My new favorite teacher

I'm not going to bury the lead, I'll just come right out with it. My new favorite teacher is Mr. Hayashino. I say new favorite, because I just met him tonight for the first time at my daughter's high school Back To School Night.

If you don't have kids you may not be familiar with Back To School Night. Almost every school has one. It happens at the beginning of the school year, usually on a night there's a major sporting event or a television program you've been waiting three months to see.

Parents follow their child's curriculum, going from class to class between bells, cramming ourselves in the students' chairs and listening to their teachers give an overview of who they are, what they teach and what they expect from both us and the students.

They have ten minutes to do it before the bell rings and everyone hustles onto the next class.

Tonight, I met my daughter's chemistry teacher, Mr. Hayashino. I know, I said chemistry. I'm sure for those of you who follow this blog with any kind of regularity, you already see where this is going. And it's going exactly where you think it is.

I'm not sure what Mr. Hayashino was saying during his allotted ten minutes. I was busy looking at the Periodic Chart, trying to find the element symbols that spelled Felina, which as I'm sure you know was the name of the series finale episode of Breaking Bad.

When the bell rang, I went up to Mr. Hayashino, introduced myself and asked if he'd watched Breaking Bad since it's required viewing for chemistry teachers. He said he saw the series - all of it - for the first time this summer. I told him I'd binged it six times. He was duly impressed.

We immediately started talking about chemicals, cooks and how we have to get together and talk some more about the show. Twist my arm.

So this semester, I'm going to be taking a keen interest in how my daughter is doing in school. I'll monitor her progress, and talk to the teachers when necessary.

When I get to her chemistry class again, I'll ask the teacher, "Who the hell are you?"

And if Mr. Hayashino's the chemistry teacher I think he is, I'm pretty sure his answer will be, "You know who I am. You all know. Now say my name."

Sew I say

This one starts a little over eighteen years ago.

The wife was very pregnant with my son, and we were shopping for all the baby things everyone gets. The crib. The glider chair. The changing table. These are the things we agreed on.

What we didn't agree on was the fabric for the padded liner on the inside of the crib. While we were looking at bolts of fabric, I came across some Elvis patterned fabric I thought would be awesome. It wasn't the fabric in the picture, but that doesn't matter - it was Elvis.

Suffice it to say the wife didn't have quite the enthusiasm for the Elvis liner as I did. She leaned towards the light blue one, with clouds, cowboys and trains. But since she vetoed Elvis, I vetoed that one.

In the end we agreed on one with a deep blue background, yellow stars and moons, a black terrier and a black and white checked border. It was a great pattern: visually stimulating, colorful, calming.

But, you know, it wasn't Elvis.

That Elvis pattern has stuck with me these past eighteen years, and I still can see it in my head as I write about it. At the time, I thought as an alternative to the crib liner, I'd make Elvis pillows. This fabric had to get out in the world. The problem was I didn't have any idea how to sew.

That was then and this is now.

As we speak - or read - I'm currently enrolled in a beginning sewing class. Tonight, I pinned the pattern for the apron I'm making, which is the first class project. I also cut the fabric, marked the loops, and reinforced the pockets. It was slow, sometimes frustrating and painful work what with stabbing myself about a thousand times while I was pinning. I suppose it would've been a lot easier if I'd taken Home Ec in school.

Nonetheless it's a means to an end: the Elvis pillows I've been dreaming about for years are going to become a reality. Sure, they're already a reality if you Google "Elvis pillows" or go shopping for them on Etsy. But those aren't made from a dream that's been kept alive for years.

Oh sure, laugh now. But when you get your Elvis throw pillow for Christmas this year, not only will you love it, I know exactly what you're going to say.

Thank you very much.

Three class acts

You know all those problems, big and small in our lives? The ones we bitch and moan about. The ones that are so inconvenient.

Here's a little something to put them in perspective.

I have always been on team Letterman. I find his combination of intelligence, humor and compassion unique to late night television. Plus he made Paris Hilton cry, so what's not to love?

This past week his class and tact was yet again on display during an interview with quadruple amputee veteran, and double arm transplant recipient Brendan Marrocco. The respect Dave has for this young man's courage, persistence and remarkable attitude given the circumstances is tangible.

And Brendan, along with the doctor who headed up his surgical team, are nothing short of inspiring.

When I see an interview like this, I realize how very little I have to complain about in life.

It probably won't stop me from doing it, but it will make me think before I do.