I Guess I Can Go Out of 2023 with Leo as Schneider on ONE DAY AT A TIME. We Did the Doorknobs & That Was the Request

I actually spent most of the morning doing my end-of-year rituals of reflection, collection, and redirection, before taking a walk with Jessica with our dogs. Luna and Karal never bonded, but they did walk side by side without drama. The drama came afterwards when they were trying to leave. She wanted to go with them and refused to come inside. I usually take Karal off the leash at the doorway and she runs in. Nope. She was like, "I'm not going in that yellow house. When I go in that yellow house, you sometimes leave me and there's no one else in there."

It was an ordeal. She would run from me when I approached with the leash, but she wouldn't leave the front yard. I got tired of that so went the house next door that feeds her bologna, and she followed me, but sat in their front yard. She wouldn't come near the least. It wasn't until I drove my car to their driveway that I outsmarted her. She jumped in. Granted, this was over 50 minutes. 

New behavior, too. 

Then I went to do computer work and got some sort of malware, which caused a bit of panic as I tried to find where those digital morons put their bug. I was getting a virus warning, but I knew it wasn't legit.

I found it, but it took forever.

Then, missing breakfast and lunch, I made it to Pam's to change doorknobs with Leo. I also got soup and some pot pie. Yum. I also got to see the Wooley/Johnson/Sealeys. The countdown of their departure is coming, and I have to soak in as much as I can get.

Here's to your new year! I'm laying low and beginning 2024 anew. 

Mr. Frugal with a Cheapskate Tendency is Ending 2023 with a Pretty Darn Good 70% Off Bag of Foo-Foo-Fee Adult Shit. What Has Happened to Me?

Seriously. I did two days of clearance aisles in all sorts of stores and I have many of my gifts for next year already stored away. I found $302.42 worth of post-Holiday shenanigans and spent about $100 to get it. I've been cheap since my teenage years and always learned to shop the racks after the season is over. 

That is where I got the fancy foo-foo stuff for a large Sudanese crafted basket I have in the hallway. I wish I got holiday lights for it, too. 

I even picked up Halloween items for 75% off. Such a dork.

The drive back to Connecticut was uneventful, but listening to Braiding Sweetgrass some more had me looking at the landscape even deeper than I usually do. I've always loved the spaces between spaces, but Robin Wall Kimmerer made me think even further along the ecological literacy line. I am most amazed, however, that she resides in Pompey, NY, and tells stories of the Maple lands, her people, and the original people of Ononondaga . It's beautiful, and my favorite part was when she refers to the gas station/community store as the Pompey Mall. I could only smile. I felt like I knew her and it made her academic arguments and beautiful writing even better. 

I did, however, try to cut through backroads once I hit Connecticut and it backfired because the traffic had me follow a man going 20 mph for almost 30 miles. It was insane, and passing on the hilly and curvy roads of CT was not an option. It was torture. 

And I forget that I always set the house to be pristine when I return, so the crazy I come in with doesn't clash with the crazy that usually is. I walked in and was like, "Wow. This place is nice."

Love to the family who hosted me this past week. Always restorative to come home. I'm not sure I want to get back to my routine after altering in for several days, but that is the way all journeys go. 

Oh. I wouldn't mind snow at least once this season.

An Optical Illusion to Keep Them Entertained While I Drive Back to CT Listening to BRAIDING SWEETGRASS

The two weeks came to a close, as mom's sleeping in pajamas and Cynde has plant to water and mints for her breath (plus money to spend at Home Goods and a concert to see next fall). I did my 4-hour class last night, after watching dad shave on the couch (he also was upset I was eating dinner because I was teaching and kept interrupting my online class to tell me my food was getting cold - funny, because I taught from my old bedroom with he background blurred).

I saw this optical illusion the other day and am adding it to my collection for a writing workshop I do on perspectives...I like playing with the brains of young people as they mature and think they have control over their worlds and all they know....then explain me this....why does this happen?

Ah, the human eye...probably not the best for kids born blind or without fingers, I suppose. 

It's time to hit the Hulk, listen to a book, and unpack on Mt. Pleasant. I have my rituals at the end of the year (Janus...looking forward and backward) and I need to start embracing in armor for 2024. I don't predict it's going to get any better - in fact, I imagine it might get quite worse, so I want to be prepared so at least I can uphold my end of the universe. 

It's been a great stay and I'm not particularly fond of departing quite yet, but they have their routines and I have mine...poor Cynde will have to return to hers. I just hope that I gave her some sort of mini-break for all she does each and every day.

There is a lot of stuff to pack up and I'm sure I'll leave something behind (even Karal came with suitcases this year). Wishing myself safe travels and optimism with hope.

I Know It's Time to Close a Holiday Home Stay When We Celebrate Cynderballz (from mom to Christmas to Cynde to New Year). It's About to Be a Wrap

I need to head back to Connecticut. It's been a good stay, but I need to get back to my routine, my winter session course, and to figuring out next steps for what I predict to be the craziest semester yet (I'm trying to survive...I'm trying to survive...I'm trying to survive). Cooking and caring for the parental units has been respite from the chaos of the work world, even though they keep asking me, "Are you still working?" 

Um, yes. 

But this afternoon for lunch, we'll celebrate Cyndi-Lu, Meatball, Cynderballz Isgar. We celebrated all week long as she continued to buy balls for her trees...ornaments, actually, but ones on clearance as we parted the Red Sea navigating Christmas items at 50-60% off. Funny that I make fun of all the other customers doing the same.

This year...we went pink-a-licious for her celebrations, pitching in to be sure she has good seats for Pink when she comes to the Carrier Dome next fall, now the JMA Carrier Dome. She doesn't ask for much, so when she hints at something she might like, the family jumps in (props to Nikki, KC, and Mike for spearheading this effort and for Adamo getting to work on tickets right away).

Now to figure out where lunch will come from and then night 3 of the winter session class. Last night was a big overhaul, and it's all boulder pushing upward from this point on. 

