Zoey

(Here is a second draft of my piece about Zoey, newly expanded, for Writer's Workshop feedback.)

You hugged me on the last day of school,
your ponytail swinging and bracelets jingling
as you swept into my room, interrupting another visiting student.

Just two weeks ago you said that mine was your favorite class.
You asked if we could connect on MySpace,
or if you could email me over the summer.
You sent three emails in your IM lingo these past two weeks,
asking what I was up to and if I was reading anything exciting.

Last night your email made my heart skip and my mind whirl in protest.
Impossible words from one so young and feisty.
Yes, feisty, sassy, spirited.
Never quiet, often combative and always opinionated.

Even with your poor spelling skills the words were unmistakable:
Leukemia. Chemotherapy.
A knot tightens in my stomach and disbelief screams.

I imagined you riding your horse this summer,
the wind in your hair as you enjoyed your freedom.
I imagined you working on your mother’s ranch with abused animals,
being annoyed by the goats and chickens,
loving the dogs, and taking special interest in the horses.
Trying to save the world.

Now you are thrown into another battle.
Acute Promyelocytic Mylogenous Leukemia.
Intimidating, weighty, terrifying, life-changing words.

Fight, Zoey.
Use all that energy and fight to save yourself.
You just turned fifteen last month.
So many plans, experiences, dreams, and opportunities await you.

Fight hard, Zoey.
May you win this battle,
to fight the injustices of the world another day.

Morning Coffee

As a more recent convert to the joys of morning coffee, I do relish the ritual. On weekends and vacations I love to sit on our patio or back porch with my favorite mug and the morning newspaper. There is something almost sacred about the time to look at the mountains, listen to the birds, and sip the dark comfort in my mug. My husband makes the coffee every morning, which is an added personal bonus. He takes satisfaction in the ritual of grinding the coffee beans, adding the filtered water and brewing a very strong pot of Italian Roast coffee. During the school year, my handsome hubby gets up in time to make the coffee before I fly out the door with my thermos of joy. During the summer months, I can lazily wait in bed, listening to the coffee-making ritual in the kitchen, until the aroma urges me to come-hither. Such a guilty pleasure to just go slowly in the morning, enjoy, and savor my perfect cup of coffee.

Being Humbled

On my way out the door this morning, a quick glance in the mirror caused my heart to sink. There, on the front of my new shirt, was a symbol of my total ineptitude. My “scarlet letter” was in the form of clear sticker-tag which boldly announced “MMMMMM.”

This, of course, was the very shirt which I had worn the previous afternoon to a picnic. The very shirt in which I had visited with at least fifty people, strangers and old acquaintances that I hadn’t seen years. How could I have missed this tag? Although the shirt does have polka dots, the emblazoned “MMMMMMs” were still plainly in view.

So, how many people noticed the tag and decided against commenting? (I know at least two people didn’t notice: my husband and I.) Perhaps the people with whom I was visiting when I dropped my entire plate of hors d'oeuvres thought that I’d suffered enough embarrassment for one evening, so couldn’t bear to mention it. Perhaps a few truly didn’t notice, but alas, it was noticeable. Well, I only hope that most of them enjoyed a good laugh in the car on their way home. And perhaps, the next time they embarrass themselves publicly, they will think of me and know that they are not alone.

Family Travels

Spelling Matters

Last night we were driving along a nearby highway. We came to a blinking, neon construction sign informing motorists to “OBAY SPEED LIMITS.” My husband and I simultaneously yelled, “OBEY!” in disbelief and then read the next construction sign: “PROCEDE WITH CAUTION.” More screaming ensued. While this might seem to be a perfectly logical spelling, no one claims that English is logical.

I can just imagine this spelling-challenged construction worker back in high school, sitting in my classroom insistently informing me that he doesn’t need to know how to spell because HE is going into the construction business. And, besides, even if he did have to write something, he would just use spell check.

