And Upon This Day, Last Day of November, Mt. Pleasant Shall Be Completely Decorated for the Holiday Season

When I was a kid, going to my Grannie Annie's was always a treat, because she always grabbed a branch that had fallen outside and decorated it with silver tinsel, and underneath this, the had all these figurines: ice skaters, woodland creatures, and winter shenanigans. Everything was so tiny, and we were into our presents, etc. but always loved looking at her creativity and silliness.

Fast forward to Kentucky when my Aunt Bobbie and Uncle Dick handed down their nativity set to me, a gift made by my mom in ceramics and the only holiday decorations I had. each year, I can't wait to set it up with the Snowman tree with its tiny ornaments because it reminds me of my grandmother's house.
I always like to add to the manger scene with special friends: frogs, a Buddha cat, Buddha, adult Jesus (hiding behind one of the Wise Men, and 3 lil' frog stones made for me by Kaitlyn (Abu, Lossine and Chitunga sitting on a log - Shut up, kids. Shut up, kids. Not tonight. Not tonight).

I put up the tree and lights yesterday, too, but will wait for Chitunga to decorate it, as that has been a ritual he's enjoyed for many years (although my ornaments are somewhat lame, as everyone has handed me back the ones I've made for them over the years with my sense of humor). Getting the ornaments out is always a special time, though, simply because so many of them have memories and document time and place.

There's something very calming to be on Mt. Pleasant with the television off, the lights off, and the house lit up with white lights. I still have to do the garage and back porch, and I figure I'll wait for Chitunga for those, too - he went out with friends to a comedy club last night, but promised most of Saturday to be on duty.

I did manage a super long run and a great walk, but then screwed everything up by having a plate of leftovers at 9 pm last night, making me feel lethargic and over-calories again. Ah, tis that season.

And I'm proud to say I didn't buy a single thing yesterday on Black Friday, simply because I hate shopping and hate crowds even more; instead, I uploaded proposals to the Consortium of Northeast Writing Projects Conference in the Bronx this spring.

How I survived yesterday without a nap to recover from Thursday is beyond me...

...but I did. Today, however, I think we might shop. Just kills us (or wish us luck...whatever you prefer)

Last Turkey Post for a Year. Not Eating Again Until December 24th. I Should Be Hungry By Then

The best part of being in the kitchen since 7:45 a.m.? There will be leftovers for a few days, and then some. We all outdid ourselves: Pam with the stuffing and sweet potatoes, Kaitlyn with the Bree and Brussel sprouts, Tunga with the Green Bean casserole (with bacon), Dominic with the homemade bread and Basil Hayden.

I did the turkey, carrots, asparagus and potatoes. And I kept thinking I'd get a chance to leave the kitchen, but didn't, having to take a shower as everyone else arrived.

It is amazing, too, how much alcohol can be consumed while entertaining a crowd. It wasn't just me; it was everyone. I made a cranberry, ginger beer, vodka drink to kick things off, and then we opened the Basil Hayden and practically traveled to "Daneland," as Kaitlyn called it.

The dogs did great, too, although butterlips Glamis got some of the turkey skin with her sleuth-like slithering when no one was looking.

Shopping today? Hmmm. I don't think so. I think I will run a 5K, walk the dog, and run another 5K just to burn off the calories I consumed. I kept saying, "We perfected this holiday meal and there wasn't a bad bit from anybody's plates.

We even had apple pie and ice cream for dessert.

All in all, a fantastic day, which we should cherish for a very long time. Happy Friday, all.

Let Them Run For Turkeys While I Cook One and Prepare for Mt. Pleasant Feast 2019

Chitunga and Kaitlyn signed up for a Thanksgiving 5K, and I opted to bypass so I can roast the turkey, peel the potatoes, bake the carrots and set the table for our 2 pm dinner. I think everything is set, and only time will tell - it doesn't happen until it happens the ways that it happens.

The house is clean only to be messed up again with guests, but that is okay because it's an occasion to give thanks, to appreciate one another and to think about the fortunes we have with one another and in the United States.

I had to go back to the grocery store again, and we opted for Paradise Pizza for dinner, so that made that easy (love their barbecue pizza pie).

Also began another writing project, but that was only because Chitunga showed up later than he anticipated so I had an unexpected batch of time in my day. This morning, however, I wish that I was running, too. I have a feeling there will be a lot of eating this afternoon (and sleepiness as a result)

We are ready to get into the routine of the weekend, a break between conferences and the academic life, but wanting more for our semesters to be over. Tis the time of year to simply be exhausted.

But with gravy on the horizon and stuffing, I'm not worried about any of that this morning. Instead, I'll monitor the Macy Day parade and see if a balloon or two will take down windows and a few pedestrians with the wind. At least it's not cold and we don't have snow. I'm ready to work with this and make it a memorable holiday.

Who Wants To Come Help Me Clean My House and Prep for the Turkey to Come? We Got This!

Started my Tuesday morning editing a paper with Liz Lewis and Kelly Chandler-Olcott on iterations of our summer programs to be more inclusive of students with learning disabilities, then traveled to campus to work on it some more, all while taking care of the CWP budgetary work I've been neglecting.

Also hit send on the 283 6th edition of Pow! Power of Words, our student and teacher anthology.

A 34-page paper and a 283 page book. I guess that is a reason to be thankful.

Actually, I also met with graduate students working on their final projects and when I was caught working on the LRA paper, one of them said, "Oh, you're writing with KCO?" - we've been reading her A Good Fit For All Kids: Collaborating to Teach Writing in Inclusive, Diverse Settings and it has been a tremendous hit - "She's getting rid of the highway lanes, fast tracking for all the disability roads."

When I asked for clarification, she shared her son has dysgraphia and she loves the way that KCO's book names writing practices that work for all students - so much so, she's thinking about sending her son to our literacy labs next summer (programs built from collaborating with Kelly in Syracuse).

It was such a great metaphor, I had to share it with Kelly, just like the video my mom posted on Facebook about the AWA dance troupe, Autism with Attitude. That was another metaphor for the work we're doing. Dancing is a form of writing, and when coached correctly, the performance of all youth can be amazing.

Okay, it's time to get the vacuum out, to terrorize Glamis, and to de-hair the entire house for Chitunga's return. Tonight, we'll prep the turkey and think about what dish he can contribute. This time tomorrow, the Macy's Day parade will be on, and I'll be peeling potatoes.

Feeling somewhat accomplished for the work that was done before basting the bird.

In The Care of Many: So Glad Glamis Has The Love of Ubuntu Academy, All These Years Later

Abonga and Omar have been my reliable dog sitters for several years now, and they are always reliable to take care of Glamis when I go on my November/December treks to literacy conferences. Last night, they came by with friends from yesteryear, as they were heading to a studio in Shelton to do some recordings of their music and song-making. They wanted to stop by.

