No Spring Chicken

Spent a few days this week with the Boston Project and my youths. As usual, it was great to be back in Dorchester. It was hard, it was familiar, and it was very rewarding. It also made me feel incredibly old. I was older than many staff members (now "instructors") and that's just not right. We were grouped with a church from North Carolina. One kid in the group divided whoever he could get into 2 rival "gangs" and tagged the unfortunates with magic marker- AquaMice and Pollo Verde (quite ironically, I had forbidden my youths from using the word gangster for the week...). I accidentally joined Pollo Verde when I stuck out my arm because I thought we were all playing a game. Turns out the guys were showing their "tattoos." And I got inked. Which wouldn't have been so bad had I not had to go back to work the next day. Let me tell you, buyers of permanent marker, you get your money's worth because that stuff is hard to get off. The faded chicken on my arm plus my paint-stained finger nails all looked great for our epi meeting.