Recorded the First Episode of THE WRITE TIME in 2026 Last Night and Feel Some Hope Because of the Beautiful People I Adore

Torrey Maldonado is debuting his first children's book on January 20th and CWP-Fairfield will be with him for the love-fest. Last night, on the show, we reunited Tanya Baker, Tracey Flores, and the author in anticipation of the publication and to bring possibilities to our network. Just Right is just in time, because we need 'just right' moments to remind us about human kindness, mentoring, parenting, and doing good for the young people in our care.

The grading continues. Karal continues to get a walk in. The challenges of the job continue. My sinus cavities continue, as well as the exhaustion. It is what it is.

Yesterday was also Maureen Polacci's birthday and it is always a day that brings a reminder of love, family, faith, and hope my way. I reached out to Laura, her daughter, and simply shared the fact that I can only smile at the genuine greatness of her mother. She passed, age 50...a runner, a fighter, a nurse, a Class of 1990 Northstar, a dear friend, and a total joy to know. One of my angels. One of my many rays of light. 

I am holding onto Maureen and last night's recording to get through the next week as I imagine it will be brutal...the opening usually is when other faculty start to return to campus and get back to their groove and the emails. There's all the planning, too. 

I'm tired of meatballs...but I'm happy they were made and are easy to heat up. Compliments came from Pam who is a meatball snob, who approved of this batch. I got a thumbs up and that made my day, because next to my mom's recipe, I've always enjoyed those made by Pam. I'll take the win.

Okay, Friday...bring on the grading weekend-fest. Alas. We're getting there.

Keep the fight going. Our young people need nothing but the best from us.

Crock-potted within the Winter Session Chaos and Eager to Get This Bad Boy Into Action for the Upcoming Semester

The marathon (actually sprint) continues as, yet, another night class is completed. The graduated students are getting their goods into place and I'm trying my best to keep up with the email, lessons, teaching, and grading. Karal, the needy, neurotic dog has taken to climbing upon my lap in my chair making the work even more challenging, but I have to laugh at her dedication (and reminder) that there should be life beyond all this labor. 

Every Christmas, my parents give me money to do something for me and this year I knew it would be to replace a crockpot that was on the brink of its life. It worked, but barely, and I'm a big user of the pile-it-in, and forget-about-it way of cooking during the busy seasons of my life. It's now on Mt. Pleasant and it will be put to great use. I'm still in my meatball-eating phase and each day the sauce gets better for the spaghetti that goes with it, but after three days I'm ready for some change. This happens every time I find time to make it. 

I'm readying myself for more project flying in, but I went to bed last night knowing I couldn't do any more because my eyeballs were falling onto my knees. I sit at home shaking my head at the pace a winter session takes and debating whether or not any compensation is worth the stress, especially when this is in addition to all the other work I have to do, including preparation for the semester (and summer) to come. Of course, returning amongst colleagues who aren't as willing to do for the students (or asked) is also on the radar, and I'm trying to adjust my attitude and emotions. It's wrong, but it's what I've known to be synonymous with the work. Once upon a time there were others to work with...those days have disappeared. If only it was easy to find work I love in a location that is healthier for those who work. 

One dreams. Can't they?

But, as always, I'm here for the students and I remain steadfast on integrity and excellence and perhaps that is my curse.

Okay, it is my curse, indeed. I do this to myself and that is an area I've been trying to fight off for the last 5 years in a location that doesn't listen to the concerns expressed. I'm old enough to know I can't change any of it...just me. So that is what I need to prioritize. 

The 25 Graduate Students Were Abuzz About Season 5 of Stranger Things So I Did My Part and Caught Up with Them. Eh.

Eh. There were moments in the last season of Stranger Things where I was mesmerized by the series, but the verdict is out on whether or not it fulfilled its mission. I mean, I liked it, but I'm a sucker for mind candy and the effects in the storytelling, plus the use of 80s music was always a thrill. Was it too much? Probably. Was it silly? Definitely. Was I entertained? Absolutely. Would I recommend it? Of course. Was it perfect? Nope. But do I regret watching it? Eh.

I think I was most intrigued by the setting of 1989, and of course Winona Ryder was that iconic teenage actress from generation. I had my D&D playing friends and growing up with the fears of my generation: aliens, government, baby-booming adults, and MTV-motivated thinking about everything was what made the series a delight. I guess I never realized the campiness of our times. It was pretty dorky. 