I now realize why Glamis seems so attention-seeking when I return. They give her so much attention: walks, food, playfulness and conversation. She's become a heroine in their worlds.

Happy Tuesday before Turkey everyone. I'm heading to the office for more accounting work and to finalize next week's conference paper for LRA in Tampa. I also did a journey to Big Y and have a tremendous bird for another year of gathering on Mt. Pleasant. We are likely to have a smaller crowd this year, but the appreciation and thankfulness will be the same. It just occurred to me how late the holiday is and how quickly I'll need to be wrapping gifts and stuffing stockings. I need to tap ingenuity this year, because I've not been paced and strategic as years past.

As I told the bagger the grocery store, my male brain can't handle the need to buy for the holiday, and also the days before and after. I'm good for Thursday but today, Wednesday and following, I'm a little scarce on the preparation front.

It's all good. Everything evolves as it always should. This morning, I'm most excited about the stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy. That is what makes me mouth water.

And it will be here soon enough. 

Going Into Turkey Week Like a Turkey With Its Head Cut Off (But with An Incredible Sunset Over NYC via Amtrak - It Makes All the Difference)

I'm home.

I'm home and I have a 1,001 new writing projects I want to begin, but I need to finalize the ones that have due dates that are more pressing than my dreams (although I started two on Amtrak from Baltimore to Bridgeport). I told my mom last night, "I don't know why we choose airplanes when we can take advantage of rail transportation - so much more comfortable and utile. I get so much thinking and writing done."

As we pulled out of NYC, I looked up and the windows looked like they were being painted for artistic display in a museum. I quickly switched seats to take it all in, but I love the way the colors here bounce off all the grays).

I unpacked, started laundry, did laundry, and immediately went into editing mode, which will continue this morning with colleagues across NY and PA in preparation for LRA in Tampa the week after we give thanks on Mt. Pleasant.

That skyline, though. What a miraculous phenomena to witness, especially on a rail car that was pretty empty. It was a great way to depart NCTE and to transition back to the Stratford work this week.

My lord, the work that we do at this time of year. I love of every second of it, but I AM WIPED OUT.

Meanwhile, the kid turns 24 today, and sadly I can't be in Syracuse to celebrate with him (the package arrived last week). I'm sure he won't have much freedom to blowout candles or hear birthday songs as his academic and work life fill his Mondays. I'm very thankful that my mom made him a cake, despite the grumbles of my father who said, "Sue, not everyone likes cake."

He does.

It's crazy to think he's 24 already and I'm channeling where I was at the same age, with my long hippie-hair, work with the Beargrass Creek Task Force, and beginning life as a teacher in Louisville, Kentucky. I shake my head at moments like these and think, "Whoa. How does all of this fly by so fast?"

I'm simply thankful that he'll be home later this week and I hope I can make the space and time as tranquil as his life deserves.

He, like the sunset over NYC, brings joy to my world. Here's to the week ahead.

All Love to #NCTE19, @writingproject, @ncte, @cwpfairfield, and Literacy Educators Across the Nation (and Good Bye)

Always hard to choose a moment or second or theme from a day to write about in the morning, but I thought this would be best. I skipped out on NCTE functions simply because I had to stay in my hotel room to write and work on pressing projects. I did, however, wander through the convention center hall on the way to meet a friend of mine. I ran into William King, a right hand everything to work in CWP, who said he was waiting for a 1 o'clock session, but then we ran into Phoebe Yeh, VP / Editor and Random Penguin House extraordinaire. She's quickly become one of my favorite people in the work I do and we bonded over my love for Walter Dean Myers and the fact that she was his editor. She has a great eye for what kids will read and how books will become national sensations (cough cough, like Nic Stone).

Last night, I had dinner with Phoebe, Kristin Shultz, Nic Stone, Candace Fleming, Camryn Garrett, Scott Reintgen, Mae Respicio, Olugemsola Rhuday-Pekovich and Jeff Zenter. Rose Brock, Susan James, Jarred Amato and I were lucky to sit down in conversation with some of the superstars of the season.

I was lucky to sit with 19 year-old, Camryn, who is publishing Full Disclosure, while still in college. Her enthusiasm for books (and knowledge) simply floored me and I felt honored that The Great Whatever had her at my table (Nic Stone says Camryn's her baby prodigy - I can see why).

Meanwhile, in Syracuse, New York, my friend Sandy Bargainier is sending me photos of a refugee youth event she's attending where Abu and Ali are doing their thing - leading the way. Made me proud as the photos came in. Love knowing that the integrity, focus, responsibility and ubuntu are circulating in the Central, New York region, too.

I have one more presentation this morning, and then I need to pack up, head to Amtrak and start focusing on the Thanksgiving week ahead. I absolutely love every second of NCTE/Writing Project life, but it can be very exhausting, especially with so many minutes of the day accounted for with work, excitement, networking and possibilities.

I may need to take it easy Monday, as I aim to find rest and focus for the turkey and stuffing needing to be cooked.

Great job Baltimore planners. It was a phenomenal experience. I am very privileged to be a part of it all.

And all these free books from Random Penguin House. Love their editorial team.

@CWPFairfield Loving Every Second of #NCTE19, but Feeling the Exhaustion from all the Stimulus.

Three more presentations down and one more to go. We're all exhausted, so this post will be short - some of the CWP-Fairfield team represented here. We tried to gather as many as possible to a Friday night dinner and drinks, knowing that some are heading back to CT tomorrow, and others still have presentations in the wings.

We are exhausted, but happy to congregate once again to celebrate the work we're doing in Southern Connecticut and through programming at Fairfield University.

There is definitely much more to post, but for this Director of a National Writing Project, Saturday begins with exhaustion (and hope that there's a little room to sleep in today). Nope. Instead, I worked in my hotel bed for 6 hours on writing projects needing to be completed.

Congratulations to all the rounds that just were and all the ones still to come.

Okay, Saturday, we see what's on the radar and there's also Sunday. For those of us still on the agenda, we got this. 

Today's a Heavy-Lifting Day, and Can't Wait to Present #NCTE19 with @CWPFairfield Teachers

So, I actually have become a variation of Oprah Winfrey in my adult life, having played host to a panel of writers, teachers and scholars working through and with Dr. Rose Brock's Hope Nation. I got to play a more subdued, socially conscious Phil Donahue and I have to say that I think it might have been one of the best presentations I've ever been part of. Everything gelled Wonderfull and all the conversations were rich, poignant and powerful.

Loved, loved, loved that it was a National Writing Project session.
Rebecca Marsick, Kim Herzog, Nic Stone, Rose Brock, Susan James and Amanda Haugen simply rock in all they do, invest in and offer to the universe. What a tremendous pleasure to have time to work with them.

This morning, however, a little more tired than yesterday, I'm working with Dr. Beth Boquet and Allison Fallon with our #UNLOAD collaboration and supporting middle/high school educators to address gun violence in schools. We did a variation of this at NCTEAR in February, but this time with hav a Boquet of Knowledge with us, our supporter and friend Beth. I'm hoping our early session gets a good crowd.

