this thing on my finger

      The spinning diva offers: "if you like it then you should have put a ring on it..."

or else what, I remember thinking--we should date someone else

     or once there's a ring on it we'll belong to them?

I mean, I really didn't get it. After all, I didn't even get a proposal from you

I don't recall ever talking about marriage we just seemed 

to think we'd be together: Typical Pisces-Scorpio 

with trouble distinguishing where our bodies and destinies separated.

But we did say we didn't want diamonds mined from sorrow 

so in other historical ruin, we turned to my grandmother's

wedding necklace that had been broken down into tiny necklaces 

for her four daughters and then into earrings for many granddaughters

--the honor of this landscape retreats, struggles, is small

I haven't even worn that ring in years... it gets in my way.

Here--now: we're making dinner, my fingers slicing things and then 

slipping, and the blood and the nick on my hand lose a battle

pain knots into a big bow of something sure to heal by tomorrow

it calls for the return of care, reduces your grand calling as a doctor:

to a childish charge... the blunt and careful binding of bandaids. 

Then you're gone for two days but I wear this "disgusting" (our 14-year-old) 

bandaid you wrapped around my finger, extending this trivial thing, wondering 

about separation and affection had you only... put a ring on it.

_____________________

I mean, I did say I was going to write teenage poetry when Big A is away at work (second para). Clearly, it wasn't an empty threat.

everything's a seesaw

On the one hand, these strollers that Polish parents left at the train station for Ukrainian parents to use as they cross the border with nothing... on the other hand the racism against foreign students trying to leave Ukraine... Life continues to give with one hand and take away with another.

A read that gave me life last week was this mom's account of life with her trans daughter in Jezebel--unfortunately written to demonstrate the humanity of their lives in the light of the new laws against trans kids.

And I finally finished Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad. I don't know why I didn't read it when it came out, because everyone was raving about it. And I understand why everyone I knew was raving about it, because they probably felt it was about them--it's certainly very slice of hipster/Gawker-style life. I got stuck on the casual mentions of child sex abuse in the early part of the novel with the record producer in the 70s picking up teenagers. And then I kept procrastinating on picking it up again. But I finished the rest of it in one swoop this afternoon and it was brilliant. 

flowers and sweets on the day after

My baby sister who loves birthdays used to think the day after one's birthday was the saddest day in the world. Today wasn't at all bad, however. (Although world news, which I had silenced since my family was trying so hard to make my day happy, is beginning to leak in around the edges.)

The traditional lush bouquet from my in-laws arrived today, and I knew who'd sent it even before I opened the card as there were fragrant stargazers at the center... I had told my lovely MIL a lifetime ago when she was doing the flowers for our small wedding that they were my favorite flowers. Stargazers still are my favorite flowers and I get a tiny frisson of extra love that she remembers still. (When I buy myself flowers, I tend to go for carnations as they are inexpensive and last at least a month.)

I had a walking date with EM at the horticultural gardens, at the Rose Garden to be precise. It was a lovely day (in the 60s!) so it was a fierce reminder that it was still March to round the corner and see no roses. We came back home to recover, drink tea and eat birthday cake and talk about projects and family. Then EM whipped out a giant box of Shatila pastries, assuring me they'd keep forever. But this box is so beautiful and so huge, I think I'm going to have a full on (outdoors) party to do it justice.

March Forth Again!

Birthday dinner with Li'l, Big, and Baby As as I used to call them a million years ago on this here blog... and also a necklace almost as big as my head.

I started the day hiking with L and then hung out with Big A and just talked and texted with family and friends all day long. There was an hour of massage therapy in there somewhere too. We ended up making 1100 dollars with the birthday fundraiser and at the end of the day there was a pistachio-raspberry cake with candles.

I learned about March Forth (March Fourth) just a couple of years ago, I think--but I love that I can claim this day for a birthday. In writing news today, I got a shoutout from Mel over at Stirrup Queens and a newer poem was published in Waxing and Waning. 

So happy in my heart. 

Sunny

I feel like I did bring some Florida sunshine back with me... it was bright and beautiful all day, and I didn't even have to delve into this delightful loose-leaf tea I found in St. Pete.

I got to wake up TWO human babies for breakfast (At had spent a few nights here to take care of his sibs) and the rest of the day was full of small surprises and mercies. 

