To most of us, the name George Wendt is synonymous with the affable barfly Norm Peterson from the long-running television sitcom, Cheers, but the reality is that even without awesome writers, he is a fabulously funny, kind man, whose work includes movies, television, and live theatre – including recent stints in 12 Angry Men and Hairspray.

Mr. Wendt recently wrote his first book, Drinking with George: A Barstool Professional’s Guide to Beer, a wonderful book that’s part memoir, part ode to beer, and entirely funny.

He graciously gave up the better part of an evening to chat with us about his work, his life, and his book.

What was the impetus for writing your book?

Well, as I say in the book (you’ve read it, so now you know all my tricks), but, beer has been very, very good to me over the years and I decided it was finally time to give something back.

I could have written a poem, or something, but it would have sucked. I could have done a song, maybe – I could have rapped something – but I thought I’d write the book.

Your Irish-Catholic upbringing is a major theme of the memoir thread of this book.

Yes. Jesuits and beer.

One of the things I really enjoyed about your book was that you filled it with interesting information – everything from the history of beer, to uses for beer, to three pages of different ways to say you’ve had too much beer. Was there research required, or is this all information you’ve gleaned over the years?

We sort of cheated, and looked out on the Internet for some of the factoids and research. So there was a bit of that. Kind of like my term papers.

(pause)

I have to – I feel so bad. I just came from, I was just down at the bank, and I was driving home, and some guy tried some really aggressive driving move, and I kind of got angry, and I gave him the old “fuck you,” and I’ve just got to say, to anybody I’ve ever done that to… I’m really sorry. I hate that.

I think things like that are somehow worse when you’ve experienced them from the other side, and you realize how awful that can be.

Yes. But also, the guy was totally wrong, and I was totally right, and but I should have just gone, “Mm-mm. Not today.” But instead I went, “FUCK YOU!”

if you stick to the fundamentals, once you’re up on stage with other people and their ideas, then you can just kind of roll with it, and then – then you’re not thinking, see? Then you’re just improvising from somewhere else

Did it help? Was it at least satisfying?

Mmm. It was satisfying to thwart his pushy aggressive move, but I felt kind of yucky for having topped it with a “fuck you.”

Also, then that guy drives off and goes, “Jeez, the ‘Norm’ guy just said, ‘fuck you’.” And we were pretty much face to face, so he…I mean we didn’t get out of the car or anything, but our cars were close.

And at least it wasn’t Jack Nicholson with a seven-iron.

Anyway, I’m sorry. Back to your questions. . . I just wanted to get that off my chest, like a father-confessor.

Bless you my child.

(laughter)Thank you, Sister. What’s my penance?

Light beer for a week.

Light beer? No! (George utters a comical strangled scream).

Seriously, you apologized. I think that’s good enough. Back to the book. I have to admit – I’m never nervous about these, but I’m actually nervous about talking to you because I read all about your improv background.

Oh, don’t be. I was the worst improviser of all time. Really. Seriously. All of my friends from Second City, and Improv Olympics – they’re like amazing, and my wife still improvises quite a bit with all of our pals – and I can’t go there. I just…I sucked when I was at Second City and I sucked now.

Really?

Yeah! I’m just…I’m too self conscious, or something. I don’t know. I mean, eventually you have to come up with your own material, as I mentioned in the book, and I would just stare at these suggestions and my mind…Nothing. I’m just not built that way.

But, the good news is, if you stick to the fundamentals, once you’re up on stage with other people and their ideas, then you can just kind of roll with it, and then – then you’re not thinking, see? Then you’re just improvising from somewhere else – your creative center or the collective unconscious or those kind of touchy-feely notions of improv.

So, I can roll on that basis, but I’m not Mr. Quick Wit, by any means.

I’m guessing you don’t miss it, then. That you prefer scripted work?

Oh, yeah. I much prefer scripted work.

Which leads us back to theatre. I know you did 12 Angry men – you were here in Dallas with it on tour – a couple of years ago, and then you did Hairspray…

Oh, I went right out of 12 Angry Men into a dress and high heels. It was one of those great “actor” moments. It was like “Wow, what a career.” And, not “what a career” like I’m fabulous, but like, “wow, what a crazy 180 this is.”

It’s kind of surreal.

Yeah.

Did you enjoy playing that part (Edna in Hairspray)?

What, Hairspray?!? Oh, my God, it was so much fun. It was really just an amazing piece.

I don’t know if you ever saw it on stage – it’s just a real crowd-pleaser. It’s just hilarious, and great songs, and it was really cool. And I felt like such a jock, dancing eight shows a week. I really – I’m not a big dancer. Surprise, surprise.

And it’s a very physical part.

Yeah! There’s like – Edna is involved in seven song-and-dance numbers.

Are you going to do more theatre, any time soon?

Yes, I am, and I’m not quite sure which I’m gonna do, but there are three possibilities for this fall. One of them just came about five minutes ago, so I’m like whaaaaa? So, anyway, we’ll see which one I do.

Obviously you’re best known for playing Norm on Cheers. Do people expect you to be like that character – to be funny on command, or to go have a beer with them?

Well, they expect me to enjoy beer, and generally when they run into me, it’s usually in a bar, or something. But yeah, I suppose they expect me to be a little funnier than I am. That’s natural enough.

Does it bother you, or are you just used to it?

It doesn’t bother me. As I mention in the book, the biggest difference between Norm and myself is that Norm had way better writers. If all barflies had award-winning, awesome comedy writers supplying their patter, it’d be a very different scene.

I can imagine. Let’s revisit your book. One of the sections that made me laugh was the part about how to hook women on beer. I knew about shampoo, but I’d never heard of the pedicure thing [using beer as a foot soak] before. Did your wife help test any of these things?

The pedicure thing. (laughs) Once again, that was a research item. And with regard to my wife…um, no. I have given her a pedicure but with beer – nope, sorry.

I also really liked the structure of the book, with your memoir serving as a connective theme, and then all the beer stuff running through it.

Thank you. I pretty much figured whenever anybody had anything bad to say about the book, I would say, “That? Oh, that was Grotenstein. Oh, that part? Yeah, that was all Jonathan.” But really in truth he [Jonathan Grotenstein] put the structure together and he did a great job.

Was the writing process a good thing? Was it more you, or more him?

Well all of the stories are…are me, and we’d just sit around, and he’d ask random questions, and I’d answer them, and we’d go off into digressions. We sat around with some old friends of mine, and of course, my wife Bernadette, and there’d be…people would remind me of other things.

Jonathon sort of pulled it all together, and – apart from the beer trivia – it wound up being more or less chronological, starting with my first sip of beer, and on into the teenage years, and college, et cetera, and Second City, and Cheers and beyond… But I never really meant for it to read like a memoir.

I guess, de facto, it’s sort of a memoir, but I really meant for it to be a beer humor book, just exploring some funny stories that relate to my relationship with beer.

…the biggest difference between Norm and myself is that Norm had way better writers.

Personally, I would describe it as a love story for beer.

Ahh, very good. Next there will be a love song.

Though actually, I was playing around and – in the book there’s a poem about Ninkasi, to Ninkasi – the Goddess of Beer – I just did, yesterday and today, the audio version of the book – and I couldn’t stop laughing at that crazy poem, which I insisted be in the book. And I was thinking, “Should we have some Barry White music underneath it?”

