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3 weeks ago

853 words

Photo: Oh, we fancy.

 

Ok really, I have to start out this post with a photo. Because yesterday, I drove for over an hour in morning traffic to get back into the city, deep down into Jamaica Plain, the old neighborhood where I used to do my teaching, to see a friend who happened to have thisIMG_20171003_113225

That, Dear Reader, is an Iberico Ham. His name is Ramon Jamon. He’s the best ham. It’s butter, but it’s ham. And it’s sophisticated and salty and buttery and just… omg the best ham. Iberico Ham is made from a special European pig that only eats a special acorn. The flavor is unlike anything you’ve ever eaten. My dear friend who I had the honor of teaching on the same grade team with a lifetime ago was gifted this awesome specimen for her 40th birthday and she has been literally touring the state with it and bringing it to gatherings.  But for me? She gifted me a morning of exclusive access to this masterpiece and oh, did we feast. Paired with some manchego and some raw milk cheddar (and, as you can see, other tasty and fancy accouterments), it was delicious.  The best pairing, though, was hours of time with a dear friend and lots of laughter. Nevermind she has me on the track to being addicted to makeup (The Husband: “Is that… lipgloss? Where did that come from? Don’t kiss me and make my cheek sticky! Gross!”).

Curious about the taste of that fancy, fancy ham? I’ll bet you can find it at a local fancy cheese shop or other such elevated food shoppe. If you happen to live near a Wegmans, they might have one in the deli and they’ll give you a sample if you ask nice. Totally, totally worth it.

Ok, on to real things.

Ursa Minor has to wear a red shirt to school tomorrow and I’m freaking out.

Don’t roll your eyes at the computer, Dear Reader! If you’ve been with me for a while, you’ll know that color is a thing for him. Minor is a child who wears yellow. Yellow is that color that child wears. Over the years, there have been a few select exceptions to the rule: shirts with batman, shirts with rockets, shirts with scientific symbols… but that’s it. If he isn’t wearing yellow, he’s wearing blue (with yellow somewhere) in deference to his brother. But red? Oh no no no…

The problem is that red is Minor’s “class color.” He’ll have to wear his red shirt during assembly days at school throughout this year and every year of his elementary school experience. I prefer the red, frankly, to the white that Major has to wear, which is absolutely impossible to keep bright. Major isn’t wild about his class color, either, but we’re doing our best here, and Major is a fairly flexible child when it comes to these sorts of things. Minor is not a go-with-the-flow kind of dude. Not about this sort of thing, anyway.

So I’ve been trying to get him ready for tomorrow. “So, you’ve gotta wear your new red school shirt tomorrow. How are you feeling about that?”

“I guess I’m fine,” he said, sulkily.

“I can figure out a way to put on a yellow shirt under your red shirt, if that’ll make you feel better.”

“Yeah, maybe. I guess.”

We circled around to it again during dinner and right after. “Are you sure you’re ok with wearing red to school tomorrow?”

This child says to me, “I’m ok, I think. Let’s stop talking about it.”

Alllllright, dude. Fine. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m overreacting or projecting. Maybe he really is ok and he has grown enough to have the flexibility required to wear this red shirt once a month without complaint. Maybe we can expand to even more colors, a regular wardrobe with the full spectrum of colors. Perhaps the yellow phase is over. Perhaps.

But I just know tomorrow morning I’m going to lay out that little red shirt and a pair of jeans and he is going to pitch a fit. It’s gonna suuuuckkk. I’ll tell you how it goes during my Quiet Thoughts on Friday.

A silly post, I know, but… Lord, don’t you just need a little silly right now? What a week. What a year. I spent time with a handful of lovely, lovely people today and they each threw up their hands and lamented about the way things are going right now. So much frustration, so much resignation. It’s heartbreaking. I had nothing to offer, no words of comfort or wisdom. Endure and reach out, Dear Reader. Endure, and reach out and fight on. Ours is the future and we know it’s worth fighting for.

See you Friday for Quiet Thoughts.

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