For instance, the accounting on my work credit card--always a chore (with multiple logins and approvals) went SO smoothly. I got in a couple of walks with AK and S when I made my sabbatical-style weekly office visit for student meetings, advising, and committee meetings. 

And we got Subway for dinner as a pre-Birthday treat.

And also--we may be getting a bit ahead of ourselves-- but since we're "between variants" as the more pessimistic/realistic members of the family would have it, we started planning a family vacation. And then Big A started insisting that we book right away, like TODAY. And I told him that it reminded me of attending some free day cruise where someone did a timeshare presentation and kept insisting that I buy one TODAY since the offer would not be available tomorrow. 

That part didn't go over too well.😁😂

erm...

I started a fundraiser for my birthday for the first time ever, and it's just not getting the traction of my other Facebook posts. I couldn't use the Facebook fundraiser template since this non-profit does not have a 501c3 classification, so this isn't being promoted by Facebook, and I wonder if the GoFundMe link is making it algorithmically inaccessible. In any case, it's not working very well.

I'm bad at asking--and especially bad at asking for money--so just sitting with this for a bit.

 

blast from the past

My birthday is coming up this week and we have a nice family dinner planned. 

But I've been yearning for one of those all-out bashes that used to happen--usually planned and hosted by someone else. That hasn't happened in years. Some of is the pandemic, sure--but some of it is just that we're in a different stage of our lives. 

Facebook kindly reminded me with this post from twelve years ago when my friends L and J postponed a vacation they were planning to take because it fell in my birthday week. The mayhem of comments that ensued with everyone jumping in with recommendations, some weird references to Tom Hanks's birthday, my London friends threatening to gatecrash, and Sunny Singh (the author Sunny Singh) giving me sage advice on partying all month long made me chuckle. 

I've been talking to L more since this reminder popped up and reconnecting with others too. And much as I resent Facebook for its manipulative ways, I'd completely forgotten about this interlude until it reminded me. What a sweet memory from a more innocent past. 

"send us some poems and essays"

I've never wanted a war, but this is more of an anti-colonial struggle anyway--it would seem the people of Ukraine are fighting for their right to exist. 

The courage of the attitude that Ilya Kaminsky shares in his tweet... the courage, the hope, the beauty, and--what Hindi speakers would call--the sheer dil [heart] of it is simply breathtaking.
 

recovery

We (Nu and I) had plans with CF today. We were supposed to see the Kahlo exhibit and then come home to hang out and pet puppies and eat pizza and watch the movie remake of Nella Larsen's Passing together. 

I'm not gonna lie--after the accident yesterday, I wanted to just cancel it all and stay home and worry about the war in Ukraine, racism against refugees, the poor deer, and my Bluey. But this morning I woke and decided I did NOT want to think about anything on that beyond-my-control list. So Nu and I bundled up and walked to the museum, met up with CF, and spent a satisfying couple of hours together transformed by--and transcendent with--art. 

The picture is of Detroit-based artist Beverly Fishman's piece "Recovery". I love how the angles of the work play on some of the unusual angles of this Zaha Hadid building (a little bit of which is visible in my pic). And I loved, loved this part of the artist's statement: "The notion of recovery is central to the experience of the exhibition. In the face of a global pandemic, along with the ever-pressing need for wider social, racial, and environmental reckonings in the United States and abroad, it is all the more important for people to seek out moments of solace." 

So that happened. Then CF went and got their car while Nu and I ordered the pizza. Then we got home and hung out and petted puppies and Nu took a nap and CF helped me find the VIN number on Bluey and take more pictures for the insurance company. I didn't have the energy for a whole ass movie, but we watched three episodes of Abbott Elementary (so about the average run time it would take to watch a whole ass movie, ha) but its wry teaching humor fit better than a more serious reckoning with the world. 

I'm still in recovery mode.

everything can change in a moment

Posts like this one about life in Ukraine put everything in perspective. I can't imagine... or maybe I can easily imagine having to leave a home you know to huddle in a subway station to escape the bombs raining down.

So in comparison, I guess we got off really lightly--Nu and I are fine, and I hope the deer who jumped out at us as we were on our way back from book club at RS's is fine too. There's no blood, and I hope that's a good sign. (Please don't tell me any different. I've never so much as run over a frog before, so this thing is nightmarish. My mind keeps replaying the second the deer landed in front of us and has me wishing I had been able to swerve harder.) As Nu said, if we'd left a few seconds earlier or later, things would be different. Both of us romanticize/anthropomorphize deer and get silly about them, so we've both been pretty down since it happened.