The last episode, especially the go-around of the final scene of playing D&D triggered a memory of my mid-20s in Louisville. A girl, Rachel, I lived with in London was taking her acting skills to California to find her big break and stayed with me as she was traveling West. She was coming alone but at a last minute a guy she broke up with jumped in her car, so he came, too. This is pre-Internet and cellphones, and we were in love with our youth. At one point we did a 14 mile hike around the city (because our bones were okay with that) and on the way we had a Canterbury Tales approach to the day. Rachel went forward with her perfect movie of drugs, sex, screw-the-establishment hype-fest as a perfect tale, whereas her vagabond boyfriend was all about World War III and aliens as his perfect flick. I was simply about a story where three people were talking about life sharing their ideas of a perfect movie. 

For some reason, Stranger Things resonated with me as a fusion of all three of these tales, although the drugs and sex were not part of the series at all. Instead, the focus on youthful fears, monsters, 80s game play and music were the focus of the story. It made sense that the 1989 narrative would have all the elements it did, and the campiness of the show hit on the innocence of that time, but with the magic of modern-day effects. It worked. I think I watched the entire series knowing that this was a total throwback to the times we lived: the influences, the cultural craziness, and the total distraction of such films/shows to keep us entertained, because that is what we were used to. So it works.

And the generation got older, but such a show would appeal to us and our kids. I think that is the hoopla of it all. Anyway, it is done. I taught four hours last night, and I am friend. Four more to go tonight, although I have a plan to lighten the load on us all. I am just sad that I don't the distraction each night after I unwind for the day. I need something else to take my mind off the world because, as someone graduated in 1990, I'm used to this. Live my day and escape at night. It's the way my generation was raised to be. 

I guess I'll go back to cooking shows to entertain me. Of course, I also have to grade. Such are winter sessions. 

Random Gift in the Snail Mail. A Sticker from a Student in the Class of 1998. Seems to Look Good with One of My Many Lily Pad Gatherings

Beep. Beep. Bitch.

I guess that is a good sign for 2026. A mantra of sorts. Tiana French, mother of two boys and graduate from 1998, J. Graham Brown School, sent it from her sons' collections. I'll take it. Seems like a decent sticker for Mt. Pleasant. 

I just ate a meatball sandwich and finished teaching the 4th winter session class. Two more this week and there more next week. We're getting there. The amount of flexibility it takes to make it through this class with the varying needs of students is astounding: teaching, vacations, other jobs, family, and the other holiday demands. I am definitely hoping this is the last time this will be offered in the winter session. I hope that the adaptions we made are enough to get it into a full semester. The accommodations were made because of different agendas and a different time. Surprise! It was brought back to my plate again (and with two sessions).

I drove to campus today to get a change of scenery and learned I received two more grants, although the one I hope to be there was not. They are a random crew and I never know when I will hear from them. I also thought I'd work from my office, but the faculty email was down. I couldn't get online. The series of questions I had for the Dean's Office, too, had to wait as the Deans weren't in yet. Well, the assistant dean was and she helped when she returned from a meeting. I came home to be productive. 

I spend much time revving up the students, but also need to find a way to rev myself up, because it's go-go-go, sunrise to sunset, as materials from the class come in and immediately need to be assessed and sent back so everyone is successful.

Beep. Beep. Bitch. 

It's a mantra that works. I see one of my Buddhas in the background. I need my emblems to stay sane and focused. I'm more Zen than cussing Frog, but when I'm on edge...well, look out world.

Time to prep for tonight. Phew. Boot camp, indeed. 

My Once A Year Meatball Fest to Channel Papa Butch and Mimi Sue for Childhood Spaghetti and Weeklong Sauce

I debated what I wanted to make for the week, because hamburger meat has gotten expensive, but it was on sale and I am/was tired of rice. I finished grading around 2 pm, headed to Big Y, and sought the trouble I might get in. Karal was walked, I craved comfort food, and so I went to town.

The result was 36 meatballs, 12 in the sauce (the rest to the freezer) and past festival for the rest of the week. It will be a tough one with classes, graduate student frustration, and the total need of me standing with pom-poms cheering on the impossible. They can do it.

I retired to Stranger Things in the evening with a long conversation with Chitunga who had a flight back to Des Moines with a layover in Atlanta. He's been on a two-week adventure and needs to return to his own grind, after spending the weekend recharging with Sue and Dave.

The meatballs came out great, but the sauce is lacking something (maybe it is simply the first night before it thickens up and absorbs all the peppers and spices I put into it. Usually tastes better on night two, and Lord knows it is wonderful to soak up with some fresh bakery bread. 

