locks, stools and balconies

Dear fellow slicers and any other readers who happen to land on this page,

Congratulations on finishing the month of March 2021. 

For the slicers today is an extra special day. It marks the end of a month long writing challenge that included moments of inspiration and desperation, joy and pain of writing, the anticipation and appreciation of comments, abundance of words and words that went hiding, recognition and surprises, critical nagging on a shoulder and friendly whispers from the heart. Mostly it was time to look back at the days and make choices - choices of what to write about and how to write it. 

The days were not the same. Sometimes the ideas and words flew beautifully, there was so much to say. On other days...not so much. The most amazing thing was that even on the days when writing didn't come easy, we wrote. 

Today I wasn't sure what to write. I decided to finish the DL day, read some slices and see what surfaces. Before the final Google Meet of the day I needed a bit movement. I put on my sneakers and pulled on a jacket, grabbed my keys, called good-bye to my daughter, and went out of the door. Since my daughter was in her room, it was reasonable to lock the door behind me. I put the key in a lock, turned once, started to pull the key out...it was stuck. I tried this way and that, pushing in and pushing out. I did so many times until I realised that none of my actions had intended results. I was locked out of my home. 

I called my daughter letting her know she was locked in. No problem. I called mu husband because I figured he would be home before the locksmiths might arrive and he might be stronger and more skilful than I, and hopefully have some useful tools in his car's trunk. He said he would come in twenty minutes.

Now the question of my final Google Meet. I went outside to see whether I could use my phone there, only to realise that without my glasses I wouldn't see much and it would be rather strange to stand in the courtyard of three apartment buildings and speak to my students in public. 

My daughter came out to the balcony and leaned over the edge to watch me.

"You could climb up and come in," she suggested.

Yes, we live on the first floor and for a nimble gymnast the hight of the balcony would not be a problem. A year away from fifty and some soft padding on my body the climb was not inviting. It was more likely that my attempt would end with me falling flat on my back and breaking some bones. 

Other options?

"I'll give you a stool so you would reach higher and get your foot to the first balcony board for support," my daughter suggested. 

I ice-skate, do yoga, can cartwheel - maybe with some support the gymnast in me could succeed. 

As silly as the situation might have looked to anyone observing from the windows, I was ready to climb in to meet my students. I stepped on the stool, grabbed on to the edge of the balcony, lifted the right foot to the lowest board, stepped on the third wooden board with my left foot, threw the right leg over the edge, heaved myself up and then, voila, I like a butterfly I flew over to the balcony. In reality I might have looked like a stumbling bear, but who cares. I was back inside. 

My daughter slid herself over the edge of the balcony, lifted the stool back to me, and then climbed up without any extra support. 

I went to my Google meet and she went to her math lesson. 

Now we are still both locked in. My husband wasn't able to open the door and the locksmiths said they wouldn't be able to arrive until the evening. 

Locked in during a lock down. Sounds sad but actually I keep bursting into laughter every time I think of the whole situation today. Too funny. 

Vivian Gornick says, "What happened to the writer is not what matters; what matters is the large sense that the writer is able to make of what happened." She speaks of life events and I think the quote applies equally to small moments.

You can understand why I needed to share my lock out story with you today. As writers we will have moments when we feel as if we are locked out of our writing space and we can't access it our usual way. In that case we find a different route. Perhaps with little support and ignoring the silliness of how we might look, we climb back in, and write. 

Today is the last slice of this month long challenge. When I joined the challenge for the first year, I thought I would do it just for a month. I am here eleven years later. Still slicing.

I wish you all many months and years of blogging. Here's to the locks, stools and balconies - or anything else that helps you to write a slice of life. 

Cheers, my friends! I hope you are having a cake!

Happy writing!

See you on Tuesday!

Thirty things that I did not write about

When I started this month's challenge, I wasn't sure how to prepare, or whether I should prepare at all, and just in case I made a list of possible topics, considering it my safety net for the times I couldn't find a slice during a day. And guess what? I used only one thing from the list and therefore now I have a whole list of things I didn't write about. I look back at the posts that I wrote and all of them are the just right posts for those days. I look a the list in the journal and feel that the list deserves a place in this blog also. So this is what I choose to share with you today. 

