tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-284028942024-03-19T07:55:55.439-04:00PocoBratA Daily Self-indulgent Postcolonial/Feminist/Poetry-in-Progress/Culture Blog <br> <br>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.comBlogger3247125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-76393985499402379772024-03-18T21:36:00.001-04:002024-03-19T07:28:50.604-04:00Prep time<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbnkVj9xdT3wFlxadXNsQ32tOyl-cm9Ou_PLPoyKDhfXRjndQouQ_v4t9Y7M1K_4RhZFIqdF4C6LX7lNc3jrJwbJdOW3WB5qTkItb6mG3xllWhGDga1CjzmMG4TTdESIM1wPKRstpG4OEr8RFs1qVKuP_y2J2E82H8uKgCsa_4I6hm1HL3VmnZA/s4015/IMG_6216%202.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4015" data-original-width="2321" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbnkVj9xdT3wFlxadXNsQ32tOyl-cm9Ou_PLPoyKDhfXRjndQouQ_v4t9Y7M1K_4RhZFIqdF4C6LX7lNc3jrJwbJdOW3WB5qTkItb6mG3xllWhGDga1CjzmMG4TTdESIM1wPKRstpG4OEr8RFs1qVKuP_y2J2E82H8uKgCsa_4I6hm1HL3VmnZA/s320/IMG_6216%202.jpeg" width="185" /></a></div>So the Gaza talk is done. Honestly not sure how it went because I joined online and couldn't see the audience very well. I heard "outstanding," "beautiful," and "badass" (but all from people I kinda-sorta know). Anyway, I hope it was useful and landed well. <p></p><p>I spent way too much time prepping the talk--I said as much to Big A this morning while I spent another hour tweaking, tweaking, tweaking... But he said that I should spend all the time I want because it's something that matters a great deal to me. I thought this was the perfect response and philosophy.</p><p>Pic: My kids are <strike>excited to be</strike>... <strike>delighted to be</strike>... doing some Easter prep. (I don't think anyone would accuse them of spending too much time on prep. ๐)<br /></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-11907582428054775762024-03-17T02:45:00.004-04:002024-03-18T08:40:18.293-04:00Spring incantation<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1pZRuP9zISLDsm-AY0eOYHvKhcx9FCkMg4_RNzdwMbBlhGF292LsBl5EYBG_wSd8Lx0LyB4R3tf5JQgQKBCq2hsmMdgzM6AJ5Kw_2M0PpceuD79nH205SQlk1KhqmaEB6_38hCpd6PE1kb22L8cErreZkOJYxOeAiKmSXUrrdguh-dPx8gXy8w/s4032/IMG_6208%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1pZRuP9zISLDsm-AY0eOYHvKhcx9FCkMg4_RNzdwMbBlhGF292LsBl5EYBG_wSd8Lx0LyB4R3tf5JQgQKBCq2hsmMdgzM6AJ5Kw_2M0PpceuD79nH205SQlk1KhqmaEB6_38hCpd6PE1kb22L8cErreZkOJYxOeAiKmSXUrrdguh-dPx8gXy8w/w320-h293/IMG_6208%202.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">oh, these needles of rain </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">the skies are full of surprises</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />my only choice of speech<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">is a quiet, topographical melody </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">for I bring us to forsythia</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">and crocus, tulip, and daffodil</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">a readying redbud now, then</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">a promise of hellebore and more </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">__________<br />Pic: A redbud getting ready by the Red Cedar.</span></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-59383159874857823582024-03-16T19:20:00.001-04:002024-03-17T10:30:21.060-04:00polish and stories<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjcfhunoYdf03_XWpN5KrdQwEMuRKsBDkkpMfS5FQZ-26WOf1BtY9VxGt-0rnyTmXpA4C733BlfCdP2FxR39y5dPc-epFGLh5dNIeKUkCzE2Bzfz2VYjEoPTNxes9AAcvHrpQcdl-KVYw5PTjdCFXJPUZnLv3cmAFsi9ekhyt-SUYNgCMc5e-iQ/s2048/IMG_6209.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1137" data-original-width="2048" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjcfhunoYdf03_XWpN5KrdQwEMuRKsBDkkpMfS5FQZ-26WOf1BtY9VxGt-0rnyTmXpA4C733BlfCdP2FxR39y5dPc-epFGLh5dNIeKUkCzE2Bzfz2VYjEoPTNxes9AAcvHrpQcdl-KVYw5PTjdCFXJPUZnLv3cmAFsi9ekhyt-SUYNgCMc5e-iQ/s320/IMG_6209.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Pic: The GFs got together for nail polish. (I'm the one bottom center with clear polish.) <p></p><p>On the surface, everyone is okay. But as we talked, things about relationships, kids, jobs, coworkers, health, hopes, family, holidays, parents, and fears, kept coming up. And laughs. Plenty of laughs. </p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-33319351584171654662024-03-15T08:48:00.018-04:002024-03-18T10:26:48.547-04:00visions<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjuRJ9z66pGZPtsF8Sh1Xos0zNwPeJAxFjRq1q2GuBGZuFr5o2_IBXc_T_WaTlUF5RMkLJUoE_bIaYRlQ96H0hN7kJkpKeymNg7BeAqGf6QGwQbCpO4QE4jZfakznGcygnFb4w8X2B2aBS2doWROrN272MeuAcYz1iZa47DBRJCPiAFjgXkLZzw/s4032/IMG_6187.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2956" data-original-width="4032" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjuRJ9z66pGZPtsF8Sh1Xos0zNwPeJAxFjRq1q2GuBGZuFr5o2_IBXc_T_WaTlUF5RMkLJUoE_bIaYRlQ96H0hN7kJkpKeymNg7BeAqGf6QGwQbCpO4QE4jZfakznGcygnFb4w8X2B2aBS2doWROrN272MeuAcYz1iZa47DBRJCPiAFjgXkLZzw/s320/IMG_6187.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Pic: I prepped copies of poems to hand out at the Gaza panel on Monday. <p></p><p>I felt so<i> rich </i>in poetry after I collated this collection to pass on to the organizers. </p><p>I had visions of myself just standing in the hallway shoving poetry under classroom doors, putting them on bulletin boards, and throwing fistfuls of paper into the air so it would rain poetry... <span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fQXa2S60BUE "><span style="color: #990000;">like Regina George distributing copies from the "Burn Book" in <i>Mean Girls</i></span></a>,</span> but more meaningful.