Writing With Abandon

Reflections and ramblings about life as an educator, writer, reader, knitter, and over-thinker. Trying to do the writing only I can do.

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about

I’m Amy. A born and raised New Yorker, currently living in Miami. Here to reflect on my experiences as an educator and learner, working things out as I write.

  • From Melbourne

    What do you do when everyone you know and love is in a different time zone than you?

    I think I’ve never been in this situation before.

    I’ve lived 6 hours ahead or traveled anywhere from 3 hours behind to 7 hours ahead, but always with someone or to see someone. Yesterday, I traveled 24 hours on two separate flights to the literal opposite side of the planet, and now I am finding myself in the unique situation where every single other person I know is in a different time zone.

    Right now, the PSTs are winding down or better be (it’s midnight there, people!). The ESTs are deep in slumber (it’s 3am, some might be waking for their middle-of-the-night wee). The GMTs(+1 cause it’s summer) are just starting their days (it’s 8am).

    And I am trying to figure out if 5pm is too early for dinner. Jet lag has me in a daze, as does Melbourne’s fall weather with its haze, drizzle, and random sun spurts.

    It’s confusing to me that I traveled so far, only to arrive in a place that so far feels like a mix of the US and the UK with a slightly different accent that I can understand as long as they don’t gnaw on some of their words (I don’t know how else to describe it!).

    Today what I did was walk. I walked all over my hotel’s neighborhood, Fitzroy. I walked to the Melbourne Museum, all throughout their exhibits. I walked to the CBD, just to kill time, because what is there to really see and do in a city’s business district as school and work are letting out, aside from dodging people as you walk down the street?

    I think 5pm is a little early, so I will rest my feet for a bit longer and then take myself to some restaurant for dinner. Maybe tonight I’ll sleep the whole night through and wake up refreshed and ready to explore. Maybe!F

    From Melbourne, with love.

  • Correspondence

    I’m reading The Correspondent by Virginia Evans and it’s one of those books you know you’ll want to reread. I wish I’d had a pen with me throughout to underline those sticky sentences (oh, there are so many!), but I’ve been reading from bed or on the couch in the mornings after breakfast and before work, and I’m just sucked in.

    Sybil and Rosalie’s long correspondence reminded me of one of my longest penpals, Claire, who I met at sleep away camp at age 11 or 12. We wrote each other letters during college, while we studied abroad (and visited one another!), after college. I still have all of her letters saved in a drawer somewhere at home. What stories letters can tell! (It reminds me of my mom telling me A Little Life was “about a little life!”)

    Life was a little slower then. We had phones, touch screen, then smart phones, but until apps really took off, they still didn’t take over our world like they do now.

    I like my slow habits.

    Knitting (more than halfway done with my sweater after a big chunk of stockinette progress this weekend, wondering if I can miraculously finish in time for my trip to Australia).

    Bathroom lighting is the best lighting

    Reading (sadly I won’t make it to the book club meeting for this book. Sigh!).

    Writing (I’ve been lazy at journaling but picked it up this weekend).

    Walking (twice a day at least).

    Yoga.

    A quick slice, I won’t reread, but I wanted to show up and Ana’s post inspired me. Maybe I’ll order some neat stationery and envelopes.

    Mom, remember when I used to sell “creationery” on our stoop in the summer?

    Who wants to start letter writing? I’ve got some cute stamps.

  • Delete Today’s Photos

    Every day, one of my reminders reads: “📸 Delete today’s photos.”

    Usually while I eat breakfast, sometime after I’ve done the NYT word games, I search for today’s date in my iPhone photos album and scroll through the photos to see what’s there and what I can delete, if anything.

    The reminder started back in 2024 when my iPhone storage was getting close to capacity. I realized I had multiples of many photos, random videos that I didn’t need, and way too many unnecessary screenshots (especially from during the pandemic). Instead of deleting photos in one big overhaul, I decided to make it more sustainable by going day by day, like a filing system or a 5-year diary.

    Now that’s it’s been over a year, I often don’t have many photos to delete, but I still search the date and browse through the memories.

    Today is a nice one, April 28th.