The thirty things I didn’t write about during the challenge:

1. How I choose books and follow recommendations
2. On learning to ask questions
3. The wise woman and the fool in me
4. Prompts, challenges and invitations
5. The benefits and challenges of writing 100 things on a list
6. 100 things about me as a writer (I wrote a draft in a journal)
7. My pedagogical philosophy
8. Why I can’t clean my bookshelves in Marie Kondo style
9. Experimenting with food vs. everyday meals
10. The benefits of a morning walk
11. Why it is ok to receive socks for Christmas
12. I am not ...
13. Accepting children as they are
14. Stealing like an artist and other advice from Austin Kleon
15. Discovering podcasts
16. Webinars in a living room vs workshops in a café
17. Accepting that I can’t read all the books I wish to read
18. Joy in discovering young people who are smarter than me
19. How waiting long enough makes some tasks disappear
20. Dreaming of alternative mornings
21. Redesigning reports
22. Action as a purpose of learning
23. How getting even one thing done on the to-do-list is a win
24. What the age limit of being a young writer is
25. Not everyone can move to a lake or become a yoga teacher
26. Never too old to ice-skate
27. On turning 49
28. How I have changed as a person over a decade of writing
29. The female leaders of Estonia
30. The power of five minutes

found poem from the comments

If you think of our writing challenge we have received three gifts each day - our own slices, the comments, and the words other people share in their slices. Today feels like the right day to create a found poem with the words I picked form the comments to my slices.

Here's to a month of great writing!

 

we are not alone

our writing souls

friends from across the world

 

in search of inspiration

playfulness and beauty

slowing down and noticing 

focus on the moment

 

journals full 

notes and snippets

all of the details

nuggets of goodness

 

found the joy 

one day at at time

ordinary days are poetic

writing is a comfort

appreciate and celebrate

 

keep that pen nearby 

a Sunday morning after a bd

Sitting on my living room sofa on a Sunday morning, the last of this month, I see the face printouts of Ed Sheeran and three Estonian singers wearing party hats and smiling at me from the opposite wall (my teenager's way to make my bd more festive), and I can't help but smile back. Add to this the three bouquets of tulips and pieces of two left-over cakes from yesterday, then getting a year older feels acceptable (if not to say joyous, but I wouldn't go that far). 

I have long past the time when bd was about gifts. It's all about the people in my life. During last year's lockdown I celebrated only with my hubby, and youngest and oldest daughter. This year's lockdown has also set limits to the celebrations. I am thankful that my mom, sis and little nephew came. I am ok with the limits. I hope that when everyone follows the restrictions, we will have freedom in the summer, and then I will see my middle daughter, my dad, my big nephew and my brother-in-law again. 

I have DL lessons to prepare for the next week. I tuck this thought away. The rest of the family is still sleeping.  An unfinished Moomin puzzle waits on the floor. My daughters started it last night after my sis, mom and nephew left. On a shelf next to the PD books and unread new novels is a colorful book that my little nephew made for me. He stapled a bunch of papers together, drew Sponge Bob characters with details and colors and wrote some text in the direction that made sense to him and might take some deciphering from the readers less experienced with young writer's texts. The sun spills through the large window and lights the room. I savour the slow and quiet of the morning. 

Reflection week 4 + BD

Kitchen without a table is spacious. And strange. My teenager has rolled her office chair to the kitchen and I sit here with the laptop on the windowsill. I have sliced carrots, cucumbers and bell peppers for snack, and a chocolate cake is in the oven. I have wiped the kitchen counters and swept the floor. My hubby is vacuuming the living room carpet. 

Today I celebrate my birthday. Nothing grand. Mom and sis and little nephew will come. This is already rather special. I haven't seen my mom since Christmas. Dad called me and said that he'd rather stay at home, and I understand him. I'll make sure to send him some cake. 