Also looking forward to being at a table with Chris Crowe and CWP-Fairfield teacher, William King, and to follow that session with a Young Adult Literacy Lab fiesta: Writing in the Limelight! We hope to have as many guests as we have presenters. It will be a fun-filled, action packed day.

It takes a lot of work for many to make experiences like this happen, and I'm always thrilled to share it with the K-12 teachers from Connecticut and their expertise. Thursday was great, but today will be fantastic.

Here we go!

Looking Forward to Presenting w/ @RebeccaMarsick, @mrsherzogSHS, @reallyrosebrock, @getnicced, Susan James and Amanda Haugen Today @ncte @writingproject, 11 a.m.

A two-state collaboration. Writers from two additional states. 100s, if not 1,000s of young people and teachers invited to write about hope, inspiration, and dreams, all in the context (and with response) to Rose Brock's edited collection, Hope Nation.

Two summers ago, during the same week, Dr. Susan James of Emerald Coast Writing Project and Kim Herzog of Staples High School, both sent me a "Must Read" alert. Susan, in fact, mailed me a copy. Soon after, I was lucky to meet Rose Brock during the Saugatuck StoryFest and, as a result, was introduced to Nic Stone.

Time moves quickly. The next thing I know I write a grant called, "The Superpower of Hope," and I have a teacher institute based on a reading of Hope Nation, Matt de La Peña's Superman: Dawnbreaker, and a summer of exploring what hope means to teachers and kids.

Meanwhile, Susan, Amanda, Rebecca and Kim are doing similar work at their own schools. Nic Stone's "Almost" is a huge hit with our kids and teachers. We thought it was the perfect reason to propose a National Writing Project/NCTE session. They'll all be there and I get to tap my inner-Oprah (a dream I had as a high school student to host my own talk show).

We arrived yesterday afternoon and scoped out the venue (visited with a couple of other early birds, too - who didn't have much to say).

I am so lucky to be emceeing this panel. I get to ask questions about Hope Nation, Nic Stone's contribution, Susan Jame's and Kim Herzog's visions, and the writing it inspired for Rebecca Marsick and Amanda Haugen.

I love / to believe / in hope.
Very happy to have Pensacola, Florida collaborating with Fairfield, Connecticut to share the incredible work of this cross-National Writing Project Site project.

Slid Into a 10 p.m. Dinner Last Night, Just In Time to Check the Mail and Get Sleep Before @ncte @writingproject 2019

It's all good. I worked on lesson plans while watching This Is Us, and I was able to get a birthday package to my son so it will be with him next Monday before I left. Thank you, Fed Ex. Thank you, I-Calendar for helping me to pace my world, knowing that he'll be home for Turkey next Thursday, but not for his birthday. As long as the oatmeal cookies arrive on time.

Glamis, missing her friend Scout from the weekend, has tore into her new squeaky toy, just after I finished vacuuming, so there is stuffing everywhere. I cleaned for my house/dog-sitters, Abonga and Omar, who have been reliable buddies for 5 years now, and I cooked my Crandall special so they'll be set (although, I didn't have time to cook rice).

As I settled to turn out the lights, an undergraduate senior called me - a kid I had as a sophomore - simply seeking advice about the direction to take. He wants to teach. He's called to teach. He has pressure, however, from home and friends to follow other paths. It's the shunning of the profession and all of us who have ever chosen the teaching career knows it well. He said, "I don't know. Talking to you energizes me and makes me hopeful. I want to live a good life...one with purpose."

I simply said, "I think you've found your purpose. Why not deny it?"

But I get the doubt. I still doubt what I do.

But then I go through the mail and get the alumni magazine from Syracuse University where there there's a story about Ubuntu Academy, and one about Rhiannon Berry (who I supervised) and her holocaust work, the new publication by Dr. Kelly Chandler Olcott and a story about Tyrone Shaw, a kid I only knew as a work study while I was in their School of Education. All these wonderful stories are connected and it's all through learning, hope, human connections, a love for knowledge, and teaching. This makes me extremely happy on the morning of NCTE and Writing Project work.

I'm bringing a large posse with me this year and the reason why is because I love who they are as educators and scholars. They challenge me, inspire me, offer the world respect, and provide zest to this teaching gig. In other words, they amaze me.

It's all about Spirited Inquiry and it's because wisdom begins with wonder.

Teachers. Literacy experts. Scholars. Friends. I cannot wait for the reunion this weekend and eagerly await the Amtrak to Baltimore.

See you soon.

Counting down! Well, 24 hours to go. Looking forward to Baltimore, 2019

This will be my view tomorrow, as my teachers and I are packing up to leave for Baltimore...NCTE and the National Writing Project Conference, where we have the fortune to showcase 6 presentations, to work with with authors, and to interact with phenomenal literacy minds from across the nation.

The process is something amazing. We propose in January what we think we'll be ready to discuss in November. If applications are accepted, then we're invited to register. This, of course, requires hotel reservations (for us, 9 rooms) and arrangements. Then, we get to put the presentations together. Of course, I'm Mr. Neurotic and call weekly to be sure the hotel rooms are set. It's all been good until yesterday, when one of the rooms disappeared. I about lost my #$@$#, but I think we have it all fixed now. There are a lot of wonderful educators counting on my planning and organization. I know I'm on top of my game, but there's so much to take care of, I'm never quite sure if I thought I did something, or I forgot to do something.

Today, however, I have a day of meetings and setting up Mt. Pleasant for the boys who will be taking care of Glamis for the 5 days I'll be away: this means cleaning, new sheets, getting groceries, a little cash, and a plan of action. Wednesday will be travel day on Amtrak, but I never know if I will have the internet available or not, so I've been full force getting ready for this event.

And what is the first thing I get to do when I arrive? Well, teach a graduate course back home, of course. I have to do it online! And with video! And with a plan of action!

This is all to say I might sleep the entire way there. I'm exhausted. 

Not an Archeological Dig. Just Two Dogs Trying to Catch My Attention on Day 2 of a Weekend Marathon

Dog Psychology 101: If a guest dog is visiting, said guest dog will always eat from house dog's bowl, including house dog's special food.

Dog Psychology 101: If house dog is hosting a dog guest, said house dog will always eat from the guest's bowl and the guest's dog food selection.

I think this is like going out to dinner.

Dog Psychology 101: If home owner and dog owner is busy writing and working on academic stuff, guest dog will go to house dog's basket of treats and bring out every bone it can find.

Dog Psychology 101: If home owner has a human guest who comes over to write and plan for a conference and a publication, guest dog and house dog will do anything possible to get the attention of every human in the house.

