I Don't Care If It's Cold, But Give Me Sky and Sun. Nothing Makes Me More Miserable Than Fog and Cold Rain. Ugh.

Normally I am pretty happy-go-lucky, and I lost my Eeyore nickname sometime in college. No longer did I see the glass as half empty and perform life as a Debbie Downer. I chose happiness and looked for optimism to live my days. To me, it has been a choice.

I will argue, however, than when the skies are gray, the rain is frigid, the fog is thick, and the bones are damp, that it is nearly impossible to think pleasurable thoughts. I can do it if the temperature is in the 70s, but when down in the high 30s, I just want to curl up in bed and mope.

The weather brings sinus pressure, low-grade headaches, lethargy, sleepiness, and doubt. Yes, it keeps me indoors and sitting still, but it also is highly depressing. Even the gym couldn't get my blood and spirits going yesterday. I simply gave in to the fact that it was going to be a grumpy, miserable day.

Of course, I kept the spirits up when working at Middlebrook Elementary and, like Frenchtown, love the 1st and 2nd graders. Still, I could feel the energy drain on the teachers and students, too. It's ugly outside...not yet white, all types of mud, but not with the promise of tulips and daffodils. It's just gross.

I'm hoping today is a little more scrummdiddleyumptious for us all. That way I can see what Pooh and Piglet are up, too, and return to my bouncy Tigger self.

Modeling Opinion Writing With First And Second Grade Students in Trumbull. Toys! Toys! Toys!

I tapped my inner Zoolander yesterday at Frenchtown Elementary School for 1st and 2nd grade teachers. I told the educators that I was sorry not to be Brad Pitt, but I would try to model to the best of my abilities how to help young writers inform their readers about the worlds they live, with the details they inhabit, and with the transitions expected of the grade.

Lucky for me, teachers in another district recommended The Important Book by Margaret Wise Brown, which is a wonderful narration about spoons, snow, rain and wind that is detailed with important facts that were perfect to get students to think about what it means to offer important details. The students and I began with a co-written argument piece about why their school was the best in the universe: they named their mascot, a 75-year old principal, nice, caring teachers, and the fact that at recess, when they have time to relax, they tend to play school. We used these facts to make the case about their school being awesome.

From there, I asked the young writers what their favorite game and/or toy was. I shared with them that Peter Boy, Jimmy, Bobby, Mike and I used to play wiffleball in Cherry Heights and I drew a picture I drew (1st grade style) of what playing wiffleball used to look like. From there, I modeled a list of important facts about the game and then shared my own composition (and remembered how painful it is to write by hand and then to trace the light markings with darker lead so that it could be read by others!).

From there, I challenged the youngsters to draw their favorite toys and they inked soccer balls, marbles, Mind Craft, Barbies, footballs, and gymnastics. As the kids drew, I walked around and asked questions of what they illustrated. When I shared my composition, they were ready to share theirs. The interesting thing was that we predicted they'd sustain the activity for 30 minutes but they lasted for 65. Also, a teacher predicted resistance and even anger from a few of the boys who hate to write, but for whatever reason, they went to task and, lo and behold, even volunteered to share their writing, to the amazement of many, with their classmates. One of the reluctant writers even heard the feedback from peers and instantly began adding more details and asked if he could, once again, read his prose for the audience.

The 1st and 2nd graders were surrounded by several educators from various Trumbull schools and had all eyes on them! They totally delivered and I suggested they might make a collection of their writing for parents and Santa Claus to possibly read for gifts during the 2015 holiday season.

I repeat these exercises this morning at another Elementary School and I am anxious to see if the work continues the success. I've always worked with high school and college students, so writing with the littlest ones is intimidating. I have to bow down and offer plentiful finger snaps to the sages who work with this age group on a regular basis. There is so much development going on at this time and writing is not an easy task. The kids were still learning vocabulary, verb tenses, phonics, and muscle control. Still, they rocked it and made everyone who worked with them proud.

Wusah, Frenchtown Wolves! You bit into the opinion writing with rigor and poise!

Star Light, Star Bright, First Star I See At Night...I Wish I May, I Wish I Might, Have The Wish, I Wish Tonight.

Yesterday, the class of 1990 from Cicero North Syracuse High School received news that a beautiful soul moved on and a woman who was an essence to our class is now at restful peace. News came unexpectedly and throughout the last 24 hours I've found myself stopping in complete sadness. The shock is real and I am shaking my head in disbelief. It just doesn't seem right.

