It Will Only Be Temporary, Karal. Not Quite Sure What It Was, But It's Being Treated. Seems to Be a Symbol of Life Right Now

About a week ago, I felt these tiny bumps on Karal's head. Just a couple. I think I picked one, thinking it was a baby tick. A couple days later, more appeared and then her fur was sticking up in places and she wouldn't let me get near her head. I bathed her. I tried remedies from online. I simply thought she may have been infested with tick nymphs. Then I thought, maybe she got into a ground bee nest (but there was no swelling). There's a theory of beach mites which are hatching now. Stephanie, the doctor, thought maybe it could be thorn bushes. 

No clue. There were several bloody, infected spots on her head that needed to be cleaned. She's on antibiotics, we have creams, and we have ointments. There were many in her ear, too, so we're on an ear treatment, as well. Yes, all the great things that dog owners love to do for their furry pets, because they are so receptive. 

"I'm sorry...I had to shave her."

It's all good. As Tanya Baker said, "She looks bad ass." 

That was how my day started, and in the afternoon I was informed that my father is firing me from shaving him because his home, health-care aide does a better job. Apparently they bought razors from this century and aren't the old ones I could find in the bathroom. 

I wish I could say I was productive, but I only scraped moving parts of things needing to be done. This morning is meeting with district leaders, and my lawn really needs to be mowed again. 

Ah, but last night...Christina Cantrill started a prompt with "I love the courage of....", a line from Wendell Berry, and prompted to begin a conversation to draft from his words. I wrote for him.

And it's Friday. Weekends are for getting the real work done. 

For Wendell Berry

I love his courage,

the way he gently 

crossed my path, 

staff in hand, looking

at me by a Sycamore,

with children at my feet

writing in notebooks,

before making 

pillars of poetry

for the Earth

& tackling

the wild

beasts we are.

 

English is environmental.

Ecologically,

a watershed,

of its own.

 

Bluegrass

waving

in humid winds.

A kingfisher

hunting mossy creeks.

 

I guess 

I’ll be picking 

these berries 

for the 

rest of

my life. 

Choosing Joy is an Act of Rebellion. Choosing Happiness is a Mindset. Choosing Excellence is a Life Skill

Joy. Happiness. Excellence. A choice in rebelling. 

"I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member," often attributed to Groucho Marx, has also been a mantra I've upheld in my professional life. I have eyes skeptical to optics, narratives, and positioning, especially in the perceived notions of power. I know I need a better work/life balance, but it's not my nature, so I choose to find joy in the work that I do.

This includes sending photos during faculty meetings to colleagues from other schools who I am genuinely excited to see (because I admire them). My Tuesday research class held a theme of close-up nature photos, so I tried one of my head. That's what the colleagues got yesterday. 

I was also in conversation with coaches of the Women's Volleyball team which led to talk on generational changes, Covid, the vastness/quickness of AI, and the rampant truth/non-truth that has become invasive in all our lives. They triggered my thinking on leadership, and how leading comes in multiple ways, including kindness to others (and random acts), acting in ways that are better than words, and ram-horns down, full charge ahead, philosophies of making things happen and getting the work done.

I enjoyed little league baseball, but was never one for organized sport for myself, especially when I learned I could work, instead, and make money. I did pick up running, though, as it cleared my mind, fought my genetics, and was genuinely good for me until the body gave out and I had to resort to walking. I spent last weekend watching games at all levels and started thinking about what it takes to be a student athlete, but also what it takes for student athletes to also be leaders. In a faculty liaison role, I see my job as supporting the coaches and team leaders with little things...simply to say we're all in this life/competition thing together.  

I survived two faculty meetings, the insanity of another year, a computer exchange (which is a whole other story), and a social gathering, all with a pretense of grace, hope, and possibility. My gut said, "Why bother," but then I realized that my actions do matter and not being present would be part of the problem. Leading means listening to others, so I can better lead in the communities I inhabit.

Karal's going to the vet this morning, I'm meeting with students, and I have National Writing Project connectivity in the evening. My eyes are focused upon what needs to get done, and I'm trying to package all frustrations and resentments to the side. 

The Morning Glories Were in Full Bloom When I Left for Campus (First Day). It Was Pitch Black When I Returned Home at 10 p.m.. And We're Off.

I told the students that the light that accompanied our classes last night would soon be leaving us and eventually we'll be doing the work in the evening, after the sun sets. I have back-to-back courses, and I planned on switching the later class to online after the first night, but learned that the majority of students have a class right before mine, so transitioning home might be a problem. Ah, but some commute over an hour and I'm thinking about how late they'll get home, only to have to be in school in the early hours. I need to think of a game plan that accommodates all. I know what I'm doing, and I'm sure I'll get everyone to where they need to be, but I need to rethink instruction for how it will have the biggest punch. 

Never a dull moment. Never the same thing twice, as our school is constantly changing course requirements, the way students go through the program, and the interactions with local schools. All I can say is that being a pre-service teacher in the certification year (with student teaching) is a lot. Of course, the research course also has veteran teachers. It is something to teach. 

My first day back started out miserably, as a Write Time recording was finalized for the very night where I teach back-to-back. I wrote down October 8th, not September 8th. This was my bad and so that all had to be rearranged. 

Of course, the hallways were bustling with colleagues who haven't been in since May, and all I can think about is how I'm still trying to finish the work of the literacy labs in POW!. I need to get on that, but there have not been any moments to achieve this. It's been go-go-go with all the other work required: grants, course planning, meetings, and writing projects.

