Dear first day of grading,

I am pleased to say that the progress was good today. This means that I

• set up the rubrics, and
• graded one third, more or less,

of the available stuff to grade. I am therefore, and thusly, on my way to being finished grading by tomorrow evening. A consummation devoutly to be wished, don't you agree, first day of grading?

Other things I accomplished:

• two workouts
• submitted my travel paperwork huzzah
• attended a meeting
• considered my place in the universe, and found myself wanting
• figured out what I'm wearing to a fancy event tomorrow night

So, you know, good day. Oh! also, I watched

• Purple Rain for the very first time in my life.
• !!!!!!!!!!!
• I KNOW.

One of my friends went to far as to say that this made me 'kind of a fraud.' At which I take umbrage, first day of grading. That was a long, long time ago. Who knows what was even happening? I had small children and responsibilities and there may have been other movies to see. Also, I finished my master's degree that summer! so, you know, I was writing a thesis. Fraudulent my eye. 

But I will say that when Prince plays that fantastic three-fer--'Purple Rain,' 'I Would Die 4 U,' and 'Baby I'm a Star'--to end the movie, it's clear--he is and was and forever will be a star. So it was high time, first day of grading, that I see it, and having seen it, it is and was and forever will be all I could ever have hoped for.

I'm not your lover, first day of grading, and I'm not your friend: actually, I am something that you'll never comprehend. So you better wrap your mind around that,

htms

Short letters to praiseworthy things.

Dear my tidier desk,

Because spring break was so restful and yet so productive, yesterday I found myself with enough time to remove the following from your surfaces:

• various and random pieces of paper
• a pop up ABC book
• cords galore
• various writing implements

Actually, I did not so much remove them as organize them to the sides of the workspace. And I did throw some things away, a big bag of them. But mostly, I organized them to the side.

Still, my tidier desk, today I was able to work right here, without mad clutter driving me to less productive work arrangements. I felt sharper. I felt like a mug full of sharp pencils. A mug, in fact, very much like the one sitting upon you, in one of the tidy corners I have arranged. To the side.

My tidier desk, you are emblem of a true fact about me: I will never be tidy. But I can be tidier. And that has made all the difference,

htms

ccc

Dear new way of making popcorn,

Historically, there was some ancient popcorn making machine, which you plugged into an outlet, and which required cranking the popcorn, and which conceivably and regularly led to burns. Next, there was Jiffy Pop, which always seemed like a miracle on TV but which I never experienced in real life. At least, I don't think I did. There's that problem of commercials seeming like memories.

Then (skipping forward to modern times) there was microwave popcorn, which is basically the devil's snack, although it's certainly true that I have eaten plenty of microwave popcorn in my day. Dusty tasting, prone to weird scorching, gritty microwave popcorn.

Then, there came the revelation of popping your corn in a pan upon the stove, which was simultaneously retro and forward thinking. You could use your delicious and flavorful oils. You could even use coconut oil! So delicious! And yet, so requiring you to shake the pan on the stove endlessly. So redolent of hot oil in the house! So delicious, it's true, and yet, there, it's your oily pan being all larger than the outcome seems to have warranted!

So when I discovered the method of putting the kernels and the oil in a tiny bowl, and stirring them together with your finger along with salt or whatever you put on popcorn--sugar, if you're a barbarian--and then dumping that into a brown paper lunch sack, folding it twice, and microwaving it for two and a half minutes, my popcorn making experience was transformed.

So suave. The utensils are proportionate to the outcome. The popcorn is delicious.

I'm assuming we have science to thank for this--thank you, science!

htms

ccc

Dear getting the reports written,

I'm not saying they're finished finished, but I am saying they're drafted. They were the last thing on my spring break list, and they are now in the hands of the feedbackers. 

All I'm saying is, I wrote the paragraphs, okay? I pasted in the tables. I organized the headings using Microsoft Word Styles. 

All I'm saying is, I've done my part, and that's me, striking those reports through on my list, both my digital list and my mental list, and there's a little part of my soul that just opened a window and breathed the clear sweet air of freedom.

I said FREEDOM and that's what I meant,

htms

Short letters.

Dear March weather so far,

Yesterday, March weather so far, I was prepared for you: rain, all day, steady. I woke up and felt like I was coming down with a cold myself, so it was okay. It was okay to stay in all day in yoga pants and work a little on this and that and lie down a little, then get up and work a little. Trying to stay warm. Definitely staying inside. That was all okay. Fine, even. The rain fell. I lay down, got up, lay down again. We had a good rhythm going.

But when the historian and I decided to dash out for burritos, and I put on my raincoat, the one with the bird print,  I wasn't prepared for the cold, not quite. What? no socks on? not enough layers? We got to the restaurant and I felt the cold every time someone dashed in the entrance, shaking hands and arms to shed the rain. I shivered a little through the chips and salsa.

And on the way home, the rain turned into snow, just like that. Today when I woke up, there was a light snow covering the grass. But when I went out to check the mail, I could hear the melt gurgling in the gutters.

I can see the rose canes starting to put their leaves together.  March weather so far, you're all right.

htms

c

Dear all the novels on my shelves,

I'm sorry, truly, for just setting you there on the shelves. I meant it when I bought you. I meant to read you, eventually. Basically, I thought I was setting myself up for a lifetime of reading, just lining you up, one by one, author after author. But now, there you are, half of you only partly read, some of you not read at all. One of you is, in fact, Moby Dick.

I'm so sorry that I only want to read police procedurals now.

But really, if you were more like police procedurals, I probably would have read you already.

Just think about it,

htms

cc

Dear save-the-day pesto,

Lucky, lucky me, in the store at 4:30 p.m., requisitioning potato chips and pretzels and other salty things because the salty thing shelf in my cupboard was bare, thinking about dinner, thinking, fine, pasta, and then remembering: basil about to go bad but not quite!

Oh basil! Oh practical pine nuts which I acquire at a reasonable price from Trader Joe's! Oh garlic and olive oil, let me never be without you ever!

And with a packet of thin spaghetti and the quickest possible salad, we were in business.

Save-the-day pesto, you are an herbal balm in the wilderness. You are the noodle's best friend. You are more elegant than roasted tomatoes, even, or, if not more elegant, at least more garlicky.

Super-garlicky, just the way I like it.

htms

ccc

Dear clear cold sky,

Thanks for being there tonight, at the end of a day when the snow melted, the sun shone, the clouds lowered over the mountaintops. Thank you for being there tonight, after a day when I could leave the gym in short sleeves and check the mail in shoes with no socks and pull out white jeans just for the hell of it. Thank you for being there tonight as we walked the dog, letting the stars shine their piercing light.

You are almost-spring's double and I cherish you,

htms