Dealing with Addiction

 

Wednesday, August 15, 2012 – Dealing with Addiction

I debated with myself for quite awhile before deciding to go ahead with that title.  Addicition is a serious topic, and I hadn’t anticipated writing about it when I started blogging.  I was fortunate in that I never had a problem with alcohol or street drugs.  My familiarity with addiction was based exclusively on hearing the stories of others – or so I thought.

I’d better start at the beginning.  It all began several years ago, in March of 2007, to be exact.  Part way through a nightmarish school year (nightmarish for several reasons, most of them related to changes in the administration at AHS), I found myself exhibiting signs of clinical depression, a diagnosis I made with the help of my brother, a psychiatrist.  He recommended an anti-depressant.  I was willing to try just about anything to help me get through this difficult period, so I started taking a daily dose of Effexor XR. 

The good news is that those pills really worked.  No matter how crazy things got at school, I felt like I could cope.  Since I felt fine on the medication, I continued taking it although, over the years, I suspected that I had become psychologically dependent on the drug.  The bad news is that I never considered the possibility that I might develop a chemical dependency, i.e. a true addiction. 

Fast forward to early 2012 when I became a new retiree.  My life, while not stress-free, seemed manageable.  I hadn’t felt any twinges of depression in months or years.  So I thought to myself, this would be a good time to give up those little pills.  And the summer, after the excitement of Elliott’s big birthday celebration had died down, would be the ideal time to quit.  My brother and my family doctor concurred. They drew out a plan for reducing the dosage gradually over the course of a month.  I marked the dates on my calendar, not anticipating any difficulties.  The withdrawal process got underway in mid-July.  Last Saturday, August 11, I swallowed my last “happy pill” and congratulated myself on making a successful transition to anti-depressant-free living. 

My euphoria didn’t last long.  Within 48 hours, I started experiencing some disturbing symptoms.  Most alarming was the feeling of lightheadedness that persisted throughout the day on Monday.  Since it intensified with motion, I found myself trying to minimize all movements.  Driving became problematic, particularly when I had to turn my head.  Soon after the lightheadedness appeared, I noticed other symptoms:  inexplicable muscle aches and pains, crazy dreams, anxiety, insomnia, and just a vague sense of malaise.  However, since I wasn’t depressed, I never thought these symptoms might be related to the withdrawal from my anti-depressant.

You may remember that I blogged about how I stayed up very late last Friday night with an unfamiliar hyperactive feeling.  That was minor compared to Monday night when I couldn’t fall asleep at all.  Everything seemed to worry me, and I finally got out of bed (for good) at 2:15 a.m.  Elliott was awake at the time (stomachache, back pain, etc.), and I told him I was tempted to order a pizza.  Yes, I was ravenously hungry.  But instead of giving in to my craving, I read a library book (Pax Ethnica), cleaned up some papers on my desk, and looked at maps of San Francisco on the computer.  After an hour, I wasn’t even starting to feel sleepy and I couldn’t ignore my hunger anymore.  I had a bowl of Cheerios and felt ready to start the day’s work.  Shortly before 6, I went out in the pouring rain to pick up the newspaper from the driveway.  I put a big pot of red lentils on the stove to cook with ginger, garlic, and exotic spices.  By the time Elliott awoke around 7, the house smelled like an Indian restaurant.  I still wasn’t tired, but I was totally baffled.  I’d have to call the doctor as soon as the office opened. 

In the meantime, after downing a second (or third?) breakfast, I sat down at the computer and googled Effexor XR withdrawal symptoms.  And there it was, a list of all the complaints that had been plaguing me.  I felt a sense of shock, quickly followed by relief that the mystery was solved.  I wasn’t suffering from a dread disease after all.  Rather, I’d become addicted to the Effexor and was having a pretty normal case of withdrawal.  And the symptoms, while certainly distressing, would be temporary. 