My plan for this week was to keep writing. I succeeded! I was about to say that I daily take a seat on my living room sofa and then realised that currently (during distance learning) my sofa and I are pretty much inseparable, so let me rephrase it. Every day I show up on my blog and write. Towards the end of the challenge the tiredness and writer's block make more appearances and it would be so easy to let go of the writing and commenting. I wrote, and I made my writing sweet with cinnamon rolls, post cards, books, tea, writerly bio and spring. 

I appreciate how the right words (from phone calls, blogs, books, podcasts, comments, and poems) appear at the right time to evoke emotions that run through the body and remind what truly matters in life. 

Wishing you poetic beauty for your weekend!

Slice in Estonian. Recording and translation included

 

Päike paitab pehmelt põske. Vesi vuliseb vaikselt jões. Pardipaar paterdab kaldal. Tihased vilistavad vallatult. Pungad puudel on punnis. Kõnnin kenal kevadhommikul, jalg kerge ja meel helge. Jalutuskäik enne kaugõppe päeva laeb mind energiaga. Tulgu, mis tuleb, prageu on kõik ilus ja rahulik. Rõõmsat kevadet!

English translation:

(I do my best with the translation. Some words and sounds and playfulness get lost. I hope that the light and happy feeling still comes across)

The sun gently stokes my cheek. Water quietly murmurs in the river. A duck couple waddles on the shore. The blue tits whistle playfully. The buds on the branches buldge. I walk on this spring morning, lightness in the feet and brightness in the spirit. A stroll in the morning before the distance learning day charges me with energy. Come hat may, right now everything is beautiful and calm. Happy Spring!

this, that and my writerly bio

(When my mom speaks to me, she sometimes tells me several stories before she gets to the one that she originally wanted to tell. She often uses a phrase "But this is not what I wanted to say." I don't mind it. I am so used to it and sometimes even wait for it, and we both sometimes laugh when she does it with a long string of stories. I noticed that yesterday I did the same with my hubby - instead of getting to the point I had other things to tell first. I felt that this style might be good for today's slice.)  

Yesterday I wrote an invitation for my readers to join for a cup of tea. I myself felt so peaceful and calm in the morning after writing it, happy I had sliced even before the lessons had started, content with the way I had expressed myself. A wonderful start for a day. I had a good plan for the day, a tight and balanced schedule. And then the day started, everything going according to my plan until it wasn't. It took only two emails to shift my mood, my schedules, my balance. More questions than solutions. Colliding perspectives. Added meetings and more emails to write. 

But this is not what I wanted to say.

Once the day ended, I checked my personal email that collects my blog comments. I hadn't even realised how tense I had been all day, until I read the comments and the warmth of the words swelled my eyes. I was surprised at my reaction. I explored it with curiosity, accepting whatever thoughts and feeling surfaced, and there were many, and then I let them go. A brisk walk in fresh air is what I needed. Making dinner was soothing. The day also begged for something sweet. So I baked a chocolate cake with almond flour. 

But this is not what I wanted to say.

I decided to end the day with looking through my journals and drafting a possible slice for today. I saw my  100 things about me as a writer list in my journal. It felt too long for sharing as a slice. I drafted history of my writing life in five sentences as Fran McVeigh shared. The exercise reminded me that I still have a picture book about my dog that I wrote in my English class in fifth grade when I had learned English only for four years. It was the times when computers were not available at school yet, so it is all handwritten with my best squiggly cursive. 

But this is not what I wanted to say.

The strangest exercise I tried was creating my writerly bio from a third person perspective. It's just bizarre to write about oneself like this. Looking at my 100 things as a writer and five sentence writing history I realised that I have had a chance to change my story from believing I am not a writer to the story of being a someone who actually enjoys writing. Shifting the perspective from the personal inside view to looking at myself from aside yielded a rather positive result. I kind of like the writer whose bio I wrote. 

But this is not what I wanted to say.

What I wanted to say is that even though it might sound strange and feel bizarre it is a good exercise to look at your life and yourself and your writing from far and above with a caring view and give yourself some compliments. 

And as we say to our student: go, give it a try.

