May Day! May Day!

With temperatures holding steady in the 80s for the past few days, our top-floor apartment has turned into an oven! The air conditioning unit the landlord recently put in is not doing much to help -- even after running for several hours it was reading 87 degrees!

The only thing to do is open the windows wide, set up all the fans, and sleep with a wet washcloth. After lunch today I went into the pantry to the chocolate stash for a little sweet treat. 87 degrees is not good for chocolate. The bar was pretty melty, so I decided I had two options. Put it in the fridge or polish off the whole thing.

I chose the latter. And now I don't feel so good.

Signs of Summer

I set up my fan on the windowsill and felt the warm air blowing in during the early morning hours. I walked out of my apartment in a sleeveless shirt clutching a light jacket to ward off the morning chill only to find the morning chill strangely absent. By the time I had reached my destination I could feel beads of sweat on my forehead and the crook of my elbow where my jacket rested. And last but not least, shortly before I left to return home my friend pointed out the bird poop that had mysteriously appeared down the front of my shirt.

Sure signs that summer is on its way.

Law & Order

Today I was selected as a juror on a federal trial that will last all week! Slightly inconvenient, but SO interesting! Luckily we are not sequestered, so we are allowed to go home at the end of the day. But given the start of the trial this afternoon, this is going to be a loooong week. That said, I feel like I'm watching a play! The representatives are dramatic and persuasive and the witnesses are desperately trying not to get caught in their traps.. All we need are some sound effects and background music.

More soon. I don't want to get arrested for talking to much until after we've deliberated. (how exciting!)

Some call it manipulation, I call it research..

If any of you have ever taken piano lessons, you may have been required to warm up on Hanon exercises. Each exercise introduces a pattern that carries the hands up and then back down the keyboard. They are intended to build agility, speed, and control, but they are rather mind-numbing if I do say so myself. Nevertheless, several of my students are warming up on Hanon despite their moaning and groaning.

Yesterday on a whim I decided to introduce the Hanon exercises to one of my third graders in a new way: We are going to begin a new series of exercises today. These exercises are very special because they are not for beginner students. Only students who have reached a certain level are ready to use these exercises as warm ups, and you are now ready. Shall we give it a try?

She was so proud and eager to start! It remains to be seen how long the enthusiasm will last..

Happy Mother's Day!

I don't know these people, but someone sent me this video. Enjoy!

This is what I miss..

Portugal!

Porto was my favorite stop in Portugal. It was filled with colorful houses stacked on top of each other along the Duoro Riverfront (all with orange rooves, of course). One side was "the stroll," and the other was devoted to port wine. The mornings and evenings were chilly, but the days warmed up into the 60s. We spent our time strolling, feasting our eyes on elaborate painted tiles and pottery, climbing hills and towers, lingering over the most delicious coffees (cafe com leite), exploring gardens, exclaiming over flowers, and deciphering menus to mostly end up with a piece of meat and some boiled potatoes or french fries on our plates.. and PLENTY of it!

The tiles were truly remarkable. Some were geometric pattern with the same pattern repeating over and over to create a facade for a building, and others that were more like murals depicting the history of Portugal or the lessons of the Catholic church. We learned that in 1755 the entire country of Portugal suffered a terrible earthquake and much of the art and architecture was destroyed. I also discovered that port wine can be red or white, and it ages better if classical music is played to the barrels.

Our two most trying moments in Porto involved transit. The first was getting from the airport to our hotel. We were told that we needed to get the metro to the Casa da Musica station. We purchased our tickets loaded ourselves on and got off at the right place feeling quite capable and successful. Then we surfaced from the underground and realized that our hotel was not in sight and we didn't have any more directions. We stood huddled over the map (fruitlessly, I might add) until I got up the courage to try out my Portuguese on a trucker taking a smoke break. I walked over with the address prepared to speak, but when I finally got there I think I just grunted, pointed to the address, and affected a look of befuddlement. He got the picture and wrote down a bus number for us. We hopped on the bus and promptly watched our hotel float past. I was unconcerned, figuring it couldn't possibly be the same hotel we were looking for, but Laura took action, stopped the bus (nearly knocking her suitcase, me, and another passenger over in the process), and herded us all off. We backtracked up the hill, on the cobblestone sidewalk, lugging our suitcases, on 2 hours of sleep. We were moving slowly. And indeed, it was our hotel.

The other was a few days later when we picked up the rental car, backed out of the parking spot into the busy one way street on a hill, located the carpark for our hotel, and then creeped down the ramp and around into the tiniest parking spot you've probably ever seen.

It was all for the sake of team building.