Fortunately, I made this discovery just prior to my lunch date with Elliott on Tuesday.  It’s DC Restaurant Week, and we’re doing our best to support the local economy.   The restaurant we chose, 2941, is not far from home but seems worlds away.  Tucked into a park-like setting, 2941 qualifies as a “special occasion” destination.  We’ve celebrated several birthdays and anniversaries here.  A perfect mingling of modernity and elegance, the restaurant features an imaginative menu using ingredients of the highest quality.  

  

Both of us started with the salad of heirloom tomatoes, tomato gelée, creamy burrata cheese and grilled red onion in a perfectly balanced vinaigrette.  For the second course, Elliott ordered the pork loin with peaches on a bed of polenta with arugula.  My choice was a seafood risotto with cod confit (salt cod) and delicate rings of tiny squid.  The desserts were amazing:  chocolate napoleon (a flourless creation) accompanied by housemade blueberry sorbet; and a deconstructed peach “cheesecake” enhanced by flavors of maple and pecans.  A pair of complimentary citrus-glazed beignets arrived with the check.  All in all, it was a scrumptious and totally satisfying meal.  

After lunch, I had enough energy to work with Elliott in our downstairs studio.  We’re exploring ideas and making sketches for a new series of paintings, which I’m tentatively calling The Why Question.  You’ll understand why when you see them.  Elliott’s vision still hasn’t cleared up completely, but he is healing well.  On Monday, the surgeon assured him that the blurriness was due to the antibiotic ointment he has to continue using in his eyes for another week or so.  The remaining stitches will be removed on the 28^th of August, just in time for the Labor Day weekend festivities (a couple of parties). 

The lightheadedness had subsided further by Wednesday morning, enough for me to venture outside for a mini-trek through the woods.  Decked out in my trail clothes and wearing fashionable yellow stretchy anti-mosquito coils on both wrists, I headed into the forest for twenty minutes or so of mindful walking.  I was grateful that my withdrawal was going well, and the experience has given me a newfound appreciation for the struggles of those working to overcome addiction to any substance.  

One day at a time, one step at a time, I thought as I made my way through the woods, past the plentiful reminders of the extreme storms that have torn through our area over the past couple of months.  Massive trunks and limbs littered the forest floor, and tall trees leaned precariously overhead.  I made it home safely, and noticed some storm-related damage right in our front yard:  the wooden house number sign, split in half and left dangling.  Hmmm, could this be a not-so-subtle hint that we should consider relocating?  

A Weekend by the Water

 

Monday, August 13, 2012 – A Weekend by the Water

Good news!  I found a way to escape for a few days by the water.  The water I’m referring to wasn’t the Atlantic Ocean, Chesapeake Bay, or the Potomac River.  It definitely wasn’t the bathtub, either.  I spent much of the weekend beside the Mediterranean Sea, in the company of my dear friend Joel, AKA The Idiot.  You’ll understand that somewhat unusual moniker shortly. (ESOL students, please note:  AKA = also known as; moniker is just a fancy word for nickname.) 

Joel, whom Elliott and I have known since we all lived in the South of France in the 1980s, decided to mark his fiftieth birthday by embarking on a major travel project:  a walk around the entire perimeter of the Mediterranean, a trip he dubbed his MedTrek.  His life-long interest in the Homeric tales of ancient Greece (remember The Iliad and The Odyssey?) partially inspired this ambitious undertaking in which he would try to follow the path of Odysseus.  A journalist by profession, Joel also decided to write about his adventures.  And he (or someone) came up with the perfect title for his chronicle:  The Idiot and the Odyssey.  You can check out Joel's blog, Follow the Idiot, for up-to-date reports from the trek.

