Slice of Life Day 6: My Favorite Failure

It’s no secret to a lot of folks out there: I’m…kind of a gym rat. My most recent love is Olympic Weightlifting. There’s really only two lifts involved. There’s the snatch, where you take a barbell from ground to overhead in one movement. And there’s the clean and jerk, where you hoist a barbell first to your shoulders before hiking it above your head.

Super simple. Pick the bar up, put it down. Repeat.

Except.

The concept of weightlifting is super-simple, but lifts are difficult. The amount of skill, precision and technique that go into a lift is positively mind-boggling. Like golf, folks can spend years honing their abilities without ever achieving full mastery. I’ve been at this almost exclusively for two years and I consider myself (mostly) a novice. Luckily, I have a coach who is a genius about eyeing my form and giving me the teaching and cues I need to improve. Case in point…

Cut to Monday. The workout for that day involved heavy snatches, and this particular video shows my attempt to tie my personal record:

Gotta have the slap-skies to wake those muscles up! And yes, that’s my coach giving me cues in the background.

Yeah. I missed it. But this miss? I feel better about it than if I had made it.

Let me explain. Ever since I’ve been at this, a miss for me has been like so:
– I set up at the bar
– I start to pull it up
– As soon as I gain momentum, I chicken out and drop it

But here – right here – is what shows my progress. I actually got UNDER the bar before I lost it. Which means that I trusted myself enough to try. Which means that slowly (oh so slowly!) I’m getting better at this thing.

Let’s see…I’ve got something that’s challenging to learn, a coach who gives me the instruction I need, and the time to practice and improve.

(And folks wonder why weightlifting has made me a better teacher…)

Slice of Life Day 5: Called into Service

You know, there are moments when, as a parent of older children, I might feel like the time has passed to be of service, help, or support to my children. ​

I don’t have to tie shoes anymore, nor do I have to pack school lunches. I don’t have to drive anybody to outrageously early or painfully late sport practices, and I don’t have to do their laundry. 

Still, moments remind me that even though I might not be necessary for some of the basic things of life, I am still a needed person.

Picture of an upside down cap on top of a nightstand

You might not see it, but there is a little friend trapped underneath this shaving cream cap.

After all…without me, who would take care of the spiders in the bathroom? 

I might be the shortest of our bunch, and my kids might mercilessly tease me for all manner of things, but when push comes to shove, I know I have my purpose. 

Slice of Life Challenge Day 4: For Which It Stands

Today I had my students “translate” the Pledge of Allegiance into fifth-grade language. It was an exercise in:

-Using the online dictionary
-Simplifying words by thinking, “That’s a fancy way of saying ______”
-Learning how syntax (word order) affects the tone of writing
-The benefits of simple clear language

Text of the Pledge of Allegiance, original and simplified.

Oh. And.
-We’ve been saying this thing for how many years without understanding it?
-We’re saying it to a flag.
-Which symbolizes our nation.
-Freedom.
-Fairness.
-For ALL.

Slice of Life Story Challenge Day 3: Worse Things

There are worse things, she thought,
than her feet plugged firmly in the massager
while she listened to a fellow poet’s music
and watched her dogs tussle over
a tennis ball,
after a full day of teaching
that began with just the right mug of chai,
continued with kids snuggling, giggling over poetry,
and about twelve kid-redemptions of
a “free hugs” pin
hung on the lanyard,
topped off by a strong
(yet humbling as always)
day at the gym
and a favorite dish for dinner
to be topped off by
the Holy of Holies:
an early bedtime

Slice of Life Challenge Day 2: If Only

If only I hadn’t hung out in bed until wayyyy past 7:30 AM;

If only I hadn’t taken that extra 20 minutes to just. Sit. Down while I ate my breakfast;

If only I hadn’t wound my way through four grocery stores and still ended up short a couple of ingredients;

If only I hadn’t spent the entire afternoon feverishly prepping meals ahead of a time where I won’t have access to my kitchen;

If only I hadn’t sat down to a meal with my in-laws, prepared expertly by my son and husband; 

If only I hadn’t taken that phone call from my beautiful niece after dinner; 

If only Ihadn’t set myself up for tomorrow by laying out my clothes and packing my meals; 

If only I hadn’t taken extra time to stretch myself out and pet the dogs; 

Then maybe – just maybe – I might have come up with a deeper, pithier, more well-written post for today…

And maybe – just maybe – I would also have found some time to comment on the amazing, insightful, breathtaking writing I’ve had the chance to read. 