<br /></p><p>I hope I do a good job at the event on Monday. And I'm excited for <span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://www.eventbrite.com/e/mosab-abu-toha-friends-tickets-795452940157 "><span style="color: #990000;">Mosab Abu Toha's event on Tuesday</span></a>-</span>-to which I have online tickets.</p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-67373778271046718412024-03-14T03:31:00.008-04:002024-03-15T03:58:14.527-04:00seeing red<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifVImvD79v4U8uKvFriXC8DzcwF_4R3ZU2lGTTio5mwF-DNhpO5R6jLapHSPJ6_5s5sZUYQUr_9o4kIaG8jEvXS6Kbtx9dUy5gzKOVtyJ4qY-pJc-8kQIaog-B_dnE-uDx7L2cyt9_cPn0d9bFdq5LcNSNDVg15Dr5a4U8wcqyxavO9H6UztUkiw/s3912/IMG_6185.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3912" data-original-width="2759" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifVImvD79v4U8uKvFriXC8DzcwF_4R3ZU2lGTTio5mwF-DNhpO5R6jLapHSPJ6_5s5sZUYQUr_9o4kIaG8jEvXS6Kbtx9dUy5gzKOVtyJ4qY-pJc-8kQIaog-B_dnE-uDx7L2cyt9_cPn0d9bFdq5LcNSNDVg15Dr5a4U8wcqyxavO9H6UztUkiw/w141-h200/IMG_6185.jpeg" width="141" /></a></div>Lysne Beckwith Tait, founder of <a href="https://www.helpingwomenperiod.org/"><span style="color: #990000;">Helping Women Period,</span></a><span style="color: #990000;"> </span>presented to my WGS students today. She also set up a "menstrual products petting zoo" in class for people to check out. As she rightly pointed out, when menstrual cups, discs, and undies are in packaging, it is difficult to figure out if one would be comfortable using them.<p></p><p>I absolutely love the story of the growth of the organization--it started out after a conversation with friends and now influences, advocates, and educates--it was instrumental in repealing our tampon tax last year, for instance. Lysne's book <i>Instigator: Creating Change Without Being the Loudest Voice in the Room</i> comes out later this year, and I can't wait!</p><p>Pic: Saying goodbye to Lysne in the parking lot. Of course, the <span style="color: #990000;">Helping Women Period</span> van is red. Mid-cycle red.</p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-84822845749822894862024-03-13T00:50:00.007-04:002024-03-14T02:40:50.916-04:00companion song <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFpKkkbv61NFR-2Hm_y_BJ_PhdA3BqzrmeNs4aH0DdLOewBJooV1YjmS6tJhUQD261y9YKQlr3AnaxcOwwxkL6ZkjDaIxg2F8Z2zFA-gKBdAa0eb_WolYOsVp1TkUSFy7k9o5YIafMByTeeOQ98Mn4aXbvcJ-bZpuQopcKKlbnB5lsLZK6ToFomQ/s3436/IMG_6163%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2623" data-original-width="3436" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFpKkkbv61NFR-2Hm_y_BJ_PhdA3BqzrmeNs4aH0DdLOewBJooV1YjmS6tJhUQD261y9YKQlr3AnaxcOwwxkL6ZkjDaIxg2F8Z2zFA-gKBdAa0eb_WolYOsVp1TkUSFy7k9o5YIafMByTeeOQ98Mn4aXbvcJ-bZpuQopcKKlbnB5lsLZK6ToFomQ/w320-h329/IMG_6163%202.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">desire turning into decision <br />at once terrifying, free<br />I am moved</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />into the path of turning knives<br />their rhythms familiar<br />I am here</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />afraid of turning the page<br />my mind un-scrolling</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I am opened</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">like a hinge into the world</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I've been here before--</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I return once more</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">_____________________</span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pic: Max and Huck, my writing companions, snoozing in the sunshine.</span><p></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-47301532794374521522024-03-12T01:06:00.007-04:002024-03-13T02:17:06.292-04:00looking up<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCsdXX4nhK6CeIykFBnSjz45E3JobNIjU8jKioqORDQ1rwsA5EKyA-0cRBS-LCxZMmu1573rnohw6_gbLC2TVEOXoujuW0i9RJNYaceLmzBCQ_5Kbc47TrxOe-n7iEyFcLJO71wuWDagpJ0mfsuuZkbTzucR5ELyXOwcr0TiJsq-A5LpHNTjWeA/s4032/IMG_6165.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCsdXX4nhK6CeIykFBnSjz45E3JobNIjU8jKioqORDQ1rwsA5EKyA-0cRBS-LCxZMmu1573rnohw6_gbLC2TVEOXoujuW0i9RJNYaceLmzBCQ_5Kbc47TrxOe-n7iEyFcLJO71wuWDagpJ0mfsuuZkbTzucR5ELyXOwcr0TiJsq-A5LpHNTjWeA/w150-h200/IMG_6165.jpeg" width="150" /></a></div>At the beginning of class, I make space for students to share what they're presenting/performing/playing and send shout-outs to classmates. Today, one of them mentioned that I would be on the panel for the Gaza teach-in on Monday and said it was a shout-out to me. It was such a small thing, but I felt so seen and supported. <br /><p></p><p>I also spent time today answering questions for an article on the "uncommitted" vote movement for the student newspaper. Students have been wonderful allies, and their idealism and outrage have helped me feel hopeful for the world. I'm convinced the push by our elderly lawmakers to ban TikTok is because that platform bypasses the hangups and hurdles of legacy media and makes it easy for young people to inform and organize amongst themselves.