Shards of First Grade

I loved my beautiful and endearing 1st grade teacher Miss Vann, and so did my mother, who enjoyed doing nice things to show her appreciation through that first year of her daughter's primary schooling. On one occasion, she had purchased a lovely little porcelain something for Miss Vann that had come in its own pretty decorative box, which my mom painstakingly wrapped in lovely gift paper, finishing it off with a dainty little coordinated bow. As I was embarking for school the following morning, she handed it me, instructing me to be careful and to present it to Miss Vann as soon as I entered the classroom. I remember nothing of this event, but according to my mother, I managed to obediently get the gift into Miss Vann's hands that morning.

It wouldn't be until the end of first grade that my mother would accidentally learn the final disposition of the gift for Miss Vann. 

Specifics as to the number of transformative effects on porcelain occurring along a half-mile route, as entrusted into the hands of an eager 6 year old will remain ambiguous. I can imagine the details providing entertaining conversation at an adult bridge game or cocktail party. Not a whole lot of reasoning is necessary to conclude that the number of times whatever it was that happened was sufficient and could not have been more effective by an increase in quantity.

As the story goes, somewhere between waving "goodbye" and completing round one of my twice-a-day, half-mile sidewalk trek that linked our front porch to the doors of Fred Olds Elementary School, the gift in my safekeeping had apparently been subjected to considerable turbulence. When I transferred the gift to my thankful teacher, it appeared to be in the same condition as it had when my mother handed it to me, and I couldn't have been any prouder at that moment. I confidently headed for my desk and took a seat while mentally amassing the impressive volume of love-points now due me for this gesture.

Once unwrapped, a box full of porcelain shards would remain Miss Vann's secret for most of the remaining school year. 

Science, Unleashed

Last night, my downsized condo somehow wound up as "the place to be," with 4 adults, 5 gymnastically driven grands ranging from the ages of 3 to 9 and one infant. Today, it's clear that nary a cubic foot of this small space was left out of the playground ambiance--including the closet where my HVAC system and water heater are stored.

I managed to successfully feed all 9 fairly simultaneously (minus the infant,) 

articulately tweaking condiments and portions per plate, to avoid the customary issues.

For a little post-meal entertainment, I positioned my largest stainless mixing bowl filled about 3/4 of the way with water on the kitchen floor, surrounded by the 5 "elder" grands. I knew they would enjoy observing the different sound effects produced by movement of the water in the bowl as they tapped the sides of the bowl with various implements like wooden spoons, wire whisks and metal spoons.

Always up for fun opportunities that facilitate out of the box discovery, I confine such sessions to ones I know won't involve an inordinate degree of post-fun cleanup (or worse--permanent household destruction.). A good time was being had by all (minus the infant,) from lively hands-on engagement (10-hands-in-all,) which should have peacefully culminated with acquisition of a new concept for each contributor.

Somehow, the process expanded to include vinegar, baking soda and at least a little bit of every available possibility, mainly located in the fridge and particularly the random mix stored on the fridge door shelves, not concluding until a myriad of spices, mixing devices and every possible catalyst had been depleted or worn out.

"Out of hand" may not fully describe my personal take on the activity, but it was getting late, and I decided to put off all but the very basic kitchen restoration until "tomorrow."

Somebody saved me from a postponed Sunday morning burden by hand washing the dishes, and diligently cleaning up all but a few remnants of the night's expansive scientific production.

QUICK QUESTION for the thoughtful person who helped me out--"Did you know you washed the dishes with the orthotic support band for my knee?"