Spin Doctor

The hills were killer today. Who knew when I got there, after checking my seat and adjusting my handlebars, after putting my towel and water bottle just so on my bike, that we'd be off on a climb in the Canary Islands. Sure,we started with a reasonable tilt and speed. But before long we made big adjustments. New positions. We rode a lot standing up. I guess if you're going 266 m. up a pleistocene grade you better stand up. What goes up then makes a drastic down. We not only push down on pedals on this climb, we drive them up and across on the way around as the foot circles, as we go up and down that grade. For this maturing athlete that was almost too many directions for maturing body parts. Sweat was beading up quickly on my brow.

Our spin doctor continued spinning. Words and wheels. She described the mountain scrub we'd notice if we weren't looking through a fog of sweat and visible breath. There was water in their somewhere. Something about the confluence of oceans and gulf streams and... well, I really didn't get the rest. She talked about the low cost of good wine (5,00 €), good rooms (100 €), the viable pure beauty, persuading us further that this climb was benefiting us. Driving us to distraction, molding the truth just so.

She's good. I needed the towel. Over a liter of water gone from my bottle. An hour gone by and the visit to the Canary mountains and spin class was over.

Dream girl

I dropped the budding actress with a small case of nerves off at the theater and waited in the parking lot for my date. Tonight was opening night of "Those Were The Days," but the curtain wasn't going up for an hour and a half. My husband picked me up and we headed off for a quick slice of wood fired pizza and a Peroni. Pizza was delicious but I was too conscious of the time to enjoy the great cheese and fresh herbs. I might have enjoyed the beer.

Boxed up the extra slices and headed to the theater to watch our April daughter in her first big theater performance outside school. Truthfully, she's only had a few performances in school; this seemed so much bigger. Real lights, tech people, upholstered seats, tickets, a stage. She told me once, when I urged her to try out for the freshman field hockey team because she had years of experience playing that game, "Mom, that's your dream, not mine." She played in every game that year. Tonight was her dream. She's always danced like Britney, sang to all the hits, pop, country, and rock, and had a knack for playing mean girls. Her role as Cindy, the cheerleader has a little of e) all of the above. Double dream.

I watched, my Thursday coffee friend on one side and my husband on the other and laughed at all the right times and often. The musical comedy was a bit about high school cliques and characters, complete with a principal who doesn't realize the students are running the school. Our star was a sassy, cheerleading star. No case of the nerves was evident. All lines were recited with comedic timing, and everyone fell together in a dance off at the end with all the right moves.

No easy feat for this ensemble formed seven months ago as the "Showcase" group for the Arlington Inclusive Theater Company. The actors on stage, save a few "mentors" happen to have intellectual disabilities. Ages range from 18-??? They are all young at heart and it's obvious they are all sharing this dream to perform.

I couldn't get over how far they'd come in a few months. I couldn't imagine how much work their directors and producers put into getting everyone to tonight. They had taken shy, quiet adults and had them looking out into a crowd with mischievous grins while they stood in the right spot on stage. Great show. It's going to have a good run.

yoga smooth

Wednesday is my day to stretch mind and body and quiet my thoughts with a few friends at school. Our principal set up a yoga class for teachers after school.

So, yesterday a half hour after contract hours, there on school grounds, we slipped into a "cottage" (read: trailer where P.E. is taught) with all its interior finery, threw down our mats and memories of the challenges of our day, took off our shoes and began to refocus as smooth, quiet music and a darkened room (trailer) helped the transition.

We transfered smoothly to another way of thinking, flowed smoothly as we reconfigured ourselves and listened to each instruction our teacher shared. The walls of the trailer with its verb vocabulary and "good sportsmanship" quotes were disappearing.

A tree pose and warrior pose later the walls were back. The after-school child care program brought their students to the playground. Right outside our very thin door. Our breathing grew smoother, and deeper and our stretching reached further as we quietly worked to bring our "studio" back into focus.

This Old House

I ventured out on a short run around the neighborhood where my daughter takes acting. This is a detour from my usual "meet my friend for coffee" time. It was so beautiful out. This neighborhood, with origins in the late 18th century, like a lot of other post world war I and II neighborhoods has morphed under the guise of land development and modernization. Tree lined, well-kempt streets of tidy brick colonials and Arts and Craft bungalows from Sears are a few blocks from a major interstate, a hospital, the metro, an urban citiscape complete with mall, restaurants, parking garages, and several bustling four lane arteries that spider web their way to and from our nation's capital.

