When I was 15, I went through my hardcore Doors’ days. Didn’t you? Although not their most commercial album, An American Prayer became my definition of poetry. I eagerly awaited my turn to read the dog-eared copy of No One Here Gets Out Alive, a Morrison biography, which was circulating through my town and I promised myself that one day I would pay my respects at Jim Morrison’s grave in Paris. Assuming, of course, that he didn’t return from wherever he had fled to escape the fame which had made his life unlivable in the U.S.,* before I got there.
While my son was committed to visiting Napoleon’s tomb while in Paris, a trip to the cimetiere du Pere-Lachaise was on my must do list. On Easter Sunday we took a long Metro ride to make our my pilgrimage. The cemetery is quite large, walled in and covering a hillside in northeastern Paris. Despite our map, we became a little disoriented and missed Morrison’s grave on our initial climb up the hill. Maybe it was the encounter with the fairly fresh grave of one of the victims of the January Je Suis Charlie attacks that caused our confusion. Regardless, we found ourselves in close proximity to Edith Piaf’s grave.
I talked to Liam about who she was and described her rendition of La Vie en Rose, explaining that her version was the definitive one of that classic French song. We paused, paid our respects and then headed down the hill to find Jim Morrison’s grave, inaccessible due to the metal barricades designed to discourage the enthusiastic and devout vandals who have persisted in leaving their mark on his tombstone for more than four decades. It was completely cool and satisfying nonetheless.
Later, we went to Montmartre to view the artists and their work, along with Sacre Coeur. As we walked, from a distance, I heard someone melodically whistling a tune – La Vie en Rose. Perfect.
*if you’re near my age you probably remember the theory that Jim would come back a decade after his “death.”
…but sometimes they do cry. As I transition from a season of x-country skiing to being back on the pavement, my hips are screaming in protest. They really do prefer the glide of skis on powder to the pounding of feet on sidewalks. It’s going to be a long spring/summer/fall if the hips and I can’t find a way to get along. Maybe you have some tips to share?
Before we get to that, let me tell you what I’ve been doing to make friends with my ever-so-important hips:
- Intense massage with active stretches
- Yoga – at least one 75 minute class a week. Last weekend I got lucky and took a class with The Hot Yoga Spot‘s Aaron. He introduced the theme as “Hips: heaven or hell.” Perfect!! It really was just what I needed.
- Lots of pigeon pose
- Slow-paced runs
- Hot baths (with bubbles and sometimes a glass of wine)
So – what have you got? Am I missing something? What else can I do to loosen up these damn hips?
How much do you know the mandated state exams administered to elementary school students in New York State? What do you know about these tests and their significance? Have you heard about Assemblymember Jim Tedisco’s bill proposal to allow parents to “opt out” of the required tests? If these three questions were on a test you were taking right now, how would you do?
As a teacher and a parent, my interest in these exams is pretty intense. Although there was initially the threat of my being required to test my population of students, I don’t have to administer tests in my “subject” area because I’m a secondary (grades 7-12) librarian and we have been given an alternative assessment rubric. At present my annual professional performance review (APPR) doesn’t include a student test component.*
That fact that I am currently exempt from delivering tested curriculum does not mean I am unaffected by the exams. I see the impact of these tests on my colleagues, my students, and of course, my own child. Last year, when my then-third grader came home the first week of school talking about “the tests,” I was dismayed. This year, I’m disgusted.
I’ve heard about a dozen different “facts” related to opting out of the tests. Things like “if less than 16 children in a given class or 95% of a building’s population take the tests the results can’t be counted against the teacher of the school” and “students must sit for the tests even if they refuse to participate, yet will be given a score if they so much as mark the answer sheet.” I just don’t know what is accurate information and, believe me, contacting NYSED with my questions is probably about the last thing I’d consider doing.
This Thursday, March 12th at 6:30, the Bethlehem Public Library is hosting a forum presented by the NYS Alliance for Public Education on the topic of the excessive use of testing in New York State. A portion of the forum will be devoted to Opt-Out and I hope that many of the questions I have will be addressed. If you have questions of your own this may be just the opportunity to get some answers.
*It also doesn’t include any evaluation of how I manage a budget, a sizable collection in multiple formats, or a facility (or two).
If you’re an outdoors exerciser, you’ll probably agree that we’ve arrived at shoulder season – or, as I like to call it, ass season. As in, falling on your ass if you’re not cautious because it’s so damn icy. We’re somewhere between skiing and running/cycling season and each day brings the question of which activity will be best attempted in conditions that seem to vary daily.