Tell me a bit more about recording the audio book. Was it different reading your own stuff than it would have been if you’d been recording someone else’s material? Did you treat it like any other acting role?

It was pretty much my stories, and I sort of wished I could tell them the way I’m used to telling them, but they’ve got a bit more verbiage. I would have taken some short cuts.

But, I mean, yeah, it was a job, but I would crack myself up with some of the stuff. And I’d go, “No, I don’t believe I wrote that.”

One of our readers wants to know if – and this person feels there should be a “Norm” movie, by the way – wants to know if we’ll be seeing you in television or in the movies any time soon?

I seem to have been kicked out of television. I think I overstayed my welcome, or something. But…I’d certainly like to get back into TV, but I really hope that it wouldn’t be “kiddie” TV. And everything’s sort of “reality” now, so that’s weird, but there’s always the chance that somebody thinks, instead of, “Oh, the ‘Norm’ guy? Enh. No, no.” And then maybe someday there’d be some writer who goes, “The ‘Norm’ guy? We could get the ‘Norm’ guy! That’d be awesome!”

And as for movies, I do a lot of indies, but I appear to be well down the list for character actors for the sort of ‘fancy’ studios. But once again, you make an indie that works, and all of a sudden you’re fabulous again.

In the meantime, I’ve got the theatre!

Do you like working in theatre better?

Kind of. Yeah, I like the theatre better as work. I mean, there’s something to be said for variety – you know, do a movie here, a TV show there, but the actual process of rehearsing and performing in theatre is by far the most fun for me.

And you’ve got three possible things you might be doing this fall, that you can’t tell us about?

Yes. Well, one’s in New York, and one’s in LA….

And in the meantime?

And in the meantime, there’s the book!

Drinking with George, by George Wendt, with Jonathon Grotenstein will available from Amazon.com and fine booksellers everywhere later this month. Look for our review of the book in the All Things Girl blog next week.

Melissa A. Bartell likes strong coffee, red wine, and dark chocolate. She earns her living writing web-copy for an Internet marketing firm & dabbles in fiction on the side. She lives near Dallas, TX with her husband, two dogs, and more computers than anyone really needs. She is the Managing Editor here at All Things Girl. Find out more about her on our About Page, check out her blog at MissMeliss.com, or follow her on Twitter: @Melysse

To augment her commanding presence, this woman had a penchant for delivering celestial insights completely devoid of social niceties—she liked to watch people wither under her pronouncements—assessments delivered in a fog of patchouli and foreboding. Fortunately she spared me, for the most part, as my best friend was her girl Friday. And girl Friday decided I needed a personal reading and chart drawn by the force of nature herself, as a gift to yours truly. Imagine my ecstasy. Ok, I can’t either.

So, after checking my birth certificate to verify that I was indeed born, on this planet, at a particular time on a particular date, and providing the information to the sage astrologer, I was told to return to her home in a week. During the waiting week, while I imagined she did some conjuring and divining, I also thought about what she’d determine about my life and my future, and whether she’d be as accurate as the Magic 8 ball I consulted as a kid. I loved that Magic 8 ball… Anyway, I hoped she’d reveal some great things in store for me, but I figured that if she discovered my life was ill-fated then she surely was a fraud.

On the day that I was to return the astrologer’s home to learn my destiny, I walked the fifteen minutes up the hill to her house. I rang the bell and, heavy upon the floor, I heard the astrologer descend the stairs inside. Opening the door she fixed me with her gaze, I felt small and conspicuous in her presence—as if she had noticed a spider she wasn’t sure if she would squish or spare.

“I’m sorry,” she said in an unapologetic tone. I looked at her, half-smiling out of confusion, as she continued. “Your life will always be a struggle, you will always be in turmoil—your inner and outer worlds are in opposition.” I hadn’t even stepped through the doorway. I smiled a bit wider—she was kidding, right? I mean, talk about bedside manner. I was grateful she was only giving me my astrological reading and not performing an appendectomy.

I walked in and followed her to her office upstairs and wondered what else she had in store for me. Did I need to know more? Wasn’t the miserable life pronouncement enough? But I was curious so I sat through the reading, the chart explication, and possibly an exorcism (I can’t quite remember) and when the hour was up I took my chart and the cassette recording of our session and wandered down the street to my house.

At this point, you are likely wondering what this has to do with a poet and a taskmistress. Well, I’ll tell you. You see this little real life parable has been a part of my personal mythology since the day the astrologer told me I was celestially screwed. I have carried this feeling of inner and outer warring factions for nearly twenty years and it has limited my perspective about my life in some ways.

Now, I don’t place much stock in astrology. Sure, horoscopes are fun to read and I do like the mapping of a chart, I’m geeky that way, but it’s not like I believe everything about my sun sign’s profile (I’m a Pisces), but there are some uncanny similarities between me and my sign’s attributes. Pisces is the rose-colored glasses, poet, dreamer, and all-around sensitive sign. Guilty as charged.

And then there’s Capricorn, my moon sign. Capricorn is a take-no-prisoners, ducks-in-a-row kind of sign. The taskmistress to the sensitive poet. I have lived with this dichotomy, which fits beyond the astrological, using it (albeit often subconsciously), as an excuse for why I am so hard on myself—why I am unrelenting in my pursuit of taking care of responsibilities, doing the right thing (whatever that is), and why I work too hard. The poor poet never stood a chance with all this linear line-towing and regimentation. Until recently.

Recently I was discussing this duality with my yoga mentor, likely using it as a reason for why I couldn’t do something or some other lame excuse for not just accepting me as me, when she upended the myth by asking, “Is that true?” and “Do you cling to that for some reason that’s beneficial for you?” Umm, no, it’s not necessarily true and no, it doesn’t benefit me.

Yes, I have a tough taskmistress who relentlessly reminds me—the yogini, the poet, the woman—that she is not good enough. The poet shrinks away and goes back to her cave of contemplation refusing to write for fear of the taskmistress and her judgmental ways. The yogini fears that she is not good enough to be a teacher. And the woman, well she hears many unsavory things. But not anymore. I’m taking this seeming contradiction of influences and using it for good. My good.

Now, when the taskmistress rears her Medusa-like head, the poet, in true Piscean form, swims away in the opposite direction. The yogini just listens and smiles, which only confounds and quiets the taskmistress. We—the taskmistress, the poet, and I—are learning to live in relative harmony and I am learning to channel the taskmistress’ predilection for criticism into fire to stoke the poet’s creativity machine. Astrology be damned, my stars are aligned just right.

Shanna Trenholm Shanna Trenholm is a writer, thinker, budding yoga teacher, and muse-for-hire. She likes to travel—discovering inspiration in the ordinary; magic in the mundane. She lives in San Diego but misses Portland, Paris, and Prague. She thinks there’s a theme there. You can follow her witticisms and sage commentary on twitter: http://twitter.com/shannatrenholm

Or mine.

Maybe it’s because I was born in mid-August, but to me fall in general, and October specifically, have always seemed to be the beginning of things, and not the end we’re told it is (well, at least in the northern hemisphere). I come alive in fall, mentally, physically. Music excites me more, and the crisp days speak to my soul in ways that upstart spring and languid summer never can.

