The Long Road to Recovery

Today was one of those days. The kind that starts with high hopes and a decent cup of coffee, then slowly morphs into a never-ending loop of fluorescent lighting and standardized testing. Yes, friends, it’s New York State ELA assessment season, and I had the distinct pleasure of proctoring all day. Which, for those unfamiliar, is a bit like watching paint dry, but with more paperwork.

I had really been looking forward to seeing my friend Teri after school. She had a major stroke back in June, and ever since, she’s been completely paralyzed on her left side. Our visits usually involve chatting, reading, and maybe eating a chocolate or two that her sister sneaks in. But just as I was mentally packing up to head to the nursing home, I found out that the Tuesday Alternative Ed teacher couldn’t make it. Which meant yours truly was staying at school. Until after 5:30. Heavy, heavy sigh.

But I went straight to see Teri anyway. I was tired, hungry, and about one silly question away from losing my mind—but I needed that visit. 

She was still in her wheelchair (thankfully—they sometimes put her in bed way too early, which drives me nuts). She was happy to see me, and I was even happier to see her. She asked for some ice water, so I moved the table out of the way and happened to notice her left leg was hanging off the side of the wheelchair.

I asked if she was comfortable. She said not really. I pointed out that her leg was dangling—and then... she moved it.

Her left leg. The one that hasn’t moved since June.

It wasn’t huge, just a little adjustment—but I saw it. I know what I saw. And I almost cried.

She told me that at night, when she’s lying in bed, she tries to “march” with her good leg, and in her mind, she imagines moving both legs. Maybe—just maybe—her brain is rewiring itself. Maybe those mental reps are forging new neural pathways. I don’t know. I’m not a neurologist. But I do know that something beautiful happened today.

There are moments when progress is loud and obvious, and then there are moments like this—quiet, small, and life-affirming. Today, my friend moved her leg. And in that moment, hope felt real.

I’ll carry that feeling with me for a long time.

My Emotional Support Sport

There’s just something about baseball that soothes my soul.

Teaching is hard. Like, actually hard. Some days, everything that can go wrong does—kids acting like they were raised in barns, adults in matching bad moods, the copier jammed for the eleventh time this week (I know it's plotting against me), and the day feels like it’s stuck in some cruel time loop.

And when that kind of day ends? I go home. I pour myself a glass of wine. I kick off my shoes, prop my feet on the couch, and turn on MLB TV. 

And suddenly... everything is okay.

The Sox are on. The crowd is buzzing. The grass is perfectly contoured, the baselines are bright and crisp, and the camera pans across a field that somehow looks like peace in visual form. I find myself smiling. I remember how to breathe.

It’s almost meditative—my version of Zen. The world may be loud, messy, and completely off the rails, but here, in this moment, Crochet is throwing 95 mph fastballs and all is right with the world. School, with its infinite noise and unpredictable chaos, feels a million miles away.

Baseball doesn’t fix everything. But on nights like this, it sure comes close. 

I thank my friends Dave and Sue from the bottom of my heart for this gift. They have no idea how much my sanity depends on baseball! 

Or maybe they do. 

Cheers to That!

So the other day I went to the Buffalo Wine Festival (see: delicious wine, dreamy bundt cakes, and one very necessary oil change beforehand).

At the entrance, they handed us a nice little booklet. And did I read it? Of course not. I was too busy sipping sangria samples and checking out “residual sugar content.”

But today? I actually flipped through it—and found this little gem:

Toast in 10 Languages.

Yes, apparently I was drinking internationally without even knowing it.

There’s something delightful about learning how to say "cheers" in languages from around the world. It makes me feel like I could raise a glass with strangers in almost a dozen countries and somehow still be understood. (Probably also helps that wine is a universal language.)

So now, I’m ready for any international wine situation life throws at me.

Spontaneous trip to Spain? ¡Salud!
Surprise wine tasting in Germany? Prost!
Random Icelandic vineyard moment? Skál!

Honestly, this might be the most educational part of the whole event—and I tried a mead made with root beer, so that’s saying something.

Next time, I’m reading the booklet first.

Probably. Well, maybe. 

Actually, probably not. 

Buffalo Wine Festival

Today was a busy day—but it ended deliciously.

The fun started bright and early at 8 a.m. with a car inspection. Nothing like coffee and emissions testing to kick off your Saturday. Shoutout to Mavis Discount Tires on Delaware Avenue—they got me in right away and had me out in 45 minutes, no fuss, no pressure, no “your air filter is a biohazard” pitch. I swear by them. Honest, fast, and they’ve never tried to sell me a cabin air filter for $79.99.

While I waited, I took a short stroll over to Bruegger’s Bagels for breakfast. Ham, egg, and cheese on a sesame bagel. No notes. Absolute perfection.

Next stop: Valvoline for an oil change and some long overdue windshield wipers. My car is five years old. The original wipers were still hanging on for dear life, and visibility during a drizzle had become more of a suggestion than a guarantee.

I made a quick pit stop at home, got started assembling the May Mensana (aka brain fuel for the people), then met up with Hope and Trisha for the main event: The Buffalo Wine Festival.

Let me just say—this place was massive. Over 50 wineries, breweries, and vendors. At the door, they handed us a wine glass, a tote bag, and a booklet... like we were about to embark on a sacred pilgrimage. And in a way—we were.