Obviously, construction signs do not come with a spell check option. So, where are the spelling police when you need them? What an embarrassment! I want to require this errant speller to correct his work and perhaps even write OBEY and PROCEED ten times correctly! I certainly will be able to use this anecdote with the next student who tries to convince me that he or she doesn’t need spelling!

In the meantime, perhaps we should look into creating a spell check option for construction signs.

Lessons from a Tractor

Yesterday I had my annual summer lesson on driving my husband’s tractor. Driving the tractor is on my list of “Life Skills to Avoid.” This is an evolving list which includes such items as adding toner to the copier at work, power-washing the back porch and putting air into the car tires. These are things in which I have actively sought to cultivate a complete lack of skill, thereby recusing myself from the chore.

Nonetheless, since I needed to move mulch and my husband wasn’t going to be home, I agreed to the tractor lesson. (I have indeed been given this lesson before, but as part of my endeavor to cultivate a total lack of proficiency, I deleted all directions from virtual memory following usage last summer.)

My patient and bemused husband patiently told me the function for each lever and knob, watching to make sure I could indeed operate the bucket correctly. After my first successful maneuver I asked him about another lever on the left side of the seat.

“What is a PTO? I’m sure it isn’t a Parent Teacher Organization,” I remarked.

“That is the Power Take Off,” he responded nonchalantly.

“The WHAT?” I asked incredulously.

“The Power Take Off,” he restated. As the words left his mouth, I began to laugh uncontrollably, until I had tears streaming down my cheeks. Between my gasps for air, I kept repeating “The Power Take Off?” When I could speak, I asked if there was also an eject button and parachute.

The PTO lever is now my favorite part of the tractor. I’m sure the engineers at John Deere has some more mundane function in mind, but having a PTO is such a wonderful idea. If I had such a lever, I pull it every morning as my alarm went off. An extra surge of energy would be just what my body needs at 5:30 AM. And think how useful it could be when pulling out into traffic. And, if children could be given a PTO, it would be an amazing development. My first block of the day, when my sleep-deprived students are staring into space, I could just throw the PTO lever and off we would go. Forget an “easy button,” I want a PTO lever!

So, how was your day?

How was my day? Well, my desk top is cleared, the mulch is raked even on the front flower beds, the floors were vacuumed, my bed is made, one of three boxes from Fed Ex is unwrapped, the NY Times Crossword puzzle has been accomplished, and the soup was moved to a smaller container in the refrigerator. Did I mention that I ate a bowl of popcorn? Doesn’t seem like much to have accomplished by 2 PM in the afternoon. So let me try to recount where the hours actually went:

“Mom, please move my washing to the dryer. Make sure it is set on regular. And the nicer shirts need to be hung up, and the rest could go in the dryer…but only on regular. Did you hear me?

“Mom, can you look and see if you have spices we need for cooking an Indian meal tomorrow night? It would be a shame to have to buy all those spices…there are twelve listed here….”

“Mom, are you by a computer? Can you MapQuest from Auburn to Mt. Rainer? Which side of the park is the visitor’s center? Do you remember where Reflection Lake is located?”

“Hi, again, Mom. Did you say that you had whole cloves or ground cloves? And was it mustard seeds I still needed to get?”

“Hi, hon. Did you remember to call the car dealer to replace that headlight? And be sure to tell them that the car needs routine maintenance and its inspection too.”

“Hi, Mrs. Baasch? This is Cheryl from the doctor’s office. We still cannot get Blue Cross, Blue Shield to complete the processing on those claims for your daughter. Can you please call them again? I have spent hours on this already and they have not returned my calls.”

“Hi, Debra. Did you want more mulch delivered today?”

“Hello, is Debra Boo-she there? Because of your excellent credit payment record, I’m calling to offer you lower interest rates on your cards.”

“Hi Mom. Me again. Can you look down in my room and see if my black shirt is hanging in my closet? I need it for next weekend and maybe you could bring it down tonight?”

So much for the first seven hours of my day--perhaps I’ll at least get a blog entry out of this for my summer course!