We got this. That's my motto.

It's all good, especially when we focus on the good...so Happy Birthday, Cynderballz. You got this, too. 

Throwback to 2005, Three Years Before These Blogs & the Influence of Jean Wolph and the @LouisvilleWP ... A Family Before I Began Building Family on My Own

I received an email from Jean Wolph yesterday with a photo she found while going through all the years she directed the Louisville Writing Project. On my dining room table in Connecticut is a Christmas basket she made me while I was a graduate student at the University. I love it and cherish it, just like I do her. The note simply said, "Great seeing you in Columbus. I found this photo of you presenting at a Louisville Writing Project in 2005." 

I don't remember that shirt, but remember the buzz cut. Of course, now I think about every item of my past as "Where was I? What was going on? What was I presenting on? Did I know then I'd be where I am now?"

In 2005, I was 33 years old. I don't remember being 33 years old, because that was a long while ago. And it was before we hit Facebook and blogs and documenting a life digitally. All my notes from those days are in scrapbooks and notebooks, which are stored away and not as readily available. Two years after this photo, I'd depart for Syracuse to do my doctorate. Four years earlier, I would see the class of 2001 graduate - young people I spent four years teaching. 

And here's the irony. I also heard from Viet Tran, class of 2001, yesterday who is investing in a restaurant in Louisville near where Sue McV lives. I'm hoping he, Chitunga, Alyssa, and Sue can get dinner together this weekend. 

I don't remember the glasses, but do remember wearing diamonds with my shaved head. I miss the goatee without grays. I also recognize the happiness that comes from any work with the National Writing Project. My addiction began there. I'm tanned, so I'm guessing the conference had to be a back-to-school kick-off, soon after visiting my family in Syracuse and likely reading a Harry Potter book in my parents pool for a week - a rare time of sitting still and resting. 

And I look like Dylan. I imagine I look like Sean in 10 years, too. So crazy how it flies by. But tonight I have week two of the winter session class so need to get to work. Here's to memories and connections out of the blue. They are always best!

And Karal Wants Everyone to Believe It. She's Done. Officially Exhausted from Three Day of Celebrations (Followed by Mom with Cynde to Come)

We managed it. Cynde food fest, followed by Bryan food fest, followed by KC & Dave food fest, making it three days of eating and total celebrations. The great news is that Mimi and Papa Butch were there for it all, managing to function in the chaos and offering little complaint upon their return. People Dogs Food Drinks People Dogs Food Drinks People Dogs Food Drinks.

And Karal, like Baby, choose their home to be an obnoxious bark-factory. In Connecticut, she only barks when she wants me to move to the couch so she can cuddle with me before falling asleep at night.

Hoping today is clearance shopping (love to know Adamo and Nikki share my passion for being cheap) and returning items...just one...pajamas for dad that are a size too small.

Chitunga's heading north with Alyssa to his ol' Adirondack stomping grounds and I have to prep for 4-hour classes...winter session...the death of us all (then I find out the University isn't paying for that work until five weeks after it ends - can't make any of this up). Bonkers. 

It was remarkably beautiful yesterday for Syracuse. It almost hit sixty degrees and there was actually a blue sky...that is very rare for this region as it is usually gray and wet (like the next 14 days, according to The Weather Channel). CNY is definitely not a place for anyone with season mood disorder. It's one Eeyore cloud after another of muck.

Okay, world. Time to think about 2024 and call this a year. Of course, it's an election year and that will just suck...but so shall it be.

And Just Like That It Is Christmas Morning, 2023, and We Have Out-Gifted Ourself, Eaten Too Much Food, And Enjoyed the Love of Family and Friends

Waking up, not to the chaos of Christmas mania, but to the reality that we did that, been there, and can tie a bow on it all with a Barnwell brunch. I cooked for everyone yesterday, and Cynde did the same on Saturday, so why not give it to Casey and Dave this morning. Of course, they still have an evening to do, just like Lys and Chitunga.

I was ready to unwind at 3 pm yesterday when we headed to Kanyea and Courtney's to see Malia Celine. That was definitely a highlight of the weekend. She is simply happy, beautiful, and overjoyed to be alive. It's contagious. 

I realize at 51 that Christmas is overdone, insane, too much, and bonkers, but it is this ritual that brings together the people you love and appreciate the most and that matters most (and I type this as Papi Butch is rubbing Karal's belly as she falls asleep on his lap (even if he is wearing 14-layers of Christmas clothing and still complaining he's cold."

Here's to you and yours. Make is a spectacular day and be good to yourself. I am wishing you the best. The is my holiday card. 

The Merry Gnomes of Central New York - A Flake Like Mike Tradition (But This Year for Cynderballz, The Narrator of the Story)

For over a decade, we've celebrated the holidays on Pine Grove with the book A Flake Like Mike. It was a one-year publication featured by Macy's that I caught at the end of the Thanksgiving Parade. I ordered it immediately, and "there's no flake quite like Mike," has been a mantra. We've read it every year: with puppets, surprise guests, new stupidity, and always the humor of my sister's husband, Mike. In fact, my mom and I were discussing that Sean and Jake have not had a Christmas, really, without a reading of the story...There was the Covid Christmas, of course, but a tale was woven in for the absence. 

Yesterday, we almost bypassed the tradition, holding the story for the very end of the festivities, knowing that we all pitched in to get Cynde tickets to see Pink...the only thing any of us can name that Cynde has ever wanted. She'll be a the Dome next October and a week after Adamo and Nikki marry, Cynde and Mike will be front and center. 

We sported pink bandanas and Santa-bulbed beards for the reading, following an 3 (maybe four) hour romp opening presents. As the elf-passer-outer, I didn't think the event was ever going to end because, well, we're a bit excessive. I guess that's not so bad, as it brings laughter and stupidity in the universe.