Halloween has been a favorite of mine since childhood. It’s a day of costumes and candy, to be sure, but it’s also a day of mysteries and memories.

Of course, fall brings the beginning of all the fun holidays. Informal harvest celebrations, Halloween – how I do love Halloween! – Thanksgiving – all are stops along the road to winter, and those cold, wet days when I work near the crackling fire, but they’re loved for themselves as well.

Halloween has been a favorite of mine since childhood. It’s a day of costumes and candy, to be sure, but it’s also a day of mysteries and memories. My grandmother loved to dress up, loved to scare the neighborhood kids. When handing out candy to costumed trick-or-treaters, she would peer into their goody bags, asking, “Let me see what you’ve got. Maybe we can trade.”

They would giggle, of course, not understanding that she was deadly serious. (There was chocolate involved, after all), and she would drop a couple of fun-sized chocolate bars in their bags, and tell them to be careful crossing the street.

Other Halloweens, spent in places far from my grandmother’s suburban New Jersey neighborhood, are in my memory as well:

• Georgetown, Colorado, 1977: the fire department turns their station house into a haunted house, and all the kids in town are invited to end their trick-or-treating there. I remember white tile, and the fire pole, and the best candy apples ever.
• Modesto, California, 1982: The first really elaborate decorating job we do. Ghosts hung from fishline rise whenever the door opens, and my mother’s dress form looks like a headless woman when you peer through the amber-glass in the front windows.
• Fresno, California, 1986: My friend R. hosts a Halloween party, and we play theatre games, using our costumes as inspiration for improv exercises. (Hard to tell we’re all kids from a performing arts magnet, no?).
• San Francisco, California, 1991: My first visit to the Castro at Halloween. I’m a mime, and my friend J. is a bumblebee. For $1, we ride the Super Shuttle to the party gates, where we are blessed by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. We walk back in the wee hours, unafraid of the empty streets – we are twenty-one and feel immortal, and the city hasn’t yet touched us with its darker side. Along the way, we duck into a 24-hour Safeway for cupcakes with orange frosting.
• San Jose, California, 2002: A Halloween housewarming. We’ve been in our new home for almost two months, but saved the party for this weekend on purpose. My mother has flown in, and my friend J. (A different J.) has helped me carve pumpkins. We rate the trick-or-treaters’ costumes and MST-ize the first Harry Potter film. The next year, other friends would host a pumpkin carving party, and we’d spend Halloween touring the Winchester Mystery House by flash-light.
• Grand Prairie, Texas, 2004 and 2008: The first Halloween in our new house, I make sure to buy the good chocolate. It’s important, I tell my husband, to establish ourselves as a “cool” house from the start. It seems to work, as we have never been egged or tp’d. Kids come in droves. The fourth Halloween, I make chili and invite friends to hang out. We dole out over $100 in chocolate and smarties.

My grandmother’s spirit will be close to me, as it always is on Halloween. I will not be surprised if I hear echoes of her voice in my head, and in words other people speak. I will not be alarmed if I catch the faint essence of her favorite perfume.

I’m not certain yet how Halloween 2009 will unfold. I will be handing out candy – I can’t not – and I’ve already dug my light-up Halloween arch out of the garage (if you hit your head on it while approaching my door, you’re too old for trick-or-treating), but I’m getting my hair done that morning, and there’s a fall festival at the church I attend, and several other directions demanding my attention.

Whatever happens, though, I know this: My grandmother’s spirit will be close to me, as it always is on Halloween. I will not be surprised if I hear echoes of her voice in my head, and in words other people speak. I will not be alarmed if I catch the faint essence of her favorite perfume. Late that night, when I am drifting off to sleep, I will not be afraid if I feel the gentle touch of her cool hand upon my forehead.

I’m not entirely certain if ghosts are real, but I’m open to the possibility, especially around Halloween, when the walls between the worlds grow thin, and magic – whether real or imagined – is in the air.

Melissa A. Bartell likes strong coffee, red wine, and dark chocolate. She earns her living writing web-copy for an Internet marketing firm & dabbles in fiction on the side. She lives near Dallas, TX with her husband, two dogs, and more computers than anyone really needs. She is the Managing Editor here at All Things Girl. Find out more about her on our About Page, check out her blog at MissMeliss.com, or follow her on Twitter: @Melysse

Last month, we spoke with our cover girl, Esmé Raji Codell about her thoughts on education. This month, we continue our conversation, focusing on her writing, and her mission to get children to love reading.

In addition to Educating Esmé and How to Get Your Child to Love Reading, you’ve also written several children’s books. Was writing children’s literature always part of your plan?

Well, when I wrote Educating Esmé, I ended up talking to a lot of grown-ups, so I figured if I wrote a book for kids, then I could talk to them. Good plan, it worked!

I actually always wanted to write for kids, but I wrote picture books, and it wasn’t until I wrote a novel that I got published. In virtually all of my books, school plays an important part, even in my fantasy, Diary of a Fairy Godmother.

Were you read to as a child? Did you read to your son?

Yes and yes!

Both of my parents read wonderful things to me: my mother shared her favorite fiction from authors like Grace Paley and Raymond Carver, and my father shared Mark Twain, Roald Dahl, and tons of poetry.

Reading is not just a skill, it’s a lifestyle…and a family legacy, for any family who wishes to begin it.

I loved reading aloud to my son from birth, and visits to his second grade class to read every week are treasured memories (thanks, Ms. Cain). Now my son is older and quite sporty and active, but he still loves to read and will sit still for a great story.

Reading is not just a skill, it’s a lifestyle…and a family legacy, for any family who wishes to begin it.

What are some of your favorite children’s books? For that matter, what are some of your favorite books from the adult section of the library or bookstore?

May I cheat and name authors instead of books? I love Beverly Cleary (Ramona the Pest), Bernard Waber (Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile), Jerry Spinelli (Maniac Magee) and Demi (The Empty Pot). Three of my favorite books are A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith and King Matt the First by Janusz Korczak, and The Little Wooden Horse by Ursula Moray Williams, all classic gems that kids nowadays deserve to know.

Adult section? I hardly ever go there. Why would I? I’m a grown-up all day long, I don’t need a book on it. When I do visit, I go for non-fiction. I read the New Yorker and a lot of cookbooks.

What one thing would you advise parents to do, to encourage their children to read?

Read aloud read aloud read aloud, every day, no matter how old they are. And fill your home with books and print. And allow for down-time; don’t overschedule kids, give them a chance to find time for reading and their own imaginations.

And did I mention to read aloud?

You’re an author, a mother, and a frequent guest speaker. How do you balance all the parts of your life?

What’d you say? Balance? Crash-tinkle-tinkle (sound of plate shattering). Ha-ha, I don’t know. I don’t balance anything. I just wake up and thank God I’m a woman in America, with the first thought in my mind being what work I can do in the world. Then I try my best for the rest of the day.

Your “biography for kids” mentions that you kept journals as a child, and obviously you kept one during your first year of teaching. Do you still keep a diary or journal today? Do you keep it on your computer, or is it a product of pen and ink?

I don’t keep one as regularly, but I’ll jot down an entry every month or two, with a pen. Computers are great, but something about writing something secret in a worn and pretty diary or receiving a letter in a mailbox…hard to match.

