Super Value

Throughout my years of teaching I had the opportunity to be a part of many different committees. I would be lying if I said I enjoyed every meeting, every agenda and every committee member. What is true, however, is that I learned something from each gathering for the good or the bad.

One particular challenging committee I served on had the objective of reviewing whether the needs of gifted students were being met at the middle school level. Before I go any farther, it might be best if I come clean with my bias. I hate the word gifted as it implies that one child is superior to another based solely on one criteria point. Such a premise is a slippery slope, in my opinion.

Our committee was comprised of teachers, parents and district administrators. One of the committee members was a particular contentious and vocal mother of a student in the gifted program. She, of course, believed the needs of her little Einstein were not being met and it was time for a change. I am no stranger to such rants but her personality and unmitigated demands rubbed me the wrong way. My vow to keep my mouth shut and do my time was not long lived. I eventually spoke my piece, more than once, I'm afraid. Mama Bear had no time of day for me as I was "just a regular teacher" so I knew I was wasting oxygen speaking to her but it made me feel better. During one particular heated moment, Mama Bear made the statement, "Why is this district spending so much time on the regular kids. Everyone knows they will never save the world." Suffice it to say, I practically levitated from my seat.

Fast forward to today. Who are the folks we are asking to risk so much for us? Surely, we need scientists and researchers in a desperate way but it is also very clear that each person who shows up at an essential service job is putting their health and well-being on the line. The HVAC worker who fixes a furnace in a cold home, the grocery clerk who works with hundreds of people throughout the day, the nurse who takes a deep breath and goes in for another shift, the FedEx driver who faithfully delivers packages so we can shop from home, the caretaker at a senior living center who works with an extremely vulnerable population, and on and on it goes. I do not know their IQ levels but it doesn't matter one iota to me whether they are Mensa or not.

I may never cross paths with Mama Bear again but there is a part of me that feels justified after all these years. If we learn anything from our current world crisis, perhaps one lesson is to honor the value of others, regardless of an IQ rating, a prestigious job, a fat bank account or a lucrative sports career. I think Mr. Rogers got it right again when he said, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping'".

God bless the helpers and may we all be one of them.

Thanks to the folks at the greenhouse who are making sure we can
 dream of gardening days ahead.

Life on the Ledge

I am positioned in a way that is well suited for our newly quarantined world. I do not have little ones to care for. I am retired so I don't have to think about e-learning lessons. I am no longer on lots of committees so Zoom sessions are not necessary. I have a good supply of toilet paper thanks to my youth hostel operation. And Mother Hubbard's cupboard is still not bare.

And yet, I find myself slipping out on the ledge. I am a professional fretter and despite my head saying, "Stop It!", I allow myself to play mind games. Every little cough or sniffle, I talk myself into impending doom. Every phone call from my mother makes me worry about her well-being now that I cannot visit her in person. Each time I go to the grocery store I feel like I am playing a game of plague. I have no solutions to my excessive stewing but I am stumbling my way through a few strategies. Here are a few of them.

1) The Great British Baking Show (Netflix)--I have no intention of replicating any of the baking challenges given the contestants, but there is something very distracting about watching home bakers work their way through the challenges of constructing "show stoppers" and critical judging. The judges and moderators are fun to watch and, let's face it, British accents are entertaining for those of us living across the pond.

2) Geography--No, I haven't gone completely daft. Yet. I am, however, using an on-line game to help me brush up on my geographical knowledge. It is very humbling to say the least. I started with the United States and quickly discovered my knowledge deficit of states on the east coast. Where the heck is Delaware, anyway? I am not allowing myself to move to a new region until I have 100 percent accuracy. So far I have marched my way through the U.S., Canada, Central America, South America, Europe and Africa. I am ashamed to admit how pitiful my pre-tests are for each region. I am now working on Asia and getting stuck on all the "stans" and sovereign city-states. The whole process is just demanding enough to keep my mind distracted and I feel like I am accomplishing something without having to clean a closet.

3) Birds--No surprise on this one. I have to get my bird fix every day whether it is watching and listening to my neighborhood bird friends or watching my favorite nest cams from Cornell Labs. Currently, Cornell is featuring an osprey nest in Savannah, an osprey nest in Montana, an albatross nest in New Zealand, an owl nest in Indiana, two petrel nests in Bermuda and a hawk nest in New York. (By the way, I can find all those places on the map now.) I am also participating in Cornell's FeederWatch program so I turn in bird counts from my backyard feeder each week. And if I get really desperate, I could resurrect the Albatross dance my colleague and I used to torment others with. Look out TikTok.

One other strategy for my sanity is that I have stopped watching/reading the news. My ability to grab on to a nugget of doom and nurture it like a dung beetle with its treasure was not helping me cope. My husband is in charge of filtering any pertinent information my way. I now stick my head in the sand and do my part for the greater whole to the best of my ability.