And in the tradition I have to admit, it's rather impish to see over a decade of these photos....every year dressing up these fools in different attire and each time they go along with my moronic tendencies. I texted Jacob Charles last night that it's up to him and Sean to keep such foolishness going once I'm gone.

Then Cynde sent me a photo of the dogs sound asleep in the middle of the chaos. How they did this is beyond me, because it was obnoxiously crazy from 3 pm to 9 pm. It's a dog's world - that's for sure. 

Today, thought, it's creamed potatoes, green beans, carrots, and beef brisket for an afternoon of visits to Butch and Sue's. We did our holiday a day earlier than usual because Nikki and Sean have to work, and then Nikki & Adamo depart for Poughkeepsie to see his parents.

And I'm feeling rather fortunate that the remake of POW! arrived to the girls who were mistakenly left out of the first print...I felt horrible when I learned their pieces weren't included. They arrived yesterday, however, just in time to be put under the Christmas tree from Santa. 

Okay, time for another day of food. 

Wonderful to Be Home Where I'm a Celebrity on a Pine Grove Refrigerator That Very Few People Will Ever See (But Flattering, Always)

Karal barks at my mom who feeds her because she's barking...whatever she's eating, she shares. The living room t.v. now sits at volume 54. It was set at 42 a year ago. Naps are taken at 4 pm, and when Chitunga pays a visit to see his grandparents, he naps, too. So does the dog...so I decide to make the beef brisket to keep myself entertained. 

It was wonderful to see dad in his physical therapy and know there are good people out there that are caring, smart, interested, and kind. Joe Dicob is a great human being...patient, knowledgeable, a dedicated to his job...although like K-12 education, higher education, and once upon a time, the airlines, all roads lead to corporate greed, leaving the good workers struggling, frustrated, disillusioned by their jobs, and resentful. This is the United States. Float the cash upward to the few, while those on the bottom scratch their head wondering, "Wait. What's going on here." It is something. Joe said he's looking to get out of healthcare. Humana bought his parent company, and ever since the nurses, doctors, and workers are treated like shit. "It's not worth it any more...I have a family I have to think of." 

Sounds familiar. Working 7 days a week, 364 days a year just to maintain the work you're supposed to do because the shrink the workers to save funds for themselves. 

We all need a Norma Rae moment. 

But for this morning, I'm thinking about my fame and purpose from the GQ ad I never posed for...but on the fridgedaire of Cynderballz, I exist. 

Just makes me feel old.

Of course, my father was doing 'get out of the chair' l exercises, so I shouldn't complain too much. 

And we had lunch at Hefner's...dad, Chitunga, and me....a nice CNY lunch with a bottle of Budweiser beer. Those are the moments that sparkle most.

But today, the festivities take off. God Bless Us, Everyone. 

And On the 10th Day of Christmas Their True Son Gave to Them...a Burger with Onions & Cheese (on Naan Bread)(with Creamed Corn)

It's getting rather comical that my parents think I'm some sort of gourmet chef, simply because I arrange the plates differently than they do, add flavors, and introduced them to something new...like bourbon maple sauce or middle eastern bread (haven't cracked out hummus and falafel yet)(but might). 

It's actually getting routine to work in between the meals and then time it during their naps to prepare their next meal.

OMFG. Louisville...what is happening with your basketball program? It's killing me. I'll stay loyal, but I miss the days where the hype and performance kept us on the edge of our seats.

Chitunga arrived safely to CNY, but in true form to the age, the independence, and the changes in life, I didn't hear from him at all. He called 5 hours after Allysa picked him up at the airport to say they've been rock climbing, out to dinner, and that he's likely to stay in tomorrow while she teaches so he can work. Um, Karal isn't the only one excited to see him again. Mom reminded me about how rushed Casey used to be to end our Christmas so she could go to the Marleys for theirs. I forgot about those times. 

Missing from the plate photo were the tater-tots, and I'm a fan of Wegman's pre-made pepper burgers (they hold their shape and have a nice snap to them). The parental units, however, were not a fan of naan bread. They were afraid of losing a tooth because it was too chewy.  

Oh, and about the Isgar garage...that #@$@# almost cost me three fingers. I went to pick up Karal after Dylan dog-sat her (I drove my dad around to pick up things) and he was gone when I returned, so I had to go through the garage. Coming back out, however, I slammed the door shut not reading my fingers were in the crack of one of the folds.

Holy @$#@4 @#$@#$! that hurt. In the end, I think I'll keep my fingernails and the nerve damage will subside. I almost thought I'd pass out, but I held it in. But then Cynde calls me on her Nest doorbell wondering what the hell I'm doing at their house. I wanted to punch her...I was in that much pain. I'm not use to their front door being locked. Totally frustrating.

Now what will I make today? Hmmmm.

How Do You Measure a Son's Holiday Love For His Parents? In Teaspoons, of Course. And Tablespoons. And Quarter Tablespoons. And Quarter Teaspoons

I'm a little flummoxed how my older sister didn't believe me as I sorted all the measuring cups and spoons from the drawers in my mother's kitchen. "There's no way she has that many, Bryan," she said in a text. 

WAY. 

I had luck at Home Goods and found the drawer organizers I was looking for, simply because I didn't want anyone to slice their hands reaching in the draw to get items, as there are a good 40-50 cutting knives in the drawer....from generations of cutting meat, deer, fish, and the body parts that go unnamed in the basement. 

That's a joke. There's isn't a basement. There's a shed. 

Of course, with the new drawer boxes, I had to rearrange some which will be destiny for a "Jesus EFFING Christ, Bryan. Where the #$@#@ is my #@$@#$?" It goes with the territory. We're accustomed to it. 

I also found a nice sink stopper that is designed to keep water in the sink so the water doesn't leak into the drain before you're finished cleaning dishes. Amazing. It almost works too good - so much so that when I cleaned the vents on the floor and the fans in the bathroom, the pull of lint-fuzzies stayed in the sink water for almost two hours before I unplugged it.