Everyone needs to decompress once in a while. What do you do when you really need time for yourself?

Don’t overschedule kids, give them a chance to find time for reading and their own imaginations.

Sing really loudly, and poorly (I have patient neighbors), and sometimes my puppets join in. I also like to watch TV. Judge Judy. There, I said it.

Many writers, and other creative types, recommend “artist’s dates” ­ a date with yourself that you spend nurturing your own creativity. Do you take yourself on “artist’s dates?” Do you think school-aged children should be introduced to such things?

Wow, I’ve never been on an “artist date.” If I buy myself dinner, do I have to put out?

My only other concern with such a practice is that it compartmentalizes creative time. Most people better have an artist date at the grocery store or in the shower. I wouldn’t have had time for an artist date when I was a first year teacher. It’s nice work if you can get it, but most artists in history have had to catch as catch can. I think a bigger concern is for people to take time in general in our modern world to slow down and put other things first: friends, family, culture, “down time,” which I think valuing the act of reading helps to facilitate.

One of the things that struck me about Educating Esmé was the poetry scattered throughout. Do you write poetry often, or is it a completely random thing?

I like to write poetry, and I do it when it seems to fit. Formalistically, it’s more challenging to do more with less. It’s like cooking with four ingredients instead of ten.

Other than books and reading, what are you passionate about?

Food. (Could you tell?) I also love supporting new teachers, and I have a lot of interest in gardening, broadcast communications, and collecting dolls and miniatures.

You mentioned an internal soundtrack in Educating Esmé, and your bio mentions that your husband is a musician as well as an artist. What tunes are coming from your iPod when you work?

Frankly, when I write, music that has words in it is distracting, so it would be something jazzy and instrumental like a Bill Evans album or the George Shearing Quintet, or opera, since I don’t know what they’re saying. But let’s see, some random songs from my Ipod shuffle: “I’ll be Your Mirror” by Velvet Underground, “Give It To Me” by Timbaland, “Be Blessed” by Yolanda Adams, and “Getting to Know You” by Rogers and Hammerstein. I will have a full playlist on my new teacher website, so come visit.

What’s next for you? Another children’s book, or something else?

I’m excited, I do have some picture books coming down the pike.

I am back at school full time right now, this time as a student of library science, but when I complete the program I will be focusing on creating unique events and opportunities through my children’s literary salon in Chicago.

I also am exploring podcasting; I have always wanted to do a read-aloud radio show, my dream is to read the children of Chicago to sleep every night. I know I’ll go back to teaching someday, too. Can’t help it.

Esmé Raji Codell’s playlist for new teachers can be found at her website PlanetEsme.com. You should also check out the site for her children’s literary salon at the PlanetEsme Book Room.

Melissa A. Bartell likes strong coffee, red wine, and dark chocolate. She earns her living writing web-copy for an Internet marketing firm & dabbles in fiction on the side. She lives near Dallas, TX with her husband, two dogs, and more computers than anyone really needs. She is the Managing Editor here at All Things Girl. Find out more about her on our About Page, check out her blog at MissMeliss.com, or follow her on Twitter: @Melysse

Ten years ago, the publication of our cover girl Esmé Raji Codell’s candid diary of her first year as a public school teacher was released, the world was introduced to a smart, spunky, snarky young woman who was determined to instill a love of reading in her students – and all children. This year, the book, Educating Esmé, has been re-released, this time with an extensive guide for new teachers. We sat down with Ms. Codell – or Madame Esmé as she sometimes prefers to be called – and let her educate us.

It’s been ten years since Educating Esmé first came out. Did you expect it to have as much impact as it has?

I didn’t go to fancy schools, but I found fancy teachers. I was very fortunate to have outstanding, life-saving, transformative teachers in every phase of my education.

I don’t think anyone who writes a book should expect an impact, but I did hope it would start a conversation about education in urban schools, and the challenges of being a teacher there…and anywhere. I was very gratified when the diary did indeed help to inspire dialogue around those topics. I am excited because this reissue has a whole guide for first year teachers, including 25 pragmatic pieces of advice, a teacher shopping list and a wonderful new intro by Katherine Paterson, author of Bridge to Terabithia. I hope this will incite conversation and confidence in a whole new generation of teachers!

The opening lines of Educating Esmé are about the death of your mentor. Can you tell us a bit more about Ismene, and what she meant to you?

Ismene was a teacher’s teacher who understood that the profession is a craft. She could be very cantankerous, but she also was very insightful, she knew a lot about children…not in an idealized way, in a very real way, “for better or for worse,” as they say. What most impressed me about Ismene was that she was very invested in her approach. While I didn’t always agree with it or emulate it, I appreciated her investment in it and hoped someday I could be as confident as she was in reaching children. She taught me what an important part of teacher training mentorship can be.

Are there any teachers from your own elementary school days who were especially important to you, or had a greater than usual impact on your life? If so, tell us about them?

I didn’t go to fancy schools, but I found fancy teachers. I was very fortunate to have outstanding, life-saving, transformative teachers in every phase of my education. One of my professors of education, Mr. Saiet, encouraged me to keep teaching journals. My high school English teacher, Mrs. Robinson, was as elegant as Lena Horne, and made us outline great literature so we would learn how it was done. I wrote about my grade school teacher Mrs. Schultz at length in my book Sing a Song of Tuna Fish; she kept me in for recess to improve my handwriting for weeks on end, explaining unapologetically, “someday you’ll have to sign autographs, and I want you to have good penmanship.” Talk about a vote of confidence!

As an educator, what I learned from them (and many other hardworking teachers I had) is that its important to bring yourself to the job, set the priorities based on what you have to impart as a human being, not just mandates handed down. These teachers followed curriculum, but they also had space to teach what they uniquely thought was important. I feel that education nowadays makes it harder and harder for teachers to do that. We as a culture stand to lose out as a result.

Educating Esmé is the story of your first year of teaching, but you taught for several more years after that. What made you keep teaching, and what made you ultimately decide to concentrate on writing?

If you’ve ever taught, you know there’s nothing in the world like it. Whenever I was writing full-time, I missed the classroom, and whenever I was teaching, I was inspired to write. I love to teach, and I like to write, and I try to do both whenever possible. As for concentration…well, it’s something to aspire to, I guess.

You home-schooled your son. Would you recommend home-schooling to every family, or are there times when public school is the better choice?

You hit the nail on the head…it’s a choice, and like all choices, sometimes the time is right and sometimes it’s never the right time. Public schools and home-schooling both have a lot to recommend them, and in both cases, the situation dictates whether it’s in the best interest of the child.

I think both of them have a lot of unfair prejudices against them, and people make choices based on what they fear and not what they know. In fact, public schools aren’t always dangerous, and the teachers can be outstanding, responsive, and very adept at individualizing instruction. Home-schooled kids are often very well socialized, with tons of opportunity to play and work with other kids.

When kids benefit from structure and the rich cross-section of people, or need special resources, or parents need to be at work, public schools can fit the bill nicely. When a parent feels a need to control curriculum or individualize instruction, and the child has the ability to work independently, home-schooling is worth a whirl.

On your website, PlanetEsmé.com, you refer to yourself as a “readiologist.” What exactly is a readiologist?