We have three nights this week and I push them a little at a time so they're all successful. I am tired of the dry nostrils, too, and blowing out what Kaitlin and Pam call potato chips. I say it is corn flakes. I think it is time to hook up the ol' humidifier again to get some moisture in my sleeping space. 

As for Delightful Derrick...Stranger Things found my spirit animal. I feel seen. 

The Canine Companion Approves of the Rearranged Furniture, Bay Window Light, and Down Time for Grading and Getting on Top of the Week

Karal and did our four mile hike in the morning, knowing that the rest of the day was going to be spent catching up on student work, writing promotional letters for faculty across the nation, and watching college basketball (although I wasn't invested in any of the games). Around 7 p.m. I completed the goal for the day and settled into more episodes of Stranger Things, season 5. The new bedspread and sheets are on the bed (a little too frilly, but that's what I get for buying materials during a major clearance sale). I'll live with what it is.

I wanted to get on top of grading so that today, Sunday, might allow for some flexibility to actually enjoy what is technically the last day of winter break before K-12 schools head back to the grind. It remains cold, but temperatures look to climb over the week (after two more days of arctic), so I'm hoping for longer, more enjoyable walks. 

I am carrying with me in the New Year my sweet tooth and have been looking for the occasional piece of chocolate or cookie fix. It's best that it's not in the house, as carrot sticks and broccoli are better alternatives (for rabbits, but walruses need to be careful, too).

I had great dreams Friday night...adventure stories in fantasy lands and I like the protagonist my imagination allowed me to play. I was finding very odd portals that even my claustrophobic mindset didn't seem to mind. The tight tunnels were only temporary, and I loved how one gave me the power to swim under water without the need of oxygen or equipment. Of course, I woke up and the predictable disappointment of the real world quickly snapped me back to the news of the day.

I also finished Viola Davis's memoir, Finding Me. It was just the epilogue, but I wanted to move on to the next book, Ta-Nehisi Coates Between Me and the World. Chapter one brought me to the reality of our nation that I've known for most of my life. I live in the country, after all, and have witnessed the racism on a daily basis. History, when it comes first, reveals all the truths quite loud and clear. It's just that many in power (or cloaked in ignorance) choose not to see it and simply reify their prejudice by claiming such history is irrelevant and doesn't matter. It's maddening, and I can only imagine having to live it in the day to day...trying to find hope and possibility in a land that wants to use your body for its own narrative. Already I'm seeing it coupling with The Incredibly Human Henson Blayze by Derrick Barnes. 

I'm going back to grading assignments that came overnight and need to set a plan of action for the week, as the work is doable, but needs to be strategically layers for the students to succeed. I'm all in and it is exhausting...this is only because I have this unwavering need to do it right.

But there will be more basketball today, so all will be well. I only wish volleyball season lasted as long.

Friday Game Night. This Results When an Extended Weekend Presents Itself. Humor. Friends. Cocktails. Wit.

It's been a minute since we've had a game night, and I thought they were crazy pulling us together in this cold, but it was a great way to unwind for an evening, to be silly, and to see so many of my friends competitive and silly, even in the games were, well, wonky, especially Wonky Doodle, the game my mom recommended to my sisters for the holiday because she saw it online. Many of the photographs were actually pornographic because the pen, itself, is rather phallic. 

Pam also bought me a magnetic word game, where you grab a pile of words and have to respond to a prompt where your language play is either selected by the judge as most clever, or bypassed for someone else's ability to put words onto a metal plate. I loved this game and could play for hours, because I never tire of lying possibilities into sequence for clever play and imagination. 

It remains cold, though. I stay determined to walk the dog and get outside (even if I readily admit I took a two hour nap under a blanket after we returned. My sinuses wanted me to rest and, quite frankly, my body is requesting I do the same. It's feeling the punch that my nonstop schedule delivers day to day, week to week). 

I need to get on grading today because the two weeks ahead are brutal and depends on my maturity to coach and cheer on the poor graduate students enrolled. We Got This! This is how teachers roll. Sadly, it is how teachers roll. It never ends. 

I also rewatched Stranger Things, Season 4, so I'll be ready to tackle the final season should I made time for it in the next few weeks. 

Of course, Day 3, I'm also learning that Google, which hosts Blogger (where I keep my daily blogs) is no longer playing nicely with Safari, an Apple browser, so doing a daily post is not as easy as it used to be. Seriously, I wish these big tech people would stop being greedy and simply allow those of us who operate in multimodal settings to simply do what we do, without all the nonsense of trying to get us to use this browser to that one, or subscribe to this company or the other. Just let us be creative in the capacities we want to be....

And with that...I'm moving on.