</p><p>Pic: Random, ultra-bright, volunteer crocuses that showed up on our driveway this morning. </p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-73636968158844982212024-03-11T02:09:00.011-04:002024-03-12T06:44:20.593-04:00a private communion <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWWkiJwVdKKeTEiG2CiX7vfb-owm_ZfDAjomfHe5GdVaqmfm6iangFFkiDeP1cv32YZ-nuczkdhAVwKRvLVcJFLowsrYNkytlCJ3kiaYu4ekA9RtT06jHZfvUOq7NKuAwtxRLdaQwd9_TbZjYsVL80uoLWiXQxaZg8UvlFTTl6cdo-BtC1JhEv6Q/s4032/IMG_6155%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWWkiJwVdKKeTEiG2CiX7vfb-owm_ZfDAjomfHe5GdVaqmfm6iangFFkiDeP1cv32YZ-nuczkdhAVwKRvLVcJFLowsrYNkytlCJ3kiaYu4ekA9RtT06jHZfvUOq7NKuAwtxRLdaQwd9_TbZjYsVL80uoLWiXQxaZg8UvlFTTl6cdo-BtC1JhEv6Q/w320-h301/IMG_6155%202.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I dream of tangerines<br />sweet with summer<br />how I will wait </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">for the right moment </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">to touch, peel them </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">with reverence</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />their flesh like that</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">of a new beloved<br />still secret</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />our meeting--kisses </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">sluicing nectarine </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">in blessing </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">________________________</span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pic: Geese on the banks of the Red Cedar. I thought there was something very balletic about their pose...<br /></span><p></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-7335501110140319782024-03-10T19:29:00.004-04:002024-03-11T13:17:03.748-04:00spring forward anyway<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfL4Dby7m5B6PGX7_Mx8kO4IdmD6xLlVCLTlQ3xlq0AvZglzJXpMaZYwxuCnqc0AOOACvS1z0M8s54LbLGrtLDgmVvqJBDSVy1E_y2P63crbBXOh42fxQzdJvJrSaQUEqG3wTr7jF7bfYVED3FYwjUk85B3VUTWlsdA5xWP1gPXhYQUsZi_ZviDw/s3871/IMG_6150.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2981" data-original-width="3871" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfL4Dby7m5B6PGX7_Mx8kO4IdmD6xLlVCLTlQ3xlq0AvZglzJXpMaZYwxuCnqc0AOOACvS1z0M8s54LbLGrtLDgmVvqJBDSVy1E_y2P63crbBXOh42fxQzdJvJrSaQUEqG3wTr7jF7bfYVED3FYwjUk85B3VUTWlsdA5xWP1gPXhYQUsZi_ZviDw/s320/IMG_6150.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>We woke up to snow on the ground, but it's Spring in my heart anyway.<p></p><div>Big A wimped out because it was cold and windy, but I took a long walk in the snow anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's too early to start the garden like I want to, but I started an array of herbs in planters indoors anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div>Pic: Basil, thyme, rosemary, and mint growing in the solarium upstairs (the blue and red pots). Our quirky old house has lots of inconveniences, but its <a href="https://www.ebay.com/itm/192163725393"><span style="color: #990000;">passive solar design </span></a>means there's lots of light. I might as well use it for something good.</div>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-30779620117467798142024-03-09T05:47:00.006-04:002024-03-10T05:32:13.593-04:00scenic/cynic<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3iS6CTAvb_pVQBhwRJXhLNT_qLHOmIWjdPHdvwyzfXSGDS_D1oQ-YyhXNzy6Jm7h0mAYNPMrQRjiNp6XWIONkVE8OrWuZ-ZbBCZuBYLkDV5Ed6CSfTXngfKveueSiuIeci83GQNG7oonACoRqAr9exEaDngXT8FtaEqX-cmooQ7RRkuRakBDyQ/s4032/IMG_6114.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3iS6CTAvb_pVQBhwRJXhLNT_qLHOmIWjdPHdvwyzfXSGDS_D1oQ-YyhXNzy6Jm7h0mAYNPMrQRjiNp6XWIONkVE8OrWuZ-ZbBCZuBYLkDV5Ed6CSfTXngfKveueSiuIeci83GQNG7oonACoRqAr9exEaDngXT8FtaEqX-cmooQ7RRkuRakBDyQ/w320-h248/IMG_6114.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">When I leave this country of fog<br />my bags of salt fall into the river<br />carried away like tears</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*<br />breezes blow out birthday candles<br />whistle through my aching head</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">lift thoughts like kites</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">every day I make my body stronger<br />it will build a city, knock out bullies</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I dream as fast as I can </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">_____________________</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pic: The Red Cedar behind L's house. L will be gone for a month, so we had an extra long walk-and-talk this week.</span></div>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-58292427256725138312024-03-08T05:35:00.013-04:002024-03-09T11:43:41.735-04:00more tea<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuD7Axor5IkF2G6iHFK5vWK9fVMiN96DrURTRmM832LIsCxRfrMjHUcgM0sAXIHKltZQvuFbsUtX-8zZaPVzHftFaf4WUsfqfBBn5pTCpa41brQGQYc9mSXtApjLkxjSqZFk3C5V2k9GJxUVr7AITxJQtqaaJ10qDNPmtoKjArrSetp3wTiINrqw/s3488/IMG_6137.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2557" data-original-width="3488" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuD7Axor5IkF2G6iHFK5vWK9fVMiN96DrURTRmM832LIsCxRfrMjHUcgM0sAXIHKltZQvuFbsUtX-8zZaPVzHftFaf4WUsfqfBBn5pTCpa41brQGQYc9mSXtApjLkxjSqZFk3C5V2k9GJxUVr7AITxJQtqaaJ10qDNPmtoKjArrSetp3wTiINrqw/s320/IMG_6137.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">This Friday started off slow--just a couple of advising meetings in the morning. But the afternoon was chairing the WGS section of MASAL, presenting a paper, showing up to a mentoring pod (somehow, I'm the senior-most and the most mentor-y), and then the faculty meeting. The final part of the workday was the <span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://www.pocobrat.net/2020/03/the-tea.html ">annual International Women's Day Tea at MacCurdy House</a>. