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Author Archives: Vicki Hamlin

Adare, You

10 Friday Jul 2015

Posted by Vicki Hamlin in Stuff I Want to Tell You About

≈ 4 Comments

Dingle Ireland in County Kerry is stunning.  It has not yet won the coveted Irish prize of “Most Tidy Town,” so I’ve heard, which is a distinction held by a neighboring town called Adare. (We drove through Adare.  It is quite tidy indeed.)

But look at this and tell me you’d care.  This is the end of the Dingle Peninsula stretching into the distance.

Take that, Adare.

image

I had to come to Ireland, by the way, to face dinner on my own, not in my own kitchen.  I would love to tell you that I bravely sat in a pub, drank a Guiness, ate fish and chips and mingled with the old guys at the bar, but I didn’t.  I bought a Powerbar in the Super Mart and came back here to write about it.

It’s time to get my brave cape on.  So I’m off to a poetry reading at a pub.  For real.  If I don’t check in tomorrow its because the Guiness got me.

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Green for Daze

08 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by Vicki Hamlin in Stuff I Want to Tell You About

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No one was sitting in the airplane seat beside me in 27C, so when my headphones began to only work on one side, and the three-year old I’d been sharing goldfish crackers with stopped talking to me, and I got a little sleepy, I squished myself all up into a half ball, and slept.

When the bright sun on my face woke me up two hours later, I was in Ireland.

I never say this but: I can’t even.image

This is what 43 years of age, 2 hours sleep and Ireland gets you – wrinkles, delirium and bliss.

This trip of dreams?  It has arrived.

 

 

 

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A Teacher’s “Day Off”

24 Wednesday Jun 2015

Posted by Vicki Hamlin in Sans Therapist, Stuff I Want to Tell You About

≈ 1 Comment

These are the ramblings of an apparent crazy person – so beware.  My brain is still moving at the speed of work and I am recently delirious with lack of sleep.

I’m unwinding from end-of-year craziness at my job, which, for those who don’t know, is teaching 8th graders.  They are 9th graders now and to that I give a simultaneous whoop and sob.  It was an exhausting, lovely year.

Today is my first full day off.  I have no idea what to do with myself.

Guy is in Germany.  Garrett is in Costa Rica.  Luke spent the night with a friend and Natalie is at the lake with my mother.  I awoke to an empty house.

What does one do who finds herself explicably without teaching stuff to do?  It turns out she does the following:

Awakes at the familiar hour of 5:15am, as she has done for the past 10 months, because her brain is telling her she’s got papers to grade.  This is not the only time her brain will lie to her today.  It will tell her several times she has something important to accomplish.  LIAR.

Tries, rather unsuccessfully, to go back to sleep, only to arise at 7am having spent a couple of hours going over everything she could have done better in her classroom this year. Really, that is no way to start a day.  Feels a little blue.

Gets dressed in clothing she did not – I repeat, did NOT – set out the night before. This feels, somehow, like freedom with capital FREE.

Takes the dog out to pee, then takes the dog to a local walking trail.  Okay, it’s not a walking trail.  It’s a cross country trail used by our local middle-schoolers and which is not supposed to use for dog walking.  For the record, I clean up after my dog.  And I have no plans to stop this rogue behavior.

Buys an iced coffee.

Drives across the street from Dunkin’ Donuts to the self-serve car cleaning place and vacuums out car.

Goes to bank to get money she owes a friend.

Returns home.  Has a bowl of grapenuts cereal with banana and vanilla soy milk. Realizes this is the first breakfast she has had at her table on a weekday in … ten months.

Cleans the kitchen for an hour.

Sits at her computer.  Reviews comments on report cards for over an hour.  Yes, work is “over” – but it never really is, is it?  Answers email for another 15 minutes.  Sets a time with a new teacher to meet later in the week.  Work for fall has begun on day 1 of summer break.

Has a visit from aforementioned friend.  Laughs for a bit – feels a lot less blue.

Reads for an hour to prepare for her MFA residency which is in less than two weeks. Does this on the deck, in the sun. In a tank top.  This, too, feels like freedom.

Does two loads of laundry.

Opens all the mail.

Takes a walk to see another friend, whose daughter says she has gone to vote. Decides to go vote.  Votes YES! on the school budget and has heart palpitations thinking what a setback it would be if it doesn’t pass.  Sits and stares at ocean for 10 minutes.  Feels better.

Walks home.  Decides to do an Insanity workout.  Aptly named.  Feels like lungs might explode.

Drives to pick up Luke.

Drives to go get gas.

Arrives home.  Watches “The Barefoot Contessa” and is bored senseless.  TV has almost no draw for her, but she’s brushing out the dog so she finishes the show. Considers making a homemade chicken broth ala Ina Garten, but gets over it.

Showers.  Shaves.

Writes this blog entry.

Realizes how mundane this entry is.  Doesn’t care.

Drives to Thomaston for a Babe Ruth game and hopes to have ice cream for supper at Dorman’s Dairy Dream – a place she grew up going to after her softball games 30 years ago. Looks forward to it.

 

 

 

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