    Angie, dramatic pose over the boat from our Refugee play my first year at KLA (2022):

    Ariel and Omer’s wedding, such a special day filled with joy (2023):

    Repotting my monstera on my old studio balcony, a plant that has grown so large that it’s been relegated to the balcony for good (2024):

    Then
    Now

    The 2025 photos and videos include ones of my students from last year during knitting club, so I won’t be posting them here, though they did make me smile.

    I’m not sure if the reminder should still read “📸 Delete today’s photos,” since I’m not really deleting anymore but rather reminiscing, reconnecting, and forwarding the photos on to friends and families (as well as remembering to wish a best friend a happy anniversary).

    I think I’ll keep it for now.

  • No AC

    It must have happened on Thursday.

    I woke up drenched in sweat, confused by the feeling. I haven’t had night sweats in months, not since starting to dress warmer (isn’t that strange?), not unless I was sick like in January with fever, unable to lift my head.

    P wasn’t home, and I figured it was because I’d taken a bath that night, that must have been it, raising my body temperature like the water temperature, hot but not too hot, but hot enough to make my skin red.

    Then on Friday, 9 o’clock hit and I heard the fan of the AC click on, familiar, but didn’t feel the cool breeze that normally sends me to grab the throw blanket on the couch. Strange.

    By the time we were ready to climb into bed, we knew something was up. The thermostat read 78 degrees. The air was blowing, but it wasn’t cool.

    Shit. Everything in a condo breaks on the weekend, when you can’t have any repairs done in the building.

    We slept splayed out, our limbs stretched like starfish, tossing and turning and sweating. Is it any better with the window open when you live in south Florida?

    I spent most of the weekend out at the beach, my first ever friend from my whole life visiting. We lazed at her fancy hotel’s fancy pool, big green cushy loungers, umbrella, poolside service, crispy chicken tenders, the best watermelon paletas I’ve ever had. It was the first really hot weekend we’ve had in a while, reminding me that summer is coming, summer is here. I luxuriated in the cool water of the pool, just right, letting my fingers turn into prunes.

    When I got back to my apartment with its shades drawn to keep the sun’s heat out, I was greeted by warm stale air. Poor Pheebs.

    On Saturday my yoga teacher lent me a tower fan. When the repair guy texted me that our unit was “really old…,” I ordered our own and carted the fan back for Sunday’s class. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, when I told her they didn’t allow repairs on weekends.

    Monday meant back to work, but working from home means working from the heat. My head throbbed all day. My appetite was small like those hottest days of summer when all you want is fruit that’s essentially water.

    I sat on calls with the fan blowing right at me and felt my brain slowly becoming mush between my eyebrows. I laid horizontal on the couch when P got home and agreed to go to Trader Joe’s just for the AC.

    I thought about all the other times I’ve laid out like a starfish, sweating.

    In Madrid, with its dry heat and that old apartment with no central heat or AC.

    In London, when Reeta and I stayed in a bed & breakfast during a brutal heat wave of 101 degrees that made my feet swell inside my sneakers, giving me blisters.

    At summer camp on the warmest nights, my legs hanging off the top bunk.

    The repair man came this morning and gave his verdict: the unit needs to be replaced. We have one of the last original AC units in the building. Most apartments have already replaced theirs. Our landlord has approved his quote, and it’s just another few days before he’ll be able to install it. Hopefully.

    Til then, I’ll be living in this strange heat world, my brain traveling through memories of other hot nights, moving slowly, hydrating excessively, and trying to eat better than I did today.

  • The Spell of the Yukon

    This evening, at the end of our last full day in the Yukon, Quinn read Robert W. Service’s poem, “The Spell of the Yukon,” to the 37 students we’ve had the pleasure of getting to know this week.

    Everyone was silent as he read in his booming voice, taking us through the mountains and valleys we’d become familiar with in our short time here.

    “There’s a land—oh, it beckons and beckons,

       And I want to go back—and I will”

    What can I say about my time here? About this place that can absolutely spellbind you.

    I think I’ll borrow our debrief structure: Rock, Stick, Leaf.

    What rocked?