She was a gorgeous person. She was this way in 7th grade when I first met her and she was this way throughout high school. In fact, she was gorgeous every time I ran into her in Armory Square, when we met at the reunions, and within all of her Facebook updates. A few weeks ago, in fact, she posted that life is too short NOT to reach out and touch the lives of others. I read the post and jotted her a note:

Touching lives is a good thing. So, let me touch yours. I remember meeting you at Gillette Road Middle School when we shared a classroom with Mr. Melger (freaky French teacher with odd teeth and a lot of spit). I knew you as a fighter - that is, a tough, strong, independent, confident woman. I was a pudgy nerd and intimidated by your 7th grade beauty. Then, we grew older (and older) and older, and I watched you bloom into a beautiful high school student, then twenty-something, then thirty-something, and now (cough cough) forty something. The one thing that has remained the same is the beauty you radiate and the strength you exude. Have a great weekend.

Within minutes, she responded,

Oh Bryan that is such a sweet thing to say!! You brightened my day! Of course you throw in your funny stories, too - you always have. He was a pretty good spitter, I would have to say!! Thank you, my friend!! You're an amazing guy!! 

When news broke that she was gone, I looked for the messaging we shared to see what it is we said to one another. I'm glad the correspondence shared good thoughts and, for a brief moment, the two of us remembered to the touch the lives of those we care about.

I am thinking today, though, about her shining light which will now be anchored  in the sky...a source to look up to forever. I'm thinking about my classmates, too, especially her closest friends, who are sharing such a sudden lost. More importantly, I am thinking of her daughter - just as beautiful as her mother - and the immediate family.

This news is one of those gut-punching twists in the world. I find serenity in knowing she'll be where our wishes go. And with that, I am wishing her friends and family peace and strength as they mourn such a power-house of a human being.

To my fellow Northstars, I am thinking of you. 

Follow-Up Of Holiday Lights, Day Two: Thank The Great Whatever, Too, That I Can Tap The Inner Buddha

Prettier than the photos show.

I am one chord away from being satisfied. I have lights in all windows and the back porch looks like a scene from Close Encounters. I found the sets I needed at Ocean State Job Lot and, because it was a beautiful day, it was great to be outside hanging up the outdoor lights (I even barbecued).

That's the happy note.

The bad note?

What is wrong with people? Holiday shopping is insane. I went to Ocean State to get lights and to return a jacket that didn't fit. When I got in the line, there was a woman with two carts full of merchandise (and I'm not even talking about bulky merchandise, I'm talking about the tiniest things the store sells). She had plastic wrapped forks, stickers, yarn - everything. I asked her, "Are you returning all of these?" She says, "No, I'm buying them." I ask, "Well, why are you in the return aisle?" and she responded, "Oh, I had to return an item and I'm exchanging it for my purchases today."

I looked at her and said, "Really?" 45 minutes went by and the return line began to flow throughout the entire store. This woman questioned every price that the register lady scanned. It seemed pretty evident to me that this woman has some kind of pack-rat issue, as her carts looked like an episode of Hoarders. She spent around $970 on $1 items - it was crazy. And something told me she'd be back tomorrow to return them all and to do the same thing all over again.

Obviously, we who were standing in line were not happy. I was directly behind her and she looked at me and asked, "What's your problem?" I simply responded, "This seems a bit disrespectful, don't you think?" She then went on a tirade of how rude I was.

Whatever. I just kept breathing in and breathing out. I needed to remain calm. I knew I was stopping at Walmart next (and the one in Stratford could easily compete as the most insane aquarium for oddities in the nation). I have to be totally Zen to go in that store.

But it's over. I'm satisfied and now I have no problem sitting in my house in the dark, looking at all the lights in my windows and from the tree.

Holiday Lights and OCD Do Not Mix Well, Especially When Moving Into a New House and Nothing Fits Right

Gleams, perplexed on why I keep going in
and out of the house looking at the
windows. I need to get her a light-up collar.

In all the homes I've ever owned, I've always lit them up for the holidays with white lights. I've also lived in homes with long fences and driveways. Alas, my house has lots of windows, a short fence, and a porch. For the most part I made matches, but there were the strands that all lit up but one row which angers me to know end. Then I went to find matching lights to replace them and, OF COURSE, they are a different shade of white light. Actually, the new bulbs they're making are like spotlights - they are so bright.