A readiologist is a trademarked term for a children’s literature specialist who can teach. Kind of like a librarian, but with a training focus specifically on children’s books and read-aloud. I am in development for a certification program which hopefully will be launched in Fall, 2010. It will be fabulous (if I do say so, myself!). Folks should e-mail me to get on the mailing list for that!

Encouraging children to read is one of your missions, perhaps the largest, and you’ve even written a book about it. Tell us a little bit about how and why How to Get Your Child to Love Reading came to be.

I figured, there HAD to be something as versatile as a potato to lead kids to reading, and then I realized, children’s books are our nation’s potato!

Thanks for asking! When I was on tour for Educating Esmé, a lot of people shared their frustrations with me about education. “This or that teacher didn’t do her job, now my kid’s behind.” “I come home from work, honestly, I’m too exhausted to read to my kids or check their work.” “How can books compete with video games and the internet?”

Well, after the tour, I was making potatoes au gratin, and I thought, “Wow, if I just had this potato, I could teach so much. I could cut it up and teach fractions. We could plant the eyes and chart growth. We could make potato stamps of alphabet letters, and read potato books.” I figured, there HAD to be something as versatile as a potato to lead kids to reading, and then I realized, children’s books are our nation’s potato! We can use what we have to make learning happen, through trade books found in schools, bookstores and libraries. This is called “potato pedagogy.”

I knew for this to happen I would have to help make everyone become an expert on children’s literature, so I wrote How to Get Your Child to Love Reading to do just that. And I’ll tell you, I honestly do believe children’s literature is our country’s best hope for equalizing education on America, because a great book in the hands of a rich child is the same great book in the hands of a poor child.

You can learn more about Esmé Raji Codell, and get a hint of some of the wonderful books she’s created, at her website, PlanetEsme.com. Be sure to check our blog for a review of Educating Esmé later this week, and come back in October for part two of our interview.

Melissa A. Bartell likes strong coffee, red wine, and dark chocolate. She earns her living writing web-copy for an Internet marketing firm & dabbles in fiction on the side. She lives near Dallas, TX with her husband, two dogs, and more computers than anyone really needs. She is the Managing Editor here at All Things Girl. Find out more about her on our About Page, check out her blog at MissMeliss.com, or follow her on Twitter: @Melysse

So instead, I sautéed the vegetables in a bit of butter and oil, poured over chicken broth scented with thyme and bay and thickened with flour, and poached the cubed chicken breasts in it. I tucked crisp minced parsley into uneven knobs of doughy dumplings, dropped them into the stew, and let them steam until they became puffed and bready. In our bowls, we cut the dumplings to pieces and used them to sop up every drop of the rich, herbal broth, enhanced with celery and onion. We ate all the thin, sweet carrot slices and tender bites of poached chicken. It was a small comfort on a devastating night.

Even though the night was warm, we wanted something to warm our hearts too: something that would soothe and reassure, be familiar and comforting.

The next day, Julie and I flew to Texas for the funeral. During our layover in Charlotte, her sister called her to ask what I was planning to cook that night. We looked at each other blankly – I had absolutely no idea what to say – and Julie decided for me: “Spaghetti and meatballs. Meg will tell you what to buy.” As she handed me the phone I thought she’d made a perfect choice: again, something familiar, warm, and comforting, easy enough to double or triple for the army of relatives that was converging on Dallas that night, and I’ve made it enough times that I could dictate a pretty good shopping list right off the top of my head.

When we got to Julie’s friends’ house I jumped right into their kitchen, rooting through their fridge, sharpening their knives, sautéing onions and garlic, adding carrots and celery, and finally bay leaves and tomatoes. The sauce simmered and thickened while I made the meatballs: beef for flavor, pork for texture, bread crumbs and eggs for binding, parsley and cheese for seasoning. Kneading the ingredients together, feeling the cold squish of the meat and eggs, melding them with the crumbles of cheese and bread and rolling them all into perfect meatballs flecked green with herbs was satisfying. It eased my sadness, even temporarily, to know I was creating something that would feed the people I love, and maybe help comfort them a little.

Julie’s four year old niece stood on a chair near the stove to help me sear the meatballs and deglaze the pan with red wine. We simmered the meat in the sauce, boiled the noodles, and dinner was served. It was late, but that didn’t matter. There were thirteen of us and we ate outside on the porch under a string of Chinese lanterns while the kids and the dog ran across the twilight lawn and we smoked and drank our red wine and Shiner Bock. It was 90 degrees, but nobody minded the heat as we slurped our spaghetti down and told stories about Brian that are already becoming family legends. Who wants salad at a time like this? What did it matter how warm the weather was, compared to the reassurance that the food could bring? I spent the evening reminding myself that food sustains life, and that living is important.

I had a hard time coming back to Boston and focusing on work. After such a sad week, it was an irrational shock to see that the world kept on turning while I was away, and I had to jump right back in. That first night in my apartment, I soothed myself with something my mom always made when I was little: macaroni and cheese and kielbasa. She sears the outside of the sausage until it’s nearly black, so that’s how I like it best. I melted sharp cheddar cheese into a creamy base of condensed milk, and added warming spices like mustard, garlic powder, and cayenne. Then I folded in corkscrews of pasta and my blistered kielbasa. I ate with my eyes closed, consoled.

It eased my sadness, even temporarily, to know I was creating something that would feed the people I love, and maybe help comfort them a little.

As Nigella Lawson writes in Feast, not all feasts are happy. But funeral meals are a mark of respect to the deceased, and a way of honoring his life.

***

Chicken and Dumplings

About a thousand years ago, this started out as a Rachael Ray recipe. I’ve changed it in so many ways that I even hesitate to call it an adaptation, but it’s fair to say hers was my inspiration. Compare them side-by-side if you’d like to see where the similarities are.

I’ve streamlined this recipe so much I could make it in my sleep. It serves four generously and is finished in under an hour.

• Four carrots, peeled and sliced

• Four ribs of celery, sliced

• An onion, cut into large dice

• A large russet potato, peeled and diced

• 1 bay leaf

• Olive oil

• 1.5 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breast, cut into 1” cubes

• A nicely-sized handful of parsley, chopped

• 1 quart chicken broth

• 2 tablespoons plus 2 cups flour

• 1 tablespoon chopped herbs –  (Use whatever you want. I like thyme, personally, but rosemary or sage would be good too. If you don’t have fresh herbs on hand you can use dried, but remember that dried herbs have a stronger flavor so you won’t need as much. Rachael Ray suggests using a tablespoon of poultry seasoning, since so many people buy it for Thanksgiving and never use it again. If you’d like to try that, knock yourself out. It’s pretty tasty. But poultry seasoning has some sodium in it already so consider slightly undersalting the rest of the dish. As always, taste as you cook and make up your own mind. Whatever I say is irrelevant compared to your tastebuds.)

• 2 teaspoons baking powder

• 2 tablespoons melted butter + 2 tablespoons unmelted butter (Unsalted is always best.)

• ¾ cup milk (Skim, 2%, whole, it doesn’t matter. Whatever’s in your fridge.)

• Salt and pepper

Peel the carrots and potato and chop all the vegetables. Put them in a bowl with the bay leaf.