Yesterday, I continued with my ram-horns, burrowing through writing tasks I wanted to accomplish. At one point, William King came over to assist in the process and guest dog and house dog did everything in their power to get the attention of the human guest. This included guest dog's series of finding home owner's hats around the house and running into the living room with them in her mouth, while refusing the homeowner to retrieve them (only the enticement of dog biscuits freed the clenched dog intent on getting the attention of the homeowner and guest). The game was funny, and I said, "William, dogs are just like kids when adult strangers are around."

I was determined to finish my writing tasks before I set out to grade. This took me to about 10:30 pm and my brain was/is officially spent.

I come to Monday morning anxious for office time in preparation of NCTE and to organize the ZOOM classes that need to occur while I'm away (funny that so many are nervous about an online class - all will be okay).

I am also thankful that last week, I prepared food via pasta, vegetable and meats, knowing that I had an agenda ahead. I kept human contact to a minimum (hence canine time at a maximum) and luckily succeeded with my plans. Fortunate for me, too, I put on the television for background noise just in time to catch 60 Minutes reporting on a new collaboration between IRS and Sesame Street. I love / to believe / in hope. The Great Whatever dangled this love before me as I was growing cynical about humanity.

And with this, I"m charged for another day.

Please Don't Share This Academic Truth: A View From Yesterday, 12 Hours Worth. Focused and Writing

It is rare when I have non-committed, uninterrupted time during the work week and weekends, and 99.9% of the time I'm running to put out this fire, or teach this class, or observe this school, or attend this meeting, or visit this colleague, or review this proposal, or to write that grant. Somehow it all gets done, but it is uncommon to have a day to sit down, crunch data and focus, focus, focus on one writing project. I knew when the dogs had me up at 6 a.m. that they were an alarm I very-much needed.

It was a day for writing.

I sat in my Crandall chair and chiseled a pretty-decent, shitty first draft of an invited piece I was asked to write a few months ago. I started the work on Amtrak while going to and from Philly, but I haven't had unoccupied space to work on it more because of the multiple responsibilities (and other writing projects) I have in my role as a National Writing Project director.

So, from 6 a.m. - 7:30 p.m., I sat in the same spot and wrote (with a 55-minute dog-walking break and the occasional trip to the loo and finding something else for the canines to do). I knew what my writing goals were, and I simply wouldn't sit still until I reached them (this included crunching material into graphs, charts and tables). By 7:30, however, my brain was wiped, so I ate left over kielbasa, talked to a high school friend, and caught up with my older sister.


By 8:30, I moved onto grading, planning, and simply the tomfoolery of the Internet.

I'm not celebrating yet, however, because I know this draft has to go through multiple revisions over the next few months. It is, however, about ready for the collaborators and for the inclusion of their additional insight and development. I'm just thankful that I found time to give the piece. Writing is like bringing a newborn into the world. It first has to be birthed, but then it takes many months of constant coddling and care. I think the piece has been born, but now it needs the caretakers and academic family I work with to feed it, change its diapers, and teach it to walk on its own. I do know, however, that I've reached the outline of the expectations placed before me. Now, my crew and I will sculpt, shape, challenge one another, and finish a product to be proud of.

That is, until we grow with our experiences and expertise and realize there's more to accomplish.

Hello, Sunday. I'm hoping for a new view today that covers additional angles than yesterday. I have a morning ZOOM conference call, meetings with several teachers attending NCTE with me, and the need for additional writing time on campus.

I am channeling a Dean I met at Syracuse University who sat with me during a Woman's Basketball game. In my THEN frantic worries of accomplishing dissertation goals, he simply said, "Academia is a way of life. You get used to the pace, commitment, and stress."

I guess at this point I'm used to it, but I readily admit it never gets easier.

In the end, we can only do what we can. The rest, well, is meant for others to fill in. Channeling the Human League here: I'm only human...born to make mistakes.

I am okay with my flaws, including the fact that I am willing to sacrifice an entire day to committing words to the page.

A Friday Night, a Gorgeous Sunset, Two Dogs Happy With New Bamboo Bones, A Great Walk and Early to Bed

I admit. I opened the box of orange chocolates I forgot to bring to my graduate students on Wednesday. I ate four pieces (they're tiny, but they were too tempting not to, as I settled into the night), as the dogs went haywire on their new treats. Joanna and I spent most of the day in the office finishing the final edits for POW!: Power of Words, the 6th anthology of teachers and kids from the summer work. We had to hunt Google Docs to the nth degree to find the missing materials.

When I was checking in with my mom, I said, "You should see the sunset tonight. It's tangerine." As we talked, it got deeper and deeper, and when we got off the phone, I finally got a picture of the fire as it settled on the other side of the globe. It was beautiful and this doesn't quite capture it, but I will settle.

Hello, Saturday. Don't tell anyone, but I'm hunkering down to focus on back to back conferences and writing materials that need to be accomplished. I sort of hoped it would rain so I wouldn't feel guilty, but I think I will figure out a plan of action to balance out sun and writing.

I also got my hair "did" at Fade Factory and love the cut. The photos I take don't capture what I think it looks like, but it's looking good.

I absolutely love NCTE and nothing makes me happier than funding all the wonderful teachers I'm able to bring with me - it's their nirvana, their magic and their hope. I'm also meeting with wonderful scholars, too, like Dr. Betsy Bowen and Dr. Shannon Kelly, etc., but it thrills me to no end to push forward the K-12 teachers we are lucky to work with.

In academia, we take advantage of the conference season, but in K-12 education, it's almost an impossibility. I will go to my grave doing all I can for teachers and kids. I'll do my small part in the world to see that they are celebrated, validated and applauded for the awesome work they do.

Glamis the Wonder Dog is Thrilled to Have a Special Guest for the Weekend. Scout from Hamden

The stares, licks, paws, tails, nudges, cuddles, whimpers, love and fur are with me in stereo until Monday night. Glamis is thrilled to announce that her friend Scout is staying over for a long weekend and they're already sharing toys, biscuits, doggy beds, and neurosis. It's total competition for my attention. And for toys. And for biscuits.

And the cold got to me last night. From the second I came home, made dinner (didn't eat it because I got distracted editing) and settled in for grading, I wanted to fall asleep. I couldn't get my brain working, until I grabbed hot tea. Herein lies the reality of the oncoming winter months. If there was a bed downstairs, I am sure I would have curled up in it and actually napped. But the tea worked. I ended up in a 5 hour editing frenzy, until I finally got to my dinner around 9:15 pm.

Setting out this morning to get my haircut, walked these fuzzballs and settling in for another day of writing, grading, and organizing for next week's trip to Baltimore.

These two are a hoot - competing for everything, but not so keen on joining forces with one another to accomplish their goals.

I'm sure I'm with most the nation in today's claim, "Thank God it's Friday." I'm also lucky that there's not the usual commitments on the radar.

Okay, dogs. Lets do this!