My poor Bluey, too, is so not fine. To make matters worse, Big A is away for work until Monday and only on the phone, so I'm just feeling extra alone in my guilt and misery.

it's the end of the day and I feel fine

Hung out with bestie KB, whom I just adore, today... We usually walk, but today we went to a museum and had lunch and went shopping and book browsed and caught a movie and... just hung out all day... like we were playing hooky from school.

And we were talking about how when we were young things just seemed to be getting better--you know? The Berlin Wall fell, Nelson Mandela was released from prison, hate was considered to be evil... and today there's war everywhere and bombs dropping on Ukraine. 

But being around KB is a balm. And now I have this song stuck in my head.

Pic: Here I am at the Joseph Tisiga Scarecrow Exhibit.

map of crap

Texas Gov. Greg Abbot is telling teachers, doctors, caregivers, and child protective services that they are officially mandated to report the parents/families of trans students who are receiving gender-affirming help as child abusers. No, really. 

I'm sitting here with heartbreak and a bit of survivor guilt (we considered jobs in Texas earlier this winter), knowing I must do everything I can to fight this because as every study has repeatedly shown, compassion and gender-affirming care is suicide prevention for kids at a vulnerable time in their lives. 

And I will fight this with every activist intersection I have as educator, child advocate, parent, and parent of a non-binary/trans teen.

It's unbelievable how hostile and inhospitable so much of the USA is to trans kids. You'd think that in the THIRD year of a global PANDEMIC, people would focus on medical initiatives that are life-affirming and life-saving instead of needless cruelty.

Twos-day!

For some reason, I've been so excited for today. I like palindromes and liked learning "ambigram" and was plain delighted that today existed.

I guess all the coincidences of the day had something to do with today's mid-soak epiphany that the Tamil endearments "thane-y" and "maane-y" translate handily to "honey" and... "deer" (not "dear"). 

____________________________________________________________________

A Sonnet on Coming Halfway Across the World

For we are everywhere a palimpsest of us

and the karma and the kismet of meeting 

is multiplied by the distance of continents

fussy with farness, a dance of catastrophe. 

What if we should fail at loving each other;

what if language cleaves us with difference?

 It was in childhood I first heard of love--

on the radio, songs speaking endearments

in Tamizh, singing O thaneY, O maaneY...

these cupped invitations that connect us:

thaneY is... honey; maaneY is... deer, but

still homonym enough to arc from error

to hope--like words I carry as souvenirs--

we two/too are alike, steadfast, and dear. 

sleepover

Paul Farmer, a personal and global hero, passed away today. It seems a bit precipitate at just 62... Many of my early conversations with people who are now lifelong friends and colleagues started with discussions of his work and vision. I wish we would honor his life by doing away with the IPRs preventing us from vaccinating the whole world against Covid immediately. 

In happier home news: Nu had invited a friend over for a sleepover this evening. Yet this isn't about them.  Nu and their friend claimed the rumpus room and puppies, so Big A and I decamped to the guest room--which has a huge TV unlike our bedroom--with our pizza and pop to hang out.

And then we kept calling it our "own sleepover."

Although, you know, we're married and all. We took turns checking on the comfort and safety of the original sleepover kids, watched two whole movies, did some puzzles, and then finally went to sleep (in our regular bedroom) around 2 am. We really miss each other when he's off at work. 

meandering things

Nu claimed they didn't want to go to UU today although there was going to be a welcome back bonfire for all the Rel. Ed. kids after the omicron hiatus. But I managed to coax them to come with me...

When I took a break from ushering to go check on them, they were in the middle of a snowball fight. [I love how all the too-cool teens look like little kids in this picture.] It's a bit of a dilemma between encouraging autonomy and overcoming inertia every time the 14-year-old doesn't want to do something that I think they will enjoy or would be good for their general well being.