Chop the parsley and put it in another largish bowl. This is what you’ll use to make the dumplings. Don’t bother washing the cutting board or knife yet – you’ll need them again.

In a dutch oven or large pot with a lid, melt 2 tablespoons of butter over medium heat with a couple splashes of olive oil. Once it’s all melted, add the vegetables and bay leaf and stir to coat the vegetables with the fat. Let it go for about five minutes, stirring once in a while.

Add the thyme (or whatever herb or seasoning you’re using) and 2 tablespoons of flour to the pan, along with salt and pepper. Stir constantly for 2 minutes to cook the flour a little and coat the vegetables. It’ll form a film on the bottom of the pan. That’s no big deal, and don’t worry if it gets dark brown, but don’t let it burn. Pour in the chicken broth, scrape up that floury coating on the pan’s bottom since it’s what will thicken the sauce, crank up the heat to medium-high, and bring the pot to a boil.

While you wait, cube the chicken breasts. Once the broth is boiling, add them and give the stew a stir to make sure the meat doesn’t stick together. Let that cook away while you work on the dumplings.

Add 2 cups of flour, 2 teaspoons of baking powder, and ¾ teaspoon of salt to the bowl with your chopped parsley, and stir it all up with a fork. That’s to break up any lumps. Pour in 2 tablespoons of melted butter and ¾ cup milk and use your fork to combine the dough. It should be thick and sticky. Use a teaspoon – not the measuring kind, but the kind you eat with at the table – to dop generous spoonfuls of herbed dumpling dough over the surface of the stew. Turn the heat down to medium-low, put the lid on, and let the dumplings steam and the stew simmer for about ten minutes. You’ll know it’s done when a toothpick stuck in a dumpling comes out clean.

Take the pot off the heat, remove the lid, and let it stand for a couple minutes to thicken up. Eat from shallow bowls.

Spaghetti and Meatballs

This recipe is cobbled together from various places: the sauce is adapted from Giada De Laurentiis, the meatballs are adapted from Ina Garten.

I usually double the sauce portion of the recipe and freeze whatever I don’t use. It doesn’t take any more time or effort to make a lot of sauce rather than a little sauce, so I might as well, and it’s so nice to have some tucked away in my freezer for days when I don’t feel like cooking anything. Then all I have to do is thaw the sauce in the microwave, boil some noodles, and grate some cheese. I can have a homemade dinner ready in ten minutes.

Meatloaf mix is a combination of ground beef, veal, and pork. It makes the most tender, juicy, flavorful meatballs you’ve ever had. If your store doesn’t have meatloaf mix, go with 1.5 lbs. ground beef and a half pound of ground pork.

Tomato sauce

• 2 28-oz cans diced tomatoes

• 4 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped

• 2 onions, peeled and chopped

• 4 carrots, peeled and chopped

• 4 celery ribs, peeled and chopped

• 2 bay leaves

• Olive oil

Meatballs

• 2 lbs meatloaf mix

• 1 egg

• 4 slices of bread (whole grain or white are fine, not rye or other flavors though), whirred through the food processor to make coarse crumbs. Don’t have a food processor? Grate the bread on the coarse holes of your box grater. Trust me, it works.

• ¼ cup seasoned dry bread crumbs, the kind that come in a canister from the grocery store.

• A small handful of parsley, finely chopped

• ½ cup grated parmesan cheese. Not from the green can. If you’re going through all the trouble of making your own meatballs, please don’t ruin them with green can parm.

• Salt and pepper

• A bit of nutmeg, freshly grated on your microplane (Get a microplane. They’re practically free and you’ll wonder how you ever lived without one.)

• A few glugs of the red wine you’re drinking with dinner

Also

• 1.5 lbs spaghetti

Nothing could be easier than this tomato sauce. Coat the bottom of a big pot with a generous layer of olive oil. Once it’s warm, cook the garlic and onion for ten minutes, or until the garlic starts looking kind of brown, whichever comes first. Then add the carrots and celery, season with salt and pepper, and cook for another ten minutes. Add the bay leaves and the canned tomatoes with their juices, and simmer for 40 minutes. Fish out the bay leaves if you’re motivated and then puree the sauce with a stick blender for less mess (best $20 I’ve ever spent) or a real blender for slightly more mess, but still hardly any.

There. You have homemade pasta sauce, with no preservatives or additives or anything nasty. As I said above, I strongly recommend you make it with double the ingredients, ladle half into airtight containers now, and stick it in your freezer for a rainy day.

While your sauce is simmering nicely, knead all the meatball ingredients together until they’re evenly combined and roll them into your ideal meatball size. I like them kind of big, about the size of golf balls. This took me a bit of practice: I was nervous at first about packing them too densely, so I made them too loose instead and they fell apart. Don’t be afraid to squeeze a little to keep them together.

Coat a pan with oil over medium high heat and sear the meatballs in batches, turning them once they’re nice and dark brown on a side. Put them aside on a plate or cookie sheet or something as you finish with them. If my four-year-old cousin could do this, so can you. I promise. Once they’re all seared (but still raw in the middle), deglaze the pan by pouring in a couple glugs of red wine and, as it simmers, scraping up the browned bits stuck to the bottom. Once the wine starts looking syrupy and the pan is clean, pour everything into the saucepot. It’ll enhance the flavor. Also, after you’ve blended the sauce, dunk the meatballs in and let them simmer for another 20 minutes or so to cook through.

While that’s happening, bring a big pot to a boil and season it with a few big handfuls of kosher salt. Pasta water should taste like the sea. Boil your spaghetti according to the package directions, but start fishing strands out and taking experimental bites a minute or two before the box says they’re finished, just in case. Biting into a properly cooked piece of pasta shouldn’t have any crunch, but the chew should feel like biting into a new stick of gum. That’s the texture you’re aiming for.

When the pasta is done, drain it and add it to the pot with the sauce and meatballs. Serve with extra cheese to pass at the table.

Macaroni and Cheese

From The Best Light Recipe from the Editors of Cooks Illustrated and Mrs. Kathleen Homan

My mom always serves mac and cheese with kielbasa, so I do too. We were in college the first time I made mac and cheese for my husband (from a box, thank you very much) and it sparked the first cooking disagreement we’d ever had. I imagine the reason we’d never bickered about food in the seven years previous is because we’d never cooked anything but microwave popcorn. That about sums up our high school and college years.

My husband was suspicious because I didn’t make it the way his mother did, but with his first taste of the spicy sausage with its crispy char against the mild, creamy pasta, I changed his mind.

Anyway, the gist of it was that when his mother cooked kielbasa, she heated it slowly in a shallow pan of simmering water, then drained it and served the slices warm and pale. My mother cooked it by coating a screamingly hot pan with oil and then tossing the kielbasa slices around until they were just shy of burned. My husband was suspicious because I didn’t make it the way his mother did, but with his first taste of the spicy sausage with its crispy char against the mild, creamy pasta, I changed his mind.

Though mac and cheese baked in the oven in a pan lined with thyme-roasted tomato slices and topped with buttered, toasted panko is, of course, the Platonic ideal, to me the dish just doesn’t feel like real comfort food unless it’s made quickly on the stovetop and is not at all fancy or fussy. When I’m looking for something to help myself feel better, I don’t want a recipe with a lot of moving parts. This version is simple and tasty and honestly doesn’t take any longer than reaching for the Kraft, but if you do decide boxed mac is the way to go I promise not to judge. We’ve all been there.

