Yesterday, Alex and I went to New Brunswick to buy a table from a college girl for twenty bucks-- Alex is moving into an apartment with his girlfriend next weekend-- and the table was perfect but we were unable to get it out of the little room it resided in . . . and even if we could, there was a warren of hallways and a narrow staircase to navigate, so we needed to take the legs off the table, but this college girl had zero tools-- no pliers, no wrench, no hammer, nothing-- so we had to head home and get some tools and I advised the college girl to get a toolbox and start populating it . . . I was like: "Start with a hammer and a screwdriver" but the real lesson here is you should never leave home without a plethora of tools.
The Required Amount at the Prescribed Rate (Handcrafted From the Finest Corinthian Leather)
The Fat Lady Has Sung
I'm Tired and I Didn't Even Play . . .
Longest day and longest tennis match ever . . . we left at 2:45 and got home at 7:45 . . . Roselle Park only has four courts-- but we won and advanced to the Group 1 semi-finals, which will occur tomorrow (we play Edison Academy and, barring some kind of miracle, we are going to get whipped).
A Plus in Unattendance
Whitney, Elaine, Zoom, Schwartz, Profigliano, etcetera
Catherine and I made the long haul home today from Virginia Beach-- we were down there for my buddy Whitney's third wedding (or the third wedding Cat and I have attended . . . maybe he's also had a few secret weddings) but, as they say, third time is a charm and his new wife Elaine is totally charming-- it's the Goldilocks magic of threes-- too hot, too cold, just right . . . so this one is going to last-- anyway, too tired to write a coherent sentence but some quick recollections: the wedding band was amazing . . . they are called Full Moon Fever and they are a Tom Petty Tribute Band-- I could never stray too far from the dance floor because they managed to play several hours of Tom Petty, each song better than the last . . . and we went from the wedding venue-- Whitney's dad's place on a gold course (or more like IN a golf course) to Aloha Snacks in downtown Virginia Beach-- the shuttle ride was chaotic and claustrophobic but the shuttle did have two stripper poles inside-- people were definitely three sheets to the wind at the afterparty but we did rustle up a game of "Zoom" -- Cat took some video because she had never seen it live . . . it's the reason girls didn't really talk to us in college-- then we took a LONG and SLOW walk back with Zman to our Airbnb on 19th Street-- Catherine's feet were killing her because she had been in heels for seven hours-- the next day, yesterday, was lovely-- we went to the beach twice, in the morning after walking through the ViBe Creative district-- which is full of colorful painted murals and eating some delicious breakfast treats from Prosperity Kitchen and Pantry-- highly recommended . . . especially the pizza and the Vegan chocolate chip cookie, which was suggested to us by the yoga girl in the peach Lululemon outfit-- and then we met Stu and a few others at Atlantic on Pacific for the best happy hour I've ever been to-- it's every day from 3 PM to 6 PM and the deals are fantastic-- then we met the gang on the beach at 58th Street, had a few beers, and walked to the lawn at the Cavalier Hotel before saying good-bye and taking the long walk back to 17th Street, where we got some excellent ice cream at Lolly's Creamery and then went to bed so we could arise early today and beat the traffic . . . and excellent weekend, amazing wedding, congrats to Whitney and Elaine, and it was awesome to catch up with all the folks at the party.
I Also Got Kneed in the Quad
The Tennis Team is Hot
I Should Get My Van License
Beer Gives Me Strength to Carry On
Dave Returns to Normalcy
Yesterday was absurd, but back to normal today: I got up early and finished a new episode of my podcast-- "Stayin' Alive: Could You Survive the Apocalypse? Would You Want To?" and then I walked the dog and collected some very green and moist moss from under the bleachers in the park, to continue propagating my backyard moss garden, next I rode my bike to the pickleball courts, played for a few hours, came home and grilled burgers for the family, and went upstairs for a two-hour nap, and now I've finished my stupid lesson plans for all my classes tomorrow (I teach an extra prep on A days right now) and in a moment I'm going to plant some creeping thyme and then settle in for the Knicks/Pacers game seven (and the Timberwolves/Nuggets Game Seven) . . . today is far better than SuperBowl Sunday.
The American Dream?
Do I Get to Choose This?
A Message for the Children
Teacher Appreciation Week Belated Bonus
I Haven't Felt This Way Since the O.J. Interruption
You Can Buy Weed in California (But Not If You're Too High)
Tiny Houses and Prehistoric Fish
My wife and I attended my cousin Lindsey's wedding in Asbury Park on Friday night-- it was an incredible event in the upper room of Tim McCloone's supper club-- and then we stayed over Friday and Saturday night at a guest house in the quaint and historically restored town of Ocean Grove-- and though the weather was a little wild, we had a great time wandering around the generally gentrified Asbury Park and through the odd Victorian architecture of Ocean Grove-- and we stumbled on a charming tiny house with excellent signage, a historic car show (really historic-- cars from 1903) and a dead, endangered prehistoric fish-- the Atlantic sturgeon-- apparently these things have occasionally been washing up on Jersey beaches.
