neighborhood blooms.

If you're a dog owner then you can certainly empathize with the agony one occasionally feels upon remembering the dog must go out in the morning. This is especially true when the heat in Florida can only be described using one word: stifling. After those first steps taken and the delicate art of harnessing Woody into his leash (which is quite the sophisticated contraption during the wee hours of the morning), I am reminded of just how much that morning walk means to my dear pal, as evidenced by the enthusiasm in his jaunty gait, and the way his snout lovingly and happily rediscovers the smells of his neighborhood.

And some days I notice the beauty that surrounds me in such a striking way that I must retrace my steps later in the day simply to snap photographs and share the unbelievable sights with you. You see, Florida is hot and sticky in all the most frustrating ways, but it is also hot and sticky in all the right ways, too. This muggy, tropical climate allows certain beautiful flowers to sprout up and thrive without the help of anyone in particular and that is worth celebrating.

(And a personal thanks to Woody, who singlehandedly ensured I would see these beautiful blooms in all their beautiful, leafy glory. His snout leads the way and calls the shots, and for that I am quite glad.)

the (fabricated) story of my ring, part I.

Quite some time ago, I posted a fictional series on my previous blog about the origin of my engagement ring. Truthfully, we found the set in an antique store in Micanopy, a small town outside of our college town. The woman who sold it to us knew very little about the set, other then when it was likely made. I have always been enamored with history, mostly because I love imagining people's lives and the goings-on during different time periods. The series is still one of my favorite things I've ever written, and for that reason I'd like to re-publish it here. It is entirely fictional and has no truth to it whatsoever, although it is fun to imagine otherwise. 


Sometimes I look down at my engagement ring and imagine the woman who wore it before I did. My ring is an antique, did you know that? My mom and I found it in our favorite little town, Micanopy. When I showed it to Jeffrey, I had a feeling it would be the ring that ended up on my finger.

I like to think that the woman who wore it before me had a grand, romantic love story. Nadine was in love with George, who was 10 years her senior. They met in a hardware store, where George was immediately struck because Nadine looked more purposeful than he did. She was wearing a sweet floral skirt crouched down, examining the screwdriver heads. Little did he know she was decorating her newly rented apartment, just above his. She had rented it because the sun spilled in just perfectly at 4 pm. She always made sure to be home at that time to sit in complete and total relaxation with her sweet cat, Matilda.

Nadine was an employee at a theater, where she was always eager to audition for the parts, but could never quite work up the courage. Her boss, Gerald, was kind enough to let her leave for one half hour daily at 4 pm to enjoy the aforementioned spilling sunlight.

George was a writer. The kind of writer hopelessly indebted to his characters -- so indebted that he rarely left his apartment. Except on that fateful day, when he walked into the hardware store to ask an employee about how easy it would be to self-repair a broken typewriter. And that was when he saw Nadine, her hair pulled back just so. He stood in shock and awe -- he felt as though he was witnessing a sweet and perfect creature from one of his stories, the kind of woman that could only be true if she had been written that way.

Nadine was trying hard to look as though she knew what she was doing, although she really had no idea. George caught her eye because his hair was perfectly tousled. It reminded her of her childhood friend, Raymond, who had gone to war and never returned. She cocked her head in disbelief. Alas, it was not him, but she instantly felt comfortable without even talking to the man in the hardware store. She liked the way he was wearing a dress shirt without a tie, and the way his pants were too short and revealed bright red socks. She wanted to know this man, befriend him, walk with him in the park. What a silly thought, she said to herself. George wanted to hold this woman's hand, show her his first draft stories, and buy her a coffee on a cool, bright evening. Nonsense, he said to himself.

simple things.

{1. Beautiful vines in beautiful Brooklyn.}


{2. Our wedding nook: complete with our cake toppers, Jeffrey's boutonniere, my ring box, trinkets from our honeymoon, and two meaningful postcards.}


{3. This new gold ring, which I picked up in New York, and just happens to match Jeffrey's wedding band quite perfectly.}


{4. This book, and full, lazy days for enjoying it.}


{5. A pal who doesn't mind days that are for relaxing.}


{6. This candle, which fills a room with a pleasant, cozy scent. (I would love to try this scent next.)}


Other simple things I'm grateful for:

• A fun trip to New York City to kick summer vacation off in style. (We didn't take many photos — the shame! — but we did keep up on Instagram. You can follow me here, if you'd like.)
• Jesse Terry, whose music I adore.
• My New Roots, which is a blog that has provided me with endless inspiration over these last couple months.
• Summer goals that keep me busy and motivated.

a week of lunches.

1. Chopped strawberries + unsweetened coconut flakes // 2. Brown rice pasta, cucumber, carrots, green pepper + garlic-ginger pumpkin seed sauce // 3. Cucumber + carrots with black bean hummus

1. Romaine lettuce + spinach with cherry tomatoes, carrots, navy beans, and sunflower and sesame seeds // 2. Chopped strawberries + kiwi // 3. Garlic-ginger pumpkin seed sauce (to dress the salad) // 4. Chickpea croutons

1. Black beans and brown rice, covered by mixed greens, sunflower sprouts + avocado (and some red blanket sauce is hiding under there) // 2. Chopped Granny Smith + almond butter // 3. Turkish dried apricots, banana chips + dried mango

1. Romaine lettuce + spinach with green peppers, cucumbers, pumpkin seeds, and sunflower seeds // 2. Chopped Granny Smith apple + almond butter // 3. Chopped kiwi + unsweetened coconut flakes // 4. Garlic-ginger pumpkin seed sauce (to dress the salad)

1. Black bean salad with cumin-roasted carrots, over a bed of Romaine lettuce // 2. Black bean hummus // 3. Watermelon + cucumber spears

I find a sort of comfort in my lunchtime meal. There's something nice about a midday break and the opportunity to sit and enjoy some sustenance. During the school year, I made my lunches the night before, and while it was sometimes a bit of an inconvenience, I always appreciated the forethought when it actually came time to sit and eat the tidbits I had lovingly prepared for myself. Now that I'm on summer vacation, my meals look a bit different, but I still do my best to prepare them with the same amount of care and attention so that I can honor my body and give it the fuel it deserves.