(My writerly bio: Terje is an experienced educator who discovered writing in her late thirties. She explores the world around and inside her with curiosity, open-mind and caring heart. She likes to experiment and play with ideas and words. From her comfy living room sofa in a little countryside town in Estonia she connects with the global community of bloggers. Together they seek answers to the questions of how to find beauty in the ordinary, seek light and color, create magic, hold happiness, and keep learning and growing. She is always ready to sip tea with her readers.) 

Would you like a cup of tea?

 Dear Reader,

 

Welcome, welcome, to this space today. I am delighted to see you here. How are you? I hope that sunshine and bird song greeted you this morning. If not outside, maybe spring sprouts in your mind and heart. Don’t we all have power to create our own sunshine on rainy days?

 

Would you like a cup of tea? There’s always time for a cup of tea. Especially when you are in a hurry, a cup of tea is exactly what you need to slow down. Perhaps you’d like classical Dragon Well? Or would you rather be adventurous to try green tea with fried rice? A strange combination, I know. A taste I am still getting used to. Buckwheat tea is equally strange. It does indeed taste like the porridge. I have grown to like it. I also have some apple-blackcurrant fusion to offer. According to the tea specialists this is not a tea at all. Neither is peppermint. For me peppermint tastes like summer memory. I can bring some frozen leaves from the fridge. Maybe you would rather prefer white tea or sweet milky oolong? For something stronger I have Red Cliff and English Breakfast and I can use a coffee press to make two cups of coffee. 

 

Have you written today already, or did you decide to visit some other writers first? On some days reading what others wrote is exactly the nudge and inspiration I need to get started. On some days their beautiful writing becomes a tool in my inner critic’s hand in stopping me from writing altogether. How can I possibly add anything to the effectively expressed thoughts, intriguing ideas, delicately painted scenes and eloquently crafted words?  Yes, even after ten years of blogging the critic tries to hinder me. I am glad I have self-compassion on my side to help to move on. Your presence also gives me strength. Knowing that you read my words gives me energy, keeps me going, lifts me up. We are in this writing challenge together. April is approaching. Part of me is ready for the end of the challenge, part of me feels sad that our daily meetings will be over. Let’s make the last few days joyful, full of celebration. 

 

I hope that after drinking tea with me and reading my words, you feel peaceful and warm, 

 

Happy writing and reading!

 

Hugs,

Terje

Never too many books

Click, click, click - buying books is too easy. With a few clicks my online cart had several items in it and with a few more clicks I had paid for the books. Waaay too easy. Less than five minutes. So easy that in addition to buying books from a bookstore chain, I made sure to support my favourite independent book store. A few more clicks and a purchase done. 

This time I was a victim of an advertisement. Not really. When the email from the biggest bookstore chain popped in my inbox, I didn't have to open it. Looking at the discounts, I didn't have to put anything in the cart. Even with things in the cart, I didn't have to pay. I did. I wanted to. I usually delete these emails to avoid temptation. This time, in the midst of Estonia's darker than dark situation with a bright future nowhere to be seen, books are a good solace. Besides I had received my tax return. Doing taxes had also taken a few clicks and less than five minutes. 

Today I got a note from the delivery company that both my packages had arrived. The messages came  right before my first break. Perfect for a little walk to the parcel machine. Five minute walk, a few clicks, five minutes back. The independent bookstore ladies had hand-written "Thank you!" on their parcel. The other parcel had a little spring greeting drawing from my cousin who works in the big bookstore. She had seen may parcel there and added the drawing, letting me know about it through messenger. Happy was written all over my face as I walked home in the sunshine with two parcels under my arms. 

I exercised amazing self-control in not abandoning my work. After giving more lessons, making lunch, and having one more meeting, the opening of the boxes was a celebration. Ten books - two non-ficiton, two fiction, one poetry, one memoir, two self-help, one essay, and one art book. All in Estonian this time. Plenty of reading in case we stay in lockdown until the end of this school year. And if we stay longer, I can always buy more books with a few more clicks. 

Is ten books too many? 

I thought we had agreed in this group that we can never have too many books. 