Today on foot I had a different view. To my surprise there are also historical markers that dot pieces of American history on more than a few corners. The church where the acting class is held has quite a history.

Running across a bridge to the citified section I passed the W O & D Trail, formerly the Washington and Old Dominion RR. This 100 foot by 45 mile park has multi-use trails, bridle paths, and wildlife. I've been on parts of this trail but, much further west. I didn't realize I could take it this far in. It was fully occupied with people on wheel and foot.

My next stop surprised me the most. I took a little turn down a street with tiny houses. At the end of the street, atop a hill and across a sprawling lawn, sat a majestic white mansion complete with an octagon house so popular in the mid 1800s. It was the Glebe House. Originally built in 1770, this latest conversion is a privately owned, beautifully refurbished, National Historic landmark. I don't know how I missed this.

I've decided to make these excursions a regular part of driving to acting class. Next trip- I'm packing my bike, a drink and heading out.

Vagabond Crabs and other diseases

One of our teachers, a good friend, my teaching colleague, fellow bookclub member, and evidently, confused pal read the subject line of my posted note on the in-school only "Staff News" email folder and furrowed her brow in concern. She immediately had three thoughts that came in the form of questions. "What are vagabond crabs? How did she get them? Why would she post that on Staff News for all to see? I mean, she's (meaning me) pretty open about things and would look to her friends for help and advice, but... vagabond crabs? Maybe she wants to help prevent an outbreak?"

Then she read past the subject line to the rest of my email which went like this:

I have Vagabond Crabs, Chicken Little, and Wagon Wheels. They were left on a bench at school and probably belong to a "Morning Book Club" participant. They will be on my desk if you want to claim them for your student.

Careening

This morning I had a swerving, lurching, tipping to the right kind of morning. My insurance company issues credit cards. I got a call from the fraud protection folks. They noticed some unusual charges on a card our family shares for emergency expenditures; attempts made without the proper expiration date, and charges to businesses I don't usually frequent, in areas not near where I live. How much had been charged? What businesses were they using. How did they get the card number? I was thinking fast. I appreciated the quick response, but I had so much to do to prepare for my school week and was already spread out and focused on reading. So I had to redirect. Shouldn't take 10 minutes.

I listened to the places where charges were made: Savannah- daughter is visiting there this weekend. That's ok. Small town in VA for a gas fill up- other daughter. UnderArmor in Baltimore. Maybe? Health Products in ND... doubt that one's ours but you never know. Another phone call. The card company would put a hold on the cards and reissue new ones immediately if I needed. I didn't want that unless I knew the charges weren't ours. I looked online for the company information for a couple of the charges. A few more phone calls. Now I had a description of four charges not made by our family and the amounts. One company asked if my name was _____ (enter name on the order). Nope. The credit card company had denied the charges because the expiration date and zip code for the card were not entered properly. I now knew which tries on the card were legitimate and which weren't. A few more phone calls and text messages and I confirmed the news with all card users. Forty-five minutes were gone. We were going to have to get new cars.

I ordered new cards, cancelled the violated cards, fell in love with my insurance company all over again, and got back to work.

A number by any other name is January

I'm going to have to disguise this post a bit. My January daughter is a little shy about some things. Like attention. She's also brilliant so who am I kidding when I think I can disguise anything enough so she won't get it? She's the one who reads Margaret Atwood after me and figures out the "who dunit" long before I had in the book which of course is at the end. She is a scientist who loves research. She also figures out the whole plot of movies early on. She is at least kind enough to not share her thoughts until everyone's seen it. She's got her dad pegged. Well, maybe we all do. I have three daughters. But, her theories often come quicker and seem funnier.

Today she came to my school and delivered a chai soy latte, iced (my first ever) on her way home after her visit to another college. It's her spring break. The latte and she were both a little piece of mamma heaven. So... it's really hard to call her my middle daughter or my number two daughter or my second daughter. So limiting.

Pondering the adjectives for birth order last week, I decided I'd describe my daughters by their birth month instead of an ordinal number or other age superlative. "Hi, let me introduce my January daughter. She's a college student." "Have you met my August daughter? She's working for a publishing company and loves living in Charleston." "I know, can you believe my April daughter is graduating from high school? Remember when she was in that preschool in Oceanside?" Specific yet unbound by custom. Descriptive but with a bit of mystery left. Sassy yet sporty. (That last one, a family favorite for describing wine.)

I think this is going to work for me. I hope it does for the girls.