I was hanging out with Big A (and hence) watching the NBA all-star game and was surprised how much the glimpses of Vanessa Bryant and Magic Johnson moved me and reminded me how life can change in an instant. [All these deep thoughts probably because I wasn't really following the game.] Then I made Big A laugh when I wondered aloud if Colin Kapernick could play basketball.  I mean he deserves a more progressive league than the NFL. And... I just looked it up on the internet and it turns out that he's pretty good at basketball, actually.

still winter

These frosty guys! 

Some mix of of bunny rabbit/Yoda/puppy/lion cub. The way they race to be the first to jump on me when I show up makes me feel like the most loved mama in the whole world.

More snow today. Nu had school canceled for a snow day yesterday, which made their four-day Presidents' Day weekend a five-day one! 

If it weren't for the pandemic, it would have been a good time to take off on a small adventure by ourselves. As it is, Nu has some extra hangout time with friends.

I'm ready for Spring, but I'm glad my babies are enjoying the winter that's still here. Huh, it looks like they're predicting a "reverse spring" for us this year.

on to the weekend

I'll be sorry to finish this kaleidoscope of a book tonight/tomorrow. 

Three different fin de siècles, three sets of American characters who may or may not be connected, so many threads to pull and reincarnations and alternative narratives to ponder. [Something I noticed and may want to build on for a paper/lesson is the way race--with all of its messy margins--is noted. I particularly appreciated how it carefully mentioned when a character was white instead of assuming that everyone was white unless characterized otherwise.]

So yes--very preoccupied with reading at the moment. But also got a ton of student work, a women's month meeting, and misc. followup done. Not much sabbatical work to report, but: Nu got into the AP World History class they wanted; I fell asleep on the massage table and woke up feeling heavenly; it's the puppies' Boss Day so there're strips of turkey bacon in the microwave; At stopped by to pick up some mail and we got in some hugs; and Big A is ordering in Sushi for our dinner. 

in which we all learn

The chickens Nu and L got have begun to lay eggs, or so I hear. 

Nu: [Scrubbing chicken eggs in the kitchen sink.]
Me: Those look muddy, did your chickens lay them in the dirt?
Nu: [Looks blankly at me] It's poopy, Mom!
Me: Wait! The eggs come out of their poop hole?!
Big A: [To me] Yes, Puppy! Chickens just have the one cloaca.
Nu: Oh! That's how you say it? I thought it was "cluck-a."
Me: I didn't know any of this.
Big A: I'm still learning new things about you.
Fin.

(before my parents' arranged marriage)

When my mom was trying hard to be my best friend

(so I too would share, so I wouldn't decide to die)
she once told me how in the late sixties
she'd take the 21 bus from her college
to go "flirt" at the university library

Heading home meant rules and four younger siblings 

(and college was only to make her marriage worthy)
so she'd stay back to read trashy novels 
knowing dudes were watching her 
from neighboring desks

I feel a flicker for mom in her carefully pressed saris

(pressed under her mattress if she missed the dhobi)  
knowing she'd never be allowed to work
using the few years she had

for freedom, for fun

she told me she never looked directly at any of them
(I mean, that would be to risk a bad reputation) 

but there was one bespectacled dude
who seemed a very serious type

she didn't know his name

graduation results went up, and he asked how she did 
(she was too taken by surprise to counterfeit, so)

she told him she got a third class--i.e. a "C"
he turned on his heel--and she laughs-- 
she never saw him again

zooming to nostalgia

When the invitation to attend a state of the art talk with so many of my old professors showed up, I RSVPed right away. It was some of the usual suspects from the Thursday Poco Seminar and it  took me back to being a student in Oxford in the first decade of this century--late as usual, racing past the tourists and townies and fellow students to get to Wadham College by 5:15. Usually I didn't bring my bicycle because there'd be wine and/or we'd go to dinner with the speaker and it would be easier to split a taxicab with someone.

It was at 5:00 GMT today, so although I tuned in at noon, it felt like one of those evenings. Lots has happened since then: jobs, publications, promotions; and on the other side: relationships, marriage, kids. It's wild that my profs are still the leaders in the field; it's crazy that I still show up on their acknowledgements pages from time to time. 

There is one person on this panel who is newer, very likely much younger. They mentioned in their introductory remarks that they felt "intimidated." I assumed they meant because of the august company--but no, they meant because they had to cover a lot of ground in very little time. And that, my friends, is one of the many reasons why although both of us applied for the same job at UCLA Berkeley in 2012, only one of us got it (and it wasn't me).