I've gone to Home Depot, bought lights, returned them, Walmart, bought lights, returned them, and Targets, bought lights and returned them. I'm trying to find matching shades so I don't have to purchase all new lights. Besides, the ones I have now match the lamp outside and the Christmas tree that Pam threw out and I recycled into my new home.

Such neurotic lighting ceremonies does not bode well for the lists and agendas I made to accomplish yesterday. Rather than get to the tasks on my list, I spent way too much time working on the lights and (ARGH) have still not accomplished the goal. I have two more windows that need lights and, (UGH), I have around 30 feet of fence lights that I need to put out somewhere. Right now I am thinking about lighting up the back porch (just because I can).

The neighbors across the street and the ones next door simply have a candle in each window. I envy that. It's simple, elegant, and smooth. I'm not a Griswold, but I do like to have the celestial feel in my home for the holidays. It makes sipping hot cocoa and reading that much more pleasurable.

I'm also distressed that I can't put my snowman in the bay window because, without a doubt, Glamis will trample on it every time she leaps to her surveillance/sleep spot.

We're getting there, but the house is not there yet. There is nothing I hate spending money on more than Holiday lights that die so quickly. But on a good note, I did hang up a rack so the stockings are up (although not mby a chimney).

Okay, it's Sunday. My day of rest which means I can't continue my neurotic search for two more sets of lights (or can I?)

Mystery Solved. Thanks to Constable Bill, His Love of Animals, His 82 Year-Work Ethic, and His Integrity

Around 10:30, Glamis heard a car door and when ballistic in the bay window. I looked out and an old man was walking up my drive way. He was in a big truck that was plastered with "home repair" signs, and my first instinct was, "Whoever this man is, he has the wrong house."

I walked out front and there was this man with a blue collar. Yes, it was the blue collar that has been missing for a few weeks - the one that mysteriously disappeared and made Chitunga and I tear up the house. We had no idea where it went.

"I found it in Wooster Park," the man said. "I walk there everyday and I love dogs. I have three Yorkies of my own. I'm 82 years old and still employed. I am a Notary, work on homes, and do animal calls for the town. I saw the collar and knew I had to return it."

Bill. His name was Bill. He was a police officer for over 32 years in Stratford. He now works on homes and does other miscellaneous work (even told me he'd draft my Will if I wanted him, too. "I've been working since I was 14 years old," he continued. "If a person isn't working and contributing back to the world in good ways, then they aren't worth my time at all."

I could have talked with Bill for hours. He is "The House Doctor" and something tells me he's a surrogate mayor for our Stratford community - an individual who lives his daily routines by offering small gestures of kindness, which include finding missing dog collars and returning them to the owners (even after a month of being M.I.A.).

Yesterday morning started with restoring my faith in humanity. Such a random act, but one that I will hold at the core of my philosophy and purpose. If only all of us could aspire to be like Bill, what a beautiful world it would be.

Why Not Blur The Holidays and Make The Next 30 Days One Giant Bonanza? I'm Game. You?

After an evening of radical turkey coma (more severe this year than most), I decided to merge the anarchy of holiday festivals right away so I can keep pep to my step and gallop to my sleigh. Yes, I'm going early this year, too - but hey, they've been playing holiday music in the stores since Halloween. Actually, I spruced up my Facebook page and decided the image belonged here, too. And with that, I'm going to make a Christmas list. Santa may be reading my blog...you just never know.

10. I want a Syracuse Flag to hang outdoors for when Cuse plays.
9. I want a Louisville Flag to hang outdoors when Louisville plays.
8. Chitunga dropped one of our frying pans and now it is warped. Could used one of those.
7. I could always use new running shoes, but don't buy me those. I'm too picky.
6. Eventually I need new furniture, but not for a while. Let Glamis ruin the old ones.
5. I want more time on the clock so I can get more done.
4. I want everyone to make donations to refugee relocation centers. Heck, volunteer there, too.
3. It'd be nice to get a presidential candidate than any of us would want in the Whitehouse.
2. I want my friends and family happy. If they're happy, I'm happy.
1. I want to go on a photo shoot with Mike and Cynde, to get us on Mom's hutch.

It's Black Friday. I will not be shopping today. I will be writing, planning, organizing, running, and stressing. Two weeks away means I've fallen behind on projects: reports, papers, research, data analysis, and grants. I need to pick up the hustle again.

Ah, but I can't wait for the week of the 24th! I'm ready for A Flake Like Mike.