The Spark Plug Award

He said it felt like the Oscars. He was surprised. No, he was blown away when his name was called. He had no idea he was getting an award.

Despite his shock and awe, Amigo managed to give quite a nice acceptance speech. He thanked his parents for driving him to practice. He gave credit to his high school music teacher for getting him off to a good start singing. He mentioned that he had grown up surrounded by music and he enjoyed singing barbershop style.

His award is called the Spark Plug. The Spark Plug award goes to someone whose enthusiasm and energy bring a spark to the group. Amigo brings a spark with his voice, of course (he’s good! very good!), and he brings a spark with his attitude, too. He brings his voice, his musicianship, and his sense of humor to each rehearsal and performance.

I was such a mom. I had a major lump in my throat watching my boy, my young man, getting recognized and rewarded for being who he is – outgoing, friendly, talented, fun.

Anyway, readers, after the dinner was cleared and the awards were given, there was karaoke. Karaoke, at a barbershop party? These guys love to sing! I could have listened all night. But Amigo and Chuck were ready to lug the trophy home, so I enjoyed one more song (a local restaurant owner singing Billy Joel’s “For the Longest Time”) and joined them to head home.

The Spark Plug Award has a place of honor on our fireplace mantel. It’ll stay there for a while – until next year, when Amigo gets to make a short speech and hand it off to the next harmonizer who energizes the group.

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Snow Day! It’s all in the timing.

We were expecting 11 inches of snow. Or maybe it was nine. Or 10-12 inches. All depending on which forecast was on the TV or the radio or the computer screen – we just knew there was a storm coming.

So we prepped, as we privileged first world people do. At work, we ordered lunch from a local restaurant in case we didn’t get to do it at the end of the work week. We postponed our office Soup Day because the odds were against having to work the next day – and if we were in business, it would be tough to drag all the crock pots and supplies through the snow piles in the parking lot. As the long day (parent-teacher conference schedule) ended, we took the extra step of cleaning our cubicles and bringing home anything we’d left in the refrigerator.

When I got home, I still didn’t know if the blizzard that was moving in would convince our district superintendent to shut us down. So I prepped as I do, in this privileged first world home of mine. I charged all of the devices. The Kindle, my phone, my laptop – all got plugged in and charged in case of a power outage. I charged my FitBit because it is also my alarm in the morning. We keep a pretty well-stocked pantry, so feeding the troops (ahem, the family) won’t be difficult.

Petunia has been watching the storm from her hospital room on the 8th floor. This pneumonia that side tracked her at least put her in a room with a view.

I have the news, now. It’s official. No school tomorrow! Spring break starts early! You guessed it, people. This blizzard, with its white-out warnings and blowing snowdrifts has added one day onto our spring break. Mother Nature has a sense of humor – I’d better laugh a little, too.

Maybe I’ll start a few more seeds under my grow lights – as long as the power stays on!

 

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We might move our cubicles. Maybe.

Nothing is certain, but the district is considering moving us, the online charter school, to a currently unused small building the district owns. Nothing is for sure, but of course we’re talking.

Pro – on the side of the move

  • A decent sized parking lot
  • We wouldn’t have to share space with any other schools
  • We’d have actual storage space and maybe even a lounge space

Not-so-pro

  • It would no longer be within walking distance for me.
  • We like the beautiful old building housing our offices now.
  • We’re close to downtown, a thriving downtown in a small city
  • IT will no longer be in the same building we are.

Kinda pro –

  • We’ll be near two good coffee shops with drive-thru windows!

Oh, well, it’s not up to us. But we’ll still talk. And for now, we’ll keep doing what we do, teaching from our cramped cubicles.

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The Great Bunny Rescue – encore

A Facebook friend posted this warning: Live Easter bunnies are not a good idea. It reminded me of spring 2011 and the night La Petite got a phone call from a friend’s mother. The point of the call: five domestic rabbits needed help.

