Okay, I milked it a bit. When students were off task or not making it fun today in reading groups, I’d pull the whiney face and voice, saying, “It’s my birthday today.  I want this to be fun…”

The before school leadership meeting, the groups, and then after-school intervention flowed on by.  What I was looking forward to was being home in time for K. to pick me up and whisk me off to “Club.”

A restaurant nearby in downtown is our club.  We know the manager and wait staff and love to give them a hard time or sit them down to taste the wine we brought and discuss what is a true Bordeaux and what isn’t.

My good friend K. and I get to talk all over the map, after a proper toast.  Glasses are filled and I read the title poem from Aimless Love, by Billy Collins.   Then we sip the Magnificat and I receive my birthday wishes with gratitude.

Dinner happens because eventually we feel we really should order, but it isn’t about the food.

Part of the deliciousness of our outing is that is a school night.  When my alarm goes off at 5:25 I doubt I’ll be feeling that little bit of enchantment.

The range of what K. and I discuss goes from what I do/she does in teaching students to read nonfiction, to history with certain administrators, to our parents, to how well does the man in your life listen, and a dozen other facets.

It’s the best.  Well wishes and cards.  Some new books.  Texts.  And then the evening out to dinner with K.

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