Show and Tell

We were just given the new sign this week, and although I'm committed to all of the positions it articulates, it feels a bit performative having it out there next to our 'neighbor' sign and our Little Free Library and its rainbow tassels.

I guess though that if it changes someone's mind or helps someone feel a little less alone, it will have been worth it. And perhaps there should be an additional line for these times: "Wear your mask; show you care." 

At breakfast, Big A said, "it sure looks like old white liberals live here." The kids found that SO hilarious and guffawed long and hard. And they kept riffing on it and bringing up Bradley Whitford's character in Get Out who says "I'd have voted for Obama a third term if I could." It all feels a bit showy and like virtue-signaling--I hope we will do right by all these ideals.

Purple Prince, Purple Prince

Beyond MSU Horticultural Gardens with L in the early morning and Napolean Dynamite with the kids in the evening, not much to remember. (Big A is working today and I barely saw him all day.)

I used my shadow selfie with "Purple Prince" as an opening gambit to my check-in with KB who's in Minnesota visiting her mom. "The weeks are beginning to beginning to blend together," she wrote back.

Same, gurrl; same.

* Also when I poked around on the internet, it turned out that there are lots of "purple prince" varietals--some of them from centuries ago related to purple being the color of royalty and all that. But there's only one Prince my socialist heart will allow.

Sunrise/Sunset Style

Early morning hike with LB along the Red Cedar and we're terrorized by hordes of geese, horrified with their leavings, and kind of grateful for our pandemic masks.











Afternoon (social distancing) birthday visit and walk with CF along the Abbot trail and she and (contagiously me) are charmed by the faraway geese peaceably nestled far from the trail  in the rushes along the river.

Daily laugh/cry

This is so on the nose, I suspect someone in my teaching community wrote it.  Full thing is here at McSweeney's.

"Dear University Community,

Since we first announced our plans 
to reopen this fall (a far too early decision given the lack of reliable data about the likely 
prevalence of COVID-19 in the fall, but done out of necessity to beat the June 1st National 
College Decision Day deadline), many students, parents, faculty, and staff have asked us 
how we plan to ensure that we reopen safely. Our strategy is outlined below, but the short 
answer is this: Our university will proceed as if everything will be okay 
because we really, really want it to be."

Bad case of...

Huck has a gnarly patch in her under-chin fold that seems to be causing her some distress. But here, she looks adorably pensive, watching At take her picture,  having voluntarily retired to the puppy room (which usually doesn't happen and is yet another indication of her discomfort and pain).

We talked to the vet, but it looks like we'll need to take her in; the thought of leaving the house to go into someplace is giving me anxiety hives.

Moments

A lunchtime visitor-nuzzler actually makes work easier for me in this picture. I wonder how people with younger/needier kids are faring.

I'm up by 6 most days. I have plenty of time to myself before the kids are supposed to wake up at 8:30. We start the day with a 'cuddle'--sitting in the rumpus room between At and Nu while they continue to wake up/tell me about their dreams from last night/plans for the day/random theories about Avatar or the world while Scout and Huck rotate for pets. This is truly the sweetest time in the day for me.

We start breakfast at 9 or there may be 'extensions' esp. as we're not allowed to get off the couch unless the clock is precisely at 9/9:05/9:10 etc. #RandomKidRules. After breakfast they're working on their projects and are technically on their own for lunch (usually leftovers or something microwaveable). I'll get visitors now and then and requests to play cards/watch a video/share some outrage especially if I work in the study, but the next time I see them could be at 4:30 when they're supposed to report to the kitchen to help me with dinner.

All this to say, the kids are quite low-maintenance for me right now, and I have *exactly* two months (we're supposed to start classes on August 24th) to make this time count for something.

Larger than they appear

The jumpy brown blob
(perpendicular to the top of my arch)

I thought baby frogs were tadpoles--I had no idea they could be juveniles this minuscule, but it turns out the internet knows all about them already. Not L and I this morning--we were surprised and incredulous and spent whole stretches trying to avoid squishing them accidentally.

Speaking of perspective and relative size, Bowdoin College appears to be taking a really interesting approach to Fall 2020 classes, with mostly just first years on campus. We're supposed to be forging ahead at Alma and it may yet all turn out ok--and I'm looking forward to 'normal' term especially as I miss my students and colleagues more than I usually do over the summer. But I was taken aback when KB asked--pointedly cutting through the fingers-crossed aspect of our planning--exactly how many deaths we were willing to suffer before we decide to move online. 

Over at Bon Appetit, Roxanne Gay talks about "cooking the bad news away." Or trying to, anyway. And yes, the privilege of it: "It is an immense privilege, and one I do not take for granted, having access to fresh food, having the money to buy it, having the leisure to track down ingredients, and the time to cook. I am overwhelmed by this privilege as I read the news each day, knowing that more than 22 million people are unemployed; that there are endless lines at food banks across the country; that people are getting sick and they are dying; and cities across the country are hampered by inadequate testing, no contact tracing, and an anemic federal response. It’s all too much, and feeling that way is also a privilege."