There were also 28 bottle openers, a few antique Pepsi toppers to keep the soda from going stale, 32 potato chip clips (borrowed one for Karal's dog food), the birthday candles we couldn't find on her birthday (they didn't have wicks, anyway), and a good 14 cheese spreaders for cheesy posts like this. 

Yes, that's supposed to be an egg on the sink plug, not a daisy. 

Also, I pulled the vacuum out of my bedroom. Boy, that machine can suck the stars into its galaxy if it wanted to. Amazing strength. 

Today, I take Papi Butch to the stores to get gift cards, to the bank for holiday cash, and hopefully to a bar for a beer. All the unwrapping of presents that aren't his are a cause for a drink - besides that, it will give Mimi Sue a break from the television noise and confusion.

I think she told him he's to take out $10,000 per child. I'll work on that. 

And We Can Officially Say the Holiday Season Has Been Kicked Off Because Mimi Sue is 79, and the Youngest Are Now Looking Like Adults

We celebrated mom's birthday yesterday with ginger chicken, four-cheese tortellini, the Kentucky cake, and Pam's winter moose-milk. We also woke up to snow, and it lasted all day, although the word is that it will melt over the next few days over a warm up. Looking like a green Christmas, after all. 

Meanwhile the Barnwell boys, with their mom, got their dose of Karralyne Karamel Karma Cupcake (the spazaga-doink who doesn't like to sit still long enough for a photograph.

Today is Wednesday...the day before Chitunga flies in and a low-key, non-eventful 24 hours off the calendar. We shall see how it all rides out.

I'm still exhausted from the cake, visiting with family, then the Perras, and running into Jennifer Thom at the liquor store (you never who you'll run into wherever you go in CNY). 

May your family members find their way into your homes this holiday, and may you tip a glass to those no longer with you. The rituals don't last forever. 

Doing Okayer? You? Prepped the First Week of the Winter Session, Got Groceries, Cooked Dinner, and Started Recommendations

Mom looked over at me at 9:30 from her lounge chair and said, "What could you possibly be doing now?" Recommendations. She asked, "Didn't you just finished grading," and I'm like yes, "But now I have to tackled all the other items needing to be done that can't get done because I'm too busy teaching and giving feedback." 

It really never ends. Never. As I finish one list, I simply turn a braincell over to the fact there are 100 other items I haven't dealt with. True-that.

It was a total wash so no movement for Karal or me, other than scrambling eggs, frying bacon and sausage, and making Greek omelets for dinner (something different) to go with the chocolates they've been getting into.

But today, mom's birthday, I'll make a cake, feed her a late lunch, and host visitors who want to sing a round of music before candles are blown. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MIMI SUE. Although I'm a pain in the ass and in your way, I'm here to celebrate with you.

Cleaned & Pedicured...24 Hours of Parental Care on Amalfi Drive (and a Good Texas Volleyball Champtionship)

First step: shaving the paternal figure, cutting off a 4 inch mustache of thick, course hair, shaving his face, and getting the white puffs buzzed on the scalp. I did such a good job that it inspired him to take a shower, which is a huge win, and I already anticipated a long battle each day before Christmas.

And we salvaged Mimi Sue's toe. It was a close call. Casey was playing with Karal when we heard a scream from the kitchen (but we're accustomed to screams from every room). It was the, "Kids....help," that was a follow-up trigger that something really did happen. She somehow knocked a knife off the counter and it stabbed her big toe. Blood everywhere. 

"I don't do mom's feet, Casey. This one is all yours.," I demanded, working from behind the chair we sat her. "God damn it, I don't do her feet either, but I'm taking this one for the team."

I text Cynde anticipating she'd say, "I'll be writer over." Instead I get, "Not my problem. It's your turn this time."

That's why I made a fake severed toe I held on ice in the refrigerator (potato with skin-tag and ketchup for full effect.

Mom made me throw it out. It's too bad, because with all the deliveries this week it could be fun to share with all the Amazon drivers. "Hey, want to see my mother's toe."

Seriously, mom made a pork roast (delicious) and dad looks 25 years younger after the haircut and shower. Not a bad first 24-hours on Amalfi Drive. Even got a walk in. And Cynde did come over with Mike so he could see us all on our cellphones. 

Well, Syracuse. We're Home. Stopped to Get Gas & Karal Asked If She Could Drive the Rest of the Way. I Sad No, and the Whining Began

As soon as Karal knows we're almost to Mimi & Papi's, she has this light whimper that gets louder and louder and louder as we get closer and closer and closer. By Caughdenoy Drives, she's in full cry-mode. She loves being on Amalfi Drive - all the attention, relatives, free food, and commotion. Yes, the parental units are sort of low key, but all the guests keep her excited. 

I'm late to the game, but listened to Braiding Sweetgrass on the way up (just 11 more hours to go). It actually made the five-hour trip an absolute blink of an eye. At first I was thinking, "wha wha wha," because it sounded familiar to other texts I've read, but the originality and craft soon cooked in and I'm interested. The voice finally came forward. 

And my sleigh was load. I told Chitunga, "If you were with us, I'd have to tie you on he Subaru's rack." Packing them in, driving them forward, and unpacking them in 'Cuse made for a true-to-the-excessive-nature-of-Christmas day for me. An now another week. 

No snow yet, either, in Syracuse. I actually drove under a 58-degree day. It was beautiful, especially in the hills of 17. 

81-construction in the 'Cuse, however, looks to be a few years of hell. Welcome to the new Binghamton. 

Okay, Sunday. Time to work.

Planting New Goals Ahead...Trying to Wrap Up a Semester and a Wonderful Student Gifted me Gabriella, a House Plant, for the Mentorship All Semester

I'm not used to gifts. I'm used to, "Dr. Crandall, I don't understand why I got a C in your class when I turned in most of my work, but late, and yes I missed 4 classes, and I feel I deserve an A" emails. It's rare to have a note, a house plant, and kindness awaiting you. It's not about any accolade really, but I can attest (like most educators) the emails from kids, administrators, and parents complaining are much more common.