We started on the first floor. Next year, we’re heading straight to the second. Gotta outmaneuver the crowd. Strategy, people.

Highlights from the Sip Safari:

• Vieni Estates (Canadian Wine Ambassador): Their dry Pinot Grigio (6.4 g/L) was smooth, crisp, and practically begged to be paired with the tilapia currently living in my freezer.

• Skinny Wick Candle Co.: I picked up a “Summer Woods” candle that smells like a walk through a pine forest in late July. They also do wedding favors. Local, hand-poured, and delightful—support your small businesses!

• Nectar of the Vine: Warm sangria tasting? Yes please. They sell pouches of mix that can become a wine slushie or a crockpot cocktail. I grabbed one to pair with the Merlot in my kitchen. Winter's not over yet.

• Lakeland Winery: Peach Raspberry Sangria. Sweet but refreshing. The kind of drink you pour into a cold glass when the sun finally remembers Buffalo exists.

• Three Brothers Wineries: Their “Zero Degree of Riesling” had just 0.9 g/L of sugar. Easily the driest, smoothest Riesling I’ve ever had. Like, this-is-my-personality-now good.

• Nothing Bundt Cakes: Let’s talk dessert. Their White Chocolate Raspberry bundt cake is what the angels serve at brunch. I also grabbed snickerdoodle and carrot—tiny, single-serving sizes, which technically makes it portion control.

• 

• Thousand Island Wineries: Their St. Lawrence Red, a semi-dry delight, came home with me. I’m saving it for a steak night.

• Pellicano Vineyard: They had a range of sweet wines, but their Chianti Riserva—a bold, dry red—won me over. Spaghetti and meatballs, you’ve met your match.

• L&J Creations: I caved and bought a hand-painted butterfly stemless wine glass. Did I need it? No. Did it spark joy? Absolutely.

• 

• Springbrook Hollow Farm Distillery: Picked up some Adirondack maple syrup. Pancakes next weekend just got a promotion.

• Bee Spit Meadery: I’ve never liked mead—until today. Their “Drunken Barrel” mead is made with root beer (yes, really), and it’s dangerously smooth. Also, very high alcohol content. This is a "sip and stay put" beverage.

• Jill’s Gourmet Dips: They sell mix packets—you add your creamy base of choice. Their Buffalo Blue had just the right kick. 10/10 snack.

Despite the snacks throughout the day, by 3:30 I was hungry-hungry. So we wrapped it up with a trip to Amherst Buffet Chinese Restaurant. I definitely ate more than I should have, but hey—festival calories don’t count.

We finished the day at Jo-Ann Fabrics, which is sadly going out of business. I stocked up on yarn (25% off!) and jewelry fixings (40% off!). They’re restocking daily, and yes, I’m already planning my return.

All in all, a 10/10 Saturday. Good friends, great wine, surprising mead, and an alarming amount of bundt cake. What more could a gal ask for?

Hope and I - I'm actually taller than she is now!

Trisha and I 

She's bending her knees so her head doesn't cover the sign, and I'm standing on my 

toes to try to look taller. We have a lot of laughs!

The Best Thing I Didn't Know I Needed

The other day, I was roaming the hallway like a ghost of bad behavior past. I had one mission: find a fellow teacher to vent to before I exploded into a confetti blast of frustration and sarcasm.

It had been that kind of day—kids throwing things, lying with the boldness of someone auditioning for a courtroom drama, general chaos. The kind of day that makes you seriously wonder if you accidentally signed up for the wrong profession. ("Did I check the wrong box on that career interest survey in high school? Should I have gone into dental hygiene?") I was evaluating my life choices, and it wasn't pretty.

Anyway, I was on the hunt for my usual confidante, but her office was empty. Heavy sigh. But across the hall… I noticed something strange.

Laughter.

Joy.

People having fun? In a school building? After 2:30 p.m.?

Naturally, I was suspicious.

But I poked my head in and found a whole group of teachers—just hanging out, solving the New York Times crossword puzzle together like it was the most normal after-school activity in the world.

And here’s the best part—they welcomed me in like I’d always been part of the crew.

We’ve got a little of everything:

• Two social studies teachers who know just about every historical fact ever.

• Two math teachers who actually enjoy numbers.

• A technology teacher who loves coding.

• A special ed teacher with the patience of a saint.

• An ELA teacher who knows words that haven't been used since 1874.

Our ages range from mid-20s to 60s, so our knowledge is as diverse as our snack choices. Someone always knows something, and someone always has a random fact no one asked for—but turns out to be super useful.

And Friday? Friday was a milestone. For the first time ever, we completely solved five days’ worth of crosswords in a row. A full streak. It was like winning the nerdy Olympics—and yes, we were very proud of ourselves.

I went looking for someone to commiserate with, but instead I found a little unexpected joy in a classroom full of crossword-loving coworkers. Now, I look forward to it every day. It’s not just about the puzzle—it’s the laughter, the camaraderie, the brainpower, and the feeling that hey, even on the worst days, I’m not alone in this.

Teaching is hard. But a daily puzzle with good people? That’s a little reminder that there’s still a lot of good tucked in between the chaos.