When La Petite’s phone rang, it was the mother of a friend. She and her youngest two children had come across five domestic bunnies that had been abandoned at a construction site near a local bike trail. They went back with lettuce and a large box, lured the furry ones, brought them home, and called The Bunny Whisperer, a.k.a. La Petite.
We knew what to do, so Chuck and I joined her. We gathered two cages from our basement with litter, hay, and pellets for each. La Petite knew where we were going, so she drove. When we pulled into the driveway, Friend’s Mom and two kids in pajamas led us into the garage where she’d set the box.
Five full grown domestic rabbits were in the box. Two were harassing the others, so Chuck picked up those two first and looked them over closely. “Yep. Boy bunnies. Let’s separate these from the others.” We put the two males in one cage and the three females in the other, and they calmed down significantly. All five started to nibble on the hay and pellets, and they even found the corner with litter and used it appropriately.
Four looked like they may have been related or from the same litter; the other was a lop-eared character who didn’t resemble any of the others. He was either a major case of recessive genes or was unrelated. Cute, though. They were all cute, even though they were incredibly dirty and smelly from their adventure and trauma.
We left them settled for the night, and La Petite made arrangements to help Friend’s Mom take all five to the Humane Society the next day. When they delivered the bunnies, La Petite reported to me that all five looked cleaner and they were eating well and (are you sitting down?) at least two of the three females were pregnant. We were further appalled.
We’ll never know why the owners dumped the bunnies. Maybe realizing the males were mature was too much to handle. Getting them neutered could have been too expensive. Maybe the owners realized that not only were the males mature, but the females were expecting. If five bunnies are too many, five plus two litters of babies would be overwhelming.
The girls, getting a little attention
I still don’t fully understand, though. La Petite and Friend’s Mom brought the rabbits to the shelter. The previous owners could have done that instead of dumping them. Pet rabbits are not equipped to survive in the wild. They don’t know what to eat, and they’ll be eaten soon because of their lack of camouflage. With their domestic coloring, they’d be hawk bait before long. The little albino in particular would be easy prey for eagle-eyed predators – and I do mean eagles.
La Petite was pleased with the people and the set-up at the shelter. Rabbits and other small animals were kept a significant distance away from dogs and cats and in a separate room. She said they looked clean and well cared for. We wished we could have done more. When cash flow is a little easier, maybe we’ll make a donation. We’re grateful to have a Humane Society in town. We’re also grateful to know people like Friend’s Mom who thought it was important to rescue these animals when they were homeless and in danger.
The Boy Bunnies

We’re grateful we’re able to make a good home for our pet rabbits: Buttercup at our home; Krumpet, Biscuit, and Sadie at La Petite’s apartment. We love them dearly.

 

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Where’s the Bunny? Encore.

Here’s an oldie but a goodie. The room looks totally different now, many years later. Amigo no longer plays host to a bunny. If he did, we’d have electrical cords galore to hide. This small bunny was very special; here’s one part of his story.

This little bunny moved into Amigo’s room from his outdoor hutch when winter hit. Chuck has been working in Amigo’s room, remodeling and repainting, and the small rabbit has found new places to hide and hang out and do rabbit things, like bathe and nap. Can you find him?

Okay, I give in. Here he is. He has taken this shelf, temporarily stashed in the middle of the room and currently empty of Braille books, as his own.

Cute, huh?

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And Still More Adventures in Slow Cooking

It was one of Those Days. Around 3:00, I suddenly wondered if I’d actually plugged in the crock pot that morning. I’d been tired, really dragging, and thought I’d better throw something in the crock pot because I had plenty of food in the house and no excuse to order pizza. Uh-huh, that was my rationale.

I threw a few chicken breasts, a large jalapeno pepper, and a handful of cherry tomatoes – all frozen – with a little veggie broth (it was handy). I turned the switch to low and got ready to leave for the day. The plan was chicken fajitas. Upon arriving home, I would only need to shred the cooked chicken, add taco seasoning, and cook a few veggies in the steamer. That is, I would only need to do all of that if I’d remembered to plug in the crock that morning.

Everything but the broth was frozen when it landed in the pot that morning. If I hadn’t plugged it in, I rationalized, the food would be thawed, but probably still edible. Pizza would be fine. The boys would not object, I was sure.

Well? What do you think, readers? Did I have enough wits about me to plug in the crock pot and get it going in my sleep dazed pre-coffee condition?

Yes. Yes, I’d plugged it in, probably on autopilot. We had fajitas for supper, and I made ice cream later that night. Oh, and I made a vegetable broth, too, with the carrot peelings and few other random scraps. After all was said and done, I felt motivated to spend some quality time in the kitchen.

Readers, have you had moments like this? Moments when you really questioned your own actions or lack thereof, and the result could have ended up in the hands of delivery pizza?

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Ah, the Trivial Life

I took pictures. Most turned out blurry. Sorry. But we had a great time, as usual, playing in the annual Midwestern Trivia Contest at my Alma Mater. Amigo has grown up around this contest. We simply call it Trivia – as if there were not others. None others equal ours, if I do say so myself.

Amigo again loaned an old, yellowed fire truck (with fresh batteries) to the Trivia Masters. This truck is one option for the Internet radio based leaders to signal that a question is closed; no more answers will be taken. Honk! Honk! Ooh-ee-ohh-ee (siren)! Ding-ding-ding-ding! Ding-ding-ding-ding! Amigo is known to Trivia participants as Fire Truck Amigo, courtesy of the truck.

We usually spend a few hours each day contributing as phone answering crew. I read the answer off the white board so Amigo knows what’s coming. He answers the phone and takes the answer, and if the team is lucky enough to be correct, the team name and number. I take dictation (since the Trivia Masters don’t read Braille) and write down the names and numbers. We have a good time interacting with the other participants – some his age, some mine, and every age in between.

Blurry or not, here he is.

Blurry or not, here he is.