And you get an A, and you get an A, and give your Grandmother an A. 

I'm fair and flexible, upfront and honest, and as supportive as a human being. Often now, at the collegiate level, you get 9th and 10th grade shenanigans. Blood flows through my veins and I breathe oxygen, so I deserve an A because I'm enrolled in a college class. 

Note, however: it is rare, maybe 10% who act this way, but they exist. 

More uncommon is a houseplant. I love it. It's already moved from my house to my home, because house plants like the sun on Mt. Pleasant. I feel like Grandma Vera's dining room.

Hello, Gabriella. If it is was up to me, it would be you, the birds, the animals, the frogs, the butterflies, and the gardens. I say less humans and more other species who keep the flow of life moving. 

Guns are now the #1 reason in this country for the death of children. I am shaking my head. When I used to hike with kids in Beargrass Creek, I used to tell the kids the most horrific animals on the planet are in these woods. They'd cling together and ask, "What are they? Will they get us?" I'd say, "Nope. It's us. Humans destroy what life could really be about. Just be cautious."

I still don't have my Wonka hate, but I have my Wonka moments. Role model for life. 

There Is Nothing Better Than the Smile of a Published Writer When They Receive Their First Publication (Thankful to @mcwalker39 for Sharing)

Mom's a writer and @writingproject educator (and in some odd way, she brings a bloodline to Dr. Kristen Turner who I adore). (Does that make us cousins or siblings?). And then I learn that his mom taught his summer teacher when she was in 9th grade. Either way, last summer, the amazing Sammy joined Little Labs for Big Imaginations to write under the leadership of Jessica Baldizon, Abu Bility, and Stefania Vendrella. I was working with teachers, and only heard from Abu about the amazing work being accomplished in our program for 3rd-5th grade writers as we returned home every night. 

Then, when all the final products were sent to me, I was fortunate to bring the hard work to a close, publishing the young people and the teachers during the 10th edition of POW! Power of Words. I am forever grateful to the U.S. Postal System for their quick deliveries. It took less than 24 hours to get into the homes of some of our students. Amazing. 240 pages of well-crafted bliss!

You see that bookshelf behind Sammy. Well, there's a special place for his copy of POW! for it to be placed (and join his mother's work from a few years ago). Or if he doesn't want it there, he can place it on his personal bookshelf with all the wonderful books he accumulates as a reader and writer.

All of us who teach, who work with young people, and are always fascinated with writing processes adore moment like this. We understand the power of words and the importance of bringing final products to publication. The culmination is what makes it special --- having a book delivered...well, that's just extra-special.

Shoot...every journal article, book chapter, blog, poem, or video that comes out to celebrate CWP work and share m scholarship makes me happy dance around the kitchen. Perhaps I'll get Sammy's happy dance, too, especially when he shares his writing with this year's teacher.

I get it, Sammy. That is a smile of accomplishment and pride - one I hope you get addicted to, share with others, and help to spread the word about the importance of written communication. You are a published writer now and you should tell every one. 

It's all of us together.

You, your incredible mom, and all the wonderful people you've yet to meet.

Here's the Truth. You Should Never Be Re-Watching Ted Lasso on Apple When You Are Looking for Solutions for Your Own Great Whatever

I received an email yesterday from a person I never taught, but who bonded with me for life after college, next steps, and hope for a better world. He was a division III football player who grew up in Bridgeport, and was actively working to try for a shot for an NFL team. He was huge: muscular, dedicated, and driven. I'm not sure how we connected, other than the fact that he talked highly of an English teacher he had (who changed his life) and she happened to be a National Writing Project instructor. The kid and I bonded and I haven' heard from him in over a decade.

Then, last night, I received an email from him thanking me for my optimism, spirit, drive, and passionate hope for the world. He didn't make it to NFL drafts, and needed to redirect his life as a result, but he's always thought about me and my undying faith, these are his words, in humanity. 

I received these words as my dog Karal was chewing a turtle present I got her at the grocery because the creatures were on sale. She likes squeakers, so I thought why not giver her an evening treat of tearing out the brains of a turtle. Alas, that is harsh, because one of my favorite students of all time - perhaps forever - is turtle, who has reconnected to Frog in his 40s and who...well, I adore and I hear. The Pond at the Brown School was really amazing. 

And so, I'm re-watching Ted Lasso (the fucker Chitunga has finished the series because he couldn't wait for Christmas - a gift of Apple TV for a year) and every episode, the 2nd round, is even better than the first. 

Karal is destroying Turtle, which is a shame, and for many of us doing what we've been doing, we've been destroyed by our employers. I can't help but think of the mission of Ted Lasso, the beauty of the Brown School in Kentucky, and my life mission of doing all I can to make the universe a better place. 

I'm heading into today with this in mind. Story. Integrity. Truth. Honesty. and what it means to be be good. I will choose good every time. It's that easy.

And I learned that from Turtle. I learned that from the amazing experiences of my life. I suppose, the vast majority live fake, shallow lives with superficial accomplishments. That is not the journey I'm on. I'm on the 2nd half and I see through the foolishness. Ted Lasso --- well, there's a story there. I have faith in it. It's the universal narrative of how some of the ugly people choose to work, but how the better people operate to in opposition with happiness, humor, faith, and countering their hypocrisy with joy.

And Then There Is Grading Season, Right Before Holiday Season, All While Teaching a Winter Session to Blur All the Seasons (I'm the Ghost of Higher Education Present)

I'm a sucker for students, especially if I know them. When I learn they don't have anyone to teach two of their most important classes in a program (ones to be axed in a refiguring because, well, lower expectations), I raise my hand. If I can have anything to do with raising the bar and preparing them for the complicated careers they'll have ahead, then I will.

So, I must have grades in this week only to begin an impossible two-week, 30-hour winter session course. Lucky for me, I've taught it several times before and my humor, pacing, technological skills, and willingness to meet them halfway on everything has proven to be one of the highest-reviewed classes of my teaching). I'm in.