It's November, So My Mind Is Working In Charts, Graphs, and Tables, Because It is Literacy Conference Season

I was up at 6 a.m. yesterday, knowing I had an 8:30 a.m. phone call with collaborators who will be presenting with me in Tampa in December (okay, I admit that my dissertation chair still has a hold on me and makes me a better scholar than I ever thought I'd be. I wanted to be on my B+ game before we had a call).

The skinny is that I am crunching data from six years of Young Adult Literacy Labs and teacher institutes and I have material that is overwhelming. Harnessing that information in a way that teaches me and tells me what the evidence reveals requires synthesis, analysis, crunching, revisiting, positioning, naming, refuting and readdressing. We have to ask ourselves, "But what is this information really telling us? And how does this add to, agree with, or contradict what researchers before us have claimed?"

I have to admit, I love this work, and my only complaint is that I've been so busy doing and implementing, that I haven't taken the time to actually crunch all the materials I've collected and so it is papers like this that stop me in my place and say, "Crandall. Get your #$@# together. It is time."

Truth be told, I've applied for sabbatical so I can work with this data and, with teachers, compose a book that I think will be extremely useful to K-12 writing teachers and those who want to use Young Adult literature and the National Writing Project to achieve phenomenal written outcomes with their students. This is work born out of NWP, Kentucky's portfolio assessment, work with refugee-background youth, research in K-12 schools, professional development in K-12 schools, Writing Our Lives work, and CWP's summer programs. I'm in a unique space to have incredible information laid out before my eyes (and catalogued in folders over the last six years).

Yesterday morning's phone call helped me to see how important it is to graph, calculate, document, record, name and compare the written outcomes that resulted from CWP's work.

And to say I went to bed exhausted is an understatement. After the phone call, there were a few hours of NCTE work, followed by another few hours of writing for another project, followed by a graduate course. When I got home at 10 p.m. I thought, what will I write about this morning.

Well, I am writing about yesterday, and today, I will move ahead with everything else that needs to be done.

I've Forgotten About The Energy of a 2nd Grade Classroom, But I Absorbed It On My Way to the Office Yesterday

It was a 12-hour day and that was my fault. I wanted to o a substantial amount of writing, but also wished to visited a 2nd grade teacher and her students in Bridgeport to catch up on her summer participation in the Writing Project and to check on what I could do to be of support.

I was greeted with 25 anxious, thrilled to see me, and inquisitive minds. I was later told that there were other students last week, but because of fights and behavior issues, there needed to be a rearrangement. "I love these kids, but the dynamics are something else this year."


They were wonderful kids with a phenomenal teacher, but the energy was easily felt. I was only there 45 minutes and in that time there were 7, yes SEVEN, different adults who walked in to get kids, take kids out, move kids to special supports, and to host literacy support. I asked, "Is it always this way?" and she responded, "yes."

I don't know how she juggles it. She was on point with her instruction...a writing prompt that fused the school's mission of restorative justice with the actions of last week, requiring students to reflect on their part. All this in 2nd grade!

The teacher handled it all miraculously and I was reminded of the crazy that is public schooling - the juggling, switching, demands, and expectations of every second on a classroom teacher (while at SU, my mentor and I used to tally administrative disruptions over the loud speaker...usually 17 interruptions each period).

I guess that is why I asked if the kids were going to write for the Poetry For Peace contest at the University. They were going to try to get to it, so I did asked if it was okay to do a mini-impromptu workshop. I was allowed an modeled,

Peace is
waking up on a Saturday 
taking Glamis 
the wonder dog
for a long walk, 
and looking up at the trees, 
the dancing sunlight 
dripping from the sky.

Peace is a room
of 2nd graders
humming their thoughts
into their notebooks,
writing possibility 
about friendship.
Ms. Fasol,
and being good human 
beings.

The room grew silent and for the next 15 minutes kids listed what was peaceful to them. The room grew peaceful and quiet and Ms. Fasoli awarded them points for being so focused for the task at hand.

I have nothing but respect and praise for the teachers in America's classrooms doing as they do. The numbers are large and expectations tremendous. I am in awe in the hard work of the teachers who work with our youngest writers building a foundation for literacy and language.

And I end my post today with a meme sent to me from my friend Susan in Florida. I hope to hold this close to my mind and heart over the next few months.

Yesterday, a CWP teacher provided me hope.

One More @WOLSyracuse Post with Thanks to @MarcelleHaddix (Photo by William King)

William King sent me this photo last night and I didn't know he was taking pictures. Last Friday evening, a 10th year celebration of Writing Our Lives occurred in Syracuse, New York and I was invited to speak on my involvement and the influence of Dr. Marcelle Haddix on the work, my life, and what CWP-Fairfield is accomplishing in the Nutmeg State. My remarks were one of story, a collaborative idea, her miraculous vision, minimal funding for a professor and graduate student to partner on research, and the ability to establish an after-school writing program at a local high school. I was lucky to see two years of the work carried out before I took my position in another state.

10 years later, the rest is history.

At the end of the evening, Dr. Marcelle Haddix called people back up to speak from her heart about the collaborations, discussions, dreams, and accomplishments, and called me back to the mic. I think it is shown from my sincere stare at her while she was speaking that I was listening with all of my might and totally honored to hear what she had to say. I can't say I recalled every word, but I know that her words drilled deep into my heart and nestled a sense of belonging, of purpose and of action deep within in my soul.

I'm a gregarious, larger hugger of the world, and spend a lot of my time doing, and not necessarily hearing from others about the work. This moment, however, chiseled into my entire being - an acknowledgment of commitment, an applause for the National Writing Project work that is everything to me, and a recognition that I'm doing exactly what I was called to this Earth to do. It meant the world to me - this moment in time....one of those moments I wish I could see in a recording again and again.

Instead, I have this picture and I will love it forever.

I am, because she is, and we are, because of writing and the power of youth.

And With That, I'm Back Home, Sadly Saying Goodbye to My Other Home, Until The Holiday Season

Visiting Syracuse is now more complicated than ever before because there's my childhood family, my college family and my adult family all meandered throughout the CNY area, so when I swing by for a quick weekend, my attention and time is pulled in several directions, 99% of them not being fulfilled. A given, THE GIVEN, is spending time with Chitunga, although there is never enough time to even do that. On Saturday night, he called the locations to meet and that we did (with a follow up coffee the next day as we tried desperately to hit the road).

I shouldn't post this or write this blog, because he hates any attention and doesn't want his world in the public spaces that I'm okay with. I try my best to respect that, but I love this kid and am so proud of him, his goals, his achievements and what he is heading towards in his future. The household where he is staying is equally fond of him and I laughed yesterday afternoon when I saw a whiteboard so they could keep up with his demanding schedule.

As my carload was getting read for the trek back to CT, Tunga grabbed his recent award as a promising contributor to the CPA world (a beautiful clock which he was nervous to received because he thought he'd have to speak). He wanted me to put it in his room for when he returns at Thanksgiving, which I did. I felt like I was holding a gold medal (which I was). I love his focus, drive, dedication, and conscientiousness. I thought about hosting it downstairs in my spaces, but knew it'd be best to put it in his room where he'll greet it in a couple of weeks.