In the background, right to left: My old friend and maid of honor at my wedding along with her son and girlfriend.

In the background, right to left: My old friend and maid of honor at my wedding along with her son and girlfriend.

University President stopped in to enjoy the experience.

University President stopped in to enjoy the experience.

It’s one weekend a year, and we let ourselves devote time for this mindless escapism. Until next year, Trivia buffs. We’ll be back.

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Stormy Weather

I think I’ve used that title in the past. It’s Wisconsin, folks. We get blizzards, tornadoes, ice storms, floods. We don’t see earthquakes – not very often, anyway.

Consider the current disasters. Zika virus is carried by mosquitoes, those annoying pests. According to the local newscast, no worries here! The tropical mosquitoes can’t take the cold and unpredictable weather. We get a different breed of mosquitoes here. Frankly, this Zika virus is scary. I’m no longer of child-bearing age or condition, but my friends, my coworkers, my neighbors – I don’t have to be personally at risk to care and to worry. Let’s say what I heard was correct: our northern mosquito doesn’t carry the virus. I’m going to add a word: yet. Viruses mutate. Mosquitoes probably mutate, too.

I think I’ll stock up on mosquito repellent.

Then there’s the ever present risk of a major snowstorm. This one is real. We’re used to it, we know how to plan for it, and we take pride in coping with the situation. There may be a big storm next week. A major weather event. After the latest Snow-mageddon on the east coast,  forecasters are calling this one “Our Turn.” If it’s really going to be a Major Storm, I’ll do my usual prep. Grocery store: bunny food, milk, eggs, bread. In fact, if we have bunny food, I can make or fake the rest. Well, maybe not eggs. But I have powdered milk, bread flour and yeast, and jars of homemade jam to go with anybody’s peanut butter. If I have bunny food for Buttercup, we’ll be good.

If there’s risk of a power outage, we’ll make sure that anything that needs charging has a full charge. We’ll replenish the firewood in case we need heat. I’ll visit an ATM ahead of time in case we need cash. We’re good at this Prep for Snow routine. So whatever’s coming, we’ll be ready.

We’ll be ready, that is, as long as I stock up on bunny food.

Any other disasters looming? We’re tough, we northerners. Mosquito repellent, bunny food, and we’re good. Bring it on.

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Sanctuary City of Mine

It’s still a very white city. There’s still racism and discrimination. But there’s a light behind those clouds.

My home town is gaining a reputation as a Sanctuary City. Sanctuary Cities are municipalities that agree to shelter and support immigrants, documented or not.

It’s not formal; no one has made a declaration or introduced policy to the City Council or put up signs downtown. It’s more of a grass roots movement; a movement that starts with everyday people and then hangs on tightly.

I see the sanctuary concept most vividly in the schools. It’s common to see students of southeast Asian ancestry, Latino children, and students with African-American roots playing together on the playground. An all-white classroom is rare – the exception, not the rule. Educators don’t ask for identification or proof of citizenship from parents in order to teach children.

Immigration law, according to our Chief of Police, is a federal issue, not a priority at the local level. In order to gain trust and help all people feel safe, asking for documentation isn’t an everyday occurrence. Our mayor made the point that he hopes city staff will “…treat each person…with dignity and respect.”

It’s still a very white city. Racism and discrimination still happen too often. However, this trend gives me hope. If we can open our doors, we can begin to open minds.

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Goals, goals, goals and resolutions.

My school-related goals get set in August, as the agrarian calendar puts the school year in place. The arrival of the New Year, the number change in the ones place, is a whole different animal.

Goals with gimmicks are most likely to catch the attention of readers in the blogosphere. Remember A Year of Slow Cooking? A blogger decided to use her slow cooker every day for a full year. I use mine a lot, but 365 continuous days would be unrealistic. The standard weight loss and nutrition goals always suggest themselves. Household chores – clean more often, clean more thoroughly – those go on the “should” list. Gardening chores – aren’t chores, really. Garden goals are enjoyable. Some of those plans get set in the fall, too. I planted onion and garlic bulbs in October. With this odd El Nino winter, who knows what will happen?

But back to goals.

We have a saying in our family: Progress in Baby Steps. To make progress on any goal, small steps are the way to go. Take my garden and canning hobbies for examples. I started growing tomatoes and a few other plants I’d bought as seedlings in the spring. The plot got bigger, and I expanded into growing a few plants from seed. One year I started tomato and pepper plants from seed – and the rest is history. But if I’d started a large plot totally from seed in the first years, it’s likely I’d have gotten poor results. Canning, too. That first batch of raspberry jam in Green Girl’s kitchen certainly was the “gateway drug” to putting up more and more. We haven’t bought commercially made jam, salsa, or pickles in years.

In that light, no big goals for January 1st. I might set short term goals and attempt short term projects. I’ll blog some of those, in particular if those short term goals are successful and lead to long term results.

Readers, what are your plans for New Year’s Goals and Resolutions?

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