But first I need to finish and in the good ways of higher education, meetings are called non-stop as if we who are teaching have any time for such meetings. They truly should have a DO NOT CONTACT FACULTY clause for the last two weeks of every semester. Leave us alone. Let us get our jobs done. Your lack of planning never constitutes our emergencies. 

I believe, because I canceled the rest this week and next, that I'm without meetings from now until the spring semester. Praise be the lord, o'mighty who will be birthed once I take the covid mask off of him in my nativity scene. I was reprimanded for having an exposed Jesus before Christmas Day. How am I supposed to retain all these rituals and rules?

Well, look what the cat dragged in? The devil himself who has been showing signs of himself in these parts (while wearing supposed Sheep clothing). 

I know thee, Satan. You're too obvious. 

And onward. 

Proud to Bring 10 Years of Young Adult Literacy Labs and Teacher Institutes to Publication @Fairfieldu @CWPFairfield (Literacy Excellence through @WritingProject Work)

It's the end of the semester, and I'm happy to announce that the 10th edition of Power of Words (POW!) arrived to campus yesterday from the publishers. This is the 10th year of investing in Connecticut educators and youth in the National Writing Project tradition, and I couldn't be more proud than to see another round of teacher and student excellence delivered to the mailboxes of phenomenal youth and educator writers. It is a decade of best practices in teacher excellence and I couldn't be more proud of the phenomenal people who have made our work what it is.

I am very excited about this year's rendition, because it was influenced by Ralph Fletcher, Jessica Singer Early, and Gholdy Muhammad, and we had nothing but phenomenal educators investing in the work of a stellar program. I am forever grateful for the full slate of teachers I hire and the families who put their all to the excellence of their student writers. 

It's a little mind-blowing to me to see a decade and over 1,500 writers having their words in print, all the result to scholarship, investment in teacher professional development, and a culmination of the dedication, focus, drive, and hard work of K-12 educators across the state and the funding organizations that allow it to be what it is. 

I am Brown School. I am the result of many people who invested in me, and I am thrilled to highlight the excellence of literacy scholarship and what is possible. The evidence has been set in print. The rest is for me to articulate. 

And Then There Is That Early December Day When You Learn You're Still Good for Sprinting Two Miles (Even Though It's Been a Minute)(& It Wasn't the Intention)

I've been monitoring the Weather Channel for a week and the rain was scheduled for 2 pm. When I saw it gray up at 11 a.m., I went to look at the radars. Nope. No rain until 2 p.m., so at 11:45, 2 miles from home, when the skies open up and it is a torrential downpour, you simply get drenched. Well, hello temperatures - glad you're above freezing. 

Karal was drenched, too. She sprinted with me but kept looking back to me as if, "You douchebag...let's run inside someone's garage or stand on their porch. I couldn't see and it was a wall of water, so we just ran for another 25 minutes...well, leaped through Niagara Falls. 

I had to leave Karal in the garage so I could get towels and blankets. I also wanted to turn the heater on the front porch, because after she was patted down, that's where she'd stay until she was totally dried off. I, too, tore off my clothes (shoes and socks soaked as if I went swimming in them). I ran upstairs for a hot, hot shower. I'd much prefer getting caught in a rain shower in the middle of July than having one douse me in December. 

But I'm glad my legs and lungs let me keep a good clip. I thought my hernia might explode, but she only offered a few kicks in the groin. 

Then, the rest of the day I wrote, plotted, planned, graded, organized, and gave into evening mindlessness a television to distract me. 

But now I'm driving to campus to receive boxes of POW! Power of Words, as the 10th edition is scheduled to arrive this morning and I want to get them in the mail as soon as possible. It's a days worth of work. 

I Got to See This Jolly Little St. Nick as Jake Had an Emergency Procedure to Restitch his Stomach - Lucky to Have a Vet in the Family

Sad to see Louisville out of the NCAA volleyball tournament. Their first two games against Pitt showed absolute dominance, but then Pitt found their mojo and the better playing team took the match, 3-2. You can't complain because the better team pulled through.

Pam had a cookie bake party so Leo and I met to walk the dogs. When we returned, Pam noticed his stitches on his tummy came undone, he was bleeding, and it looked infected. Stephanie packed Patrick and Ethan into the car and we got baby-duty while Jake was repaired. 

It's hard to believe how big and mature little Ethan has become. He hair is so blonde and curly, and Louisville volleyball helped to put him down for a nap. So funny to see how 50/50 he is with Stephanie and Patrick's genes. To adorable and smart for words.

Today, a nor'easterner storm is supposed to bring rain and winds, so I get to spend another day indoors and prepping for a departure. Monday and Tuesday brings all the major projects and I'll be on a grading frenzy. For the weekend, anyway, it was good to hang out with friends and the little guy, even if it was an impromptu dog-necessity. Karal did well with Bev, Shirley, Sharon, Oona and Leo back at home.

Here's to your seasonal cookies. 

Therapy Walk-n-Talks Followed By the Wisdom of Public School Administrators and Staff Over Dinner at a Bar with a Festive Fireplace and Great Food. That Has Meaning.

Yellow to the rescue with more lavender, friendship, educative expertise, and good company. Lucky, too, to be joined by her husband. Together, they have well over 50 years of service in Bridgeport Public Schools. The wisdom they carry is immeasurable.

So, I had my first ever Big Mac spring roll, and a great chicken dinner to stuff my brain for an exhaustive week. Good company, wonderful humor, and the power of collective thinking. You want advice about how to best run K-12 schools? Work with those that live it, do it, and excel at it every day. 

Find a bar with a fireplace and a great Christmas beer. Kvetch.

Fortunate again to have a space to process the crazy and to have critical mentors who have seen it all (and then some). 

Also had a great day of grading, conferencing with students, and looking forward to projects coming in next week. Today, I'll stay at it, cherishing three NCAA volleyball games towards the championship. Go Ville!