P.S. I'm in the process of revamping the blog, so please excuse the dust! :)

10 lessons learned from a first year teacher.

1. When you feel like giving up, remember the student who told you he believed in his reading abilities because you believed first. Remember the student who called you her sunshine on a regular basis. Remember all the times you laughed at something together, or hung your Earth Day posters out in the hallway. Remember when they begged you to read outside, or eat with you, or hug you, or know more about you. Then ask yourself if you still feel like giving up.

2. In many ways, Wag! by Patrick McDonnell is the most perfect read aloud. It teaches a most profound lesson in the simplest, most beautiful way (we read it no less than 5 times).

3. Talk about your family and they will hinge upon your every word.

4. When comparing yourself to other teachers, don't.

5. Hold onto that one time you were all walking up the stairs after lunch and their eyes sparkled with anticipation over the next chapter of Matilda you were about to savor together.

6. Kids still truly love Reading Rainbow.

7. When you are thrilled to teach something, students will often be thrilled to learn about it.

8. In some cases, your classroom might be the most comforting safe haven a student has in his or her life. Therefore, please remember to tell each student how glad you are to see him or her every single day.

9. Don't forget to do something for yourself every now and then. Find a hobby that makes your heart sing. Do something that doesn't have any relation to the teaching profession. Bask in a life outside of your classroom, full of richness and love so that you can return to your classroom each and every single week day with enthusiasm in your heart and joy in your soul.

10. When you feel knocked down or low (which will happen more frequently than you'd care to admit), please know that you are doing one of the most important jobs, and serving in a way that is profound and meaningful. Know that the work you do has a great impact and that you matter to someone (a class full of someones, in fact). Tell yourself that you are important and wonderful and heroic, because you are. And when none of that works, give your students a hug, and you will feel the results of your work come flooding back to you in an avalanche of love and adoration.

Bonus (11.): Cherish the moments spent within the four walls of that first classroom. Hold onto them and keep them for later. When the door begins to close on that first year, you will feel simultaneously relieved, shocked (by how unbelievably quickly time passed), and deeply saddened. The mountain you chose to summit will be nearly behind you. You enjoyed the view and the fruits of your labor, and now you must hold it tight in your heart and never let it go. You did it! Congratulations. :)

the dynamics of a classroom.

My students walk in the door in the morning and this is playing. Expectantly, my students start humming the tune before they've even hit the entry to our classroom. Most of them have breakfast trays, meticulously curated to meet their unique tastes: one has Cinnamon Toast Crunch and OJ and another has grits and toast. Without thinking, they pass the OJ to one of my students who has taken a particular liking to it. He has a pile of it on his desk (there's no way he could ever drink all of it, it's a gesture of kindness). Desks don't belong to individuals, but to groups of people. Papers are sprawled across the desks, a sea of homework congregating in the middle of the group.

"Did you turn in your homework yet?" A helpful reminder from one student to another. "Are you going to science night?" Conversation begins to spring up around the classroom until the humming, pleasant sound of kid voices harmonizes with the background music. The soundtrack has now moved to this.

Slowly and steadily, my students come streaming in, leaving their home baggage at the door and stepping into our cozy, supportive, welcoming classroom. We are a well-oiled machine, connected by the triumphs and obstacles we face everyday. Post-it notes are slam dunked into the green basket in the front of the room. Today's sticky note job: Write one interesting fact about the state you're researching. I hear murmurs, "What's your interesting fact? Did you remember to write your name on the back?" I hear helpers, I hear supporters, I hear genuine interest.

For a moment I sit back and marvel at this. How did we get here? How did we come to the place where we have learned to accept the differences of one another and the sameness we all share in some small way? I can tell you that it has not always been this way — still isn't always this way.

But on days when our little world is running in content and perfect harmony, my heart is full of pure love for the students that have learned, cried, laughed, cheered, smiled, worked, persevered, given up (plenty of times), tried again, disrespected, apologized, lived, loved, and created together in room 06-222.

We have built a world just for us, and it's a good one. And so, to my students of 2013-2014 (who will never read this), I am so very proud of you — your heart and your mind. Go move mountains.

cook the perfect brown rice.

The ability to cook brown rice has always eluded me. Every time I give it a go I'm left with half the rice stuck to the bottom of the pan, while the other half is part crunchy, part slimy. And my experiences with brown rice specifically have fared even worse. The other night, I combined all the information I had ever learned about rice into one super recipe, and it worked! The amount of excitement that ensued in my heart was a bit overdramatic, but I'm still going to share what I believe are the perfect steps to cooking brown rice. Enjoy!

As an aside, the water to rice ratio should always be 2:1 (i.e., 1 cup water, 1/2 cup rice).

Directions:
1. Rinse the rice under cool water — twice.
2. Fill a pot with the proper amount of water and pour the rice in.
3. Bring the water + rice mixture to a boil.
4. After the water has come to a boil, bring it immediately back to a simmer and cover the pot with a lid.
5. Let the rice simmer for 10 minutes and stir. Then, leave the rice to simmer for 5 more minutes and stir.
6. Finally, uncover the pot and allow the rice to finish for 5 more minutes (sans lid).
7. Remove from the heat and fluff with a fork. Voila! Perfect brown rice!

xo