Joel’s MedTrek officially began in 1998, when he set out on a counter-clockwise course from the South of France.  Fourteen years later, there is still no end in sight for the seaside schlep.  (Note to ESOL students:  schlep is a Yiddish word for trek or hike.)  However, somewhere along the line, Joel thought it was time to turn his blog into a book, also entitled The Idiot and The Odyssey.  Since I’ve done a lot of writing myself, I offered to take a look at an early draft of the manuscript.  As you can see from the photo below, the book was eventually published, leading Joel to interrupt his trek in order to devote his time to a lengthy promotional tour. 

All set for my weekend trek along the Med, accompanied by The Idiot

Brief commercial message:  More than a mere travelogue of fascinating sights and towns along the Mediterranean coast, Joel Stratte-McClure’s The Idiot and the Odyssey contains wildly entertaining anecdotes and enlightening references to Homer (naturally) and Thich Nhat Hanh (Joel has been a student of Buddhism for years).  There is plentiful self-reflection, with parallels drawn between Odysseus’ wanderings and Joel’s life story. The Idiot and the Odyssey is available through Amazon.   End of commercial message. 

Joel eventually resumed his MedTreking, this time taking a clockwise route that began in Italy.  On several occasions, he asked Elliott and me to join him for part of the walk.  As tempting as the invitation was, we had to decline.  But I was delighted when he asked me to do some editing of his follow-up book not long ago.  It gave me a chance to participate in the MedTrek without even lacing up my hiking boots.

And that’s how I managed to escape this past weekend.  With Joel as my guide, I MedTrekked along the stunning coast of Italy.  In fact, I was so enthusiastic that I walked all the way from the outskirts of Rome to Calabria, located at the tip of the boot.  And I managed to send back five chapters with my comments and commas (don’t they teach punctuation anymore?) flagged in red.  No wonder I’m exhausted.

After a trek of several hundred kilometers over the sand and rocks, it was a relief to be on our neighbors’ grassy front lawn for a late Sunday afternoon happy hour.  Despite the mostly cloudy skies, I set my new sunhat on my head and trekked over to Bud and Pam’s for the impromptu gathering.  I brought along Elliott, my favorite quinoa/black bean/corn chips, a jar of salsa, and half a bottle of heart-healthy red wine.  By the way, my latest Wine of the Week selection is Rex Goliath Merlot, which I found at Wegman’s for $4.99.  As a certified wine expert, I’d describe this wine as … yummy. 

New House Rules

 

Saturday, August 11, 2012 – New House Rules

The first new house rule is: No computers after 9:00 pm.  I’ve instituted this rule because I found myself so hyped up, so mesmerized by my computer screen, that I couldn’t tear myself away when it was time to get ready for bed last night.  It started out as some casual googling of Savannah as a possible travel destination.  After I’d found transportation (Amtrak from Alexandria gets to Savannah in a little over ten hours) and a reasonably priced hotel in the historic district, Elliott came to see what I was doing.  When he wasn’t instantly enthusiastic about making immediate reservations, I got very impatient.  If he wouldn’t commit to a Savannah trip in October, where would he like to go?  How about that North Carolina road trip we’d been talking about?  There’s a furniture factory in a small town somewhere in North Carolina that he’s dying to visit.  Let’s find that on Google maps.  And everyone seems to be going to Asheville these days.  What’s going on in Asheville to make it so popular?  What’s the elevation there?  How far is Asheville from Hickory, where our friend Katherine lives?  Oh, and we have family members in Greensboro and Raleigh.  How would we get there from Virginia?  Where would we stop along the way?  What’s the average temperature in different months? As you can see, it just snowballed out of control.  I sensed that it was getting late, but I avoided looking at the upper right hand corner of the screen where the time is posted.  Usually by 10 p.m., I’m well on my way to dreamland, but last night. I wasn’t sleepy at all.  I was super-charged – and without an energy bar to blame for my hyperactive mental state, I have to blame it on that glowing screen. 