I see the flame with the arrow pointing upward and I had another night rebuilding faith in The Great Whatever. Read the tea leaves. Touch brains with those who endure much, and model more. 

Here's to the weekend. 

Thankful to the Great Whatever for Friends Who are Spiritual, There for You, Good Listeners, and Sad They Didn't Have the Kind with the Maple Glaze

I had work done on the Hulk and needed a ride to work, but they said they could get the work done in two hours so opted to stay in Subaru's new work station. I told Leo I didn't need a ride and I was likely to walk to Big Y in search of an apple fritter. He texted back, "Bev gave me permission for a donut and coffee, so I'm coming." He picked me up and when Big Y was without good donuts he immediately said, "Dunkn' Donuts it shall be." 

We arrived, got coffee, and like two old men, kvetch'd about life, work, getting old, and God. Yes, God. That's why I love him: his humor, his faith, his believe in good to all people, and his undying trust in a better world. He was phenomenal at listening, too....so much so that I teared up for just being able to talk about the craziness of it all. He heard. And he spoke. And I listened. 

Faith transcends institutions, political parties, experiences, and hope. It's a feeling, and you simply need good people to keep you good. 

And the donuts and coffee were great. Yes, I allowed sugar in cream in my coffee, too. Definitely a highlight of the semester and I thank God for good friends, although I'm more inclined to invest my prayer onto The Great Whatever. 

All life is suffering. The Buddhists help us to see it. To look out for others in need is a special gift that many of the most pious don't even have (in their self perception and words, perhaps, but with no action). 

Not Leo. I'm thankful for a good friend. Always. He's always asking the bigger questions and quite content that life is about mistakes and learning...but trusting in love...goodness...and the fellowship of human kind. I love him for that. It's been a compital year where two roads diverge in a woods and most travel the other road. It's easy for me. I trust the road Leo's on. In order to trust Good again, you simply need to surround yourself with good people.

Amen.

We'll find that donut...with the maple glaze.

Tied a Ribbon on a Great Semester with 20 Brilliant Honors Students Who The Great Whatever Sent My Way at Exactly the Right Time

I found a space that I actually enjoy, working with Honors students on campus who, for the first time, remind me of the quality of public school students I taught in Louisville, Kentucky. They are engaged, smart, interested, hard-working, passionate, and eager. Over the years, I've forgotten what looks and feels like - yes, I get it from working with immigrant and refugee youth in off-campus spaces, but haven't had that zest in my collegiate teaching until now. 

Yesterday, our last class, we spent time listening to the music of Emmanuel Jal, and discussing scars and the graphic novel Welcome to the New World. I made another cake, of course, and then the students had an hour to work on their final paper. It was very Brown School and it felt comfortable again. Wonderful kids working on incredible projects, enthusiastic to share what they were doing and genuinely sparked by my suggestions and appreciation. 

I walked by a table and saw a stack of books that were taught - they are freshmen and read more in a semester than most of my grad students will read. 

They are the type of kids who filled out the University's evaluation form and then stay after class to talk about your teaching, wanting to ask questions, and get permission to "write a letter, if that's okay, because I have more to say." 

Phew.

And I left to meet with a colleague who I adore and who has been my #1 since he arrived. He is leaving the University this January. I thought we were meeting so I could get my hand slapped for being honest at a meeting yesterday. Nope. He found joy and possibilities, and I'm forever happy for him and grateful for the service he's given me and others. I love / to believe / in hope.

It is as Nohea, a Student from the Hawaiian Islands Announced in Class....YOLO, You Only Live Once, So I Gave in to a New Experience. Tree Lighting Ceremony

I always run my last class as a cake-filled, writing workshop, so students have two hours to do final evaluations, and to get one-on-one support for their final projects. The work is due, so why not coach/mentor/guide them to their personal excellence. Several students expressed last week that they'd love to have our final night at the tree-lighting ceremony on campus, with Santa, prayer, the holiday choir, and the lighting of the tree. I agreed it could be a nice compromise if the first hour was spent completely productive. 

Radio silence. They all got to work and I had gift wrapped individual books for each students (John said I seemed to be a pro at wrapping, which I'm not), so as they ate cake and worked, I held conferences in the hall. After 75-minutes, I said, "I believe you have a ceremony to share with me," and we headed to join the campus for hot cocoa, winter hats, and a tradition I've never experienced before. 

The tree was lit and we prayed together for a better world.

I was blessed with a cohort of beautiful students this semester and though bumps in the road are many, we still finished 14 weeks of young adult literature excellence. 

And I grew as a human being watching the ceremony with my students and seeing the campus tree aglow with their reasons, purposes, visions, and hope. 

It was a highlight of my semester, and evidence of what is possible with teaching, research, and high standards for all.

For that, I am thankful. I wish I captured all the students (we even had parents drive in and join the class - teachers in Westchester, NY, and I was delighted to have them, too). 

Let there be light. Let there be insight for learners of tomorrow. 

Celebrating the Brilliant Minds in Young Adult Literature and Readily Admitting, I'll Hate Seeing This Particular Course Come to an End

It's a ritual...the last night of my courses becomes a workshop, as I need to be available for a 1,001 questions about final projects. This particular cohort, for the most part, have been exceptionally advanced in their thinking and strong with their ideas...many of them finance and accounting majors who read excessively...they simply didn't know that YA Literature was a thing. 

Well, duh.

One student even conducted an interview for The Write Time, but that is another post. Amazing.

Seriously, at this time of year it is hard to find any energy left to invest more in students, but the end-of-the-semester Kentucky cake is always a highlight. I bake, and like many doctoral seminars I attended where faculty bought cakes to share, I simply cut into a homemade cake and share my recipe.

TONIGHT. WE WORK TOWARDS YOUR SUCCESS. 

