Smooth Caramel Finish

The following post was a sensory experience writing assignment for the 7/18/17 Teachers Write writing camp. I also wanted to share it with the inspiring Slice of Life community of writers.

My daughter is studying to become a sommelier. "Sommelier" is simply a fancy word for "wine steward," or, as my daughter explains it in terms even I can understand, a "wine nerd." She truly loves spending hours studying grape varieties, growing regions, and wine-making. I truly love that she gives me great wine recommendations. Occasionally, though, I will venture out and grab a sale bottle of wine from the grocery store and hope for the best, which is exactly how I found my favorite red: Apothic Crush.

This luscious red blend has a rich, dark red cherry color and a deliciously fruity and floral aroma. The initial taste is smooth, slightly dry, and reminiscent of summer red cherries on the verge of peak sweetness. The lingering flavor is warm, with a velvety hint-of-caramel finish. My favorite go-to red, a bottle of Apothic Crush is always close at hand.

(Note: Sadly, this writer is not receiving endorsements or kickbacks from the vintner.)

As always, thank you to Two Writing Teachers for the chance to write!

Bologna Sandwiches

Some of my fondest and most vivid childhood memories are the summers growing up in Massachusetts. Summer has a completely different feel and meaning in the New England states compared to those down here in the south. Summer in New England is distinctive, celebrated, and relished partly because its time is short. Although I love the south (because I detest any temperature below 50 degrees), summer here simply doesn't have the same exhilaration. The heat and humidity of summer linger on for much longer than should be allowed; sometimes well into October (which kinda ruins the whole pumpkin spice latte thing).

Summers in Massachusetts meant trips to the beach--an event almost as highly anticipated as Halloween or Christmas! My childhood summers would not be complete without a jaunt or two to Hampton Beach. Funny thing--it's not the beach itself that I remember, but the tastes and aromas. To this day, I cannot step foot onto a sandy seashore without certain memories surging into my mind: the taste of bologna sandwiches and the rich smell of Coppertone.

Back in the day, my siblings and I survived on lunches of bologna sandwiches and Fluffernutters. (That's a Slice for another day.) The bologna sandwiches were always made with--you guessed it--Oscar Mayer bologna, (don't hate me if "the song" is stuck in your head for the rest of the day), Wonder bread, and Hellmann's mayonnaise. Although I had bologna sandwiches for lunch more times than I can possibly count, there was just something magical about the combination of the savory thick-sliced bologna, the tangy mayo, and the tender bread eaten on a sandy blanket at the beach. I don't know if it was the warmth of the sun, the sand between my toes, the endless cries of the seagulls, or the tropical scent of Coppertone, but something made that ordinary bologna sandwich spectacular. Mmmmmm...

Although my childhood years in Massachusetts are long gone, and I will no longer let bologna or white bread pass my lips (sad, I know), my memories still linger and bring a smile to my face as I think back to a freckle-faced little girl savoring every bite of her bologna sandwich on a sandy blanket at the beach.

Day 1

I love new beginnings. There is something so rejuvenating, so invigorating, so empowering about starting something fresh. Whether it's the beginning of a new year, a new relationship, or a new goal, new beginnings fill me with excitement, hope, and the feeling that I can do anything! (Well, almost anything.) Today is a new beginning...day 1.

I am a sixth-grade language arts teacher, and I have big dreams for my new parcel of pupils that will make their way to my classroom in early August. This year, I am not simply going to teach the do's and don'ts of correctly crafting the standard argument essay, informative piece, or sliver of narrative. This year, after we master placing the elusive end mark in every sentence, I want to teach my students that, whether they know it or not, they... are... writers.

To make this dream even the slightest possibility of reality, I realized that I could no longer just be a writing teacher, but I now had to become a writing teacher. In other words, just teaching my students how to write is not going to be enough. I, too, must write.

Sadly, when it comes to writing I epitomize the idiotic idiom that mocks, "Those who can, do; those who can't..." (I can't even bring myself to complete the thought.) In a moment of panic, I reached out to Jennifer Laffin from Teach Write. "Where do I begin?" I cried. Not only did Jennifer quickly respond to my desperate plea, but after an encouraging, thought-provoking, and inspiring conversation, she triple-dog-dared me to have my blog up and running, complete with my first post, by the end of the day. (Note: No dares were actually used in the making of this inaugural post.)

So here it is.

Now I need to go and figure out what all of these gadgets, navbars, and sidebars do.

Happy Writing!

Gail