Stay safe and be well, my friends.

This is what making a face mask looks like when sewing terrifies you: dishtowel, elastic from underwear waist band and gobs of fabric glue...enough to get your fingers glued to the project, several times. 

Of Two Minds

Try as I might, it is impossible to create a post that ignores the "Big CV".  I find myself vacillating between curling up in the fetal position in my closet to flinging the windows open with a laissez faire spirit. Everything that should be said has quite likely already been said or perhaps shouldn't be stated at all. Human nature is certainly presenting itself as good, bad and everything in between as we respond to our individual situations. Clearly, our inner voices are nudging us to "do something." My instincts are goading me toward the following conclusions.

1) Be careful what you wish for.--Likely, many of us have made the statement, "Oh, how I wish I didn't have so much going on in my life. I am just too busy to keep up." And, now, many are stuck at home with nary a sporting event or meeting or church service to attend. The simple ritual of going out for coffee causes a person to answer a gauntlet of questions concerning availability of services, social distancing and quarantining. Working from home may have its advantages but the loss of camaraderie and established routines can wobble one's sense of well being. It is no surprise that many are craving the very thing that harbored complaints just a few short weeks ago.

2) Too much is too much.--This is true on a very basic level when we witness what happens when folks hoard everything from toilet paper to hand sanitizer to canned goods. My husband gently suggested a month ago that it might not hurt to stock up on groceries "just in case." I told him I could probably pantry dive for at least a month before we ran out of edible items. That being said, I have been augmenting my larder with a few extra staples. But, buying more than two weeks worth of goods has a selfish ring to it. If folks are unable to self-check, it may be time to return to the rationing system used during World War II. Moderation, please.

3) Keep calm and start cooking.--It is not a surprise that all the recent insanity sent me straight to the kitchen. Nothing calms me more than getting lost in the zen of chopping, measuring, preheating, sauteing and tasting. Lots of tasting. Bread, snickerdoodles, almond bars, marinated lamb chops, salmon loaf, curried carrots and colcannon are just a few of my distractions, none of which used ingredients in high demand at the grocery store. Baking my own bread does remind me, however, why my grandmothers always bought flour in 50-lb sacks. They didn't use dainty canisters to store their flour but, rather, flour bins large enough to bathe a small child in. Baking was a fact of life back then.

4) Necessity is the mother of invention.--"Flattening the curve" has had an inverse effect on creativity.  Creativity has been flaring up exponentially in response to changes in our social behavior. Entities such as restaurants, theaters, gyms and schools are giving birth to solutions at warp speed in response to problems rarely imagined. I have no doubt that some of the creative responses being implemented now will inspire improvements long after the demands of this crisis have passed.

And, finally, in the spirit of binge watching our favorite shows, let us remember the words often attributed to John Wayne, "Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway."

Giddy up, folks and stay close to the ranch.

Finally got around to using the last of the chocolate stars
from my Christmas baking supplies. Never too late. 

Mind Trips

March is National Reading Month in honor of Dr. Suess' birthday on March 2. Many librarians will don tall red and white striped cat-in-the-hats in hope of enticing the younger crowd into a world of books. Book trivia contests, celebrity read-alouds and flashy library displays will promote the theme throughout the month. In reality, every month is reading month in a library but a promotional push toward literacy spices things up a bit. And librarians love a good theme.

In honor of National Reading Month, here are a few books I have read this year, in no particular order or recommendation.

1) Travel Light, Move Fast by Alexandra Fuller--This book is a memoir revolving around the author's rather unconventional upbringing by her very quirky parents in Africa. Fuller's young life was very different from my rather traditional upbringing in the upper Midwest of the United States and I found her recollections fascinating if not a little perplexing. I did not covet her upbringing but I did wish I was a bit more adventuresome. My trip to the mailbox at the end of our long driveway as a kid was adventure enough for me I guess.

2) A Serial Killer's Daughter by Kerri Rawson--This true story is not for the faint of heart. The author's father was a notorious serial killer known as BTK (bind, torture, kill) in the Wichita, Kansas area.  Chillingly, Rawson's father committed his crimes under the noses of his wife, children and community members without being caught for over thirty years. Rawson's first inkling of her father's evil crimes happened when the FBI came knocking on her door one day. The tale is one of heartbreak, betrayal, shame and ultimately, attempts at forgiveness. The descriptions are not graphic in a blood and guts manner but the rawness of emotions will remind us all of the complexity of relationships.

