3:30 a.m. Colorado time, my first thought was that I was glad you weren’t … Continue reading When friendship trumps light…
Sick days, sick days
Dear new golden sick days
Sniffling and sneezing and hacking cough
Kept me at home on a rare day off.
Were I a teacher I’d go to work
Share all my germs, make my illness worse.
But the job I have now I can duty shirk
Without hurting a classroom of kids.
— (my revised, working girl version of the 1907 song “School Days”)
Yesterday I went to work even though I felt terrible. My head was aching, my throat was sore, and I knew I was battling something. But I had an afternoon meeting I didn’t want to reschedule, and I knew I could muscle through the day with a little help from ibuprofen and friends. My symptoms weren’t visually apparent, and I tried to keep mostly to myself so as not to share the joy. But when I mentioned to my supervisor that I was feeling a bit under the weather, she said, “Go home!”
I didn’t, but it struck me that I could.
I am a technical editor with eight hours of work daily. I get to work early and sometimes scrimp on my personal lunch hour because I like to get work done. But I have generous deadlines, an equally generous, perpetual pile of work, and I leave work daily knowing I did the best I could and that I can take up tomorrow where I left off today.
I was hastily looking through my post-high school photo albums searching for a picture of me when I first wore glasses. Apparently, I wasn’t that proud of my bespectacled look, for I never found one. But what I did find, not surprisingly, was a “selfie” or, rather, an “usie” (a selfie for two):
This photo includes me (at a slightly younger age) on a date with my beloved Bill. (My first husband died of complications from ulcer surgery at age 25, too few years after we shot this precious selfie while on a date.) We had too few photo opportunities — as we mostly dated long-distance via cards and letters and infrequent, expensive phone calls and even less frequent, expensive visits — and, though we had the occasional friend or stranger shoot a photo of us in those cherished moments together, we often resorted to selfies, our cheek to cheek “usies.”
Just looking at this photo and its caption brought back the precious memories — but it also made me laugh at myself. Not only was I happy to be in the photo with Bill (who became my husband), clearly I also was proud of my ability to shoot such a photo, for I included the “secret” of the shot in my caption. (I should have patented it. Obviously, more people have looked through my photo album than I thought.)
The photo was shot in the late 1980s, back in the days when a camera’s lens only pointed away from you. (Why do I feel the need to explain this?) If you were using the viewfinder on the camera, you were not shooting a photo of yourself. If you were shooting a photo of yourself, you were not framing the shot by anything but guesswork. This was so long ago that we used film; we had no idea what we’d shot (or the quality of the shot) until we developed the film. This was also before such luxuries as one-hour photo developing, or at least before one-hour photo developing became affordable.
The funny thing?
Though I shot this photo back in the ’80s, I didn’t put it in an album until 10 years later… and I still thought shooting a selfie unique and unknown enough to include the “how to.” Just ten years after that I would be putting together my daughter’s life album as a high school graduation present — and find I had to make it a two-volume tome because she had so many selfies of herself alone and with friends to fit within the pages. The first fourteen years of her life were in one album; her high school (and selfie) years were in another the same size.
Down at the beach, as the sun begins to set, the photography begins in earnest. Romantic couples and lovely families … Continue reading The photos I didn’t take…
My husband noticed something was wrong. At first I hesitated. Then I told him, “No, it’s stupid.” “I can tell … Continue reading An afghan as a symbol of regret…
This week, my son played what could be his final baseball game. Certainly, he played his final game of high school, … Continue reading Packing it all in…
“Let me see. If Adam is turning 18 today, and I was X when he was born. Then X + … Continue reading When your youngest turns 18…
I’m beginning to think I’m a little slow on the uptake. (Very slow, actually, as it is taking me multiple … Continue reading Putting past successes behind me…