Most of the students I have this semester I've had before, so that saved much of the team building because most know each other. The few new people were probably like, "Who is this crazy man?"

Today, it's back to back to back to back meetings and I won't have much time to do the work that I'm scheduled to get done. Such is the crazy way education works in this world. 

I did enjoy the purple blooms, though, and walked Karal for an hour before I took off. I needed the mental space as it all can be overwhelming. Dinner at 10 p.m. to, however, is an adjustment I need to fix. Perhaps skipping lunch and eating hefty at 4 p.m. is the way to resolve this. Only time will tell. I was impressed by the students who had packed dinners citing the truth that all their meals are on the road this semester. That is true...and I'm thinking about my own student teaching and the methods that came before it all. The one thing there never is enough time for is space and time. I remember Kathy Hinchman said this to me at Syracuse when she said, "Read everything now. You'll never have this privilege again when you are running the work at the University." 

Truth. 

It is what it is and onward I must go. Hello, Meetings. How are you?

Labor Day is Over (Guess What? I Labored) and Today is the First Day of a New Semester Where I'll Labore Even More. Phew. It Hits You Sometimes

First of all, I am good about getting my parking pass. As soon as announcements are out, I order, because I don't want to deal with the student and their lines. Last night, I went to put the sticker on, with my 2026-2027 Beach Pass, and I can't find the Fairfield one. Why? Because I brought several months of mail to Edem and I believe my parking pass was handed to him in his pile. That was my bad, as I've been driving with my parking pass for a month, fully intending to put it on my car. Now I believe it is with him (if he didn't throw it out). 

Hell. Roads. Pavement. Good intentions. 

This meme came across my digital communities yesterday and I started to think about it...it's so accurate. More cruel is all of us who start post Labor Day, who end up laboring all day for the labor needed on the first day. And yes, this is laborious preparation only to reach the classroom to labor, followed by more labor of grading, assessing, reflections, and planning more. This might be the very reason why so many people don't go into education and even more the reason why so many walk away. 

The work never ends. Truth. This is my 30th year teaching, 29th in schools after year as a Louisville Writing Project educator. It's my 49th year in school, having entered kindergarten in 1977. I was five. 50 years later I'm going to be 55. I think the retirement plan is to last another decade, but knowing all my colleagues have retired, I'm not sure how I will hang on. I have to, but it seems like a very long haul.

My syllabus seems to be in check...the classes are mostly organized, and I think I'm ready for back to back instruction today. I won't get home until late and laugh -- tomorrow, the calendar is back-to-back meetings from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. (so much for processing the classes taught the night before). I'm exhausted before I even being knowing I'm a good month behind on CWP-Fairfield goals (and then there are the reports due next week that I doubt I will get to).

Yep, it's back. Maybe the university will tow my car away because I've lost the parking pass. Who knows?  All I know is that my enthusiasm isn't what it used to be and it's probably because I'm exhausted even before any of it begins.  

I need to be patient with myself and forgiving. I know all the abuse still to come and that is is par for the course. But thinking about Labor Day, and the meme above, I got a little more cynical. Teaching in higher education is slow-motion compared to K-12, but doing/working in both is extra abusive.

And wiat that, it's time to get to work once again. 

A Long Overdue Reunion & a Noodler Performance at West Have Porch Fest. And Here I Thought I'd Just Grill

Louisville looked good again, beating Texas in 3. Fun Volleyball weekend, as Fairfield also won the Northeastern tournament. I knew I wanted to work until 2 pm and then join colleagues at Porch Fest, where several of our friends had an hour set. Edem and Zeevah came down from Waterbury to join us, but as I predicted, I was pulling out as he was arriving. "The parking is insane." It was. 

We ended up driving to Walnut Beach where she named everything she saw. Rico scared her with his bark, and she was napping when they pulled in. It took her a while to warm up, but as Edem said, "Oh, she's a talker." She has definitely become one since I last saw her. Some of the words are 100% understandable and then there is much language I think she's pulling from the sky. And she can laugh. Her smile and giggles would stop anyone in their place, asking them to join the joke. She loves her daddy, misses her twin Zuri, and wants her newborn little sister, Zaila, home with her...but they're still in Jamaica after Zuri knocks a pot of boiling water on his chest, shoulder, and back while visiting his grandmother. He has a 3-week hospitalization with 2nd degree burns. I think Edem was in need of company to process paternal care, as Zeevah stayed home with him. 

Zeevah's developing quickly (and the twins are so tall). She still doesn't have control of her elbows and biceps, nor her angles and feet. She wears braces, and can walk with assistance. She's come a long way since her 1.5 pound birth and 3-month hospital stay. And she's adorable...loves entertaining people. 

Beth rocked at Porch Fest as I knew she would and I laughed when she donned a blonde wig to sing some Dolly to close out their set. 

All this said, I didn't get home until around 8 p.m. and ate late, never grilling all that I prepped in the fridge early yesterday morning. I'm aiming to try again today, as it is Labor Day, and a 2nd Sunday has been restored. 