Guess there’s tomorrow, my friends. 

———

Thanks, as always, to the Slice of Life Story Challenge!

Slice of Life Challenge Day 1: Benchmarks

There are certain books in my life I call “Benchmark” books. I read them once in a blue moon, and not just because I like them. There are certain books that change in the reading because I’ve changed as a human. I might catch a new joke I missed in an earlier reading, feel new or resonating sadness in a character’s grief, or reflect on how my world view has evolved. A few examples:

–Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White
–Native Son by Richard Wright
–The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

For me, the March Slice of Life Story Challenge is a benchmark. It’s simple: write every day during the month of March. The challenge is always the same.

But I am not.

Each March I come to the Slice of Life the same, and different. Each March serves as a record of who I am, where I’m coming from, and what life brings me. There’s my first year, full of bright and early explorations in my writing. There’s the COVID year, with its anxiety and uncertainty. There’s my unfinished year, where supporting my mother through her health challenges became too much to balance with writing every day.

Where will this month take me? What will it teach me? That, my friends, is what I’m here to find out.

Happy writing!

Slice of Life: Just Playing

Today, I decided to make my Slice of Life through a different strategy. Stacey Shubitz had sent me this gift article about journaling on the phone. I was intrigued! So intrigued, that I shared the link on today’s post, and decided to give this strategy a go.

I was going through my living room, and I just saw this again, on the mantel. It felt like the first time I was looking at it. I couldn’t remember at first who gave it to me, or when I got it. It took me a few days to remember that this framed paper cutting sat in my mother’s office, and I took it with me as a memento when we cleaned out her apartment. She had an affinity for Winnie-ther-Pooh, and so do I. I think my students would enjoy seeing this, as we’re reading Winnie the Pooh right now…

I just got this oh-so-sincere “thank you” magazine in the mail. As someone whose name is chronically misspelled, I can quickly see the irony. I could probably fill a whole post with times and places folks have gotten my name wrong. Here’s a hint: travel down to Champaign, Illinois and visit University of Illinois’s College of Education. There’s a strong chance there’s a still plaque with my name on it, spelled incorrectly. I think my gravestone might have the same fate…

Speaking of giving things a go, I recently started this strategy with my students. We’re identifying strong uses of craft, then giving it a spin to see where it leads us. With one group, I worked on word choice to create imagery. And with the next, I was looking to create a mood. It was more an experiment in sentence length, but I was pretty pleased.

I was not pleased, however, with the way I introduced the activity to my second group. Many of them, instead of giving a particular skill a try, just listed the things they wanted to try. And that, my friends, is entirely mine. Maybe I didn’t explain it well enough. Maybe I didn’t model it the way I should have. But when most kids miss the mark, it’s almost always because there’s a place my teaching fell short.

Luckily, my students are highly forgiving creatures.
Luckily, we’ll have lots of chances to do it again.

So…how did I enjoy journaling on my phone? Honestly, the jury is still out. I used the “notes” app on my phone because I didn’t want to have to download yet another app. Unfortunately, “Notes” was clunky to use. I may try to download a better app to see if it’s easier or more enjoyable to use. I’ll keep you posted!

One Little Word for 2025

Before I can share my One Little Word, I have to tell a story that seems unrelated. I promise it connects, though, because if anyone knows anything about me, it’s that I can take literally (!) anything and turn it into a metaphor. If you’re lucky, I might also make you giggle here and there.

You’re welcome.

————-

There I sat in my chiropractor’s office. I hadn’t been in forever, but it was long overdue. Here’s a general run-down of how it went:

Me: Hey, it’s been a minute!

Doc: Yes, it has. What brings you in?

Me: Well, that’s the thing. There are a few things niggling at me – knees, hips, ankles, back -, but if you’ve taught me anything, it’s that everything’s all connected. I’m hoping for a general assessment so I know what to work on first.

Doc: Wow, that’s great! I have taught you something! (OK, so I’m exercising artistic license here. Sue me.)

Doc: (proceeds to flip me like a pancake and flop my limbs like a puppet)

Me: Well?

Doc: Well, there are exercises you can do, but there’s an elephant in the room.

(The suspenseful music doesn’t actually start playing here, but you’re welcome to fill in your own if that helps you through the narrative.)

Doc: You’re not breathing right, and your body has compensated by twisting itself all around. I’m going to give you some breath work to do. (His explanation was much more sciencey-sounding, but you get the idea).

———

Yes, my friends, you’ve read that right. I. Haven’t. Been. Breathing.