Postcard puzzle

I have been thinking what to slice about today all day long. An idea came. A perfectly lovely idea. The little critic said no. Another idea arrived. A dreamy one. A firm no from the critic again. When I tried to offer a third idea, the little critic closed its ears. The critic seemed to be in a grumpy mood. I was not. I had a long day. A good day. I had many moments worthy to turn into slices. The critic argued against them. When the ideas from today's lessons nor walks were not good enough, I turned to my journals. Browsing through my journals I showed the critic the various lists I had written and little snippets that could have grown into slices. The critic shook the head so vigorously I worried abuot it falling off the shoulders.  

"Fine. You clearly don't like my ideas. What do you have to offer?" I threw the ball to my little critic. 

The critic doesn't say a word. A little finger lifted and pointed. I followed it's direction.

"You want me to write about the postcards on the bookshelf?" I asked.

A nod.

I didn't know how to slice about the postcards. I didn't want to argue with the little critic. It's always so exhausting. 

I collected the various postcards from the different bookshelves, arranged them into a collage on a couch and took a photo. 

It's going to be a puzzle. I can share where I got the postcards and you can make your best guess which postcard I might be speaking about. I will not give an answer key. Let it remain a puzzle. 

• The oldest postcard is from a 'big sis' who was my welcome person during my student exchange year at Smith College.
• The newest postcard  is from a cafe in one of the Estonian summer resorts. My hubby and I go there every time we visit the seaside town.
• I got two postcards from Helsinki.
• One postcard is from a London't National Portrait Gallery. Portrait award 2018.
• One of the postcards is a gift from a friend. She said that the card seemed to fit me.
• I found one of the postcards hanging on a window display in a small postcard shop in Old Tallinn. 
• One of the cards came home with me from an exhibition from the Children's Literature Centre.
• In addition to one of the postcards I bought a whole big expensive book after I visited one exhibition five times in Fotografiska.
• One of the postcards was on a display in Home and Art shop in Telliskivi Creative Centre.

The critic is happy now. A strange creature. 

The text on one postcard says: The kind of person who eats pancakes and jam cannot be too dangerous. 

one sentence slice

(Thank you, Kevin, for the idea to write a slice in one sentence.)

The smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls wakes up my daughters on Sunday morning. 

Reflection week 3

Spring started today. Really? There were no signs of it when I ploughed through the snow like on a polar expedition, hunching and pulling my hood down to protect my face from the snow slapping on my face. The blizzard had wiped all the footsteps of anyone who might have been on the road before me. Then again all sensible people had probably stayed inside. The only other person I saw far away was a dog walker. I was out because my body needed movement after participating in a day long webinar. Here again, reasonable people would probably not add hours of webinar to their Saturday schedule after a week of distance learning. Participating in this month long daily writing challenge had already proved that I might not be the most reasonable person. I am happy though. Happy to learn. Happy to walk. Happy to write. I am back on my living room sofa.  

I celebrate that I am still keeping up with the daily writing. I celebrate that I introduced SOL to my students. I am impressed with the learning spirit my kids are showing. I haven't heard a single complaint or a second of whining. I celebrate that I was able to write posts other than distance learning, including humour, art and poetry, and joining Leigh Anne's party. 

My plan for this week was to seek balance during the distance learning week. Failed with this. For writing, I didn't have a plan other than not quitting. Succeeded with that. I relied on some old favourite and safe ways of writing - ::right now and book spine poem. 

I appreciate the way slicers offer ideas, prompts and forms for inspiration. I appreciate that people keep showing up on their blogs even when they are exhausted. I appreciate that people take the time to comment besides writing own slices. All of this gives strength to continue slicing. We are two thirds done with the challenge. Eleven more days to go. We can make it!

Wishing you a sweet Sunday! Write a slice of life! Eat a slice of cake! 

 

Book Spine poem

Tired from the first week of distance learning, brain cells burnt from screen staring, I have reached the place where my own ideas and words are on a strike. Fortunately, they don't mind if I play with words already written. 

Book spine poetry time!

The books on the shelf, as if sensing how much I need their help, generously offer their titles. The wordless feeling inside me guides my search. Mostly English titles, some old, some fresh, and one Estonian title (with an author with the same first name as mine) cooperatively leave their comfy home spots and wait for my guidance. I pile them on top of each other, adjust them to centre the titles and snap a photo.  

