It has been a jam-packed weekend, and I am tired, but in a good way. I am struggling to find inspiration and a slice right now. I have perused other writers’ slices, and nothing. I’ve looked around the room where I’m trying to write, and nothing. Where are all the words hiding? Why can’t I come up with an idea?!? Do you know why? All the ideas are hiding from me in a twisted game of Hide-and-Seek!

Where exactly do writing ideas hide?

• in memories
• in worries about upcoming events
• in the songs of the birds and the whispers of the trees
• in tales told by your grandchildren
• in bits and pieces of overheard conversations
• in heartache and disappointment
• in laughter and smiles, sadness and joy
• in full-circle moments
• in favorite sweaters and stories of where they have been
• in chaos and in quiet

Writing ideas are hiding everywhere, some in plain sight. Here’s to hoping tomorrow I have the energy to get in the game and coax those illusive ideas out of their hiding places.

Today, we attended our granddaughter’s Spring Showcase. She is eleven and has been dancing for about eight years, but this is her first year participating in a performance group. What a treat! E. danced in a duo, a jazz group, and a lyrical group.

The dancers were beautiful, elegant, and dynamic. I was in awe of their fluid bodies and facial expressions as they moved across the stage, interpreting the music. I admire their vulnerability and willingness to share the feelings and movements that surely emanated from their souls.

Thank goodness for the arts.

Doodads and doodles reminded me of this format, so I will try to remember to add it to my writing practice each week. (https://doodadsanddoodles.blog/) This slice is a look back at my week.

Five Smiles
* Completing my MRI in the open MRI machine
* An unexpected visit from my son, who was bearing St. Joseph Cakes.
*Seeing my first robin of spring
*Realizing a new Chinese restaurant had opened where our favorite one had closed.
*Catching up on ALL of my grading

Four Words
* Peaceful
* Refreshed
* Reading
* Connecting

Three Weekend Plans
* Emma’s dance competition team showcase
* A Bridal shower tea (for my nephew’s fiancee)
* High school jazz festival (my son is directing one of the finalist bands)

Two Lessons Learned
* There is joy in every day if you look for it.
* Napping is self-care.

One Goal
* Move more, whether exercising or walking.

Bread is my kryptonite! I could eat it at every meal, and I have never met a loaf of bread I didn’t like. These are a few of my favorites.

Italian: It has to be crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. While yummy with butter, nothing is better than dipping it into your favorite pasta sauce and cleaning your plate with it. The inside is an absorbent sponge that soaks up the last bits of deliciousness, ending with a satisfying crunch of the crust.

White: Nothing is better to encase peanut butter and jelly (strawberry preserves) than plain old “American” white bread.

Raisin: The perfect way to get the sweetness you crave without diving into a box of cookies. Toasted with a thin (or not-so-thin) butter coating, it perfectly complements an evening cup of tea.

Jewish Rye: It has to be a Jewish Rye with its shiny crust and dense body accented with caraway seeds. Seedless rye is for amateurs! I enjoy NOTHING more than a toasted piece (or two) of Jewish Rye bread. I will eat regular mass-produced rye, but it doesn’t hold a candle to my childhood memories of “real” rye bread.

It’s a good thing I am writing this upstairs and am too tired to trek back downstairs, or I might be making a bedtime snack. I can hear the raisin and rye calling to me. Oh, wait! Have you ever had raisin rye? Heaven!

On the eve of the vernal equinox, I saw my first Robin Redbreast of the season. I didn’t realize how much I needed spring to arrive until that moment.

I look forward to seeing flowers bloom all around me, but I am not looking forward to the allergies that come with those flowers.

I look forward to the spring rains, which nourish the flowers and bring my grass back to green, but I am not looking forward to the landscaper bills and indoor recesses that come with those rains.

I look forward to more extended daylight and lengthening days into evenings, but I am not looking forward to the spring fever that distracts me on those lighter evenings.

I look forward to the MLB opening day, but I am not looking forward to the ups and downs of following my favorite team (The Phillies).

To be honest, I am looking forward to everything spring has to offer, and I will try to take the other inconveniences in stride. I need spring. I need sunlight. I need hope.

Today was Club Day in the middle school. Once a month, we have a special schedule where all six periods are shortened to allow for an extra period for clubs at the end of the day. Clubs include Scrabble, the 24 Four game, comedy writing, trivia, drama, and my club, creative writing.