I should admit, too, that I watched Mandalorian & Grogu on Disney Saturday night and I'm a non-judgmental guy at times. I knew it was going to be cheesy and was prepared for it. I wanted the eye candy, effects, silliness, and trust that someone can actually take down those that deserve to have their power taken away. The tin-can character is a bit of a folk hero to me...and he sure gained many international fighting moves for the movie. He was a one-man revenger at all times (well, Grogu did his usual oh-look-a-new-power upgrade along the movie). Heir to Jabba the Hutt, Rotta was the surprise of the night. Who knew such character development could come from a Hutt. Interesting to see them delve into that world some more. I'm a Star Wars kid, so anything that comes out is entertaining for me. 

I feel a repeat of yesterday coming on for today (especially a BLT at lunch). I need to start hitting CWP summer work up hard, though, because I still don't have the support/assistance I need...not even a graduate student. I keep telling myself that what get's done is what can be done, but I still beat myself up for not accomplishing more, faster. 

It's all good. At least this Monday, is so not a Monday.

Wait. Weren't They Just In Their Twenties & Now They Have Rascally Toddlers Running Amok?

Syllabi. Silly Bry. Syllabi. Don't Know Why. Syllabi. Make Cry. But we're getting there.

I didn't want to end Saturday without feeling somewhat accomplished/planned on a new grant and with the dates set for the semester ahead so I can outline Padlet, ready the first class, organize what I must have with me, and at least attempt to enjoy what most people enjoy on the weekends. 

I went to a birthday party at a winery for Kaityn's 41st (I believe, anyways). It was the same location as last year, and the parental exhaustion remains the same: Dominik, Patrick, Kaitlyn, and Stephanie simply seem well-intentioned with a wonderful family gathering, but remain totally exhausted from the amount of energy it takes to chase toddlers. Pam had all the girls in the same dresses, and we tried so hard to harness all four kids in one location for a photo, for at least a second. Nope. Herding cats. As soon as three were still, the 4th ran off every time. Still, I did get a couple of good shots for their family. 

In this particular one, Ania (the youngest) was not having it and ran back to her parents. Although Maddie looked at the camera, Oliwia and Ethan were looking to run off to play with the other children at the winery. I was exhausted simply watching everyone trying to keep them somewhat nearby...they each have a mind of their own and legs that want to sprint elsewhere. Making sense of their choices, though, was a harder guess. I don't think it is healthy to rationalize much of it. 

It was great to be outside, with huge cumulus clouds covering the sun, but when that sun came out...Oof. It beat down hot. Still, it would go back under and the chilly winds would return....such is a Saturday in September. 

Today, I hope to repeat a similar pattern of chiseling away at grants and writing projects, while taking the afternoon off. I also want to cook, as I loaded my fridge with groceries on Friday after departing schools. 

Other than that, it was another day of volleyball. Phew. The Fairfield/Northeastern games were point for point for 5 matches. I couldn't watch online or on the telly, but could follow on a stats page that kept track of the action. Now, it's coffee and cereal time. The pace must continue. 

Here's to Special EATZ. For Some, It's Vietnamese in Louisville with Brown School Alumni & for this Guy, A Neighbor's Delivery

Every once in a while, when sitting on the front porch writing late on a Friday afternoon, a Brazilian neighbor visiting from NYC brings over what he's got cooking-up at his mother-in-law's old house. Still sad that my elderly neighbor passed on, but glad when her son and his partner come to town and I benefit from a bonus, unexpected meal. 

It was a day of visiting schools, mentoring junior faculty on dossiers, and putting CWP-Fairfield work into motion by visiting schools. The afternoon (and evening) was spent watching Louisville and Fairfield volleyball games on ESPN. I was glad to gift Chitunga and Sue the opportunity to watch others sweat in the hot temperatures of Kentucky. Louisville looked really good against TCU and I'm glad they enjoyed the game. Fairfield played strong, but didn't pull out the match against Harvard on their short Boston tour. 

I was also thrilled to see that they returned to Nam Huynh's Eatz for dinner, where they snapped a photo of their delighted tummies (you can tell from their smiles). I knew they were going to have an adventure early in the morning when Sue, walking Pilot, sent me a video while the kid, well adult, was still sleeping in like Dave. 

Today will be another day of seeing what can be accomplished from sunrise to sunset. The semester pace differs from the summer pace, because of all the complicated ways opportunities and classes attack the calendar. Early in the semester is hardest, because 13 weeks of instruction needs to be outlined, planned, and ready to go. Of course, all the CWP collaborations need to be laid out, too, and K-12 teachers are extremely busy with their own openings.

I still shake my head though, that all these years later Chitunga visits the 'Ville and has interactions with the world I once knew. My goal is to the Bluegrass one of these days to taste Nam's artistry in action. As a student, I never knew he had a particular interest in culinary creativity, but I've been hearing for years that his dishes are outstanding (and by the looks of the empty bowls and plates, I don't think much was left behind to cast into the garbage. 

Ah, now for Saturday. There are more volleyball games to watch and storms to keep an eye out for. I have fish to grill, key lime to bake, and linguini to boil. We'll see how much culinary craft I'll conduct on my own. 

Can't Help But Post Another Cosmos Bloom (As I Snapped It Before Kicking-Off a Semester with a Faculty Picnic)

It's been a minute since I bought beer, and even more since I bought several cases of it. I was asked to be the beer-purchaser for the Faculty Welfare picnic, as many of the elected faculty leadership team couldn't make this year's date. I realized upon the first case that I'd need a cart, grabbed one, returned, and began loading, only to be reprimanded by an employee, "Customers are not allowed in the cooler." 

