The Wednesday Hodgepodge appears courtesy of From This Side Of The Pond.
On Spring Break with my family, we spent a couple of days in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. I'd seen the movie, and knew the broad outlines of the Civil War, but it was fascinating to see the land itself and put all the pieces together in my head.
It was also interesting to accidentally end up eating lunch at a local pub which happened to be the headquarters of both the Union and Confederate cast members during the shooting of the movie. Apparently, the Confederate cast was a rather rowdy bunch, enjoying themselves nightly the pub. One night, the actor who played General Pickett jumped onto the bar and shouted "I've finally taken the high ground!".
Hickory, Dickory, Dock
There's no one on our block
Our house just sits
Alone, but its
A lovely example of nonconformism.
About the only "rule" I really remember was "call when you get home". My mother re-entered the workforce when we moved to a new home at the beginning of my junior high days; she wanted to know that we were home safely from school each day. It wasn't a long call (because she had work to do, of course), but it helped her know all was well at home.
I didn't think my folks were particularly strict or lax, either then or now.
The story I always tell ...
The time that I truly lived on my own was the summer after my junior year of college, when I got a summer job working for IBM in Rochester, Minnesota. I'd never really "cooked" anything in my life; okay, I could open a box of frozen stuff and stick it in the oven or microwave, but that was it, really. When I rented an efficiency apartment in Minnesota, my mother fully expected that I'd just eat out for every meal. I said that I really shouldn't do that, and we assembled a small collection of kitchen items to allow me to move forward. Mom even sent me a package with a frying pan and a "Cooking for One" cookbook.
So far, so good.
I look through the cookbook. There's a recipe in there for fried rice. Excellent; I love Chinese food, and the instructions appear pretty simple. I go to the supermarket, buy all the ingredients, get home, open up the recipe. First ingredient in the recipe: "two cups cooked rice". I grab the box of rice and look at it: right there, on the label, it says "pre-cooked rice". Great! So I poor out two cups of the contents of the package directly into the frying pan and continue with the rest of the recipe.
The results were ... a little crunchy.
I had to do it a second time before I finally realized that "pre-cooked" meant something else, and that, yes, indeed, I needed to cook the rice before I could fry it.
Probably a kiss. I love my wife.
Right now, I'm wearing a lightweight jacket that I received last month from Kettering's Center for Excellence in Teaching and Learning as a part of its inaugural Great Teachers Retreat. It's very comfy.
For me: the word is weary.
For my home ... it's probably "welcome". As Robert Frost said: "Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in."
This non-teaching term is going ... oddly. News from work is discouraging, and so I'm almost deliberately saying "screw it, I'm staying home and playing, because I'm going to stress out unbelievably in July". Which is, on the one hand, something I probably should've started doing years ago. But I hate that I'm doing it.