    The views. Mountains everywhere, blue sky, frozen river, deep canyons.

    The weather. We got lucky and the sun came out every day except today, which was a snowy wonderland. It reflected off the white snow and made it glitter. It showed a different side of the mountains with each passing hour.

    The hikes. I love sweating in the cold. It’s why I liked training for a half marathon in the winter. Start out cold and end up warm. We hiked Miles Canyon, we hiked Kluane National Park in the Alsek River Valley in Haines Junction, we hiked the trails by an off-grid lodge camp at Marsh Lake.

    The people! Our local guides. Harold, the Champagne Aishihik elder in Long Ago Peoples Place. Keith Wolfe Smarch, a Tlingit master wood carver, whose workshop in Carcross we had the privilege of visiting. Lu and Mel from Lumel Studios, where we each got the chance to work with a glass blower to make our own piece to take home. The 18-year-old kid at Mount Logan who chatted with me the whole way back about philosophy and what it’s like for him to live in his own off-grid cabin, alone.

    What will stick with me?

    The silence and vastness. It’s so quiet out here when you get out of town. Incredible and powerful.

    How important it is to connect with people and nature. How nature can heal you. How hearing others’ stories can make you feel more connected to yourself and each other.

    A desire to come back, like Service’s poem says. “I will.”

    The importance of learning from First Nations people, especially Yukon First Nations. “Together Today For Our Children Tomorrow.” The Yukon as the bottleneck through which all the ancestors of the Indigenous groups in the Americas had to pass in order to find their way elsewhere on the continent.

    How much I love my person and my pup and how I’d like to share this beautiful place with them on a trip one day.

    What will I leave behind?

    My long johns.

    My snow pants.

    Martha’s boots (though they were AMAZING! Thank you, Martha!).

    Hat hair.

    Wearing a backpack all day every day.

    Hotel pillows.

    – – –

    Anyway, just feeling very grateful as I rest my feet up at the end of the night before I pack my things for our departure tomorrow. Next stop: Atlanta for a conference, and then home on Saturday!

  • I’m Still Standing

    An airport at 5:30am is a sleepy place. Luckily, Miami isn’t seemingly experiencing the same TSA delays, and there certainly weren’t any ICE agents supporting with security. I don’t want to think about why that is right now.

    There’s music playing low, a kind of soft pop. I can hear the sound of coffee grinding, the portafilter tap-tap-tapping against a metal bucket to get out the wet grounds. My mind wanders to when I worked at a coffee shop just after college. Tasting the espresso in three different spots of the shot — top, middle, bottom — to make sure the grind was the right size, packed perfectly. Not too sour, not too bitter. That taste test’ll wake you up in the morning!

    It’s day 31 of this slice of life challenge, and I think this year is by far the best it’s ever been. Joined by so many friends and former colleagues, we built a community that I didn’t really see coming. Did you know you can get closer to someone you hardly had time to say more than a few words to during Tuesday PDs or passing quickly in the hallway? A slice of life gives you a glimpse into someone’s world, their mind, their hopes and dreams and worries and woes. I feel like I’ve hung out with so many of you this month, even if we haven’t seen each other in person! What a blessing! What a gift!

    Writing got easier each day, too. I started by scheduling my slices ahead, methodical, organized, anxious and careful about what I wrote, and then I found myself just slicing each day as it came. Sometimes in the morning. Sometimes in the evening, after the day had gotten away from me. Both valid.

    And reading! Oh! They don’t talk about how much reading you get to do during this challenge. I’m on my phone a lot more this month, but it’s because I’m reading all of these incredible slices. I barely touched my knitting project this month (sorry, Yukon, I guess Australia may have a better chance than you), because this Jetpack app took over. Instagram’s been off my phone for a while. Just Jetpack. I think I’m gonna feel a bit sad when I open my app tomorrow and there aren’t many new posts. I wonder how many slices will fill my reader on Tuesdays.

    “I’m Still Standing” just started playing on the speakers. An apt song for this moment. We’re all still standing after the daily writing challenge!

    Looking like a true survivor.

    Feeling like a little kid.