Well, it was muggy again, there was a door, the beer I wanted wasn't in the cases, and I figured they'd have more in the back. I was right. I loaded my cart anyway, checked out, and left, returning the cart to where it belonged. 

The new hire crowd wasn't as big as usual, and because the event was held indoors this year, there wasn't as much a need to wet the whistle: Modelo gold & dark, New Castle (which went quickly), and Heineken. They would drink my favorite of the brands. I ended up bringing half of it home to store for the next event. 

God Bless Sonya Huber. She works tirelessly in all capacities and was the one that recruited me...always with respect for what Faculty want and need. We don't have a union to help us, but we do have this committee to advocate where we can. 

Although the day was supposed to storm, as usual the predictions were a bust. It was just humid and miserable. They went indoors because of the weather predictions, and I'm glad because we would have been drenched with sweat outside. 

I did notice a new bunch of cosmos bloomed as I was getting in my car to head to campus. I love these flowers....the way they firework in their blossoming. 

I'm happy with one of my syllabi and on the way with the other. I'm also glad it's Friday...a 3-day weekend, and that Chitunga is in Louisville with Sue & Dave.

And with that, I'm off to schools. 

Canine Monstrosities. The Temperatures Go Down & The Furry Ones Choose to Reclaim Their Authority of Nightly Sleep

My sleep is up and down, but definitely down when a dog decides to lay horizontally on a bed, pushing paws into one's back at night, forcing the human to hug the edge of the mattress before falling off.

In the summer months, Karal opts to keep herself downstairs, where I'm greeted in the morning for outside rendezvous before entering for her first meal. Nope. Not when the temps begin to drop. Then, she entirely chooses upstairs sleeping arrangements with scratching imaginary fleas and/or hosting nocturnal dreams with whimpers, barks, and running. This, of course, is up against my body as she hordes the space for her own comfort. Then, she joins me for coffee, where she falls back to sleep for several hours on the front-porch couch. 

We've entered the autumn rituals of her rest. And I don't get mine. I have to figure out a plan.

I worked on syllabi and CWP projects yesterday before walking Karal and joining Beth and Michell for dinner. Michelle is heading to Spain on two incredible opportunities, projects funded by varying sources, while Beth and I try to figure out a year without our courageous friend to process the shenanigans of higher education. There will be much adjustment to this process. 

Today is the Faculty Welfare Committee's faculty picnic and I was put in charge of coolers and beer. I hope they don't mind, but I'll likely get the beers that I enjoy most (and haven't sipped in many years, as I don't like the full-bladder ramifications of such hobby. With bourbon, the heft is lighter, although I haven't been drinking that, either. 

Karal looks little (is little) but not when she stretches out. Then she is long, and I'm longing for a good night's sleep. I have a very early national call this morning and am excited that I gifted joy to the Women's volleyball team that is heading to Boston for a game and a tournament. I wanted to send them off (faculty liaison) with a smile. 

I do love this time of year with the crickets and cicadas. The temperatures are wonderful, too. 

I had a great spinach and mushroom lasagna with a green spinach sauce for dinner, followed by chocolate cherry gelato. Pricey, but worth it. I did embellish with an Umberto Echo, cherry liqueur old fashion, too. Can't believe I stopped myself at one, because it was perfect. 

The garbage is out and the work piling up, so onward I go. Here's to the day.

Tapping My Environmental Education Days & Visited the Kellogg Center in Derby, Connecticut, to Witness Their Great Work

Earlier this year, I began investigating the incredible work I did in KY through KIESD and remembered being trained with the federal program Project WILD and Project Wet. I wondered if Connecticut had trained facilitators and learned of Susan Quincy of the Kellogg Environmental Center and reached out. Although there wasn't a free second in July/August to meet with her, I found time yesterday morning, ironically the day after the passing of Wendell Berry, Kentucky poet, who I've used to springboard many projects throughout the year. 

The facility was nice and only 9 miles from my house. It is a great, spacious center with incredible leadership by Susan who works with teachers and youth in the same I do. I pitched an idea about possible collaborations and partnerships, of which she was commendable. We talked about Write Out '26  and planned out possibilities between her network and that of CWP. We shall see what might come of it, as I'm channeling the great work of Reading Landscapes & Writing Nature with Weir Farm National Historical Park and the last two years of collaboration with the Center of Climate, Coastal, and Marine Studies on campus. Fingers crossed that we might pull something off. 

There were downpours in CT in the morning, and I didn't know if I'd make it, more comfortable on my front porch doing digital work, then going out-of-home in search of an adventure. I'm glad I did, because now the cogs in my aging brain began working...always in support of teachers and definitely in support of youth. 

I also began thinking of Wendell Berry's influence on my fledgling brain and the project I did in Kentucky while student teaching through KIESD and the Louisville Writing Project. At the time, I was working on a 2nd Masters Thesis where his writing was central to my pitch for ecological literacy (of course, enthralled by the writing of David Orr at Oberlin College). Pulling books off the shelf, I came across one poem, Thirty More Years, and I couldn't help but think that it was 30 years ago when I did the Pillar of Poetry in connection with Earth Day at the Louisville Zoo. My 10th grade students at the time were instrumental to the work, and I put together an anthology of their writing with the grant money. I even received an award from the City of Louisville because of the work. 