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The last part was my favorite, but I was tired when I got home. Thus endeth (I think!) my spate of late evenings at work this semester. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Pic: Tea at MacCurdy. The Eleanor Roosevelt quote framed on the wall makes it perfect: <span style="background-color: white;">โA </span><span style="background-color: white;">woman</span><span style="background-color: white;"> is like a </span><span style="background-color: white;">tea bag</span><span style="background-color: white;">. You never know how strong it is until it's in hot water.โ Memories of </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-family: inherit;">other years: </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.pocobrat.net/2019/03/balanceforbetter2019.html ">Pre-pandemic</a> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: inherit;">and </span><a href="https://www.pocobrat.net/2023/03/one-celebration-at-time.html "><span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit;">Post-pandemic</span></a></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-4590368453771603092024-03-07T03:24:00.008-04:002024-03-08T08:25:32.009-04:00"to everything there is a season..."<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTZg5HjnYgFBK0hKuu2x29HX2MXFqbLYdiY4ZbdbCskv2n054BiNGYz7ZzHR8L39lKL3TEHtMySgxEecON-k2pLJduchZYzqUYbDkU3Iexc2HOsgKOYks6VD9j0hr90xFXZjyHjcFo79G9m690CZ9qH-kqQEpJA8sb3jtc0vjOiJ5r01QGSqkFQ/s4032/IMG_6096.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTZg5HjnYgFBK0hKuu2x29HX2MXFqbLYdiY4ZbdbCskv2n054BiNGYz7ZzHR8L39lKL3TEHtMySgxEecON-k2pLJduchZYzqUYbDkU3Iexc2HOsgKOYks6VD9j0hr90xFXZjyHjcFo79G9m690CZ9qH-kqQEpJA8sb3jtc0vjOiJ5r01QGSqkFQ/s320/IMG_6096.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>I spend hours every week caring for my plants in our indoor tea garden. It's a narrow space, but since it runs the length of our great room, the greenery and light lift me up every time I pass through. <div><br /></div><div>But... when I decide to sit in there to actually drink a cup of tea, I find that instead of experiencing calm and enjoying the space as it is, my eyes are darting around to check for errant dirt or for yellowing and browning leaves to pull, and other things to fix or move.<p></p><p>This is silly. It's a garden, there'll always be dead leaves and dirt and things to do. My new exercise is to enjoy the space without worrying about perfecting things. I lit the candle L gave me (lavender and neroli), breathed in the scent of my hyacinths budding, and marveled at the begonias blooming for the sixth year in a row. </p><p>There's gunk on the bird pedestal under the small cachepot... but I'll clean it in the time allotted to cleaning. This is not that time. </p><p>Pic: Tablescape with plants, flowers, and candle.</p></div>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-14137192551829435682024-03-06T20:14:00.025-04:002024-03-07T07:19:26.546-04:00upcoming<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiemDw5EjLN-yL1bwRBnrGvTWy1wyRPTUjgTiIUEpbYp7xAWm3-QSzJrpxNcZcsk8CClic8vFyX4VJOSEc31AA-mZUwHqk2_pjAVOlgIdQU-yh6X8ewLnenRTEPK-URz5jhAZ-6WkppAwG6JKGZr1LPXhe-99E-WRrorqQWfCmEQPhmsafMllSjaw/s4032/IMG_6119.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiemDw5EjLN-yL1bwRBnrGvTWy1wyRPTUjgTiIUEpbYp7xAWm3-QSzJrpxNcZcsk8CClic8vFyX4VJOSEc31AA-mZUwHqk2_pjAVOlgIdQU-yh6X8ewLnenRTEPK-URz5jhAZ-6WkppAwG6JKGZr1LPXhe-99E-WRrorqQWfCmEQPhmsafMllSjaw/w261-h314/IMG_6119.jpeg" width="261" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">"A book must be an axe for the frozen sea inside us." </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Kafka in a letter to Oskar Pollak </span></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">As it happens: </div><div style="text-align: center;">I have some books</div><span><div style="text-align: center;">I have at least two axes</div></span><div style="text-align: center;">I have the frozen sea</div><div style="text-align: center;">so I have all 3/3</div><span><div style="text-align: center;">*</div></span><div style="text-align: center;">the day is cloud-colored</div><span><div style="text-align: center;">my hair is in my eyes</div></span><span><div style="text-align: center;">I travel inside the love </div></span><span><div style="text-align: center;">I have built for you</div></span><div style="text-align: center;">where it is windy</div><div style="text-align: center;">*</div><div style="text-align: center;">but this time tomorrow</div><div style="text-align: center;">Spring will be closer</div><div style="text-align: center;">these shoots coming up</div><div style="text-align: center;">groping their way into </div><div style="text-align: center;">the air, would agree </div><span>________________<br /></span><span>Pic: Tulips (I think) coming up... Not my garden (I wish). From a quick walk to MSU this morning.</span></span></div><p></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-72167088232870774262024-03-05T03:17:00.024-04:002024-03-06T07:35:45.079-04:00a koan noting nothing<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JmDffhGOJUDaT3vwpwWhcFqRNhG72yuQai4IEoFRdPKTKZJIxWx7d7QQiN3swcU1l3VqeL62CkiiYKaNi5dMloUcpQki8HA_6O2eVDvbgahbagodf7MH2PTJ7ioiVS5_tPW2ZFohyHKDwfYYIdiFUhjj5gn_ILOfUTDzC-UBmTo7SPJPxK-Zow/s4032/IMG_6092.