Carbs = Appreciation
Dave's Lunchtime Planning Bites Him in the Ass
This year, I epically failed at Teacher Appreciation Week: Tuesday the administration bought us sandwiches but I never saw the sign-up email (and I had to take a half day to move Alex out from Rutgers) so I totally missed that and Wednesday Chick-fil-A delivered us a truckload of free chicken sandwiches, but my wife made me a delicious salad with blackened chicken-- so while I tasted a bite of Terry's chicken (first time I ever had Chick-Fil-A . . . pretty good) I didn't go to the cafeteria and procure an entire fried chicken sandwich because I was all full of healthy salad and today our boss bought us these delicious Italian sandwiches from this Italian Deli in Middlesex (Sapore) but I packed a bunch of super-tasty leftover Mexican food from La Casita (although I did manage to eat one little sandwich . . . on top of all the Mexican food, and then I could barely teach Hamlet the last period of the day) so next year I need to plan better (or plan worse!) and not bring lunch all week.
Every Clout Has a Silver Lining
Nietzsche's Eternal Recleaning
You do the dishes-- load the dishwasher, run it, wash the cutting boards, scrub the pots and pans but then-- magically and moments later-- the sink is full of dishes again.
6 Servings Per Container? Bullshit . . .
Fun and Easy Prom Themes
This week, the juniors are voting on next year's prom theme and I'm going to buttonhole the junior class president and spitball some ideas . . . here's what I've come up with so far:
1) Reservoir Dogs warehouse vibe-- easy and cheap (aside from the gruesome clean-up)
2) Grosse Point Blank assassin high school reunion vibe-- ditto . . .
3) Flash Dance and Sweatpants;
4) Toga, toga toga!
Chores are a Bore
Like Shawshank But Reverse
Over the years, I have pilfered a number of large stones from the park by my house to outline my wife's garden and our back fence and my friend Stacey fondly refers to this endeavor as The Reverse-Shawshank-- Andy Dufresne removes rocks from his cell wall tunnel to seek his redemption, while I surround myself with more and more rocks to feel freedom and absolution-- pretty weird and ironic-- but lately, I've been less concerned with rocks and instead I have been purloining MOSS from various secret locations, in an attempt to grow a carpet of moss in the shady areas of my backyard, where grass will not grow . . . and I guess, even though moss is not fungi (it's a non-vascular plant) we're still going to refer to this tactic as the Reverse-Last-of-Us.
Students and Cellphones, Together Forever?
For the first time in years, I had to confiscate a particular student's cellphone-- I've been trying to be diligent about getting the kids to put their phones in the caddy at the front of the room, but some of the kids smuggle them back to their seats, where they place them behind computers and book bags so that they can watch videos and do whatever teenagers do on their phones all-the-fucking-live-long-day-- or the screen addicted give popular rationales such as they need to charge the phone or text their mom or get a particular photo for a project that can only be accessed on their phone and then the next thing you know, they're on Snapchat or TikTok-- it's an exhausting battle and I wish our school would ban the damned things, especially since there is definitive research that phones are making kids dumber AND even if you don't use your phone in class, if someone near you is using their phone, it ruins your concentration as well-- I liken it to smoking-- not only is it bad for you, but it's also bad for the people around you breathing in second-hand-smoke-- and I certainly feel this secondhand effect teaching-- because even though I'm vigilant about not using my own phone in front of the kids-- I really try to set a good example-- but once I suspect a kid is illicitly screwing around with their phone (which shouldn't be on their person to begin with) then I lose concentration-- anyway, it usually doesn't come down to having to confiscate the phone-- that only happens every few years, but when it does, the student (who always seems to be female) inevitably flips out, cries, and curses at me . . . which is why this is such a hard policy to enforce because teens have so much emotional attachment to their phone-- once they freak out I tell them I'm not trained to handle this kind of emotional breakdown and addiction and they need to head to guidance for some guidance-- for example, and the student who had her phone confiscated once showed me that she does 16-18 hours of screen time a day on her phone-- which doesn't even seem possible and definitely requires some kind of professional guidance-- anyway, I get the fact that some teachers give up and don't enforce any kind of cellphone policy, because they're burned out and scared to face these kind of consequences-- but I'm trying to fight the good fight and maybe someday we'll get an administration that has done some reading on this subject and will just outright ban the things-- because they don't belong in school.