    Maybe that’s what it is. Something about this challenge brings with it a sense of childlike joy.

    Congrats to everyone who rose to the challenge! I can’t wait to see you next year. And I promise, I’ll try to show up some Tuesdays ☺️

  • Slicing While Waiting For Dinner

    It was a busy day.

    Woke up at 6 — so tired! Why? I got almost 8 hours…

    Phoebe’s grooming appointment at 8am. A new mobile groomer. He was great and she came back looking spiffy.

    An 8:30am call with a new client in Cairo. From Iowa just like Tim! Three proposal requests.

    10am meeting with my little east coast team. Touching base on what’s coming up while two of us are out.

    Go into the living room and smother P with hugs. “I’m gonna miss yoooou!”

    12pm call with J to talk about a Morocco proposal.

    12:30pm lunch call with R. Just for fun.

    1pm pre-departure call with a Seattle school heading to Iceland on Monday.

    Emails, emails, emails.

    Cc, cc, cc.

    Slack, slack, slack.

    Hug P! “I’m gonna MISS you!”

    3:30pm call with R and F. Reviewing my list of things to cover while I’m out.

    5pm finishing up. Set my OOO. Trading the Miami heat for the crisp Yukon air ❄️🏔️.

    Hug P! Grab a snack. “What should we have for the last supper?”

    Log back on to send a final client email.

    Take Phoebe out.

    “The sky is falling! The sky is falling!!”

    Run back inside.

    Plop on the couch while P makes us dinner. TJ’s kung pao chicken.

    I. Am. Tired.

    Cue up “Shrinking.”

    Write this slice.

    “Here we go!” P says.

    Packing can wait.

  • Toilet Trees

    “I still need to paaaaack,” I say.

    We’re sitting at a table at Books & Books. The waiter has finally taken our order and I’m hangry. V is coloring a blue bed on the paper we brought from home.

    “You still have tomorrow though,” P says.

    “Yeah, but I work, and I don’t want to be scrambling on my last night.”

    “Right.”

    “I at least want my clothes and toiletries packed by tonight,” I say.

    “Toilet trees?” V interrupts. “What are toilet trees?”

    P and I laugh. One of us starts to explain what toiletries are, while the other asks what kinds of toilet trees the others are envisioning.

    Toilets growing on trees? (Me)

    Trees growing out of toilets? (V)

    A toilet made from a tree trunk? (P)

    I grab a piece of paper and fold it in half, then use brown, green, and black to draw the first two types of toilet trees. My illustrations get a lot of giggles.

    “You could write a story about the toilet trees!” V encourages. “You can fill these other pages.” She taps once, twice on the inside of the folded paper.

    “A story? Hmmm…

    “Once upon a time there was a little girl named V. She was walking along in the Land of Toiletries when she had the urge to go #1. But in the Land of Toiletries, there are no bathrooms!

    “So she looked off into the distance and saw a tree with fresh toilets glistening in its branches. She ran to the tree, climbed up its trunk, and shimmied down a branch to a perfectly 6-year-old-sized toilet.

    “‘Ahh,’ she said with relief as she relieved herself.

    “Then she climbed back down and went on her merry way!”

    “Write it here!” V exclaims, delighted, tapping the inside of the page with her blue pencil.

    So I write it down.

    “That’s a lot of words,” V observes. “Don’t forget to put ‘The End.’ You need to add a picture too.”

    I draw a picture of a little girl in a pink dress climbing up into a toilet tree. This gets more giggles.

    Alysia arrives at that moment and joins us at the table.

    “What’s this?” She asks.

    “Do you want to read her your story?” P asks V.

    And so V reads us the story of the toilet trees.

    “That should be your slice,” Alysia says to me. “With no other context.”

    I had to give some context though.

    Now back to that packing I need to do…

  • Friend Family

    Starting the morning with so much gratitude.

    Even though last night’s wine makes me feel groggier than I would have liked, kept me from sleeping in later than I would have wanted.

    An unreal balcony, like a whole separate room, seemingly custom-built for this couple.

    A delicious dinner, barbecued with care by Jason.

    A table setting with new plates, curated by Gi.

    My love smiling at me across the table.