3) The Impossible Climb by Mark Synnott--My fascination with mountain climbing continues with this book. The author helps us peek into the culture and history of mountain climbers while focusing on the astonishing free-solo climb of El Capitan in 2017 by Alex Honnold. The mountain climbing described in this book is not the pseudo-climbing of men and women who "climb" ascents such as Mt. Everest on the backs of Sherpas and a well-padded pocketbook. The often rag-tag climbers Synnott describes (himself included) are scrappers who have a genuine love for scaling heights and the athleticism involved in the process. He also crafts a deft description of the unwritten tenets of ethical mountain climbing. No one could be farther from such adventures than myself and I tend to be critical of what I deem to be foolishly risky behavior. Synnott's book actually wobbled my judgment of the sport. Not enough to send me looking for carabiners and crampons, but I will reserve instant judgment on all climbers, unless Sherpas are involved.

4) The Best Cook in the World by Rick Bragg--This book was quite a departure for me. The content is certainly in my wheelhouse as I love books about the culture of food and food preparation. It was the way I "read" the book that was foreign to me. I am dabbling in the world of audio books in an attempt to improve my listening skills. Okay, that is a lie. I am using audio books to help me un-numb my brain while I complete my morning exercise routine. The book is rather long so many miles can be covered along the way. Bragg brilliantly describes the essence of food preparation and dining during the very hard times and good times of his mother's family in the hilly regions of Alabama. His sense of humor and keen use of language kept me well entertained. I don't think I will ever cook barbecued pig's feet or the potentially poisonous poke salad, but the lessons gleaned from the book were definitely worth feasting upon.

Hope you have the luxury of reading a good book or two this month. It is time well spent.

Cake

I like to cook and bake but there are some things that kick my butt every time. As some of you know, anything with gelatin or Jello will confound me to no end so I tend to shy away from using such ingredients. I also struggle with the lowly little dried bean. Soak or don't soak? Add baking powder or not? Add salt first or later or both? Use red, black, pinto, kidney or other? Simmer on the stove or use a pressure cooker? All this to say, I use canned beans. A particularly disastrous baked beans recipe attempted years ago keeps me humble.

Another nemesis for me is cake, plain and simple. I'm not talking about a cake mix, pretty sure a trained monkey could pull that off. Rather, I am referring to a from-scratch product. Because I am old enough to remember an era when boxed cake mixes were either a luxury or difficult to procure, I have a taste memory of delicious, moist, slightly crumbly cakey goodness slathered with homemade frosting served as a special treat for company or for a special occasion. We had some of the raw ingredients on the farm such as eggs and cream so there was no excuse for not honing our cake baking skills. Alas, it did not happen for me. I could pull off an angel food cake, IF I separated the eggs properly with no yolk sneaking its way into the precious whites. I learned how to use the egg yolks in a buttery sponge cake that was always a favorite. But an old-fashioned chocolate or white cake was a mystery to me.

When I ask my 92-year-old mother about making cakes, she always reminds me that cake making is a tricky process, prone to producing a dry cake or something that is just plain blah. And she says that the best thing that happened on that front was the invention of the cake mix. I always agree with her and yet, I feel I might still be able to slay the cake dragon.

Thus the reason I made another attempt at making a cake. It was my husband's birthday so I had a deadline to motivate me. He loves cake and truth to be told, he would be just as happy (or happier) with a box cake as a homemade one, but I was determined to make this happen. I found a recipe from America's Test Kitchen, a source of well tested, very detailed recipes. I needed specific information and the cake recipes of my youth were prone to cryptic instructions and loosely identified ingredient amounts. Cake demands precision.

To the best of my ability, I followed the comprehensive steps. Set eggs and butter out so they can reach room temperature. Separate eggs. Whip egg whites and set aside. Blend dry and wet ingredients. Gently fold in egg whites. Grease, flour and add parchment paper to two cake pans (mine are of slightly different sizes but I chose to look the other way. Sorry, Test Kitchen.). Bake until inserted toothpick is free of clinging batter. Cool for ten minutes and remove from the pans. Then, move on to the frosting. The Test Kitchen recommended their recipe for foolproof chocolate frosting made in a food processor. My moderately sized food processor struggled to handle all the ingredients but, my goodness, the frosting was divine. I did a lot of quality control with the finished results and I would make that frosting again, cake or no cake.

The final cake was very tasty and my husband enjoyed every last bite, but was it worth all the effort? A tricky question. I liked the flavor and texture better than a cake mix, but most folks would probably be just as happy with a cake sans all the fuss. In reality, we are comparing apples to oranges. Each has its benefits and each is good for you.

My advice is to just eat cake.

Medicine

My husband has the good (or bad) fortune of having a meal ready to go for him when he arrives home on his lunch break. I prepare simple fare such as a grilled sandwich and salad or round two of an earlier meal. He is usually in a hurry so there is not much lingering involved. Dine and dash.