One of my intern jobs was to design the Beargrass Creek road signs that are throughout the Louisville watershed and I was gifted one of those road signs as a gift when I left the Nature Center and took a full-time job at Brown. 

I'm always channeling my childhood along lakes of CNY and the St. Lawrence River, always thankful for having an informal introduction to outdoor education, simply because I had relatives who lived along water. Our words can never capture the beauty of the outdoors (as we know with Whitman and others, we can try to figure out the humanity alongside it. 

I will always cherish my collection of Berry poems and will continue to live life with a node in his direction. 30 years ago, I was doing similar work and I'm thankful to still be able to do it today.

Always Love Having the Opportunity to Meet a New Crop of Student Leaders & To Orient Them with Classroom Possibilities

Perhaps the mark of a veteran teacher is when you have two hours of material plan, but only get to 1/2 of it, because the interaction is going so well. 

For the 4th year, I've been asked to bring my National Writing Project training to help orient upperclassmen who will be teaching first-years as they are oriented to campus. There's a lot of logistics to the two-day (and more) training, but I'm only given the task to inspire ideas for them to think about, which gives me opportunity to list out what I hope they'd remember, while modeling what it can look like in action. I think the take away each year is how much fun it can be to teach others and how student-engaged interaction helps time to fly by. A part of me wants to rush them along to get all the 'brilliance' prepared for the lessons, but then I realize that letting them ride with enjoyment and interact with the point being made goes so much further.

I always appreciate how so many stay behind asking questions about what classes I teach in and in what department, because they "really enjoyed the style" I presented to them, and I think they run away screaming when I say that I'm in the School of Education and Human Development. "Oh, no. My parents would never allow me to become a teacher." 

Still, they are teaching as future engineers, doctors, accountants, nurses, sales people, chemists, and computer scientists. They simply don't have to deal with the K-12 bureaucracy and mistreatment of being a teacher in the United States. They're run to the hills always reminds me how scary it is to commit to a life in education, especially in a culture that values zip codes and material goods over knowledge. 

Oh, son. You can read, write, and think on your own time. You'll need to make money to live in this nation. 

I was a little embarrassed though, because at the last minute I through in five corny college jokes to get the crowd going and there were two horribly spelled words that arrived as typos (because they were last minute). It was good, though, because I was able to give myself a B- at the beginning of the presentation, and relax the rest of the way to enjoy my imperfections with them. 

What did the Buffalo say when his son left for college? (Bison)

Why did the sun skip college? (It already has 10,000 degrees)

Why do zits make horrible prisoners? (Because they always break out)

Why did the music note drop out of college? (It couldn't pick a major)

What do you get when you cross an extra-terrestrial with a Fairfield student? (Stag Universe-ity)

Bad jokes work every time, especially when you're a total dork. I also found homes for the remaining golden crowns from the MLK Youth Leadership Academy last year. I made them speak to one another as if they were British royalty in one dialogue exercise. Poof. They're gone and now out of my office. One less thing to figure out what to do with.

Well, hello, September. Nice to see you again. 

A Nice Sunday Afternoon at the Lordship House, Open House, Meeting Community Members of Stratford, & Loving the Sound

Michael Todd Cohen and Adrien Dallas Frankle (sounds like Crandall) opened their home to the community for a late August day to appreciate the view of the sound, their gardens, and a pool. Wonderful to meet with local artists, politicians, teachers, and writer, and to help them carry forward their mission of community, including the local bookstore, Obodo Serendipity books on the green. It was nice to share the experience with Dr. Laura Schall-Leckrone, who will be replacing Dr. Anne Campbell to lead our TESOL program at Fairfield University. 

I spent most of the day working on today's afternoon workshop with undergrads leading th First Year Experience course for freshman students, a fourth year of such work at Fairfield University.

I came home and grilled for Bev, Leo, Pam, and Sharon: corn on the cob, chicken, Hoffman's hotdogs to be matched by potatoes, broccoli, and an incredible beat salad. We watched the Little League World Series championship and sat outside to enjoy the overcast, and somewhat cooling, evening skies of southern Connecticut.  

I love the Lordship House property and the artwork they've collected, including the wandering canoeist that faces east on their property. They have a blessed space, indeed. 

There was a drizzle driving home and now we have a week of humidity, potential showers, and the other grasping of summer days to not turn into Fall.

Our evening meal was delicious, and the sauces I soaked the chicken in were superb. Now it's Monday and time to get back into the routines of days stolen by others in the name of occupations and career. 

Okay, time to get Zen with it all (after I finish this coffee). Here's to the September ahead (and HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DYLAN. 27! Really?)

Dog Days of Summer Duty (Limited Time Only) on a Beautiful Day in Saturday...an Excuse to Take Two Walks, But to Stay Home & Work.

Pam had to stay with Patrick & Stephanie's kids starting at 2, so she asked if Rico could stay with me so she didn't have to crate him for the day. I'm fine with that, although he doesn't get comfortable in the house because he wants his own routine. The dog shits more than any other dog I've ever known. Even though he didn't eat until late, he must have taken 7 full shits in my backyard and on the walk. It's probably the result of having open space to play in. 

Pam also said he wouldn't go for a walk and there was no way we'd go alongside Karal. Wrong. Karal actually corralled him into a nice walk (besides the numerous shits). He's such a beautiful creature but at the sound of one bark from my neighbor's lil' Maltese, he ran into the house with his tail behind his leg.

