On the way home from work, I was scrambling a bit for a topic to write about today. I have a couple saved up for those days when the barrel runs dry, and I thought I might have to dip into my supply, but I shouldn’t have worried.
Lots of good things happened in class today: ALL the girls got their City Scroller code going, which looks like THIS (minus the blue flying thing) when it’s working. It’s a pretty complicated program, so we took some time with it today. It serves as a piece of the videogame they are going to complete on Friday. Given the number of students who needed some support, we were glad to have an extra pair of hands today in the form of Chrissy Ziccarelli, the Deputy Director of Instruction for GWC (aka my boss). She clearly loves being with the students and jumped right in to help. All day long, it was awesome to hear a yell from one part of the room, “YES! I got it!” followed by “Sssssss 3, 2, 1 Boom! Ooo! Ahhh!” (if you haven’t seen our class cheer, check it out).
We also had a guest speaker, Shalini Patel, who is the CEO of, and with her sisters, co-founder of Inspire Girls Academy (the website is worth a visit just to see the cute cover images), an organization dedicated to inspiring confidence and interest in STEAM to young (K-4) girls. Our girls just LOVED her. They were vibrating with excitement as we went to lunch.
Back to the scraping around for something to write about. Did you know it is National French Fry Day today? I was making a slide for our daily class agenda (I try to put some trivial but interesting fact on it as well our plan), when I found out. I kept thinking about this as I rode the train home and pondered what dinner might be, considering I had no food at home.
I was just about to go out and find some dinner when my roommate asked if I wanted a hot dog. In light of the impending rain, my rumbling belly, and the imminence of said provender, I said yes. We each ate two Hebrew National hot dogs (we needed a good dose of nitrates) on Ezekiel bread (though there is a theme apparent there, those foods probably could not be farther apart on the health food scale). Charles had an appointment and needed to leave right after we ate.
What goes better with hot dogs than fries? Nothing, so the quest began. I already knew where to go: Zaytune, for their herbed fries with kalamata sauce. Zaytune is our closest restaurant, a four minute walk away, and moderately well known for their fries.
I saw a storm coming, so I quickly checked forecast.io, which is pretty darn good at telling me when it will precipitate in the next hour. It said “Heavy rain in 15 minutes”. That gives them 7 minutes to make fries, doable. I grabbed my umbrella (Isabella) and headed out. I crossed the street, and realized I forgot my camera.
OK, Joe, you don’t need a camera to order fries (“You want a camera to go with those fries?”). I know, I know, but there’s something I noticed on my way to church Sunday that I wanted to take a picture of for one of those reserve postings.
I zoomed back to the apartment, grabbed Splashy (my camera, long story, more here) and went back out. I got there, and ordered only fries, commenting on the fact that it’s National French Fries Day.
The guy behind the counter said he had heard about that.
I said “These are the closest fries.”
He said “And the best”.
“The ones across the street have no flavor. Ours have flavor. They’re the best.”
I said “Okay, I’ll trust you on that”.
“If you don’t like them, come back and I’ll give you more.”
(I’ve actually been trusting people’s opinions on food and other things while I’m here. It’s been a good practice.)
By the time the fries were done, light rain had started, so I popped open Isabella and headed home, lightning flashing all around. I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not in an open area – tall buildings all around me. Plus, if it’s my time to go, having sacrificed my life for fries, at least it’ll make a good story.
As I walked home, I noticed an older man with no umbrella walking more slowly than I, so I caught up and shared my umbrella.
He introduced himself as Bob, and I said I was Joe. He remarked that we both have simple names. I said that the rain was supposed to come down hard in a couple of minutes. He said “I’m from the country, and we used to say, ‘It’s raining like a cow pissin’ on a flat stone.'” We walked and talked for a minute or two more, until we got to his car. He got in and drove his way and I walked mine.