Actually, a crew of students noted that tonight is the annual tree-lighting ceremony with prayers, chorus, hot cocoa, and cheer and wondered if we might call class short to attend. Funny they recommended this. Because I actually have gift-wrap YA novels for each of the students because, Wola! I had another box of books delivered over the weekend. After I wrapped them, another box came.

This is all to say that I believe YA Literature is the perfect course for me to teach. I simply love every second of it. 

Well, I Left Louisville in 2007 and 16 Year Laters (Three Moves, too), I Finally Went Through My Closets to Get Rid of Clothes I Haven's Worn in Years

Actually, I felt like I was playing the game of visiting Mom and Dad. It's actually therapeutic to rid items from yesteryear and to clear way for junk of the future. The truth is I have 11 years of Run 4 Refugees and 10 years of Vicki Soto race-wear and I honestly can wear that for 21 days straight, but it's not in my common attire. Just when I'm running, which I haven't been (and I thought about as I cleaned ... it's not spring, but I was thinking about a reset and trying to run again). Then Harvey decided to throb and let me know, "If you run, Crandall, I'm totally letting these intestines out from under your nuts." 

Hernia reality. With a crotch of a 90 year old, it will never go away.

But it was good to pile up clothes that I haven't touched in a decade to simply say, "There's no reason to hand onto any of this anymore. You departed with old sneakers last year (that was hard), so now it is time for clothes (especially dress shirts, because I haven't worn a tie in years...I used to wear one every day). 

Old Skool.

I also had several t-shirts where the pits were so stained that I believe they're worthy of a scientific study. I mean, it was caked deodorant, dirt, and sweat. That was life for several, several years. Why keep such attire if I'm not going to donate it to the Mayo Clinic? 

Finally, I wrapped books for my students this semester. I figured the last two boxes that arrived since Halloween can be paid forward so kids can start their own libraries. I'm a dinosaur now. Bring on the next generation. 

Oh, and I make my cake, cake, but turned it over too soon and it crumbled apart not holding its shape. Need to return to another attempt before I head to work, but first an eye doctor appointment and hopefully a long walk with Karal. Yesterday was an absolute wash.

I'm on Round II of Ted Lasso. It Simply is Comfort Viewing for Nasally Hacking, Head-Aching Season on the Couch While Trying to Get Some Rest

I'm not sure if it is a cold, the flu, or allergies, but I'm tired of the dry throat, vacant cough, ears plugged, and horrible aches transitioning out of November into December. I'm hearing from others that it is a misery that just lingers and can't be shaken. I'm napping, sleeping, resting, and going slow, all because I don't want to carry this with me to Syracuse, but just as I feel like I'm getting to my ol' self, she comes back to whack me on the head.

I'm so thankful for Ted Lasso for bringing me comfort. I got back into it again when Chitunga was home for Thanksgiving and, drat, my addiction was started all over again. This time, viewing is even better as I binge watch episode after episode and hear one-line zingers that I never heard the first time through (like Beard's response when they were talking about mommy issues. A simple Qanon says everything...brilliantly relatable and humorous). 

Hoping for more down time this Sunday to get my energy back. One more week of classes then the chaos for the holidays and a winter session course. I am just happy with my soups, blankets, box of Kleenex and a remote. 

Ted Lasso is just a show that gives and gives and gives, always with a slight emotional tug of the heart which makes it extra special. I'm almost out of There-flu and I've exhausted my Mucinex. I'm guessing this all simply means allergies, allergies, and allergies. I've lived with them my whole life and I simply wish I'd outgrow them. 

Nope. Instead, a crusty, sniffling, and irritable nasal passage as always. (Quit your belly-aching Crandall and just get better)

Bonus Friday. Auto Repairs. Maintenance. Home Stay. And a Friday to Moving Things Forward (Okay. I Rewatched Ted Lasso Season 2)(I Admit It).

I'm trying to move from sick to healthy, exhausted to of the sane. 

I did get to the the new Subaru Milford, and my car is updated for 120,000 miles. I graded, I organized, and I waited in the lounge. Actually, props to them. They had a space for me to work for several hours with Wi-Fi, and Internet. It was better service than campus. I enjoyed every second of the work space as my car was updated.

When I was hungry, I reached into my bag and found two bags of Planters peanut mix, which I pilfered from the convention center in Ohio. Bonus. That was my lunch before heading home, turning on Christmas lights, doing laundry, and prepping for work needing to be done over the weekend. 

I have no brain. I'm exhausted. This is my life. 

And I'm thankful to round two of Ted Lasso. I've watched the series once, but the 2nd time is more fruitful...meaningful. 

The world is better off with this series. And today, Saturday, I'm meeting with students, grading, writing, and getting ready for the last week of classes.

This is definitely an end-of-the-semester post. I'm simply spent. 

I Put a New Ornament on the Christmas Tree and, Like a Good Adult, Cherish Each and Every Ornament (Story) That Comes My Way.

I can't stop sneezing. I am not sure if it is allergies, the flu, a cold, or what, but I'm tired of the grog. Truth is, I also came home yesterday and napped before recording an episode of The Write Time (one of the best ones yet - woot woot....Patricia Park's writing is AMAZING). Today, I'm catching up on Subaru maintenance and, probably, sleeping some more. 

By the way, Karal is not good with me napping midday. I wish there was a video tape of her shenanigans trying to both cuddle and/or get me up as I tried to rest my body.

Dr. Suz sent me a package of pecan treats which also came with an ornament which I quickly hung on my tree. Truth is, I did outside lights while Chitunga and Lys took care of the indoor items. I came in and the tree was up. Light's that Chitunga described as bliss. I agree. Sitting at night in front of the tree is absolute bliss. 

It's Friday. It's Friday at the end of the semester after 13 years of non-stop work. I'm feeling the exhaustion as I know many in K-12 and higher education truly understand. I'm simply thankful that I see some slowing down over the next couple of weeks and I'm here for it (if I can get several days of good sleep). It's that time of year. 

TGIF. TGITEOTS (thank God it's the end of the semester, too).

Hello, December.