• ½ pound elbow macaroni, which is traditional, or whatever shape you like. I prefer rotini, to tell you the truth. There’s something childishly delightful about it. We can’t be sophisticated epicures all the time.

• 1 12-oz can reduced fat evaporated milk. NOT SWEETENED. Once, my husband accidentally bought sweetened condensed milk for this recipe and I, not wanting to make him feel bad about the mistake, made it anyway. It was revolting. It tasted like cheese candy, and we did our best to choke down as many bites as we could – he, assuming I’d really screwed up and I, knowing he was the one who’d tanked it – until we finally threw in our forks and ordered pizza. Learn from our mistakes: UNSWEETENED evaporated milk, my friends.

• ¾ cup 2% milk

• ¼ teaspoon dried mustard

• a two-fingered pinch each of garlic powder and cayenne

• 2 teaspoons cornstarch

• 8 oz 50% light cheddar cheese, grated. Cabot brand is best, but whatever’s at the store. You won’t go to jail if you can’t find the brand I recommend.

• One package of pre-cooked kielbasa

Boil a pot of water, dump in a handful of salt, and boil the pasta according to the box’s directions. As in the spaghetti recipe, start biting into it a minute or two before it’s supposed to be done, just in case. Drain and leave in the colander.

Put the pot back over the heat and pour in the evaporated milk, ½ cup of the milk, the spices, and half a teaspoon of salt. Boil it and then turn it down to a simmer.

Whisk the cornstarch and the last ¼ cup of milk together, then whisk it into the creamy sauce on the stove. Let that cook, whisking, for about two minutes.

Move the pot off the heat and whisk in the cheese a handful at a time until it’s melted. Fold in the pasta and let it stand for a couple minutes until it’s thickened up.

Use that time to cook the kielbasa. Slice it diagonally. Get a big pan, nonstick if you like, as hot as patience will let you heat it without scorching.

Coat the bottom with a glug of oil, swirl that around, add the kielbasa slices, and cook them, stirring often, until their cut surfaces are a deep, dark brown. Fish them out with a slotted spoon and let them drain for a minute or so on a plate lined with paper towels. Stir them into the finished macaroni and cheese and taste heaven.

Megan Homan is an event planner for a Boston-area non-profit. In her free time, she can be found pursuing new challenges not only in restaurants around Boston, but also in her own kitchen.

JD Webb gave his first concert at the age of three. Now he’s releasing his debut solo album, The Introduction, on August 26th. Read our interview below to learn more about this singer, song writer, and producer, what inspires him, his advice to those interested in a career in the music industry, and his thoughts on the dying art of chivalry.

What was your inspiration for The Introduction?

Even though I’ve been in the industry for a while, this really feels like my introduction. This is the CD that I’ve always wanted to make.

What’s your process for composing songs?

Writing for myself tends to be more organic, whatever inspires me.

My song writing process differs depending on the circumstance. Writing for myself tends to be more organic, whatever inspires me. When I write for Days Of Our Lives, usually they have the story line and I write the song with that scene in mind. When I write for other artists I really try to get inside their head. So it varies.

Tell us about the story you haven’t found the song for yet.

I want to write a song about my Grandparents’ love story. My Grandfather lived in a little house behind my Grandmother’s plantation. He said he remembers seeing her and loving her at the age of six. Throughout Jr. High and High School, she was dating other guys, but he didn’t date. He said there was no point; he already new the girl that he was going to marry. He said he kept his eye on the prize and now the rest is history.

What’s the best part about performing in front of a live audience? What’s the toughest part?

The best are, of course, the fans. Seeing them in the audience singing your songs is a high like nothing else. The worst part is the toll that a tour takes on your voice. Singing night after night, back to back, is tough on the voice.

How did you get started in the music industry?

Music is in my blood. My mom and her sisters had a group. I grew up in Hawaii, but in the summer we’d fly to the mainland, hop on the tour bus, and travel from church to church singing. I was their opening act and I played drums for them. I always knew that music was my life.

What was it like to transition from Raze, in the Christian hip hop genre to being a solo artist of R&B Soul with a pop influence?

Musically, the transition was easy. The business side of music is always a challenge, but like one of my songs on The Introduction says, nothing good ever comes easy. Trust me, I know.

What’s your opinion about the state of the music industry today?

I think it’s an exciting time. It’s the first time in history that the musical playing field has been leveled. It’s an opportunity for the cream to rise to the top.

What’s your advice to readers who are interested in careers in the music industry?

I would say really know what you’re getting yourself into. You’re going in to the most difficult and competitive industry. Ask yourself if you’d be happy doing anything else. If so, then do that. But if you know music is for you then give it all you got. Work harder than the rest and strive to be the best.

What hobbies or other interests do you pursue outside of music?

I’m an extreme sport junky. Anything fast, high or treacherous, I’m down!

Love is such a powerful force and your songs capture such a great depth of its triumphs and challenges. What’s the most important thing you’ve learned about love over the years and about which aspects of love are you still looking to learn more?

Ask yourself if you’d be happy doing anything else. If so, then do that. But if you know music is for you then give it all you got. Work harder than the rest and strive to be the best.

I’m always looking to learn more. I’m all about the art of romance. If chivalry is alive and well in your relationship, then chances are the one you love is happy. I’ve learned the importance of falling in love with your best friend. There is nothing like laughter, and I’m in a constant pursuit of peace. I think those two things are key in a good relationship, at least for me.

What’s your advice to women who wish their boyfriends/husbands/significant others would be more romantic?

I think first of all, assess you’re partner. If the one you’re with is the least romantic per-son you know, then don’t expect miracles. Remember you chose them. Suggest things that you like. It never hurts to drop subtle hints or sometimes not so subtle. Something like, “I saw these great red tulips at the store. Don’t you think those would look great on that table?”

You’ve said that you love the poetry of chivalry. Is chivalry still alive and well in this world? How has it evolved?

Unfortunately I think chivalry is a dying art. I think most girls don’t expect it and most guys don’t realize how important it is to a great relationship.

What question should we have asked but didn’t? What’s your answer?

Maybe something like, “How can we get The Introduction?” We’ve got to have it right away!” To which I would reply: The Introduction is available August 26th. In the meantime, my EP Better Man is available now on iTunes!

What’s next for you?

Right now I’m recording my Christmas CD. I just wrapped up a tour with Nikka Costa and I’ll be back on my radio tour soon.

Elia Sheldon is a working mother of two daughters who lives in Chatham, NJ and manages large scale programs for a Fortune 50 company. She enjoys time with her family, working on her novel, and attending hot yoga classes. Her column focuses on providing ideas, thoughts, and advice to help demystify the corporate jungle and achieve better work life balance. Need advice? Send questions to: elia@eliasheldon.com.

Just as I was starting to worry that I’d be out of town for another night, another ticket agent looked over his colleague’s shoulder and said, “How about that one?”

The agent shrugged. “Too tight.”

The other agent took a long look at me and said, “Let me see your shoes.”

I happened to be wearing my gold peep toe pumps with a three inch heel. Not sure why he was asking, I held my foot out as far as was decent.

