Snow day!

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.

Mary Oliver

I love teaching, and even a bad day teaching beats a good day at work. I once played a doctor in real life, and "snow days" meant bringing an extra pair of underwear to the hospital.

I occasionally ask students what they would do with a million dollars--and they are not allowed to invest it. Really no point in making scads of money if you have no idea (beyond surviving) what to do with it.

Snow days are a good day to take inventory--teachers are occasionally blessed with free time. (I am not sure how many teachers get how blessed we are to be in this profession.) How we spend it tells us a bit of who we are and what we want. 

So I cataloged my snow days. Here's what I've done the past couple of days: 

• I scrubbed the labels off about 50 bottles.
• I bottled 5 gallons of beach plum melomel, each plum picked from a couple of backyard bushes.
• I tended to my eggplant and pepper seedlings.
• I shoveled some snow, something I enjoy.
• I read a stupid mystery--I am always reading stupid mysteries.
• I contemplated what I can do better in my classes, finished a set of plans, toyed with a lab. 
• I planned my next melomel--thinking of dropping some vanilla beans in a clover honey mead. (I have 4 empty carboys and only one with a blooping airlock.)

• I chatted outside with neighbors.
• I visited some students.
• I read Science magazine
• I worked on a NYT crossword puzzle.
• I chatted with my local liquor store guy (been going to him for 34 years now) and bought some beer.
• I drank some beer.
• I wrote a blog post (or two), and started two letters. I am not so good at finishing letters.
• I resurrected my Twitter account, only to put it down again. 
• I watched the snow fall.
• I watched the snow melt.

Before I go to bed tonight:

• I'll order a few more seeds.
• I'll plant some lettuce.
• I'll wash some dishes, do some laundry, take out some garbage.
• I'll watch a hockey game with my adult son. I am truly blessed that he still wants to hang out with his Dad.
• I'll dabble some more in school plans--I know I'm supposed to complain about this, but it gives me joy.

And I'll breathe and break down some organic compounds into CO₂ and water, inch a little closer to my final breath, thump a few thousand more heart beats.

How we spend our snow days serves as an accounting of how we spend our lives.

It's a good life.
If you read nothing else today, at least read Mary Oliver's "The Summer Day."