Rico was reluctant to eat at first, which I found strange, because he's one of those aggressive eaters. Karal got her food outside (which we call McDonald's because it's not an in-home meal), but Rico bypassed his indoor one. It wasn't until later when Karal was outside without him that he decided it was safe enough to eat. Rico was reluctant to settle down and nap, too, which I'm sure exhausted him, as he came to my house from his canine-time at Dogtopia, where Pam takes him to socialize. 

Last time I had him, he'd at least come to the porch to check on Karal and I, but this time he went from door to window awaiting Pam. She was out to about 10 pm, so I brought him home so she wouldn't have to drive all the way to Stratford after a day of sitting on grandkids. 

More progress on the work front, and I treated myself to a ribeye on the grill with some peppers and mushrooms. Also weed-whacked more, but the new batteries I have don't have much of a lifespan. Then again, I used it to take down more than grass as I trimmed my gardens in anticipation of Fall. 

Caught up with Abu and learned of Dad's seasoning of his bedsheet with a pepper shaker. Talked to Uncle Milford worrying in Amagansett, and texted with Tunga as he traveled with Lys's family to the Yankees game in the Bronx. He'll be in Louisville next week to see Sue and Dave. 

There's an agenda today of open house at Lordship House for writers and we'll barbecue at night. I kick off my season on Monday and, regrettably, haven't prepared for that first workshop because I'm still trying to put a bow on summer work. 

Alas, it's here. I can't hide. So I will enjoy another humid-less day of August before the week of rain settles in. 

Humph! I'd Be Grumpy Too If Some Middle-Aged Man's Ass Came Up Each Night During the Down Time & Daily Unwinding.

Such is the way of anthropomorphism and and anthropomorphic mind. I'm always seeing faces in places I probably should not (might have inherited this trait from Grannie Annie, too). Last night, I caught the couch throw-pillow looking at me with a frustrated mug and I couldn't help but think our pillow have a right to such facial expressions. I once had a similar conversation with students when we stopped an an all-you-can-eat KFC buffer after working the district's Homework Hotline. There were plenty of KY delights...the last people you would think might benefit from a KFC buffet, wheeling around in their motor scooter with ankles the size of mailboxes.

"Imagine what the KFC toilet seat must think while doing the job?" I told them as if I was Colonel Sanders. "Or any breakfast diner, for that matter."

Hence, I understand. I get why a pillow would grimace at me.

Yesterday was extremely productive working on summer stuff. Karal and I had a great walk, and I took teachers out to dinner in honor of their first two-days. I had fish-n-chips, which was exactly that...hard to screw it up. Temperatures were warm, although the clouds were mostly gray. 

I'm dog-sitting Rico today, so will likely get more time to catch-up on the computer....editing, so brainless work like putting stickers on notebooks.

All quiet on the parental Homefront yesterday, but prayers west for Uncle Dick, Bobbie, and Patrick. The full circle of life is surrounding my generation in a way we could never imagine. 

I Believe It Was John Muir Who Said That a Weed is a Wildflower that is Unidentified. I Believe He Was 100% Correct.

 

Chitunga reported to me in Syracuse that when he and Lyssa stayed for the night on Mt. Pleasant, there was a giant weed growing from the front step into the breezeway of the garage. I recognized the leaf patterns and knew it was cosmos, and a seed probably wandered into a crack from last year's bloom. I've been harvesting and distributing the seeds for years. Sure enough, when I drove home Wednesday night, the plant had flowered and a few lonesome flowers were facing up and outward to welcome the sunlight. Is it the mostly sightly location for greenery? Probably not, but it's under a drainage pipe and I'm excited that something grew from the concrete (and no, Tupac, it wasn't a rose). It's a keeper, though, and I'm glad he and Alyssa didn't pull it out.

Cosmos, morning glories, black-eyed Susans, 4 o-clocks, echinacea, and marigolds are living their big life around my lawn right now, as they come back every year and I spread them in the Spring. In a dream-land, I'd have the backyard of Amy Parton's English friends who let us stay with them. North of London, working class, and near several running parks, I was amazed by the great care people had for their backyard gardens for sipping tea, drinking coffee, and gathering for crisps. What I loved most about their gardens are the fox pups that often came out to play in front of us without fear of our humanity. The warm sun and cool temperatures of England also made it joyful to be outdoors in the summer. I'd love to recreate such space at my home, including the fox. They're welcome to burrow under my backyard shed.

Stratford was one GIANT thunderstorm warning yesterday from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m.. No matter what time I checked, there was a warning that a storm would arrive within minutes with heavy downpours. Yet, as these storms approached Bridgeport, they simply disappeared or split north or south. We never got one. I kept dealing Karals's walk believing the skies would open up at any second. They never did, so we finally got out after I ran to campus to get items, file things away, and bring home others I needed to move forward. 

Casey and dad had an adventure on another emergency room run, this time with his legs and imbalance. The thought was he might have a blood clot or a UTI, which both proved negative. They sat for five hours before being seen. I just don't have the patience for that. The one time I was rushed to the hospital (the great bathtub wipeout of 2021), I was one of two people in the lobby. I was seen right away. I know that rarely happens and I'm thankful that my ER trip turned out to be pleasant. 

I'm now hearing that there will be no more ER trips for mom or dad, because they are a waste of time. We shall see. I'm not one to ever say never. 