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JmDffhGOJUDaT3vwpwWhcFqRNhG72yuQai4IEoFRdPKTKZJIxWx7d7QQiN3swcU1l3VqeL62CkiiYKaNi5dMloUcpQki8HA_6O2eVDvbgahbagodf7MH2PTJ7ioiVS5_tPW2ZFohyHKDwfYYIdiFUhjj5gn_ILOfUTDzC-UBmTo7SPJPxK-Zow/s320/IMG_6092.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">look, I said to the sky<br />my yearning is born <br />in the wrong time</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">these hands that held</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">books and babies </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">now hold air </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">even falling like beauty </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">this light is silent</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">oh, cold god </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">___________________</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Notes: I like knowing <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2016/03/loves-labours-found-saving-shakespeares-puns/471786/ "><span style="color: #990000;">"nothing" was pronounced "noting" in Elizabethan English.</span></a> The "nothing" itself didn't come from emptiness but from a <i>very</i> long 12-hour (14 with the commute) work day.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pic: <a href="https://museum.msu.edu/the-redress-project-honoring-missing-and-murdered-indigenous-women-and-girls/"><span style="color: #990000;">The REDress Project by Jaime Black-Morsette</span></a> at MSU. From my walk yesterday.</span></div><p></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-16046066998671927742024-03-04T01:07:00.028-04:002024-03-05T01:40:54.435-04:00I march forth<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxNakqsDhtIDcSln470M6rnQr5n5X3HoCk1x8g7MvRnHp2YlEOCRg9Vbo6_jYY88Rlj1M3IPbWAmjDFJm-FbzjAjZA8ONvCgTFzr50F8g6r8IHbItoGVBqfvLn92bkOJMWHLw5PItYi0NS6Rvkxi5xVabogdDx3sNq1gsUr4Ni2Phama-4jTZ3g/s3024/IMG_6097.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2988" data-original-width="3024" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxNakqsDhtIDcSln470M6rnQr5n5X3HoCk1x8g7MvRnHp2YlEOCRg9Vbo6_jYY88Rlj1M3IPbWAmjDFJm-FbzjAjZA8ONvCgTFzr50F8g6r8IHbItoGVBqfvLn92bkOJMWHLw5PItYi0NS6Rvkxi5xVabogdDx3sNq1gsUr4Ni2Phama-4jTZ3g/s320/IMG_6097.jpeg" width="320" /></a>It's only my fourth year of knowing my birthday doubles as <a href="https://nationaltoday.com/march-forth/"><span style="color: #660000;">"March Forth Day,"</span></a> but I'm carpeing everything I can out of the diem. </p><p>It's the Monday after break, so there was tons to do. Plus, I had to send an overdue change of schedule postponing everything to both the publisher and editor. But I owned up and did that like a grown-up. Then I found some time to take myself out for a long walk and a long soak and read for an hour amidst my plants. </p><p>Evening was dinner with the fam at Ruckus Ramen, and then back home for presents and cakes (<a href="https://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/lemon-cake-with-raspberries-and-pistachios"><span style="color: #660000;">pistachio-raspberry-lemon</span></a> + a Whole Foods Chantilly cream with fruit as At is allergic to pistachios.)</p><p>I am ever so grateful for every minute of this. </p><p>Pic: At's friend H took this picture of us (Big A, Nu, me, At). H also drew me a "three-legged cat" for my birthday, which I know I will hang on to for a while because... memories. </p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-484724133366288862024-03-03T08:02:00.004-04:002024-03-04T08:09:32.182-04:00"take a hike," they said<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhocX0z33dstL020gMPBIh5lrF52iZZ4Bba7GXUhUnsysMwaVrAsWAbeEv1WG6PoFYiJv9D_EAGMuyT-V9vxKy991J5o0JZlP_shgsoibeHL7t2KUFKjdobws4ezlcC6iAZ9GPSfHVXvM8R0u4nr4EI38gmkDGnDXMKVsYGMjedqCvZrBA1-8NjbA/s4032/IMG_6062.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhocX0z33dstL020gMPBIh5lrF52iZZ4Bba7GXUhUnsysMwaVrAsWAbeEv1WG6PoFYiJv9D_EAGMuyT-V9vxKy991J5o0JZlP_shgsoibeHL7t2KUFKjdobws4ezlcC6iAZ9GPSfHVXvM8R0u4nr4EI38gmkDGnDXMKVsYGMjedqCvZrBA1-8NjbA/s320/IMG_6062.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Well, actually no one did. But it has become a tradition to go on a hike before my birthday. Last year we went to the Ledges on a very snowy day. This year I couldn't have asked for a better day for my pre-birthday hike! It was such a balmy 60+ degrees and sunshiny and at some point, I had to slip my arms out of my long-sleeved shirt and wore the sleeves dangling like an extra pair of arms. <p></p><p>Burchfield Park--new to me--was an easy eight-mile loop and scenic all the way through.</p><p>Pic: Big A my navigator + water and snack carrier ahead of me. </p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-79449807555347555242024-03-02T01:57:00.007-04:002024-03-03T10:31:52.855-04:00just killing time/filling the silence<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQzl1lqBtx7Kz38NTYk5ToiTDHNLB5Bdp0fEWI9lbNHEyCAgg5GuOMoszoVjIGtuICJrq0_peeFmwU6WCA3ZJSw6UrJFdOi_vtyFVep1ffMFEhdvppFzULwhnQO7hcxM-mxexTdGCGwtSnh3oDSd6l8anfAhwOUGZsL_ai2qaQJFGWIBWH8uxYg/s4032/IMG_6054.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQzl1lqBtx7Kz38NTYk5ToiTDHNLB5Bdp0fEWI9lbNHEyCAgg5GuOMoszoVjIGtuICJrq0_peeFmwU6WCA3ZJSw6UrJFdOi_vtyFVep1ffMFEhdvppFzULwhnQO7hcxM-mxexTdGCGwtSnh3oDSd6l8anfAhwOUGZsL_ai2qaQJFGWIBWH8uxYg/w320-h280/IMG_6054.