The second new house rule is related to rule #1:  No computers before breakfast.  Sigh.  This is a rule that I’ll never be able to keep.  In fact, I’ve already broken it today since I’m typing this while waiting for my oatmeal to cool.  Unless I want oatmeal with the texture of concrete, I’d better get back into the kitchen, but not before I formally amend this rule.  It will now read:  No email or Facebook before breakfast. 

The third new house rule applies to food:  If you don’t want to eat it, get it out of the house immediately.  I can proudly say that I abided by this rule today.  Right after breakfast, I rushed out to the Fairfax City farmers’ market to get a few items for our mid-morning visitors.  Helen and Arthur, friends from last February’s Road Scholar trip, were vacationing in the DC area and were going to stop by around 10.  Of course, I needed something to offer them along with coffee or tea.  Here’s what I brought back from the market:  an enormous Virginia-grown cantaloupe, a couple of Argentinean empanadas (filled with spinach and ricotta), two scones (raspberry and blueberry), and an apple turnover – plus a head of electrified hair, thanks to the humidity.  Helen and Arthur brought along more sweet treats.  We all nibbled politely during their visit.  However, when they left, there was a dangerous amount of food remaining on the table.  I didn’t hesitate.  Plates in hand, I walked right over to three different neighbors and managed to off-load every single item.  Only some lonely crumbs remained.  (Confession time – when I got home, I licked those crumbs off the empty plates.)

Wrapping up a Busy Week

Friday, August 10, 2012 - Wrapping up a Busy Week

The past few days have been busy and productive.  First of all, I acquired a new weapon in the war on frizz.  And it was on sale – originally priced at $49, but I only paid $15 at J. Jill.  The new wide-brimmed hat proudly takes its place among the arsenal in my closet. 

But that’s not all I did on Wednesday.  The day started with a quick trip to Trader Joe’s – and a possible new career.  While I was in the checkout line, I overheard the conversation between the checker-outer and the customer in front of me.  It seems that large grocery stores pay their employees well.  Department managers earn close to $40 an hour and store managers earn over $100,000 a year.  Hmm, is it too late for me to start a new career?  Probably, but this is the kind of information I wish I had passed on to my students.  So many of them need to know about career paths that don’t require a college degree.  (Fairfax County Public Schools still clings to the idea that all students should go on to college after they graduate from high school.  I’ve long felt that such a narrow-minded outlook is unrealistic.  Among my ESOL colleagues, this has been a topic of ongoing discussion ever since I started teaching.)

Anyway, I was at Trader Joe’s Wednesday morning to start gathering supplies for Thursday’s lunch for the Ashleys.  I spent the latter part of the afternoon and most of the evening hours in the kitchen.  Of course, I could have opted for a simple menu.  It’s not as if I’m competing on some Top Chef program.  But I still see every meal as an opportunity to excel, particularly when I know my guests recognize interesting and healthy food.  Therefore, I chose to serve a meal that required some advance preparation.  The chilled summer vegetable soup, the farro and fennel salad, the roasted veggies – all were in the refrigerator by the time I tore off my apron and fell into bed Wednesday night. (Note to Elliott:  We must find a way to keep the temperature in the kitchen from climbing up over 80 degrees.)

When I woke up Thursday morning, I rushed off to Lifetime for an energizing run on the elliptical machine, then rushed back home and tied on my apron once again.  In addition to Wednesday’s items, I put together a platter of crudités to serve with TJ’s white bean and basil hummus; set out whole-grain bread, crackers, cheeses and sliced turkey breast; assembled up a salad of baby spinach, chevre, minced red onion, and roasted sunflower seeds (to be tossed with sherry vinaigrette at the last minute); and mixed together a colorful mélange of fruit (peaches, blueberries, raspberries), plus toasted coconut, for the make-your-own yogurt parfaits.  The table was set and I was feeling serene when our guests arrived shortly before noon.  In the photo, the deep fuschia is the chilled borscht (a big hit).  Thanks to Marie-Claude, Peter, and Darren for their appreciative appetites and comments.  It’s always fun to be together, especially when food is involved.  