Looking at the photo, I realise that the books speak the truth. Art matters. I am glad I am writing. I am glad I played with the titles today. Though after this week I need the wintering and calm to restore, it is the  art that becomes the tipping point in restoring me.

This is what I can offer today.

This book spine poem is joining the other ones from past years.

Wintering

Calm

Restart

The Artist's Way

The Tipping Point

Untamed

Art Matters

Right now

I got a writing nudge from two places - Aggie's "currently" post and Tammy's #10min10day invitation for Right Now.. prompt. I am a big fan of writing in the moment. I have written one Right Now post every SOLSC.

So today is the day for it this month. I looked at last year's post and could have kept several lines from it. I'll keep the first line. Starting with a place.

Right now I am:

:: sitting on a living room sofa/classroom/writing office

:: drinking tea gone cold 

:: wondering how it was possible to forget how exhausting DL days can be

:: adding up today's screen time for the sum of more than five hours

:: watching a webinar about changes in Erasmus+ projects 

:: knowing that I need the information from the webinar to finish one project

:: regretting signing up to the webinar 

:: understanding that the webinar is helpful and necessary

:: hoping that the webinar will end soon so I can go for a walk

:: appreciating the turn off your camera and mic feature

:: switching between the webinar and this post

:: feeling my back and neck getting stiff from too much sofa time

:: crossing items off my to do list

:: noticing that I have been surprisingly productive

:: realizing that I haven't uploaded two tasks on the SeeSaw

:: remembering more things I should do before the weekend

:: adding items to my to do list

:: wishing to get rid of the to do list

:: looking forward to the weekend without Google Meet lessons

:: forgiving myself for losing my attention from the speaker 

:: deciding to finish this post

  

Joining Leigh Anne's party

I waited for Leigh Anne’s annual party. And I had all the things ready. The best ones. I had a box of handmade chocolate from Chocolala, several choices of quality tea from Chado, and tubs of organic ice-cream from LaMuu. A wise woman advised that in the topsy-turvy world and times that we live in we should treat ourselves with the best products possible because it makes us happy and we are worth it. 

And then I read that I have to bring my ID*. 

Bummer! No food and drinks? ID instead?

This might be a challenge, because I am not sure I know what my true identity is. I am searching for it outside and inside me. 

I waited for magical help to appear like in fairytales. In vain. No wand nor potions to help me out. And I would not go the criminal way to make a fake ID. 

 

Worried that I might not be allowed to a party without ID, I went on a deep search through my history and experiences. 

 

Depending on when you met me, I might have been: a pioneer at a parade in Tallinn, a gymnast doing a split, a village mailman on a bike, a flower shop helper in Gjennestad Gartnerskole, a first year university student teaching sixth grade English, an exchange student at Smith College in Massachusetts, a juggling multi-tasker finding balance between work and home, a reader buying books in various bookshops in European cities, a teacher drinking tea with a Buddhist monk and two school directors in a monastery in Beijing, a writer on artist dates in museums and exhibitions, an invisible middle-aged woman.

 

This ID might have expired, so I kept looking for a fresher one. I dug into the corners of my heart and mind, and there it was – my current ID, likely a subject for a change in the future.

 

Depending on when you meet me, I might be: a caring fairy, an old wise woman, a little girl who wonders whether she is good enough, a stubborn hedgehog, a cartwheeling free spirit, a dancing giraffe, a dragon hunter on a mission, a sleepy sloth, a creative spirit, a beautiful stranger. 

 

Gathering my ID, chocolate, tea and ice-cream, I am ready to go. 

Let’s party!

* The mentor text that Leigh Anne shared was “Depending On When You Met Me” by Devon Gundry, Soul Pancake

Thoughts from a photo exhibition

I stood alone in the basement of a photo museum. A different portrait versions of the same woman looked at me from the white walls. Colorful clothes, high heel shoes, bold make-up, large glasses, variety of props caught attention. Vibrance, confidence, playfulness, joy, spunk - these words describe the photos and the woman posing. These are not the words that usually come to mind when you think of retired people or grandmothers. The model in this exhibition is seventy years old.  