The golf course has deteriorated into an icy landscape, complete with bare spots and piles of dog poop. I skied it Friday and it was treacherous. After walking it on Saturday, I reluctantly concluded that ski season was over. I consoled myself with my first run in weeks – 5 slow, wet and slick miles. My quads are screaming today, so I guess I guess we can call this shoulder, ass and quads season to be accurate.
This morning, there was an unexpected (to me) period of snow. Fluffy flakes quickly accumulated and frosted the icy snow changing my prospects for the day. A ski it would be.
Work last night, an obscenely early soccer game (7:30), and the time change had combined to kick my ass, confirming the appropriateness of my naming the season after the gluteal region. After a nap between fresh flannel sheets, I felt prepared to attempt the golf course, hoping that the trails would be improved. It proved to be beyond my expectations.
The sun had softened the snow’s crust and the newly fallen flakes had filled in the worst of the divots. The sky was blue with fluffy white clouds and the ski was sublime. Although I am generally conscious of being present in the moment, I focused even harder on experiencing this ski, imagining it as being my last of the winter.
The interior trails, particularly the Coca-Cola, were beautiful and easily negotiated. Jeter and I explored a new path or two and when we completed our long loop it seemed we both felt pleasantly fatigued. Regardless of which part of my body feels sore, that soulful place inside me feels satisfied. Time for a glass of wine.
- When he was born, my oldest son scared me. That changed.
- Now, I’m in awe of him.
- According to my sons, the plural of penis is penis. (The “s” is silent when it’s plural)
- Crazy > Creepy
- The Olde English was the perfect place to celebrate my Anglophile son’s birthday.
- Molly, our server, deserves a raise. She was terrific, as was my fish and chips.
- The skiing this weekend was wonderfully challenging.
- Ryan, the guy at Best Buy who set me up with my new phone, was a super representative.
- The woman who violently slammed my car with her hand in the parking lot at Crossgates Mall represented “ugly with anger” beautifully.
- It feels good when someone you’ve known for 20+ years tells you that you look happy.
- Troy really isn’t that far from Albany.
- The old fashioned at The Wine Bar and Bistro and the new fashioned at New World Bistro Bar are equally perfect.
- Applying for my son’s third passport in 18 years fills me with pride.
- 8 countries in 18 years is pretty damn impressive. I can’t wait to see where else my children venture.
- McGeary’s on a Saturday night was wonderfully diverse, a testament to Tess’ ability to create an atmosphere that is welcoming.
- Putting on a pretty dress and lipstick for an evening out doesn’t ever get tired.
- It has been a remarkable season for x-country skiing. That being said, I’m excited to hit the pavement in my sneakers soon.
- The seasons, the years, life go(es) by so very quickly. Get it while you can.
Filed under Albany, birthdays, Boys, Dinner, family, Food, Lark Street, Local, Observations, Restaurants, skiing, Troy, Uncategorized, x-country skiing
Last weekend’s New York in Bloom flower show at the NYS museum is the ultimate harbinger of spring’s impending arrival. Click through for my Seen gallery on the TU site. As always, the museum and the exhibitor’s did us proud while raising funds for a worthy cause!
Jumping on a train for a Friday night show may conjure up a bit of je ne sais quoi, but trust me when I tell you, for me, it upends the entire weekend. I enjoy easing into the weekend. Fridays often mean some sort of exercise or maybe my monthly massage, not a dash to the city and a concert that doesn’t really get started until after 9:00. Sorry to disappoint if you imagined otherwise.
Now, in no way am I complaining about a night in the city, my only intention is to point out that trekking to NYC takes me away from my routine, something to which I am quite committed. Fortunately, as I discovered doing a Yelp search, the means for grounding me was available right around the corner from my hotel – Yoga to the People.
Yoga to the People is a chain of yoga studios with locations in 3 states nationwide. There are 5 studios to choose from in NYC, some with set prices for classes and others available on a pay what you will basis. I attended a 90-minute hot yoga class at the W. 27th Street location and couldn’t have been more pleased with my experience.
The studio is on the third floor and isn’t immediately visible from the street. Fortunately, a fellow yogi pointed me in the right direction and I soon found myself in a bright, clean space with helpful folks at the counter. I paid for the class ($10) and rented a mat ($2), filling out a reusable name tag to leave beside my mat for the instructor’s convenience should she have any personal corrections to make.
We had a large area in which to practice and there were probably a couple of dozen attendees. The floors weren’t marked to indicate where mats should be set up so I ended up practically sucking the toes of the guy in front of me (not my idea of breakfast) since he placed his mat approximately six inches away from the top of mine. Eventually I did ask him to move a little and I only wish I had done it sooner.
On a happier note, the studio and the bathroom were both clean with the perfect hint of bleach. The 90-minute Bikram influenced class was great and I will definitely remember this place next time I’m staying in Chelsea. Yoga to the People delivered.