Miraculously, the post-lunch cleanup was nearly finished by 2:30 p.m. when I left for my weekly Girls’ Day Out adventure.  This time, our group was small (just AHS librarian Janet and me), but we didn’t let that deter us.  Our plan was to go into DC and take in the George Bellows exhibit at the National Gallery.  Originally, I wasn’t particularly interested in seeing this show.  I’d always associated Bellows with his paintings of boxers, a subject that holds absolutely no attraction for me.  But the listing in The Washington Post mentioned a variety of other subjects, including street life in New York City, so I was willing to give it a try.

And, to my delight, the Bellows exhibit turned out to be quite a revelation.  We started off by viewing a very enlightening and enjoyable 30-minute documentary, which covered Bellows’ life and helped place his work in a historical context.  One striking example was his series of paintings chronicling the construction of New York’s Penn Station, from the gaping excavation site, to the work at various stages during the mammoth construction project, finally the completed structure.  I wish I could have shared this show with my students, since we study those early decades of the 20^th century, a time of industrialization, urbanization, and immigration. 

Bellows’ desire to paint the growing city and the lives of its poorest residents reminded me of Jacob Riis, who let his camera and pen tell the world about the plight of the immigrants and urban poor during the same time period.  There was an element of the grotesque in the way Bellows painted the faces of street urchins and young laborers, almost as if he wanted to acknowledge the dehumanizing nature of their living and working conditions. 

In all of his paintings, there was a wonderful handling of light as well as bold and energetic brushwork.  The paintings were bursting with life, and had an immediacy that pulled the viewer in, whatever the subject:  a construction site, ringside seats at a boxing match, a crowded city street, a sunny day at Coney Island, a snow-covered cottage in Woodstock, NY, an island off Maine’s rocky coast of Maine, to name just a few.  You could hear the clangs and booms of the construction equipment, the shouts of the raucous crowd and the squeals of children at the beach.  You could smell the fumes of industry and the sweat of unwashed humanity.  Your eyes would blink from the glare of the sun on the snow or sea.  In fact, I call his paintings from Monhegan Island in Maine the “crash and splash” series.  Standing in front of them, I could hear the waves breaking on the rocks and feel the salt spray. 

I came away from the show with a much greater appreciation for the work of this American artist.  The vigor and vitality of his work clearly showed how much Bellows loved painting and how much he loved life.  Unfortunately, he died at the age of 42 from a ruptured appendix.  One can only imagine what Bellows would have created if he had been granted more years.  If you have any interest in art, don’t miss this exhibit.  It will be at the National Gallery in DC until early October.  Then it travels to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, where it opens in mid-November. 

Janet and I didn’t have time to linger in Bellows exhibit.  As the 5 o’clock closing time was approaching, guards were whisking everyone out the door.  We ended up at nearby 701 (the restaurant) for a Happy Hour dinner – red wine, crispy calamari, stuffed mushrooms, and an imaginative salad of heirloom tomatoes and peaches.  It was still light and the temperatures had moderated somewhat when we strolled back to the Metro shortly after 7:00 p.m.  Despite the late hour, the sidewalks were full of crowds of tourists.  The clouds were thickening and the sky was darkening by the time our train pulled into the Dunn Loring station – a portent of the rainy forecast for Friday. 

Sure enough, I heard rain during the night.  I fell back asleep contentedly, knowing that Friday would be a relatively calm day for me.  When the alarm went off this morning at 7, it woke me out of a bilingual dream.  I’ve dreamed in French before (several times), but this dream was in Spanish and English, a reminder that the school year would soon begin.  In fact, I can still hear a voice in the dream asking, “Estoy lista?” 

Are you ready?  I pondered that as I fried an egg in coconut oil and sipped green tea with açai berries.  The rain was falling gently.  It was a minute before 8 and Elliott was already on the phone with the pain center.  Yes, I thought.  I knew with absolute certainty:  I’m ready for whatever lies ahead. 