It's already another Friday...a weekend...although weekends before starting back up are usually miserable times of keeping up of all needing to be done. I'm going to pace myself, I hope, but the emails alone can take six or seven hours a day. Alas, I can hope. And I can also pray that the humidity will go away so the sinus pressure in my ears, nose, and eyes will dissipate, too. 

In the meantime, I'll enjoy the blooms.

Thinking of Grannie Annie this Morning, her poem "The Leaving," and the Full-Circle Moments of Shaving Your Father's Face.

I left Syracuse yesterday afternoon. The aide had left, it was about to be nap time, and I needed to get back: work, the mail, the lawn, the house. I stuck around in case any new nurses were sent and had time in the morning to weed-wack the front yard...I ran out of battery the night before. Mom felt better, Michelle who is there this week is amazing, and the routine must got back to their own ways again. Caring for others is a beautiful thing.

Although I got my dad cut and shaved last week, he quickly got scruffy again, so I convinced him to let me give him another shave. He accepted, and in your late 80s, the hair grows in thick and quickly. He will look like a homeless man soon enough. Just a matter of time. I had to use razors, too, which is hard because he's on blood thinners and it hurts to have such hairs cut. But he accepts the offer and it's done with delicate care.

Melissa, the aide, told him he'd better change his clothes before she returned at 4 or she's beat him up in the driveway. Dad listened, but instead of wearing the clothes she laid out for him, he chose a pair of Oscar the Grouch pajama bottoms and a Syracuse sweatshirt. As it was International Pet Day yesterday, I wanted to get one more photo of him and the rascal. As much as a pain in the ass that Karal is, I love how Dad plays with her and keeps his brain stimulated. Melissa was told the blankets could come of the couch after Karal left, and now dad reports that sitting in his spot is cold. 

I finished Jim Carrey's Memoirs and Misinformation (2020) and it was as funny and stupid as one would expect it to be. With that noted, however, there's an honest core to the story of mortality, purpose, meaning, and reason for life. In the narration, I couldn't help but resonate with the mid-life questions Carrey asks that leads to his silly, yet reliable, "memoir." Two days after Dolly's departure, you think about how lucky it is to have experienced genius of others within the same lifetime. Icons are icons for reasons. I also started Theo of Golden, but only got through the first couple of chapters before arriving home.

The trip was quick and I made good time. The Birkshires are tricky with Sunday drivers on Wednesday country roads, but the rest was uneventful. Good blue skies with puffy clouds. I got home and definitely needed to mow. I also had to bring in and sort the ones already brought in: books, books, and books!

I was also saddened to learn that Libby, a labradoodle therapy-dog, died on Tuesday. She was famous in our school before Maryanne retired, as he was a therapy dog and did everything with her. For many years, she, Glamis, and Jake were the friends of GSEAP. So much has changed since those days. 

Glad I came home to a clean house, except the books and mail. I'm amazed, though, at how quickly I can clutter a space upon return.

I am never sure if Karal likes being back home, as she gets much more attention and vocal opportunity when at my parents. She barks on Mt. Pleasant, too, but she doesn't act like every movement outdoors is someone to visit her like she does there. She loves policing that upstairs. She did sleep the entire way home and has slept next to me in whatever space I've been in, since unpacking the car.

Alright. The emails. I must tackle the emails. Prayers up.

Dang, Dolly. I Guess We Will Never Marry After All, Despite My Boyhood Wishes & Desires (It Was 9 to 5 for Me). RIP.

Another childhood dream squashed. Of course, naming Dolly as a future wife was an elementary school desire, but as I grew older, began to teach, learn of her incredible investment in literacy, especially for all kids, my boyhood crush of Dolly simply transitioned to much admiration and respect.

And then I think of the song Jolene, and my love for her grows deeper. If only such leadership and respect for humanity exist once again in America.

I still don't know what is burning my eyes -- ragweed? -- and I ended up staying another night in Syracuse to be sure all would ride well medically. This decision also led to fixing the gate to the Amalfi Drive fence, as the lowest pipe rusted, and as it deformed the fence, it would open like it should. Once I learned Chitunga was going to stop by at 6 p.m., I decided it was a project he and I could tackle in a short time. I picked up the pipe, ran to Mike's so he could cut it down, unfastened bolts from the old fence, and awaited Chitunga's arrival for the four-hands part. We undid the frame and took of the links, then went to work at breaking the rusted parts and pulling the pipes out of the corner valves. The hardest part was finding the right bolt sizes for the socket wrench as every bolt differed. 

We broke two bolts in the process (well, they rusted apart), and as I was trying to find something in Dad's garage, Tom came over to talk about the cake again, but also said he had the bolts we needed. We used them when he noticed we put one of the bottom contraptions on upside down. He was right, because as he helped me to fix that (Chitunga had to go pick up Alyssa) the gate was easier to open and close. Upside down, it pushed some of the fencing into the dirt causing a part of the fence to catch and drag in the soil.

We accomplished the entire thing in about an hour, and as I waited for Chitunga, I had time to weed whack the backyard.

The crazy thing was that Karal and Tom's dog were playing in the backyard and then sat with us as we worked on the fence. We didn't notice when Tom's dog disappeared. She ran down the street while we were working and we didn't catch her take off.

I didn't get a meal in until 9:15 and I'm glad I made penne pasta for the leftover sauce. It made for a great dinner before I went to bed.

Fence is fixed. And I am so sad about what the world lost with Dolly Parton's passing. She is definitely an American hero to be upheld by all. 