One particular meal involved the last bowl of homemade chicken soup. He came home in a rather frazzled state. Plans had changed at work. Someone he had hoped would be helping him was no longer available on the job site. An additional duty of moving furniture for someone popped up and the streets were becoming difficult to navigate with a blizzard bearing down. There was also a possibility of snow removal for three driveways after the snow abated. Clearly, a hot meal was needed.

While he shared his impending duties with me, he methodically ate his chicken soup, salad and crispy saltines. About halfway through his soup, he wrapped his hands around the warm bowl and sighed, "I think all I needed was some chicken soup. I feel better now." The conversation for the rest of the meal was far less frantic and the very last drop of soup was slurped up. (We are slurppers, don't judge.)

Many believe chicken soup has curative powers, especially for those feeling a bit under the weather. The soup has even achieved the nickname, Jewish penicillin. I have no scientific data to suggest such claims are true but chicken soup surely has the ingredients for health. Carrots, celery and onions are  powerhouses of vitamin C, A, K and other antioxidants. Onions are also a known expectorant, a.k.a. phlegm buster. The warm chicken broth is soothing and mild to the stomach. The soft noodles are little sponges for flavor and combine all the ingredients into a satisfying meal.

My anecdotal evidence certainly supports the potency of a humble bowl of chicken soup. My daughter always refers to chicken soup as her comfort food from home. On more than one occasion, a bowl of warm chicken soup has raised the spirits of my nieces after a long drive to our house from far-flung places. A container of soup has brightened the day of friends needing a meal after a tough day or week. And I, myself, crave chicken soup when the weather is foul and no travel is advised.

In all honesty, I suspect the real magic of homemade chicken soup is that it is a conveyor belt of love. Someone took the time to chop vegetables, boil meat for broth, strain the broth, add seasonings and finish the whole works with a cup or two of egg noodles. Real homemade soup does not happen in a few minutes. It cannot be procured at a drive-thru. It doesn't come from a can. And it cannot be served by a stranger.

I guess our grandmothers knew best. Sharing a bowl of soup with family and friends can cure what ails you.

(Oops, we ate the soup before a photo was taken. The crackers were good, too.)

How Potato Chips Saved My Life

One must be prepared for all types of weather conditions here on the tundra. The sun can be shining with a come thither look while the air temperature could flash freeze a side of beef. A cloudy gray day can quickly become a thawing day. The snow can pile up in haystacks of white or the ground can be a brown slumbering flatland. Our outer wear has to match the moment with a selection of mittens, gloves, fleece, scarves, parkas, coveralls, boots (real ones, not fashion statements) and flannel.

The trickiest weather involves the thaw-freeze days. The roadways look deceivingly clear but the moisture on the roads quickly freezes when the temperature dips to just the right temperature. This can happen any time of the day or night. I was reminded of this scientific fact in a very real way last week.

My before dawn routine usually begins with an exercise DVD. I will do ANYTHING to distract myself from the chirpy little instructor. I often skip the first minute or two of her yapping so I can retrieve my morning paper. Wintertime newspaper retrieval involves a quick assessment of the pavement conditions. Dry pavement means no shoes necessary. Wet pavement means no shoes. Snow dusted pavement means casual shoes. Snowy slush pavement means tugging on the boots. This particular morning the pavement was only wet so no shoes for me. The temperature was also mild so there was no need to hurry. I was just a few feet out on the driveway when my brain received a very bad message. Black ice was being sensed under my feet. We all know that by the time one's brain is processing such a message it is too late. I responded with a screech as my body did a full backwards butt slam on the pavement. After the initial jolt, I took a quick assessment of the damage. Hips, moving. Legs, moving. Arms, moving. Head, no concussion. Dignity, bruised. Tailbone, ouch. I slowly picked myself up and carefully inched my way back to the door, wary of more ice.

My first instinct was to skip my DVD for the morning. I love a good excuse. But, I continued with my usual routine so I could determine the extent of my damage. I had minimal discomfort so no x-rays were going to be needed. A quick Google search for tailbone injuries indicated no need for a doctor's intervention as nothing can be done. The list of symptoms for a broken tailbone did not match my symptoms so it was clear that I just took a bruising, not a breaking.

I was quite surprised my tailbone wasn't broken due to the full force of my weight bearing down upon it during the fall. Upon further reflection, however, I credit my good fortune to potato chips. I do not have a flat butt. There is padding there, folks. And that doesn't just happen. My penchant for such things as potato chips or cheese curls or bacon gives me more of a baby beluga look rather than a lithe giraffe. My tailbone was protected from the initial impact of my fall.

Thank you, potato chips. Wavy, plain, barbecue or sour cream, it does not matter as long as you're doing your job.