Thompson Wins Gold!

 

Tuesday, August 7, 2012 – Thompson Wins Gold!

Elliott Thompson getting ready for the mall-walking competition.

Thompson's winning form.

Thompson at the finish line.

American Elliott Thompson triumphed today in his quest for Olympic gold.  Thompson, a centenarian from Fairfax, Virginia, was a favorite to win the mall-walking competition, held at Fair Oaks Mall.  Even though recent surgery on his eyelids cut into his training schedule, Thompson relied on his will to win and crossed the finish line without getting out of breath.  After declaring victory, he celebrated by diving into a bin of his favorite gold-wrapped candies in the bulk candy aisle at Wegman’s.  

Celebrating his victory.

According to his manager, coach, and life partner, Robin Thompson, Elliott began competing seriously only a few years ago but immediately showed remarkable potential.   She also noted that she is engaged in top-secret (shhh) talks with General Mills and other major corporations.  However, she would not confirm reports that Elliott Thompson will appear on Cheerios boxes.  Sources say he is also considering endorsement deals for Nabisco graham crackers and saltines, two of the food items that contributed to his success. 

In a related story, Robin Thompson, won her own medal yesterday in the Olympic errand running competition after months of grueling preparation.  Not interested in sports in her younger years, she became an Olympic caliber athlete only after turning sixty.  She recently said the breakthrough occurred when she started wearing her workout clothes while running errands.  “Once I overcame that feeling of self-consciousness about wearing my gym clothes out of the gym, nothing could stop me.” 

Elliott spent the afternoon following his inspiring mall-walk resting up at home.  Robin chose to celebrate with lunch at Asian Bistro in Fairfax City.  Both Thompsons have already promised that they’ll be back for the next Olympic games.  Congratulations to a pair of true champions. 

with Kathy at Asian Bistro

A (Not Very) Scientific Experiment

 

Sunday, August 5, 2012 – A (Not Very) Scientific Experiment

I did something really dumb just before bedtime last night:  I ate an energy bar.  I really wasn’t intending to eat the 190-calorie snack at that point in the day.  Really, I wasn’t.  But what choice did I have?  Once I had violated one of the cardinal rules of smart-eating (if you shouldn’t eat it, don’t leave it in sight), the outcome was inevitable.  So why did I keep this temptation, this “protein bar” (see photo below), in plain view, right on the kitchen island for nearly 12 hours?  Was I just testing my willpower? 

"After" photo of energy bar

I have no satisfactory answer, but the better question to ask is why this messenger of evil was in the house in the first place.  Somewhat ironically, it all goes back to my quest to stay healthy.  After my trip to the farmers’ market on Saturday morning, I dashed over to Lifetime for an ultra-quick workout.  I was in such a hurry to get in, work out, and get back to Elliott (yeah, he shares some of the blame), that I made a crucial error.  For the briefest of seconds, I glanced at the huge mound of free energy bars piled on the check-in counter.  The words “peanut butter” and “dark chocolate” jumped out at me.  Before my brain could issue an order to stop, one of the shiny wrapped treasures was in my hand. 

But I was good.  I didn’t eat it immediately.  I didn’t even eat it right after my workout.  I tossed it into my gym back, fully intending to throw it out when I got home.  Unfortunately, I was raised with the belief that it’s morally wrong to waste food.   Therefore, once I got home, I placed the energy bar, which was essentially a Reese’s stand-in, on the kitchen island so I could carefully examine the nutritional claims on the label before conquering my guilt and resigning it to the trash can.  That was my second mistake. 