    Laughter.

    Oscar cuddles.

    Playful teasing after four years of friendship.

    I smiled and looked at them all — Jason, Gi, P, Osqui — and could see us a couple of years ago, us right now, and us in the future, with little ones running around. I could see it all at the same time.

    This life.

    This rich life.

    In spite of all the obstacles (because there will never not be obstacles), there is so so so much to be grateful for.

    And this little friend-made-family is one to savor.

    The hostess with the mostess
    Jason and I are slipper buddies
    As candid as I could get, after dessert

  • The Hour Before Writing Group

    Ana sends the message to our Slicers WhatsApp chat on Wednesday: “Hi slicers, I’m hosting tomorrow’s writing group on Zoom. If you feel like writing together, I’d love to have you!”

    The last and only other time I came to the Thursday writing group was on a Thursday that I worked late and was super distracted. I think I was trying (and failing) to file my taxes online (I ended up going to H&R Block, and good thing I did, cause they got me a refund versus the thousands TurboTax was gonna have me owe). I hadn’t eaten much. I didn’t engage the way I know I can. I didn’t write the way I know I can, either.

    So this week, I was determined.

    “Can you send a reminder tomorrow at 7:40?? I will try to make it!”

    And right on cue, she did.

    But I’m getting ahead of myself. Because tonight’s prompt is what we did in the hour before logging onto the Zoom.

    At 7pm, I was lying back on a bolster for a supported savasana in my Thursday yoga class with Susie, my favorite instructor. Vinyasa with sound bowl ending.

    At around 7:15pm, I was putting my props away and rolling up my mat. I said goodbye, and headed out into the evening air.

    At 7:20pm, I was crossing Alhambra Plaza, looking at the three random cop cars with their lights flashing, double parked against the median, where three women were on their phones looking concerned. I wondered what had happened, but didn’t see any signs of an accident, so kept moving.

    As I walked along Alhambra Circle towards home, I read a few texts from our CRT chat, and then opened my Jetpack app. It had been glitching in the morning, not letting me leave comments. So I cautiously read a few slices and commented. Gi’s about girl dinner. Vicky’s through the perspective of a rooster. Sophie’s middle-of-the-night slices. Jesu’s síndrome pre-viaje. Carol Ann’s about missing her dad.

    At 7:27, I glanced up and saw my building aglow. I went to snap a photo, but saw it wouldn’t showcase the golden light in the same way. It would just look like a random photo of a street. Whatever. I love my building.

    At 7:28, I went to cross the street. A woman crossed with me, pushing a baby stroller with a newborn. She was wearing a t-shirt that said MOM GROUP DROP OUT. I walked on the side of the cars as an extra layer of protection for them.

    At 7:29, I entered my building and waved to Jon. I needed to walk Pheebs and feed her too, then feed myself. Would I have time to shower?

    At 7:33, I got home. Phoebe jumped down from her perch on the couch to greet me. I slid the harness on her and left my phone on the table as I brought her down to pee. I riled her up in the elevator as we came back upstairs. I fed her.

    7:36pm. What to eat, what to eat.

    I opened the fridge. Nothing.

    I opened the freezer. Frozen meatballs from a few weeks ago? Nah… Frozen Trader Joe’s tamales? Yup.

    Wrap in a wet paper towel, microwave 3-4 minutes, let stand 1 minute.

    Could I shower in that time? Maybe not. I was too hungry.

    I scrolled more on Jetpack. Con’s slice. Ana’s about Thursdays.

    Ping! Ana’s text reminder came in, right on schedule. 7:40pm.

    My tamales were ready. I ate them while I continued to read slices.

    At 7:53, I gathered my laptop, my reading glasses, and my water. I reset the dryer that I’d put on before yoga because our loads usually need a second run.

    At 7:54, I determined that I did have enough time to shower.

    At 7:58, I put on my pajamas.

    At 7:59, I determined that I did not have enough time to wash my face.

    At 8:00, I clicked onto the Zoom link and met the other ladies here tonight.

    We all decided to slice about what we did in the hour before arriving to the writing group. I wonder how their hours unfolded.