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">mothers look away from me now<br />seconds abscond with sense <br />in glissandos of angst</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />dreams pour out their sure poison <br />I play it safe and then pretend <br />--what? I don't understand</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />watching homes bloom in flame<br />and wart and scab into craters </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">--I am an earnest surveyor</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />of everything left unsaid, noting<br />the news burns the day when <br />it could be lit up with peace <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">_____________________________</span></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Note: Someday I will write a poem about Aaron Bushnell, but this is not it.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pic: A mallard couple by themselves... they took to the water as we neared and I felt bad for disturbing their peace. Baker Woods Bog with L and T.</span></div><p></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-47090927975725017922024-03-01T04:12:00.038-04:002024-03-08T09:30:06.382-04:00Five thoughts and things on Friday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOune0Jbmvq_-hADLgAYmzIVblr3ms-Coh4YmXMw0N_8-DsXeUzNldxQTfBFbiHUdV20FwYr8wBa0ALvB6zds3VLRcL1P49BdNp92AOG-siav27bqKwR_ACPNrMDuLH4Ds7lyV-98arD4PmTpdHl05FcT2H32G4xHQdEAFarst-ETTzVzt-rFjw/s1068/Screen%20Shot%202024-03-08%20at%208.29.27%20AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="676" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOune0Jbmvq_-hADLgAYmzIVblr3ms-Coh4YmXMw0N_8-DsXeUzNldxQTfBFbiHUdV20FwYr8wBa0ALvB6zds3VLRcL1P49BdNp92AOG-siav27bqKwR_ACPNrMDuLH4Ds7lyV-98arD4PmTpdHl05FcT2H32G4xHQdEAFarst-ETTzVzt-rFjw/s320/Screen%20Shot%202024-03-08%20at%208.29.27%20AM.png" width="203" /></a></div><br />1) If yesterday's post was blessedly whine-free about Gaza, it was because I whined on FB, where I've mostly absented myself since October, instead. And then my people stepped in full of strength and sympathy and support. How can I not believe in the potential of this world when I'm surrounded by so much kindness and love?</span></div><p></p><p> 2) Almost <i>too </i>much love. Just kidding...</p><p> 3) But actually, I was late getting home because a workplace chat went on and on and then late to book club because Big A kept on prolonging our soak-and-chat and late getting home to dinner because there was pre-birthday cake and jollities at book club and then late for a friend's pooja because the dinner I made (couscous salad with almonds, felafel, and a ton of veggies, + the spicy feta dip a book club friend insisted I take home) was amusingly deemed merely "a side" so Big A got some shawarma wraps to top it off. At that point, I decided it would be best just to send my regrets to the pooja people. And so I did.</p><p>4) I also got all the plant care, cleaning, and settling done today so I can take the rest of the weekend off to relax and luxuriate in birthday love and prep for reentry into the work week. </p><p>5) Pic: A snapshot of my very whiny FB post. Soc med circles are so weird. I bet if this was on Twitter, someone would have told me to STFU already.</p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-80094746784530503162024-02-29T02:46:00.024-04:002024-03-01T08:41:51.458-04:00Leap day: local, lowkey leisure<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrd6xklgNvgU73YbI3b7DZQRCIuwmC1FkmhVt2mwHYdb5ZgjypWP1f-UEG4EOYtu6gC9IVulyI3a0Sy4i8_EtBfB96aicTDOdMmBWtmdHnJbjdfJTjSSmq3MmtL-i4NDR-PbxcXccrwbrUJgtUjfe9c2R3sFK3tkO-DmOPAZECCAVRJQpYJbpAg/s4032/IMG_6052.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrd6xklgNvgU73YbI3b7DZQRCIuwmC1FkmhVt2mwHYdb5ZgjypWP1f-UEG4EOYtu6gC9IVulyI3a0Sy4i8_EtBfB96aicTDOdMmBWtmdHnJbjdfJTjSSmq3MmtL-i4NDR-PbxcXccrwbrUJgtUjfe9c2R3sFK3tkO-DmOPAZECCAVRJQpYJbpAg/w200-h150/IMG_6052.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><p>I woke up from a dream in which the kids and I were traveling with bestie KB... but then I got separated from them while lining up for an airport shuttle. I couldn't see them anymore, but I remember shouting over the crowd, "K, do you have my kids?" And she shouted back "yeah!" And then I felt calmer in the dream and as I woke up. I felt even calmer after I texted KB and asked her to check in on my kids if anything should happen to me. And she promised she would but added in characteristic KB fashion: "And FFS, Maya, please donโt die!!!" I'm not planning to!</p><p>I did a ton of work all morning from the moment Nu left for school. In the afternoon, I felt like a lady of leisure from a long time ago, or perhaps a lady of leisure in my future retirement. </p><p>It was cold but sunshiny today, so I walked over to our local public radio station to help pack reading-literacy kits. It was repetitive assembly-line work and nicely freed up my head from extraneous thoughts--because you had to stay focused to get it right.</p><p>Then I walked home again with a nice long detour to finish the album I was listening to. </p><p>I stopped by L's for a chat and to pick up the lemons I had asked to borrow from her... and then headed home for dinner with the fam. </p><p>Sounds boring, but it was kind of blissful. </p><p>Pic: Reading kit assembly station.