Graceful swirls of wrought iron protect the secret courtyard from outsiders.
Within the red brick walls quiet reigns,
Sunlight filters through the flowering trees,
Birds chirp and bees drone quietly,
As I reflect on the warm, soft breeze,
Sipping ice tea,
Knowing it was all worth it.

i did it!
With this post, I've written every day during the month of March.
I can't even remember when I've stepped back and written every day (excepting school and work assignments).
Ten things I've learned:
1.  How to make Weebly work with my phone and iPad. Only one entry became a casualty of my ineptitude.
2.  My  life isn't terribly interesting, but I've found something to write about every day.
3.  Even my husband uses writing to resolve problems.  It's a useful skill for anyone.
4.  I haven't decided if I'm comfortable sharing with an audience every day.  I need to keep that in mind with students in my classroom.
5.  I work best with a challenge in front of me.  There were some days I wouldn't have written if I didn't feel obligated.
6.  March is a really crazy, insane month, and challenges like writing every day or getting a new puppy would be easier in, say, July.  However, being overly busy isn't as bad as it could be.
7.  I need to figure out how to become better at commenting from my phone and iPad.  That experience wasn't always smooth.
8.  I'm looking forward to writing every Tuesday even if that's a meet day for the next six weeks.
9.  I might feel better writing every day with paper and pen, a physical writer's notebook.  However, digital publishing makes sharing much easier.
10.  I am a writer!

Last night I had a crazy dream...

A year and a half ago, my father sold our family home and made the move to a new state so he could be closer to me.  He bought a great condo and seems happy living about a mile from our house.  I'd asked him to make the change because he's 77, a cancer and heart attack survivor, and I wanted to see him more frequently.  I also worried about him being mostly alone, with just his younger (by18 months) brother nearby.  A few years ago, he crashed his Harley, and while he was only slightly injured, I was really angry when it took a him more than a day to let me know.

Most of the time, I'm okay with the fact that I lost the last physical link to my hometown.  I only visited a few times a year, and I know logically the move made sense.  One of my cousins actually bought  the house, so it stayed in the family.  I've known all along about their plans to renovate; the house had its original 1939 bathrooms and kitchen when my dad sold. I would have updated if I'd bought it.

So I was caught off guard when I had a dream about the house last night.  It was completely gutted, with wood siding on the family room ripped off, and plastic flapping on the roof.  The electrical guts were exposed in the rest of the house, with hanging contractor lanterns providing light.  

When I woke up, I found myself feeling very unsettled.  I know the dream came because of two reason:  we are planning a trip out that way this summer; and my husband was furloughed this week, so I'm feeling very unsettled.  We made so many great memories in that house and neighborhood, and I am so terrible at goodbyes anyway.  

What I'm hoping for tonight is a peaceful night of sleep, one that doesn't cause undeniable sadness when I wake.

Today I learned my husband is a writer.

Today I'm grateful for friends.

This post (and comments) disappeared.  I'm not sure how I managed it.

It was about Relay for Life, and why I walk.

I miss my mom, and my coaching mentor, Frank.  I wish my dad and my mother in law had an easier time with treatment.

And I wish no one else had to join the Survivors and Friends club.

I'm boring.

There, I've said it.

I've written every day of the challenge so far, and I'm glad that I've started to write again, but I'm also having to confront an uncomfortable truth.

I don't think what I'm writing is that interesting.

I don't know why anyone would bother reading most of what I've written unless they are trying to be kind.  Or trying to meet the commenting challenge.

My love of cooking, or wet dog smell, or guilty television watching, or dancing at concerts--who cares?

Who really cares that I've challenged myself to do this, other than me?  What relevance to most people's lives do I have?  Why would anyone who doesn't know me really care what I have to say about the mundane things in life?  And let's be real--I'm a high school English teacher in a small community.  Most of my life is not earth-shattering.

I find myself thinking the same way about my other social media accounts.  Why are so many people choosing to record every meal, every dirty diaper, every view they see in the morning?  And do other people really care?  I mean, I have my Facebook friends, people I follow on Instagram and Twitter, and blogs I subscribe to.  But many people seem to be recording too much and living too little.

Maybe I've seen one too many pictures of someone's cat doing something, well, cat-like, with an accompanying post trying to make it seem like their cat is something unique and special.  Meanwhile, they've posted something similar every week or every day.  To me, these don't seem like authentic connections, but voyeurism.  And not in an interesting, evening-dog-walk-around- the-block glimpses of the neighborhood kind of way.  Rather, these posts seem calculated and precious, designed to follow the herd.

Now, many of the posts I've read that have been specifically crafted for this challenge are much more interesting than what I've listed above.  However, looking back at the body of entries I've compiled myself--yuck. 

If you have some input that might make me see why I'd want to continue writing in a public, for-strangers-to-look-at kind of way, I'd appreciate knowing your rationale.  Maybe it's because I'm feeling overwhelmed by everything right now.  Maybe it's the headache I'm fighting.  Maybe it's because winter just won't stop. 

But I don't think I'm that interesting.

Chopping, mincing, measuring. 
Today was the first weekday in five weeks that I arrived at home before 7:30. 
I love to cook, but when it's 8:00, leftover casseroles, a fish filet of some kind, or homemade pizza from refrigerator dough is about all I can manage. 
But cooking creatively is one of the household chores I miss when I don't have time.   Finding g a recipe, choosing ingredients, tweaking g to suit our tastes--it's all fun for me. 
Today was all about my version of Smitten Kitchen's Wild Rice and Broccoli casserole. 
It was not a great day at school--the adults are frustrating me once again--and I got distracted. while cooking. 
However, much like with a lesson that's not going well in the classroom , I know how to punt in the kitchen. 
Somehow, creating in the kitchen makes me feel like I have more control over aspects of my life. I think it might have to do with my nurturing side and caring for the people I love with food. 

As I write, I'm indulging in a guilty pleasure.

I started to write a serious post inspired by this SOLC morning's reminder.  Then I started watching Dallas. 


When I was a kid, the original version was a favorite of the next door neighbor's teenager daughter, our frequent babysitter.  

She'd let us stay up late and watch the overly-dramatic, over-dressed rich people lie, cheat, and scheme.  All of their behavior was nothing like the suburban Catholic life we actually lived.

My life now is similarly boring, and the show's content is equally as scandalous.  My husband rolls his eyes every time I tune into the show.  But the crazy drama captures my attention and gives my mind a break.  Enough characters have returned that watching seems a bit nostalgic.  So I'll continue to indulge, and probably not admit to many people where I can be found at 9:00 on Monday night.

The death of a recent graduate from our school was announced this morning. 

It doesn't matter how or why.  

The loss of possibilities is what always strikes me after I hear such news. Tomorrow I will look around my classroom and say an extra prayer that students will stay safe and find success as they move from our classrooms into the world.