I didn’t get around to “checking” on the ingredients and calorie count until after 9:30 last night, when Elliott was safely tucked into bed.  It was the time when evil forces often come out to play.  I’d been quietly Kindling, as I often do before getting ready for bed.  But then it was time to do my customary end-of-day walkaround, putting things away and turning off lights.  The energy bar was still lurking on the kitchen island.   As I walked past, my gaze fell on the silvery wrapper.  Once again, those words – dark chocolate and peanut butter – exerted their power.  I picked up the energy bar and held it in my hand. Another mistake, I now realize, because I decided to open the package and take a little nibble, just to see how awful something with really bad-for-you ingredients would taste.  Of course, I’d dispose of the rest of the bar in the trash.

Just one morsel, I told myself as the chocolate-PB combo filled my mouth and flooded my brain with pleasurable sensations.  Well, guess what?  I couldn’t throw it out, at least not yet.  The remainder of the bar found a home in a ziplock bag, which I placed back on the island.  Uh, oh, that was another mistake.  I went back to straightening up, but within a minute, my feet had taken me back to the kitchen and I found myself at the island again, looking at the energy bar longingly.  Rationalization began in earnest.  I would break off no more than an inch of the bar and save the rest for a post-workout treat tomorrow.  To assist in my resolve, after I guiltily gobbled down a crunchy chunk, I stuck the rest into my chocolate drawer.  (Yes, I have a chocolate drawer in my kitchen.  Don’t you?   Doesn’t everyone?) 

Now, even with the energy bar safely out of sight, the temptation was too great.  On my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I made detour (to do something as innocent as checking again to see if the back door was locked) and walked right past the chocolate drawer.  I paused.  I knew what was inside.  I reasoned:  Why should I keep torturing myself?  So, I opened the drawer, opened the bag, took one bite, then another bite, then another, and then – it was all gone.  Well, that was sensible, I thought.  At least I’d finally gotten rid of that bedeviled energy bar and I could go to bed. 

It never occurred to me at the time that an energy bar might actually energize me.  Something seemed a little strange, however, soon after my head touched the pillow.  I usually have no trouble falling asleep.  But last night, my mind was so active that I couldn’t shut it down.  First, I was planning the menu for Thursday’s lunch with Marie-Claude and Peter.  Mentally, I was running through a range of ideas for chilled soups, grain and bean salads, vegetable dishes, and more.  Then my thoughts turned to teaching, probably because of my meeting in less than 24 hours with the new AHS ESOL teacher who will be teaching “my” classes in the fall.  There was so much I wanted to share with her, not only all of the materials I’d developed, but my 20 years of knowledge and experience.  I began making mental lists of warm-up activities, reading strategies, note-taking ideas, ways to strengthen study skills, video clips I’d used.  This morphed into reflections on topics my students had especially enjoyed.  Before I knew what was going on, my mind had transported me back to the classroom.  After fascinating discussions of the industrialization and urbanization of the US in the late 19^th century, my students and I were watching immigrants enter through Ellis Island, we were struggling through the Great Depression, and then fighting World War II.  Eventually, before the landing on the moon in the summer of 1969, I managed to fall asleep.  

It’s Sunday morning now and I have some new insight into yesterday’s experience.  Last night’s mini-eating-binge wasn’t a personal failure.  I was merely participating in a scientific experiment of sorts.  From my noble sacrifice, I’ve gained important knowledge, proving this hypothesis:  Energy bars really work!

Farmer Robin's Report

 

Saturday, August 4, 2012 – Farmer Robin’s Report

Saturday started early for Farmer Robin.  After a hearty breakfast, I donned the appropriate wardrobe:  straw hat (good for sun protection, plus great at hiding summer-wild hair), comfy plaid shirt, and faded old jeans rolled up to my knees.  By nine, I was out in the sunny fields, picking corn, tomatoes, peaches, and – is that an apple turnover growing over there?  My goodness, it’s amazing what you can find in the Fairfax City Farmers’ Market.  Actually, I bought the apple turnover as a little gift for Elliott who was resting up at back at the house.  Two days after his surgery, he feels well but is still quite bruised and swollen around the eyes.  For the moment, I’ve declared a photo-free zone around him.