</p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-26805998816396093292024-02-28T03:46:00.014-04:002024-02-29T08:49:36.034-04:00Hello, it is me I'm looking for<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhKOLWTyDWO-Yj1wg1KYJX1a2RrEAbzIzfBLDYEQnmKzVyrTT3-maWsOJdLVdL-ojmDaa4n8khaIRNt8dOhQN60z1cdOQ5jhg1bHBItil5_SnS1lJ_sosRUi1WzFlLb-cYZoCFVoagWLqjdzKri4WUY0uCRKnnDAGWHb7QuyTvLjV8lnyAyhISQ/s4032/IMG_6046%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhKOLWTyDWO-Yj1wg1KYJX1a2RrEAbzIzfBLDYEQnmKzVyrTT3-maWsOJdLVdL-ojmDaa4n8khaIRNt8dOhQN60z1cdOQ5jhg1bHBItil5_SnS1lJ_sosRUi1WzFlLb-cYZoCFVoagWLqjdzKri4WUY0uCRKnnDAGWHb7QuyTvLjV8lnyAyhISQ/s320/IMG_6046%202.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>Today was mostly spent in what my dad would call a "funk." But I'm on my winter break and I'll funk if I want to.<p></p><p>I still managed to renew my Driver's License, arrange catering for a campus event next week, and finalize the speaker series for Women's History Month. </p><p>I feel sad and helpless, and I told Big A that I was going to take my emergency prescription medication, but I didn't (I'm always "saving" it in case I have I bigger crisis). I drank a lot of tea instead, clung to him like a baby monkey, and then rallied to make up and make an amazing dinner (rice with arugula, five-color veggies + beans braised with miso, sesame oil, and nori). </p><p>And then as a reward, I found birthday cards in the mail! They were such a sweet surprise and such a cheery pick-me-up.</p><p>Pic: Also immensely cheering, my fuzzy welcome committee. Max and Huck always pop up to say hello as I unlock the back door.</p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-67085268475299128062024-02-27T03:54:00.022-04:002024-02-28T13:47:09.980-04:00in solidarity <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDV8keRXxKPJ8CNrbLCveXBZ3MHcThITA20ZuRJ0eKnclnwVyVAk1SLDiRESzPxK906KPp2yM1XmrAzhAFuSrkoKsZSu1a94VNDx0pG2XXBTqUBQTzLACMihxjI7dVntlPNf55U1Pr1elqckjEnrjnHD0FlphKqvND5yeD2hzmIk3temd-HzTRw/s4032/IMG_6045.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDV8keRXxKPJ8CNrbLCveXBZ3MHcThITA20ZuRJ0eKnclnwVyVAk1SLDiRESzPxK906KPp2yM1XmrAzhAFuSrkoKsZSu1a94VNDx0pG2XXBTqUBQTzLACMihxjI7dVntlPNf55U1Pr1elqckjEnrjnHD0FlphKqvND5yeD2hzmIk3temd-HzTRw/s320/IMG_6045.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Overwhelmed by the sacrifice of Aaron Bushnell, which I had barely begun to process yesterday.</p><p> Heartbroken/Awestruck. </p><p>What an empathetic, sincere, radical, and idealistic soul... What a lesson in being true to his conscience and his long history of mutual aid. He had recently been deployed to Israel as a U.S. airman, and I want to question why we're getting involved in the fighting rather than the peacemaking too.</p><p>Speaking of which, nearly 100,000 people in Michigan voted "uncommitted" today to challenge U.S. complicity in the Palestinian genocide... the goal had been to get 10K votes. I dislike how the media has painted this as an "Arab-American and Muslim" issue when it's really a humanitarian issue. So yes, Dearborn, which has a large Arab-American population, voted approx. 75% uncommitted, but Washtenaw, which has no significant Arab-American presence, also voted approx. 25% uncommitted. I don't have numbers for Ingham where Big A, At, and I voted. The "Listen to Michigan" campaign was started just about three weeks ago, so this is impressive.</p><p>Aaron Bushnell's sacrifice and the uncommitted votes are also a hopeful sign of humanitarian solidarity and moral clarity for me. It is difficult to go on day after day knowing we're actively vetoing ceasefires and sending arms to kill civilians but having to act like everything is normal.</p><p>Pic: I was at work today, and wanted to get a closeup of the "touchstone" LK made me--it is actually beautifully planed wood with copper insets that are almost like constellations. But then I got a bit distracted by the sunlight filtering through my office plants. The "toys" are a miniature Freedom Rider bus that KB gave me from her visit to the <a href="https://legacysites.eji.org/about/memorial/"><span style="color: #990000;">Legacy Museum</span></a> and an auto-rickshaw my mom gave me after <a href="https://www.pocobrat.net/2023/08/my-so-called-vacation.html "><span style="color: #990000;">Nu and I had an adventure</span></a> in one last year. </p><p></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-4401408352306676022024-02-26T05:09:00.015-04:002024-02-27T05:45:04.140-04:00a long day's journey<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_8YqThpoOYjib9MJ_xXRMcy7SwSXR75MPXrPQtrzksMcw19dSqBhXUVfQ4c7Z3rGfopgp1PYdEQ6eHMZkOa6jb3UzXp0uxpMCt8M6oVIrdBXDy1nVeG0fGGTt9CtJ0LxqR_83tuhVmRDbHw-wsj_6fCNAX_Ye_NpzZlzblNyJ_bfuUJyZ2Sl-9w/s3785/IMG_6037%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3785" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_8YqThpoOYjib9MJ_xXRMcy7SwSXR75MPXrPQtrzksMcw19dSqBhXUVfQ4c7Z3rGfopgp1PYdEQ6eHMZkOa6jb3UzXp0uxpMCt8M6oVIrdBXDy1nVeG0fGGTt9CtJ0LxqR_83tuhVmRDbHw-wsj_6fCNAX_Ye_NpzZlzblNyJ_bfuUJyZ2Sl-9w/s320/IMG_6037%202.jpeg" width="320" /></a></p><p>A beautiful moonrise, blue skies, warmer temps, a long walk, winter break. All day, I felt a sense of freedom and hope.</p><p>I learned late in the day of Aaron Bushnell's self-immolation with a sinking heart, but also with a sense of awe. What an extremely brave act of solidarity and protest. Culturally, it's a form of protest I'm familiar with--but I keep thinking about this twenty-five-year-old's family, and wonder how they feel... how his mother feels in this moment. In the opening scenes of the news video, he seems completely cognizant and in control of what he's doing, but many outlets are terming it mental illness. Our rhetoric is so messed up--his sacrifice to a just cause is "mental illness," but if he had sacrificed himself for the U.S. military-industrial complex, he'd be a "patriot?" </p>Pic: Baker Woods with RS.