Dear Diary. Despite My Better Judgement, I Chose to See a Barber in Cicero, NY. She Gave me the Burt to Kick-Off the New School Year

Once Lossine and Abu got me hooked on my Haitian barber in Stratford, I've never gone to anyone else. That is at least 14 years. I went to book him upon my return and he had no openings until two weeks from now, so I made an appointment with "City Barber" in Cicero. The website looked cool, but I knew when I had to park in the ol' bowling alley parking lot, I probably should have had more discretion. The lady was nice and all...showed her a picture of how it looks post-cut (because I always send to Abu and Lossine, because there's nothing better than a fresh cut)....well, that didn't happen. 

"Oh, I know what you get," and she basically did a military shave leaving a tuft of hair at the top. Stupid dumb. Welcome hat season. As Pam said, "It will grow back. It always does." 

I'm just so used to leaving the barber knowing that for a week I'll have the clean, pimped-out look that makes me happy to come across mirrors. NOPE. Not this. Beyond dork, which would be cool because I am a dork, but I've grown accustomed to the care and professionalism of Jerry, my barber. He treats my head as if every hair deserves his utmost concentration and craft. This Bitch just went derelict on the noggin. Buzzzz buzzzz snip snip snip. Buzz.

I had it coming. My fault.

I'm heading back to CT this morning (Bert-heading, I guess), so I can get on top of the year ahead. Part of me is holding my breath in planning too much, because if the TESOL grant comes in (that is a big IF), then the entire year, with four following, will take off in a totally different direction while I prioritize next steps in my last years of accomplishments. 

Chitunga and Lys made it back from Long Island, and we met at The Retreat, my favorite Liverpool romp. Would have liked to spend more time with them, but she's heading back to school, Chitunga is working from her parent's house, and the aides caring for my parents could probably use a break from Karal and me. 

So, it's a posting this morning, then a departure. Looking forward to finishing Jim Carey's memoir, and I have plenty of other books on deck (plus who knows how many arrived while doing parental care up north). Time will tell. 

Onward. Biting my lip and moving forward once again. 

In An Absolute Disruption of the World Order, Cynde Broke Mother/Daughter Tradition By Purchasing SudyRip a Pair of Green Pant Bottoms

Yes, the oxygen chord is accentuated, but the color is also popping the 2nd floor of Amalfi Drive, bringing out the green leaves in the pink floral wall paper trim. Miracles never cease to arrive to defy expectations. Wusah! A triumphant day in Cherry Heights.

Leftovers are slowly leaving the refrigerator as the house gets ready to return to Meals-on-Wheels. Mom wavered about ordering out last night instead of having spaghetti, but in the end I think the correct decision was made (as it will lessen the load in the fridge). 

The last cinnamon cake was baked, as well, and will be left to cater to Papi Butch's need. Chitunga and Lys are expected in Syracuse around six and the three of us are supposed to get dinner...I'll be leaving Tuesday morning to continue dealing with email and collegial drama as everyone returns to kick off a new semester. I was thinking yesterday, while working on a Sunday at the same time I'm caring for the folks in an attempt at a mini-vacation from the University, that it is rather ironic that others get the summers off and I never get a second to think (hence the sickness last week when my body collapsed). 

Clay never got the rain that was called for, and Amagansett finally saw the sun they were predicted. I believe I will be returning to Connecticut with more Autumn-like temperatures. We'll see. I know my lawn must be obnoxious and it will be cut (like the hairs on my head that are overdue). 

Here's a Monday wish for safe travel and productive on the syllabus front. One can hope, eh?

He Likes It! He Likes It! Mikey Actually Likes It! Well, I Knew That Already. It Was Our Annual Plank Road Ice Cream While I Am Home in the Summer

That, and I owed him for fixing my mom and dad's dryer in the ways that Cynde and I weren't successful. The two of them went to Albany yesterday to help Nikki and Adamo with house repairs and the only meal he had was the sundae from Plank Road. I should have brought him meatballs and sauce, as that is what I spent the large part of the afternoon preparing. Mom gave the option of ordering in, but I figure home-cooked meals are better than any meals that require wheels. Usually the first night the taste is okay, because the flavors haven't settled, but last night tasted really good. There's plenty for the next couple of days. 

I opted to stick around Syracuse a couple more days, as Alyssa and Chitunga were getting lousy weather. I wanted them to have one good day by the water in Amagansett, so they're driving this way on Monday afternoon and I will high five them here before driving back to Connecticut. 

Mike ordered the hot fudge sundae and I went with a scoop of Panda Paws (because we don't get that in Connecticut...only Moose Tracks...which is close). When I can get Panda Paws I get it, because of love vanilla, peanut butter, and chocolate. 

Both bathrooms were cleaned. Karal was walked. Laundry was done. Dishes, upon dishes, upon dishes were washed and put away. Got a call late last night from the English Department folks to prepare me for more crazy coming to us this Fall. At this point I don't have any words...I just shake my head and focus on CWP and the National Writing Project work that I'm hired to do (he writes, laughing, as he spent today helping a junior college with her dossier and grading an independent study for a student because there aren't any courses offered in the summer that she needs for her Masters (are you ready for this?) in another colleague's program. 

Weather is calling for rain today, so syllabi are on the radar. Looking forward to teaching the research course over an extended period of time instead of during the holiday break.