The drive back was smooth riding with no delays in traffic; the major anxiety came from Glamis who travels neurotically and unlike most dogs, HATES being in the car. She just wouldn't settle, no matter how many voices tried to calm her down. Jessica, the poor soul who drew the shortest straw and had to ride with her, has lost a little of her sanity, too, I'm sure.

Hello, Monday. I'm back on the ground with my ram horns down. There is much I need to plow through in the next month and there's no choice but to get it done. What keeps me going, however, is knowledge that Chitunga will be home for turkey 5Ks and gravy, and I can return to CNY for ginger-ale, cherry juice and whisky while the chaos of Crandall/Barnwell/Isgar shenanigans continue.

Time flies much too quickly, and I'm thankful for every second. Thankful to all in the 'Cuse who continue to share their love with me.

Glamis the Wonder Dog Seems To Cherish the Human Much More When Visiting Syracuse

It was a rough 24 hours for Glamis having to stay at Mimi & Papi's without my direct supervision. When I returned each night, she wouldn't leave my side and eventually burrowed onto my lap for the CNS / Utica Proctor district championship at the Dome. I was home by 8 p.m. which was unexpected, but Chitunga was able to drive William and Jessica back to the Sheraton.

Yesterday's Writing Our Lives workshops were an absolute success, and although I'm exhausted, I have a team motivated for continuing the work we do in Connecticut. We couldn't help but be inspired by the hardworking, dedicated individuals in Syracuse. It was wonderful to be reunited with them again, too.

Meanwhile, Haffner's...I didn't eat much with you over the years, but I'm a fan now. The last few times I've been home and eaten there, it has been delicious. Great choice, Chitunga. Beats Twin Trees any day.

So this morning, we head back to CT, as we all have much work we put aside for a couple of days. We have to trace our steps, however, as Will left his back in the presentation room, we believe (fingers crossed).

It's always hard to rush in and rush out like I do, but I believe that is all a part of the adulting world. There's just no easy way to make it last longer.

Meanwhile, I need to find a good place, like Glamis, so I can get comfortable and find a place to pass out. I, too, am a bit exhausted.

Great to Return to @WOLSyracuse with @MarcelleHaddix - Can It Really Be Ten Years? A Beautiful Decade, Indeed

It was 2009 when the first Writing Our Lives conference was hosted for young people in Syracuse, New York, and and when Dr. Marcelle Haddix and I received a School of Education collaborative research grant to pair a mentor with a doctoral student. The two of us had two things in common: a love of young people and a love for writing. Through her incredible network throughout Syracuse and our collaborative work at Nottingham High School, the first two years of WOL events far-surpassed anything either of us could imagine.

Why would 120+ kids walk in the pouring rain on a Saturday morning to participate in writing workshops at a community center? 

We surmised why, but wanted to hear from them.

They wanted to write, they weren't writing enough in school, and most importantly, they wanted to be heard. For two years I was lucky to work in partnership with Dr. Marcelle Haddix's vision, and to celebrate the excellence of Syracuse adolescent writers. The following year, I took the job to direct a National Writing Project site at Fairfield University, where the WOL movement crossed state-lines, and the influence of building a community to support young writers was at the core of what I hoped to do. Marcelle's influence on my vision, work ethic, hopes, dreams and goals has always been tremendous. Last night, many came together to celebrate the decade of Writing Our Lives work, including two young people who were in our after school program (now in their mid-twenties).

Phew. Hearing the words spoken about the program and Marcelle was amazing. Having the honor to hear Marcelle's words about me stopped me in my place. I'm in such awe of her, so hearing her gratitude built over 10 years triggered the tears (if she could hold back all night, I could hold back).

This morning, we are gathering once again for a day of free writing workshops for young people in the City of Syracuse. Fortunate for me, I will be presenting with William King and Jessica Baldizon, teachers from CT, and Abu Bility and Ali Adan, the ones and only from Cuse to the B'ports (Bridgeport and Brockport)(both of them teaching now...that is something). I look forward to the joy that will come. Meanwhile, I found a poem written in 2010 during the WOL event, scratched in a writers' notebook:

I’m just a man born to Syracuse (New York)
90% nerd-brain and 10% true dork,
who scribbles his ideas in the porkity-pork-pork of dreams-
or, at least this is what it sometimes seems,
when I unleash the language streams into notebooks
that are written by you all (Writing our Lives),
You, the moonbeam captives wrapped
in a million paper reams of finding the exact words.

I’m just a man born to Syracuse (New York)
A madman emptying an ocean with a poetic fork
and, today, I’m talking through a teaching torque,
a tongue-twisted twizzling-tapdancing dork
who offers this poem to you all (Writing Our Lives).

I croak communication on a lily pad that strives,
ambitiously delivering the way my mind drives,
with honey-dipped words buzzing with the deliciousness of hives,
those busy-buzzing flutterbugs and the winged weirdness that arrives
to the horizon of kismet and our galaxy of hope…
(I live my life clean cuz poetry’s my dope.)

I’m just a man born to Syracuse (New York)
delivering underground writers as your emcee bird-stork
introducing verbal blends in this rhythm-rap gone berzerk,
Ah, Bryan, chill-out, they already know you’re that jumpy jerk
who is looking for the pitter-patterned perk
of writing history with you all (Writing Our Lives)

& I surmise beyond the scholastic lies and after all the political cries,
societal succotash and educational drivebys,
and the frustration of low expectations –
trust me, I know the many sighs –
that each of you stand part of a larger universe…
So, with pens to papers
thoughts to ink, you must rehearse,
to push the boundaries, to break the deficit curse,
unraveling the workshop within you to reimburse
the soul of your magical minds.

So today this man finds himself before you with this muse:
a teacher, a writer, a thinker in Syracuse (New York),
These streets will make you feel brand new
& I’m with you to inspire, too, set fire to, what you must quickly do,
right here in Syracuse (New York)
with this opening, centralized call.
It’s autumn, so the leaves must fall, you all (Writing Our Lives)

It is common sense that self-doubt always deprives,
so I want you to take a moment to give yourself high-fives.
And let it be known we want you to thrive
To choose to live life enormously large – we want you to strive,
to create memories and opinions that come alive
in your own archive of a doodled imagination.

You must make the difference for navigating the circumference
of this global, so-you-think-you-can-dance, immense coincidence and circumstance 

where we ask you take a chance…No, take a stance,
and put your words onto the page…
(with them you can rage and upstage those who doubt
what we already know you can do.)

I’ve got some words to say…do you?
(and I hear that train coming, choo choo choo,
I think I can, I know I can, I am human, it’s true…)

But I’m just a man from Syracuse (New York)
90% bird-brain and 10% pure dork and,
celebrating my outside-the-box thinking, I’m here to uncork
the possibilities that live within you all (Writing Our Lives),
(cuz karma only survives when the young writer thrives
alive upon the notebook’s page.)