<p></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-53125623076401203282024-02-25T04:40:00.003-04:002024-02-26T09:38:33.225-04:00that's what they said...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vphV6vjPiSd2KGefICrJDVaS7JboY1h-EKBlGYne8rlfW-rlvApkf519T-7yWwYH0DRzrd9BHplETRk3nxjl7e0SflCq3Vfug7NilCaqVUYyQkwSqbyYuuaJ1FlSQUIEmnIWImM6Dkcb-rhaqgwwFzwnCoQVvSLAFSoub-nmGhqSrUaHrp9eaw/s4032/IMG_6025.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2939" data-original-width="4032" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vphV6vjPiSd2KGefICrJDVaS7JboY1h-EKBlGYne8rlfW-rlvApkf519T-7yWwYH0DRzrd9BHplETRk3nxjl7e0SflCq3Vfug7NilCaqVUYyQkwSqbyYuuaJ1FlSQUIEmnIWImM6Dkcb-rhaqgwwFzwnCoQVvSLAFSoub-nmGhqSrUaHrp9eaw/s320/IMG_6025.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>I love when we're at dinner and random stuff comes up. Hilarious accidental texts, work wins and woes, getting into AP classes, general advice in both generational directions, stories about parents, "do-you-remember-whens," hair compliments, everyone making the same joke about Nu's American Idiot tee at different times, Huck and Max going crazy for samosa wrapper crumbs, everyone finding different ways to warn me not to succumb to AI-generated<span style="color: #990000;"> <a href="https://www.euronews.com/next/2023/03/12/the-rise-of-grief-tech-ai-is-being-used-to-bring-the-people-you-love-back-from-the-dead ">grief tech</a> </span>to deal with the anniversary of Scout's passing, plans for the week, the barely-contained excitement about my upcoming birthday... <p></p><p>I love these people so, so much and am so grateful for this life with them.</p><p>Pic: A big, squeezy hug at the end of dinner. Nu, Big A, At.</p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-35152428352261905742024-02-24T09:23:00.003-04:002024-02-25T10:35:52.933-04:00on a break (Winter Break)<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpNDqQmiPXqkSYOtIzYWpWanK4Wk8cK016namd2qx1yi_CjFgd4LZPdXAiW5S_rTyMG9k_kzGMfe7H5btOqE5F_4KiPHxfmezJUxLmE3LlmXwUZsghLh8_2FWo08pM4zhTasC3WI7kSSoZJQoFJb1QUkcj6ym4AnpBO99Aez9GXHP1WVZ6NzkbbA/s4032/IMG_6013.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpNDqQmiPXqkSYOtIzYWpWanK4Wk8cK016namd2qx1yi_CjFgd4LZPdXAiW5S_rTyMG9k_kzGMfe7H5btOqE5F_4KiPHxfmezJUxLmE3LlmXwUZsghLh8_2FWo08pM4zhTasC3WI7kSSoZJQoFJb1QUkcj6ym4AnpBO99Aez9GXHP1WVZ6NzkbbA/s320/IMG_6013.jpeg" width="320" /></a>It was so rude of Big A to cheerily text me "one more year" on New Year's day and then explain that in 2025 Nu would be off to college. I swear he has been dreaming about child-free living (precisely what I dread) for a long time now.</p><p>But we're on Winter Break at work and Nu had all-day plans with friends, so Big A and I took off by ourselves. We walked to the Breslin Center to watch the MSU women's basketball team post a 93-57 win over Rutgers, detoured to the horticultural gardens to see the orchid show, and then ended up at our favorite Sushi place before walking home to Huck and Max with our leftovers. I have to admit it was pretty nice and I can see us doing some version of this for a few decades after the kids are independent. </p><p>Pic: I gave Big A matching Spartan hats at Christmas and promised to go to a game with him (he loves basketball). He got us tickets for a women's game because he knew I'd want to support the women's team. </p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-57513023507302280842024-02-23T05:35:00.004-04:002024-02-25T09:58:20.929-04:00other lives<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWkE0Q2LxGCVYI2UzRQk3gg0Gn6X6VIUVXKyfPnsMRqMiDftj8V21A6xYG-OJku8HXLL-RfX_79ldc5JVz36Dlu0uWOD87ir4198f9HgUcbyr6ETLK-Y5eZMj861SGZnhGQP645xWk3OJB5p3F-BarjqprpgohhzJmIu-Ym0aog9H9qK0cF_GQwQ/s4032/IMG_6008.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWkE0Q2LxGCVYI2UzRQk3gg0Gn6X6VIUVXKyfPnsMRqMiDftj8V21A6xYG-OJku8HXLL-RfX_79ldc5JVz36Dlu0uWOD87ir4198f9HgUcbyr6ETLK-Y5eZMj861SGZnhGQP645xWk3OJB5p3F-BarjqprpgohhzJmIu-Ym0aog9H9qK0cF_GQwQ/s320/IMG_6008.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>I've been immersing myself in a ton of fiction lately--anything to take my mind off the news. It has been pretty eclectic. I started the week with a reread of Pynchon's <i>The Crying of Lot 49</i>--I have a faint memory of reading it for an undergrad American Litt. class. I wonder if I skimmed it, and how many of the references I got back then. It's stuck in my memory as a book with several weird sexual situations. </p><p>I've since moved on to what I took to be a romance set in Havana (free on my Kindle). I thought I'd be irritated with its anti-revolutionary stance since the first chapter was about some Batista cronies fleeing, but it actually goes back and forth in time and among various classes quite well. </p><p>Next up is going to be Curtis Sittenfeld's <i>Romantic Comedy</i>, which I found at the thrift store for a dollar and forty-nine cents when I went looking for old vases. I've always enjoyed Sittenfeld but recently she mentioned someone I know in her acknowledgments and that has cemented her standing in my reading lists forever.</p><p>I'm also watching shows I used to watch in the 90s (<i>Frasier</i>, <i>Felicity</i>); they're kind of calming and help me fall asleep. <br /></p><p>Pic: I was looking forward to taking pictures of the moon this evening, but it's suddenly quite cloudy.</p><p>Here's a picture of a squirrel looking straight at me instead. </p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5