We received the Club Day schedule back in January, and all of the dates are written on my calendar and highlighted by our principal on the weekly faculty information sheet as they come up. But neither of those things was enough to help me remember that today was the day!

This morning, a student in my homeroom asked me when the next club day was, and I confidently told him, “On the 18th.” It was then that it hit me – TODAY IS THE 18TH!

I couldn’t believe I had forgotten about club day, hadn’t looked at the folder, or considered what activities we were going to do. I felt better when I realized that two other teachers had also forgotten.

Luckily, I had two activities I had forgotten about (see the pattern?) ready to go. Thanks to my good friend Jolene, who gifted me Paint Chip Poetry and a bag of random words I had cut from magazines, I didn’t have to spend my entire lunch period crafting activities.

Music has always been essential to my life, from piano lessons in elementary school to playing upright bass in high school and then majoring in music education in college. Listening to and playing music is like breathing to me.

Today, I realized I am a creature of habit regarding my music-listening rituals. I listen to classical music on the way to school in the morning (if I am not listening to an audiobook) and usually NPR on the way home.

When writing or reading, I listen to instrumental music – usually acoustic in various genres, including jazz and coffee house guitar. I have a few favorites I own on CD but now play on Spotify, including New England Sunrise and Legends (which I am listening to as I write this). They bring me back to some wonderful times in my life.

Because my husband has Sirius, his car almost always has songs from the 1970s. Those songs take me right back to high school when we first met. I can nearly remember every word! Sixty years later, I may not be able to move as I did, but my insides feel the same as they did back then.

Music has the power to calm me, lift me, and inspire me. It sends a message to my heart and soul that there are beautiful and poetic things in this world, and I have to keep seeking them out.

Today, I had to search for something to write. As I paged through my notebook for inspiration, I found a prompt from my poetry writing group: When does someone become a friend? This is a draft of a poem I wrote.

Untitled Poem (Draft)

• You became my friend when you listened to me rand and didn’t run.
• When you told me I had spinach in my teeth after lunch
• When we laughed so hard, we almost convulsed and collapsed
• When we shared painful secrets, then rejoiced in how far we each had come
• When you sat next to me in silence because neither of us knew what to say
• When I learned I could be myself, and you would love me anyway

My lack of an idea led me back to something I had forgotten. I will work on revising this week.

If you read my post yesterday, you know I wasn’t feeling well and canceled my plans for the evening. After dinner (a delicious vegetable sandwich on a seeded Italian roll from our local pizzeria), I went upstairs to change into my pajamas and relax. I decided I would take a little “rest” before returning downstairs. It was 6:00.

I set my phone alarm for a two-hour “nap” and rested my head on the pillow. When the alarm sounded, I turned it off and went back to sleep. Around 9:30, I awoke, made a trip to the bathroom, and played five minutes of Duolingo not to break my 130-day streak. Then, I closed my eyes for the night. I woke up this morning at 9:00 a.m.

I felt tired all week, and I blamed the time change. Obviously, my body didn’t believe that excuse and decided I needed a day to rest. Not fighting the call to sleep was the best thing I did all week.

I am feeling better after easing into Saturday and enjoying a bowl of wonton soup and an egg roll for lunch. Here’s to hoping I am 100% by Monday morning.

Tonight was the night. I was to participate in my second poetry open mic night at the local library. There, I would read two poems I had written and listen to the fantastic poems of other poets. Unfortunately, my body has other plans.

My sinuses have been wonky all week, and I chalked it up to the daily temperature swings. This morning, however, I woke up with a scratchy throat and a slight headache. I popped two Sudafed, hoping to feel better quickly, but it’s been over two hours, and they are not doing the trick. Begrudgingly, I emailed the librarian facilitating the evening and bowed out of my performance slot.

It’s lunchtime now at school, and honestly, I could put my head down and sleep, but I am afraid I would snore. So, this tired teacher is going directly home after school, putting on my pajamas, and wrapping myself in a cuddly blanket with a hot cup of tea. It looks like a late afternoon nap is in store.

I am disappointed because I was looking forward to the evening but trying not to be too upset. Obviously, I can’t control this cold, allergies, or whatever is putting me under the weather. As the above quote says – there’s no point. (Shrug)