So, Syracuse (New York),
This is my rampage, the whacky sage on the stage
with a quest to enrage the words that live within you all (Writing Our Lives).
There you go, that is my call.

Here's to an irreplaceable decade.

Alas! Poor Plastic. I Knew It, Horatio! And Just Like That, Plastic Grocery Bags Are No Longer a Mt. Pleasant Staple

Connecticut said no to plastic grocery bags in August and I don't miss them at the grocery store. I have my bags and it is now routine to bring them in, use them, unload them, and store them in car. It's easy to do and the trick was simply to remember to bring them into the store with you. Once that habit was created, the rest was easy.

Still, I always recycled the bags and in one cubby in the kitchen, the one for Glamis's food, I've stored globs and blogs of plastic bags because it is what I've always used to pick up her doobie-doo-doo when we go for walks. I wrap them up and know where the strategic public garbage cans are on our 3 - 5 mile walk. Chitunga, Abu, Lossine, Ali, Kanyea, Omar, etc. They always knew where the bags were and they, too, took part in keeping dog shit off the lawns of others.

Alas. I knew it was coming. Yesterday morning, during Glamis's walk after my run, we put the last grocery bag into doggie-duty operation. Starting tomorrow, there are no more plastic bags, which means I will have to begin buying those rolled ones for dogs that some of my friends, use.

Is this trading plastic for plastic? Recycling for simply putting the purchase of plastic bags onto the consumer rather than the merchant?

What I do know is that I will never again have a full closet of grocery plastic bags. I know longer will have easy to grab garbage can liners for the smaller bins in the house. Nope. The times have changes and I'm okay with it. We're such wasteful, grotesque beings (channeling Grendel here). But let the transitions begin...

All this as I head to the American Beauty years. That plastic bag made an impression on me in my late 20s. Here I am thinking about it in my late 40s.

8:33:32 p.m. - What Were You Doing Last Night? My Grad Students Broke Out in War? Yours?

Argumentation is the fruit of life (no it's not, it's the vegetables of life. I said, "Meat! Meat of life."

Last night was an evening spent on argumentative writing and I did a variation of a workshop I've done from Kindergarten all the way to Teacher Professional Development. Yes, I draw on the experts and I give lots of hands-on, in-class time to use writer's notebooks, in every rendition of the workshop. I alter it, however, with older writers because they can handle it: we read literature, student writing, Op-Eds, articles, etc. and we harvest all for the arguments being made and what the research tells us.

I also go elementary with the work and have students debate what makes the best pets: dogs, cats, dinosaurs, or no pets at all. I'm used to the arguing and bickering that ensues and how the layers grow deeper and deeper as they begin to counter the arguments of others (best practices).

People are particular with their pets, and there's always one in favor of dinosaurs (thank you, Liam).

I also bring in the game Zobmondo from time to time and share how I used the game since 1998 to incite intense fighting on foods, ethics, animals, and conduct. The game was a lucky find and it pits scenarios of Would you rather this or would you rather that (my older sister's boy used this game to entertaining evening dinners for several years).

Last night, one group got in a screaming match over the results of what they'd rather do. Note: This is where I should be fired. I've never had this debate before nor seen something get so heated, so quickly.

The card prompted, "Would you rather have to swim 10 laps every day in an Olympic size pool of diarrhea or live the rest of your life with a sensitive scrotum sac on your chin?

This was the game and not Crandall. I had to shut the door because the group work turned into a whole class debate and I'm sure everyone on campus heard the screaming. The graduate students were citing readings, experiences, websites, science, and the Bible. They treated the question like it was the end of their life.

Now, I was embarrassed by the options, but the students were doing what all the readings on argumentative writing said they needed to do. They were using logic, argument, counter argument, expert references, personal experiences, ethos and oratorical delivery I didn't imagine was possible.

Teaching Reflection: How does one real it in? I had no idea someone would draw such a charged question. Hint: I handled it by saying take the debate to the parking lot after class. "Oh, we will, Dr. Crandall. We will." I left wondering if campus police would be called...I imagined Canisius Parking Lot was steaming with grotesque dialogue and rationality.

And then I drove home. 10 p.m. arrival, laundry to do. I was exhausted, and imagine the worst case scenario...the President of the University calls me and says, "Why were you teaching about swimming in poo and having testicles on your chin?"

It wasn't my intent, but that's where the class went. Sometimes teaching graduate students is no different than a room full of 15-year olds. On these nights, I shake my head and say, "I think I'm doing something right. Absurd as it is, it works."

When Paying Bills, It Always Becomes More Poignant When You Can Splash Musical Influence on an Envelope

I come late to most ball games, and as a result. I didn't discover Marvin Gaye's music until I was a a teacher in Louisville, Kentucky and began to think about history, culture, musical influences, and the beauty of the students I was fortunate to choose. Perhaps that is why I was excited to learn the Post Office had his image on a stamp, especially one I could use on the very specific bills that I was paying yesterday (let's just say late fees for parking in a bike lane in the Hamptons). I put it aside and forgot about it, but do remember laughing to the fellow who treated Chitunga and I to lunch, "Oh, let me get the parking."

Oif. I sure did. 

Today is humpday and I look for anything I can to give me rhythm in my stride and hope for the work I aim to accomplish. In the ol' IPod music of my head, I'm channeling Marvin Gaye's stamps and music in the attempt to keep me going and focused in the day ahead.

Wake up. Write. Run. Walk the dog. Meetings. Meetings. Meetings. Planning. Teaching. Then coming home to bed, only to repeat it again. 

Would rather have Marvin Gaye with us than on a stamp, but I'll take inspiration wherever it is.

A Piece of Modern Art I've Been Working On? Nope, Trying to Get a Photo of My EZPass # After Nightfall

Here's a truth. Managing your own accounts, numbers, license plates, passwords and everyday numerical existence is one thing, but then there are moments when you realize that you are directly connected to the accounts, numbers, license plates, passwords and everyday numerical existence of your kid(s). This is what happened to me yesterday, when I got a bill from EZPass for $7.00 - it was for $2, but with a $5 late fee. I immediately jumped onto my account and realized, "Yes. I'm up to day. I have money in my account."

For those of you not in the northeast corridor, travel between states becomes expensive as many have learned that having fees for bridges and roads can be great revenue for State departments. The EZpass is one way to stay on top of it - you simply keep money in your account and as you drive, money is deducted as you cross State boundaries.

But this penalty was for a license plate I don't know and during a time when I don't remember crossing boundaries. Of course, I spent 4 hours trying to remember my password, resulting in the need to have a picture of my EZpass. This was the first shot. I failed.

After numerous attempts, I got into my account and learned I'm in good standing. That's when I noticed that the license plate was not mine. I thought, "I'll be damned. They are charging me for the wrong car."