I thought of my grandma. People got old early during the soviet times. There might have been some older ladies in the city for whom appearances mattered. The countryside people had other things to worry about. Life was mostly work, work, work. Looks didn't matter there. My grandma had some Sunday church dresses that were made from a special fabric her sister had sent from Sweden. I do not remember her ever wearing make-up and her hair was always hidden under a scarf. She died when I was fourteen. In my memory she was a serious woman, always busy doing something. 

My mother is a different grandma. She has variety of clothes, some rather sparkly and joyful. She likes to get her hair done and has quite a collection of eyeshadows. She feels equally comfortable in sneakers and sporty jacket when taking a two hour hike or in a shiny red dress and high heels when going to opera, and since the latter has been put on hold until the world opens up again, she can dress up even for at home independence day celebration.  My mom is seventy-five and fortunately has learned to relax and enjoy life. 

The photos in the exhibition showed how the looks can change the identity and spirit of a person. The whole photo project started with one Estonian woman moving to London where her sister and mother were living already. The mother was depressed - no language, no friends, no job. Trying to cheer up the mother the woman gave her a new hair cut, bought some colourful dresses from a second-hand shop, gave her a make up and took photos. The mom and daughter both enjoyed the process and the result and decided to continue the project.  One of the photos won the Portrait of Britain 2019 competition and was displayed in the London's Portrait gallery. A photo after a photo the mom climbed out of the depression. 

I was glad that I went to the exhibition before the country closed down again. Standing in the basement surrounded by the photos, knowing the story behind them, remembering my grandma and thinking of my mom, I hope that in decades to come, I will dare to wear colorful clothes and actively seek joy.  

The winning portrait. 

what makes a teenager laugh

Sitting on my living room sofa, I wait for my students to arrive on the Google Meet for Slice of Life introduction lesson. I have my journals next to me with pages marked and several of my blog posts open in the tab bar. 

My teenager has chosen to work in the kitchen today. Since we don't currently have a kitchen table she has set her laptop and journal on the counter between a sink and a fruit basket. Several books, journals and writing utensils spread lazily on the windowsill. 

I speak to my lovely learners about my experience with Slice of Life challenge, explain how they can write about ordinary things and small moments, share pages of my journals with lists for possible topics and some drafts of slices. Then I read one short slice and a beginning of a reflection.

I can hear how in the kitchen the teenager moans and complains of not understanding what to do when the mic is off and then transforms into a diligent student when she has to answer the teacher's questions. I feel for her. I wouldn't be able to help her either. I have forgotten whatever I learned in ninth grade about molar mass and molar volume.

I send my students off to write and I hear how my daughter's chemistry teacher says goodbye.  

I go to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. My daughter is writing something in her journal. I fill the kettle with water and wait for it to boil when my daughter chuckles. First very softly and then louder. 

I look at her quizzically.

"Slice of life. Who writes my thighs tingle?" she laughs.

"This is how you say it. What's funny?" I don't get it. I know she is referring to sentence form my reflection, but I don't see anything funny there. 

"Thighs tingle. Thighs. Tingle. Tingle thighs. This is the funniest thing I have heard all day," she can't stop laughing.

"Stop it. Don't laugh at my writing. You shouldn't have listened. You should have focused on chemistry," I tell her.

Laughing heartily, she almost falls off a chair. 

I consider leaving her without dinner. 

But then again, a teenager laughing is a good thing. 

*My daughter read this slice and said that I am a drama queen and exaggerate mightily. 

planning and self care

Impressive. I am happy for Lisa, I thought, reading how she planned out the rest of her school year and banished the feeling of being overwhelmed. She considered this a wonderful form of self-care. She felt organised, ready and excited. 

I have a plan for the four weeks of distance learning, and more if needed. Starting the second lock down exactly at the same time as last year, I have resources I can use and don't have to create everything from scratch. I have next week's plan in place, tomorrow's schedule uploaded to Google Docs, links to my own and specialist Google Meets included, activities posted on SeeSaw. I have a personal schedule with breaks and a to-do-list created. I know what I am cooking for lunch and dinner. I am organised and ready.