“You’ll never make it in those.”

Finally putting it together, I replied, “I have a pair of flip flops in my bag.”

“Book the ticket,” he told the agent. “And get her as far in the front of the plane as possible.”

To my further surprise, he came out from behind the ticket counter, handed me my ticket, and proceeded to give me detailed directions for how to maneuver through O’Hare’s terminals to get from my arriving gate to my connecting gate.

Through a stroke of luck (my connecting gate was changed to be right next to my arriving one), I made my connection. But I’d been prepared to run between gates to make the flight. Without this agent who not only believed in my running abilities but also had the good judgment to stretch the rules a bit, I might have spent the night in Chicago. Who knows? Maybe he took pity on me and somehow influenced those gates to be next to one another. I doubt it was just because of the shoes.

United won over a customer that night. They did it by stretching the rules (or, at the very least, the rules as I understood them), and by empowering their employees to make decisions about how far to stretch those rules given certain situations.

There’s an art to knowing when and when not to stretch the rules.

There’s an art to knowing when and when not to stretch the rules. The more experienced someone is at a certain job or activity, the more likely they are to be good at knowing where the boundaries lie and when those boundaries can or should be pushed.

Let’s face it, there are some situations in which rule stretching is highly risky. Take the simple task of making a modification to the Space Shuttle. If the change goes badly and isn’t tested adequately, people could die. That’s why there are dictionary-sized change specifications written up for even small changes.

A situation when rule stretching is out of the question is when it comes to the law. If stretching the rules breaks the law, it’s not the right call. Period.

I once worked with a guy who would ask me when I came to him with a problem, “Is anyone going to die if this problem isn’t resolved?”

“No,” was always my response.

“Will any of us go to jail if this problem isn’t resolved?”

Thankfully, my answer was always in the negative for that one too.

Those two questions are a decent litmus test for whether or not a sense of rigidity about stretching the rules or process needs to be there.

The next time you’re on a project where the textbook calls for you to dot every i and cross every t, take a moment to apply your experience, skill, and assessment of the task to customize your approach. I can guarantee you that your effectiveness will increase and your customers – both internal and external – will be thankful that you used more than just your ability to memorize the rules to deliver for them.

Elia Sheldon is a working mother of two daughters who lives in Chatham, NJ and manages large scale programs for a Fortune 50 company. She enjoys time with her family, working on her novel, and attending hot yoga classes. Her column focuses on providing ideas, thoughts, and advice to help demystify the corporate jungle and achieve better work life balance. Need advice? Send questions to: elia@eliasheldon.com.

First, give us a little backstory. I know Nina and Phanie are sisters, but how did the three of you hook up as a band? Also, tell us a bit about the name “Girl in a Coma” – is there a story there?

I met Phanie at Longfellow Middle School in 1992. We bonded over a Nirvana Magazine. I then soon met Nina who was about 5 at the time. I spent the night every weekend at the girl’s house. Nina was young and often got picked on by Phanie and me. We discovered she could sing at age 11. We then added her to the group. We decided on the name Girl in a Coma to pay tribute to our then favorite musical group, The Smiths. The song “Girlfriend in a Coma,” was one of our favs.

Nina was young and often got picked on by Phanie and me. We discovered she could sing at age 11. We then added her to the group.

I’ve been listening to your most recent album, Trio BC, and I love the Spanish/Latin influence in some of the songs – the guitar lick that opens “BB,” for example. Is this album intended to be an homage to Tejano music?

It is actually unintentional. We live in beautiful San Antonio. We hear Tejano, conjunto, and all kinds of music around us and I think some of it secretly made its way into the new songs.

You’ve collaborated with some legendary names – Joan Jett, for example. Was it at all intimidating working with someone like her, or do you relate strictly as musicians. What was the most difficult thing about bringing someone else into your trio, even for one song? And the most rewarding?

With Joan, it is a mix of both. We are a little intimidated, but mostly, it is working with another musician who has the experience.

It really wasn’t difficult working with different producers. We started the foundation with Gabe Gonzales in the studio. It was great to start with someone who is not just talented, but so easy to work with. With Joan and Kenny Laguna, same thing. Greg Collins, was the new guy to us.

If anything, we came out of the experience with more knowledge and would definitely work with him again in a heart beat. Gaining knowledge in the studio is what is rewarding along with creating lifelong friends.

Gaining knowledge in the studio is what is rewarding along with creating lifelong friends.

This album includes your first song recorded in Spanish, “Ven Cerca.” Tell us a bit about that song. Do you all speak Spanish fluently, or just enough to understand older relatives? Do you plan to record more Spanish-language music?

“Ven Cerca” is a cover of a song originally by “Los Spitfires”. We arranged it completely. Nina and I are trying to learn the language. Phanie is bilingual.

Often when songs are translated into English some of the poetry is lost. Do you feel it’s important to retain the original language of favorite songs?

Yes, it is important to retain the beauty of a Spanish song and its meaning, but just like poetry, it can be translated to the listeners own life experiences.

With “Ven Cerca,” it’s a love song that is a bit intense. The original song is very breathy and seductive. Nina wanted to keep that same feel, but modernize, it so to speak.

As a trio, you’re always in collaboration with at least two other people. Do you all write? Or are some of you strictly performers? How do you balance your individual needs with those of the group?

Nina starts with the guitar and vocals. Phanie and I come and help sometimes arrange or just add suggestions. We then have some time to write our own parts and then add opinions to all.

We have been blessed because we have always worked well together. We are all sisters and we compromise and take each others criticism respectfully.

Let’s talk about your tour. As I write this, you have only three stops left. How do you determine if a tour is “successful”? Has this one been so?

This last tour, we can easily say was a success. As long as a little more fans keep come out to shows we are happy. Whether it is a huge difference or a slight difference, we can’t complain. Our fans are devoted and so very sweet. Life is good.

Life on tour can be both exhilarating and exhausting. What do you do to stay sane when you’re on the road? Are you the types to work in spa days, or is kicking back with a beer more your style?

Yes, It the best when you are living your dream.

We are down to earth Texas gals. Really, we enjoy a nice bed is all. I also brought my bike on this past tour. That was great! Nina loves to jump rope. Phanie enjoys the surfing the net, ha ha!!!

I know there’s Tejano in your families, but what other musicians and styles have influenced you? Whose tunes are playing on your iPods?

The girls and I love all styles of music. We are influenced by 50′s music to todays music. On our ipod right now, we have been playing the Metric album like crazy!!! It is amazing.

You’ve almost finished your tour, your second album was released earlier this summer, but what’s next for Girl in a Coma? What can we expect to hear/see from you collectively, and as individuals?

The girls and I want to do just that, continue to put out albums and tour. That is our main focus.

More information about Girl in a Coma can be found on the web at their main page Girl in a Coma.com. If you want to hear tracks from their latest album, Trio BC, visit them on their MySpace page.

Melissa A. Bartell likes strong coffee, red wine, and dark chocolate. She earns her living writing web-copy for an Internet marketing firm & dabbles in fiction on the side. She lives near Dallas, TX with her husband, two dogs, and more computers than anyone really needs. She is the Managing Editor here at All Things Girl. Find out more about her on our About Page, check out her blog at MissMeliss.com, or follow her on Twitter: @Melysse