Alas. Then I thought about it. Chitunga's car is in my name. I looked at the dates and that is when he was in Canada with his friends for a long weekend, so I knew it was him. The bill came to me because I'm the primary humanoid on the lease.

All this for $2. Now $7. I texted him to get me his license plate number to confirm (success!), but at least this Shirlock Holmes figured it out.

I thought I was going crazy. I haven't been in Buffalo in a very long time. And I'm thankful for Google Search so I could find the actual locations where the EZPass was charged.

And that is how I spent my Monday night (well, some of it. I also graded, wrote letters of recommendation, and started planning for graduate classes).

The bags under my eyes are not a figment of anyone's imagination.

I Hated the 3rd Book, But Adored the First Two and Was Thrilled by the Movies. Lucky to Catch a Re-run This Weekend

As a lifelong reader (and English teacher), I've always craved stories for others (and myself) where a strong female protagonist simply kicks ass. I loved Maxine Hong Kingston's The Woman Warrior and always taught it to my seniors while at the Brown School, also with critical analysis of the chapter, "Fa Mu Lan," with Disney's western rendition of Mulan. I am a fan of Celie's character for life, and although she wasn't named a warrior, her location in Alice Walker's The Color Purple always kept me on a quest for strong, intellectual and thought-provoking female leads in literature. I've known many women who are simply loaded with integrity and love reading books that promote their excellence. There would be no Harry Potter without Hermione and it could be argued that she made him possible.

This weekend, while putzing about with grades, planning and writing, I caught Catching Fire (I think it was this book) where I was once again hooked by the brilliance, planning, smartness and focus of Katniss and couldn't help but take a picture of the screen. Here, she reminds me of my warrior friend, Rhiannon Berry, but also the creative, poetic and spiritual strength of my author-friend, Laurie Halse Anderson, two people I admire to the umpteenth degree.

I also grew up in a household with two sisters and a mother who taught me on a daily basis the power, muscle, wit and performance that it takes to be a woman in our society. In our patriarchal, Western-historical narrative, it is the men who are often given war stories, odysseys, heroism and protagonist credit. In my world (the real word), I've been witness more to the ingenuity and brilliance of women doing great deeds over the men who tend to position themselves at the forefront. It's silly that this always happen, because women are simply stronger than men when it comes to a lifetime of achievement, holding it together and being role models for others.

So, this post is for them. It's for their daughters, too, who deserve to have novels and movies made about their accomplishments and achievements, too.

For what it is worth, I see the great work of women and recognize the lack of respect they're often paid. They deserve the accolades and medals. They're the true superheroes.

Daylight Savings Bry - I Guess This Falling Back Has Me Falling Way Back

I definitely felt the summer and fall semester catch up to me yesterday after the Vicki Soto run, lawn-mowing and West Haven art show. I wanted to be home by 6, to simply find a movie and call it an evening. By 6:30, I was ready to call it a night and went to bed. Lucky for me, I also gained an additional hour. The snap to cold temperatures, the race, and the long hours kept from June to now has cramped me up and made it impossible to keep my eyes open.

I hate feeling so tired, but I know when my body is ready to collapse. I can see the moldy leaves packed under my eyes as I posed with the inflatable pink flamingos handed out at the beer tent.

Ah, that's it. First time I ever drank beer after a 5K, and I'm 100% sure that's what threw my entire universe upside down. I couldn't take another second of being awake and as soon as it got dark, my body wanted to fall asleep....so it did.

Ah, Sunday (with the extra hour behind ya) what is there to accomplish today. Definitely hoping the long sleep rejuvenates me some as the November month ahead is one for the record books. Ever since I was a little kid, I've hated being tired. It's easy for me to give in because I simply can't function. Alas....middle age is my nemesis.

I guess I should be thankful for such reminders that rest is a good thing.

Oh, I Used To Get Wooden Bowling Pins As a Participation Award When I Was a Kid. I Still Can't Bowl

I capped off my work-week with pizza dinner and a game of strike-n-spare-n-gutter at Bowlero in Milford. It was an award after a long day in the office doing the work that always needs to get done. Glamis got her walk in and I go a run, so all was well with the day, although cheese and me are no longer friends. My stomach hates the goo!

I bought Noelle a gift card for her birthday and she's been wanting to cash it in. She forgot it, but that's okay because we had fun anyway.

Leo won. He had the best stride of us all and was most consistent with spares and strikes. Mine were haphazard and because it was so dark I couldn't see my arrow. That, and I forget how oily and greasy lanes can be. At times I hit the mark, but mostly I was a messy bowler. The house was remortgaged to play, and we had a great time.

This morning, I'm drinking my coffee and heading to the Vicki Soto 5K. We had our first freeze over night and I'm hoping it will be the last time  to mow the lawn - it sure does need it.

I can celebrate, however, that it is November 2nd and my heat hasn't been turned on yet. Something tells me I might be changing that plan of action very soon as the nightly temperatures get as low as they are.

I'm glad it's the weekend. I need one....bad.

They Cleaned Us Out. Weather or No Weather. Stratford Kids Wanted Their Candy, No Matter What

Glamis and I felt bad closing up shop at 8 p.m., but we were tapped out. I took tally by the 100 Halloween penciled I had read, plus candy, which disappeared by 7 p..m. - I then tapped into the other candy bags and the CWP treats I had up my sleeve. Easily, 200 kids came up my driveway, and I am stingy with the way I contribute goods to the locals.

When I shut my lights out at 8 p.m., I know there were another 100 teenagers who walked by. Sorry pubescent, pre-adult bastards, the little ones soaked us for all our worth.

In the years I've been at Mt. Pleasant, I only had one year where it wasn't a mad house. I believe I live in an area that is marked by families from Stratford, New Haven, and Bridgeport, and I swear buses drop them off. There were moments last night where the line to my drawer looked cafeteria-like. Glamis, of course, was my alarm system letting me know when a new posse was coming to the door.

It's a great holiday and I'm thankful that the storms that were predicted for 8 p.m. (100%) held off as long as they did. This morning, when we woke up, I didn't think anyone would celebrate the spirits of Weenie Fest. Nope. It didn't rain from 4 until 9, so the kids were out in full force (and even adults - I don't remember adults trick or treating like they do now. I know many make an argument about teenagers in support of their youth, but I had posses of adults, without kids, coming up to my door without costumes).

I guess they just want candy.

Glamis, The Wonder Dog, did not enjoy being a Cowardly Lion, but without costume, she was good to greet everyone at the door.

As for me? I'm thankful to Pam Kelly who gave me a tub of macaroni and cheese which saved me when I settled down for dinner after shutting the lights out.

Okay, it's not time to focus on Turkey. That is a much more subdued holiday.

It is also no-shave November. I cleaned up yesterday and am going for a month without a razor. Wish me luck.