I mean, my lungs have been working and all, just not…well. Not deeply. Not fully.

It’s not a surprise; I even told the chiropractor that. So often in the last six months, I’ve caught myself holding my breath, bracing, steeling myself for traumas large and small, real or imagined. More often than not, I’ve held myself in suspended animation to get through each hour, each day, each week. I’ve caught myself holding my breath four times just in the writing of this post.

So. My One Little Word? It’s BREATHE. I’ll be working on it – literally – in the coming days. I’ve got my exercises to do, and like the B+ student I plan to be, I’ll complete them daily.

And as for that metaphor as promised, my One Little Word serves as a reminder throughout my life. I need to fully take things in. I need to provide myself with what I need physically, emotionally, spiritually. I need to create space for my thoughts and feelings.

Hopefully, that figurative exercise will look cooler on me than the literal one:

Sitting on back with feet on wall, exercise ball between bent knees
The crookedy-ish legs? That’s part of the set-up. Remember the whole twisty-turny part above? Yeah.

And you? Do you have an intention you’re setting for yourself? I’d love to hear.

Thanks to the Slice of Life community over at Two Writing Teachers. Check ‘em out!

Slice of Life Tuesday: Mom Poem

Once in a blue moon, I glance through my drafts to see what’s cookin’, and I ask myself: is this ready to finish? is this going to go anywhere? is it worth saving?

And I came upon this poem, written last October, almost to the day. I remember how I felt when I wrote it. I was frustrated, tired, wishing people would understand how all-consuming it is to be a primary caregiver to an elder parent. How omnipresent the artifacts are. How difficult it is to go anywhere, do anything, without some kind of tether. The original poem was an inventory of resentment, a reminder of the obligation I felt dozens of time a day.

Now, with my mom two months gone, these words read differently. It’s an accounting of ways I miss her. It’s not lost on me that everything is still a reminder – not of her presence, but of her absence.

There’s a term called anticipatory grief. For lack of better words, it’s mourning someone well before they’re gone. Had I known this time last year where I’d currently be, I wonder what form these words would have taken on the page.

My guess is there’s another poem coming, one that enumerates those small moments of missing, but I don’t know if it’s ready for me yet. In the meantime, here’s my time capsule from October 2023.

My mom is in my home.
She’s everywhere, right here on my laptop
in the notes I made
when I was calling and calling and calling
for her long-term health care,

in the tub of frozen bananas
on the counter
that i’ve promised myself I’d make into banana bread
because my nieces are coming to visit her

in the bag of meds I keep in the front closet
so that every week I can sit at the dining room table
and partition them into their waiting compartments
of the pillbox
i bring her every weekend,

in the cookie I set aside for dessert
from the collection she ordered
to spend down her dining tab

in the paperwork laying out
that i’ve scanned in and still need to send
though i don’t think it’s going to do what it needs

in the hand cream
i keep on my dresser, the same hand cream
i tell her will work for her itchy skin,
if only she would use it,

in the picture of her and my dad
that i keep on the dresser,
that picture from the southernmost point
from before we could ever detect his own drift southward

Lainie and Mom together
Mom and me, all matchy-matchy

Written as part of the weekly Slice of Life challenge at Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life: What it Is

Here I am, back in Slice of Life space. It has been, so to speak, a BUGGER of a last several months. I suppose it’s a good sign that my head is far enough above water that I’m able to take in some air. I suppose there are stories to be told about it all, but for now I have another plan.

Yesterday, I reviewed Lynda Barry’s What it Is for the Two Writing Teachers website. Give it a peek here. (TL; DR: Get the darn book already!)

I thought I’d share some of my experiments, along with some reflections.

I brainstormed different cars from my childhood, and then picked one:

Ohhh do I have MEMORIES about this car! It was tricky to answer some of the questions, because a few images have faded over time:

The seven minutes for writing went by way faster than I was expecting them to. I probably could have written more – and yet, I actually kind of like where I left off. The last line came to me at the very end of my time, and I found myself wishing I had started with that thought. It’s definitely an idea I’ll be exploring more deeply:

I followed Lynda Barry’s advice and waited a week to go back and reread my work. It’s strange – I don’t know if the waiting changed how I reviewed my work. But I’m sure it changed how I thought about my work once I put it down. I was able to put the writing out of my mind – which is not something I’m often able to do after a creative session.

I’ll keep noodling with the exercises, and who knows? Maybe it will take me somewhere fun.

I could use some fun…