Luscious

We all have moments when only one descriptor will suffice. The ragged hangnail dangling on my index finger is gruesome. The giant orange sun sinking below the horizon is stunning. The toddler riding along in a little red wagon is charming. The grease spot eternally clinging to my shirt is annoying. The cardinal singing from the treetop is refreshing.  The black and blue spot turning green on my knee is creepy. The incessant heat and humidity of summer is revolting. The zucchini plant churning out monstrous squash is fascinating.

And there are moments of lusciousness. Here are a few of mine.

1) Cool fronts--I am not a fan of sultry weather. I can achingly feel the dollars slip out the door as my air conditioner desperately attempts to squeegee the heat and humidity out of the air.  A cool front unloads sweet Canadian air into our midst, giving us the opportunity to open up our windows and breathe freshened air. Lusciously divine.

2) Peaches--I have eaten my share of sad, fibrous peaches which makes it all the better when I bite into a truly good one. The juice drizzles down my chin and arm as I slurp the sweetness from the silky fruit. The sticky aftermath just asks for more. Cobblers, crisps and pies are given new life and bedazzlement. Luscious ambrosia.

3) Socks--My feet enjoyed a great deal of freedom this summer but the time is quickly approaching when they will require a veil of protection. I have plenty of run-of-the-mill functional socks that dutifully give my feet a place to go before a shoe is donned. The socks that give me pleasure however are the cushy, well formed, non-slipping, cozy kind. They are weekend socks that pair nicely with a cup of coffee and a new novel. They are prized for their Goldilocks status--not too tight and not too loose. Snuggly lusciousness.

4) Bleach--Sad, but true. I love bleach. It is a cheap and effective cleaner and few germs stand a chance against it. I am certainly not a clean-a-holic but I cannot resist the power of bleach. I do not want the lemon scented, ocean breeze scented or fresh linen scented brands. I want the hard stuff and I respect what it can do for me and the grubbiness in my life. Luscious sanitation.

5) Autumn trees--They take my breath away. The cornucopia of colors splash the environment with delight. Blood red, lemon yellow, dusty tangerine, mottled green, rusty brown, grassy chartreuse and rich burgundy flutter in the breeze. Add a cool front to the mix and I am woozy with glee. Luscious kaleidoscope.

6) Cheese--I am not ashamed to say that I am addicted to the stuff. I love it in all shapes and sizes. It is tasty sliced, chunked, shredded, creamed or melted. It can be mild, sharp, peppery or tangy. It pairs well with sweet or savory. And nothing says finger licking good like a bag of puffs coated with fluorescent orange cheese dust. Luscious contentment.

I hope you experience a little lusciousness this week. Enjoy.

The Dream

The start of a new school year means many things. Shopping carts fill up with notebooks, pencils, art supplies and locker organizers. Clothing racks get a workout as new duds for school are perused and purchased. Squirmy toes are stuffed into shoes abandoned since last spring. Calendars fill up with tighter schedules. Swimming suits are given a final dip before being tucked into the bottom drawer. Frantic vacations are taken as the clock winds down.

Teachers also hop on the bus of increased activity. Posters are released from dark drawers and given wall space. Lesson plans are forged and polished. Books are counted and organized. Supplies are inventoried and distributed. Meetings portend the back to school frenzy. A sense of urgency wells up in the souls of all involved.

School cannot begin, however, until teachers experience The Dream. The Dream takes on many variations but the theme is always the same. I AM NOT READY! A typical dream scenario for me is a classroom full of restless, edgy students waiting for my arrival. The clock mercilessly creeps its way to the official start time of the day. I run at heart pounding speeds through a labyrinth of hallways like a rat in a maze. Each door I open leads me into the classroom of another teacher. I can't catch my breath but...I. do. not. give. up. Panic besets me as I round another corner only to see the principal. The mind games set in. Perhaps he is on his way to my room because he has been alerted to my tardiness. Maybe I should just catch up to him and confess my inadequacies once and for all. Run, check a door, run, check a door. The insanity takes its toll. Thoughts of a job loss take over. All the hallways start to look the same. It is no use. I am toast. My legs give out and I slip to the floor in an agonizing nod to a complete surrender. And then I notice the final assault. I forgot to put on my skirt.

Of course, I wake up at this point in the dream with my heart beating at fearful speeds. My mind takes a quick assessment of the situation. Is there a room full of students waiting for me? Not yet. Do I have lesson plans ready to go? Getting close. Is my classroom organized for the first day? Almost. Are my supplies purchased and organized? Yes. Do I know what I am going to wear on the first day? The skirt is ready.

I have learned a few things in my 27 years of teaching. The opening bell on the first day of school will happen whether I feel prepared or not. The butterflies in my stomach will take flight with the butterflies my students are experiencing. There will always be one more lesson plan to write and one more copy to be made. The computer will go all glitchy on me just when I need it most.

And the coffee will always be on so I can chase the dreams and cobwebs out of my head.