I took steps for self-care today. I know that mindfulness is good for my mind. So I listened to the Calm app daily meditation in the morning. I know that movement is good for my body. So I followed an instruction on Asana Rebel. I know that walking in the fresh air is healthy. So I walked my usual route in my little home town. I know that connecting with friends is good for the soul. So I joined a Google Meet. We. spoke for two hours. 

Yet, my mind is restless, and somewhere lodged in my stomach is a feeling I can't properly name. Having been through the distance learning once I am sure it will be ok; I fully agree with the government's decision to impose the lock down; I can list the positive sides of the distance learning; yet, I can't fully relax and smile only. I need a bit more time to banish my feelings of restlessness and the knot in my stomach. 

Lisa said that being organised is better self care for her than a bubble bath or eating a cake. 

I think I need a heavier dose of self care, including a bubble bath and eating a cake. 

I appreciate that my daughter is willing to give me a handmade strawberry smelling solid bubble bath piece and my hubby has agreed to bake a cherry and marzipan sponge cake. 

Reflection week 2

Saturday morning silence and my sofa's softness sign that I am in the right place at the right time ready to write my weekly reflection for the SOLSC writing challenge. I haven't made a cup of tea yet. Still in my PJs, I snuck out of the bedroom to write before my husband and daughter wake up. It's past nine o'clock already. 

I celebrate that I have kept my calm during the week of going for a second lock down. I can't figure out whether it is worse to be in a lock down for a whole year or to have experienced some normal life and then being forced to a second lockdown. I am still working on how to keep the positivity. I celebrate completing the first full day of distance learning with my fourth graders. I celebrate my lovely learners who showed good self-management skills and creative thinking. I celebrate my wonderful colleagues who showed patience and flexibility as we smoothed out some glitches in the DL schedules. I celebrate the phone calls with my mom, sis, and adult daughters. I celebrate the comfort of being together with my hubby and teenage daughter. She has matured and so has our relationship. I celebrate that I take the time to walk and write. Like last March showed, for me writing and reading are vital in keeping my sanity and finding the joy.  

My plan for this week was to focus on school slices. The week before, during the winter holidays, the days felt free and fluid, allowing to take time for writing, choosing and playing with topics and styles. Returning to school on Monday I thought of observing my kids and collecting slices from the ordinary days at school. By the end of Monday this plan flew out of the window because of the lock down announcement. (The government doesn't call it a state of emergency but it is very much like that.) A shadow of this lingers over all my posts. I made an effort not to be too dark and still look for at least a small nugget of good, like a piece of chocolate or a bag of books. Another unexpected thing was to receive an invitation to slice in my home language. I blog in English and writing a post in Estonian was a fascinating experience yesterday. I wrote it early morning before distance learning and it was short. In my journals I have writing both in English and Estonian. 

I appreciate the empathy in the comments. I didn't realise how much I needed it until I read and the caring words helped me to breathe slower and gather myself. I appreciate that slicers write about their life with raw honesty, revealing their different feelings and thoughts, reminding me that it is ok to experience all the emotions. I appreciate that the slicers reflect, sharing their lessons learned and creative solutions in tricky situations. I appreciate that slicers seek joy and humour and hope, showing ways to find strength. I appreciate that the slicers write about the ordinary. I have become to appreciate the ordinary more and more. 

Wishing everyone a weekend of finding what you need, whether reading what others shared or letting your own words become a journey of discovery.

It took me almost an hour to write this. I am thankful for Saturday and that my family loves sleeping in. My stomach is growling though. 

Slice of life (in Estonian)

Tuul tuuseldab õues, tirib tigedalt oksaraod puudelt ja loobib lund laiali. Vingub ja viriseb, vist röögikski, kui häält oleks. Kõik poevad peitu. Koerad ja kaarnadki peavad paremaks vaikselt varjuda. 

 

Mina teen endale tassikese teed ja istun diivanile. Soe ja hubane, valge ja vaikne, naudin hetke kodus, enne kui algab mu kaugõppe koolipäev. 

 

Punased tulbid vaasis lubavad kevade tulekut. 

(translation in English)

You can listen to the recording here: