"is it sad or is it good?"

I made time to watch The Goat Life on Netflix. It's on a dominant South Asian theme (immigrant laborers forced into slavery in Saudi Arabia), based on a bestselling Malayalam novel, and I wanted to be in the know. 

It's a long (I had an hour left to go when I thought I couldn't take any more) and disturbing film (the protagonist is forced to become a desert goat herder under dehumanizing conditions). If you thought it was about a G.O.A.T. life, no--it's about living with goats that bleat. 

Anyway, I was sitting around all sad and depressed after I watched the movie (by myself). Nu who came down after their shower was concerned. They listened to my recap and then asked why I was still thinking about it, "is it sad or is it good?" (They meant was the story sad or was it narrated well.) I was momentarily cheered because that's such an incisive question! I'm not sure I can answer it, though. 

Pic: Geese on the Red Cedar. I'm terrified of meeting them on the riverwalk, but they're so graceful in the water.

summer delirium

flowers breathe their ardor 

clouds nudge me closer

my body--full like fruit--

is sticky as joy 

 

it finds the wild impatience 

of my unfurled heart 

it knows what has happened:

I felt myself precious 

and know I can meet myself

at every return 

_________________________

After a week of being unable to hold a storyline in my head, I found two excellent reads. The 57 Bus was a genre I didn't even know existed--YA nonfiction. It starts with a sleeping agender teenager being set on fire, and if you told me at that point that I'd be crying for anyone else in that book, I'd not have believed you. Yesterday I started The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida (2022 Booker) as a sort of prep/procrastination before I read Brotherless Night (2024 Women's Prize), which has the same political timeframe and framework. I know Brotherless Night will be heartbreaking for what it documents and also because I witnessed how long and difficult the writing process was for VVG (SG). Anyway, The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida begins with the protagonist's experience of a post-death afterworld and gave me nightmares after having been at the hospital last week. But the writing was so layered and so, so, so good I couldn't stop. Just brilliant. 

Pic: JN shared this pic of her summer--a cocktail of butterflies, bees, flowers, blue sky, and clouds--it made me pretty buzzy.

more in boring updates

I did some more boring things today, and I thoroughly enjoyed doing them... I watered the zillion plants,  weeded (inside and outside), dug up hundreds of rocks to edge the pond, and accidentally cleaned my closet. (I couldn't find the pretty Farm Rio blouse I'd uncharacteristically paid full price for at the height of the pandemic*, and couldn't remember if I'd "filed" it with my blue/green/yellow/red blouses or with my summer blouses or my beach tops. Found it it among the blues!)

And after blowing people off and flaking on fun stuff all this week (in retrospect, I wish I had gone to the Ann Arbor Art Festival yesterday!), I finally made it out to dinner with friends. There were leftovers galore for Nu and Big A (who'd encouraged me to go), and I brought them dessert from the restaurant, and they both did just fine without me. Huck, Max, and I shared an icecream bar later, so they forgave me too.

Pic: It was my first time at Bobcat Bonnie's, a restaurant inside the cast-off dining car from an old train now parked near the stadium. It's also right next to a train track, and I was SO excited when a real train passed by our window. EM teased me for it, as a train track runs through the bottom of our backyard and I see (and hear) trains all the time. 

*I am such a sucker for anything with a bird on it.

gimme, gimme, (s)more(s)*

Holding

The chips fall 
(from where they are ranged 

on my shoulder)
but tonight I find naught but light 

I hear myself sing 
(leaning in to kiss in the pauses 

like percussion)

with happiness a parade of hope

_____________________

Pic: Nu and Big A making smores this evening. Huck and Max like marshmallows too. (Look at all the empty chairs... I always said we needed more kids!) 

Also: All we needed this week was to be home. Apparently, it was an Amazon Prime Day or something, but we needed nothing. And today, I guess there's a global tech outage that's screwing up business and travel? It's a good thing we'd already planned to stay home all day.

* This is always sung to that Britney song, "Gimme More."

hanging in there/hanging by a thread: a week of random things I thought about with A in the hospital

Wednesday, July 10: Big A's healthcare team doesn't have a clear way forward, so neither do we. But I found the buttons to move his bed up and down, and that was a solid two minutes of good giggles. 

When I can't be with A, I feel more alone than I can ever remember being. Usually, even when he's away working nights, I can fire off a text, chat a bit, compare Wordle scores, joke about something, share something I dreamt. Not this time.

Thursday, July 11: We decided not to tell our elderly parents until we had something to report, but that means I've told very few people IRL, and as a consequence do not have my usual posse to help me through. A is very private and doesn't care, but it's proving super tough for me. 

The people I did tell have surrounded me with special dropoffs and cards and care and prayers and love. And I can't thank my lovely blog friends enough for the kind messages and Care Bear stares 💗. And At and Nu have been simply amazing, taking care of themselves and the puppy sibs and being so loving... they even tried extra hard on family chat.

Friday, July 12: It still feels like being insulated from "real life"--like I'm living in a bubble. There's a sense of unreality about the rest of the world--like how are people just going to the farmers' market, or the pool or walks, and binging TV, and reading novels, and other stuff? This is all stuff I usually do too--but it seems impossible and unreal just now. 

Also: I have all the time in the world, just sitting around and waiting (has any other room been so aptly named as the waiting room?). And yet, there's no time to do things I'd like to do.

Saturday, July 13: We finally have a new protocol to try that's not just emergency management of symptoms, so I'm hopeful things will improve. They have to.

Obviously, everything makes me cry, including this dancing toddler. And obviously, I've imagined the worst over and over again. In fact, I imagined it before we even got to the hospital. 

Sunday, July 14: A seems better (I hope it's not just wishful thinking).

And I catch myself thinking about all the ways life is bound to change after this: I've always thought of A as the stronger partner--I'm going to really step up now. And I wonder what this will mean for trips we've planned together... 

Monday, July 15: A *is* better. OMG. Tests confirm this, but we still have a few more days of monitoring before we're home. 

Things I want to do when we get back to a more normal. 

                       1) Teach the kids to cook. I love hearing how Steph Love's kids make amazing meals (kinda like the kids in Catherine Newman's books) and I want At and Nu to be able to do that too. We could spend all sorts of quality time together.

                      2) Make time for dance. When we went out together the last time, it was so fun to dance at the concert (was that just a couple of weeks ago?!) and I don't know why we don't do it more often. Even if it's ONE song, I want dance in my life everyday. 

                      3) Try dry needling for my shoulder pain.

                     4) Plant taller deer-resistant flowers in the garden.

I'm behind on so much and wish I had more goal-driven to-dos, but I guess escapism is key right about now. 

the news... and nourishment

Heartbreaking news about Alice Munro... and tragically one reminiscent of the world she evoked in her fiction where children are betrayed and damaged by adults (plural!) who were supposed to care for and protect them. I hope Andrea Robin Skinner finds peace and experiences continued healing.

and

Unfathomably soul-crushing news from The Lancet (medical journal of record) warning that conservatively, "the true death toll in the Gaza genocide could be 186,000 or more." And that this "staggering figure amounts to 8 percent of the population of Gaza. A similar percentage of the US population would be 26 million people." I'm coping through a cocktail of hope (there has been an increase in public support for Gaza including from the French left--the surprise election winners), drugs (including OTC Ashwagandha), busy-ness (deadline after deadline), and the loving support of family and friends.

Pic: Some of my farmers' market haul from this weekend. I used the summer abundance for dinner today--ratatouille, which I served with focaccia (also from the market) and tzatziki. Our meal was already solidly Mediterranean, repping French, Italian, and Greek foods, so I cut up some Valencia oranges to add Spain to our dinner mix.

in which my mom schools me on how to use my phone

Sometimes when Nu and I are comfort-watching a show from the '90s (Friends or Dawson's Creek or Felicity--ok, the last two are mostly me), I'm amazed at how all those characters are just walking around without cellphones hoping to bump into their pals randomly and with no way to check in on people if they're late to a rendezvous. I say "they," but I did that too back then, obviously. Sometimes it seems like another lifetime! I wonder if Nu can really even imagine how it used to be. 

And I'm not even a person who uses their phone that much. I was reminded of that today when my mom made a request. She wanted me to record myself singing a handful of Thyagaraja kritis because she said she wanted to hear them right now. (It was so sweet. "I can't wait until June to hear you sing them to me again," she said.) When I told her I didn't know how to record, she gave me such specific directions starting with: "look for the "mic" symbol..." Seriously, I was so impressed. She said that she'd previously taught her aunts to make recordings when they found it difficult to type. Nu, who is of the digital-native generation, is my usual go-to person when I need to figure out something on my phone... but now I can ask my mom too.

Pic: Huck and Max keeping me company; I was putting dinner together while I practiced "Marukela Ra," one of the songs my mom had requested. This version I found is by the superb Maharajapuram Santhanam (incidentally, the grandfather of one of my school friends who's recently become a wonderful advocate and carer for the many street dogs in Chennai).

observance

no doors will open 
only borders
and they are

the preludes
to resentment

but think if only you
could be very

quiet, become 
very small you 
could slip through

to sit liminal as a god 
at the crossroads
agonize, organize
infinite as the sun...
falls down 

_________________

Note: Not much of a July 4th celebration this year. On a logistical level, LB, my usual Independence Day date is off at a wedding. Plus it was rainy, so I felt less inclined to seek out parades and outdoor concerts, and Nu and Big A like a low-key evening anyway. On a critical level, the past week of Supreme Court rulings (esp. criminalizing homeless people while giving presidents almost monarchial immunity) has shaken me. "America doesn't deserve a birthday party this year" is a theme/mood on my socials. Also: a lot of anticipatory dread and anxiety about the upcoming elections (esp. as I foresee a lot of in-fighting on the left). I wonder--and worry--about where we'll be as a nation next year this time.

Pic: A red-white-and-blue pic of Lansing fireworks SJ shared.

"Together Again"

A dear friend gave me tickets to the Janet Jackson "Together Again" show, so Big A and I went. It was a trip. (Also a trip: how much Janet Jackson there has been in my week!)

Oh, how I adored "That's the Way Love Goes" as a young 'un. It used to be a whole mood. And being at the show felt like being in the 1990s again. I could kinda see the crowd as the teenagers they were years ago. And though we're all very different (I lived on a completely different continent back then), the music gave us all a shared context.

Anyway--it was a terrific show: four costume changes, lots of medleys, updated lyrics and riffs, cool dancers... and the opening act was Nelly (he of the "It's Getting Hot in Heeeere" track so beloved by my mom)! 😂🤣

Pic: A pre-show ussie of me and Big A.

what I heard

1) "When you do coke it's not supposed to make you black out, right?" Person I'd stopped to check on in the bus shelter. They were crying and I couldn't walk past them without asking if they were ok. I didn't know the answer to their question, but I tried to see if they wanted to go to the hospital. They didn't. Ultimately, I did just walk away.

2) "Those deer out there are like good friends. They just hang out in my yard all day." Person with a huge Trump flag in their yard when I marveled at the 25 or so deer just sitting in their yard. I'd pulled up warily to ask for directions and was a bit taken aback. I don't know if I thought a Trump supporter would just randomly be shooting deer in their backyard or what.

3) *zombie noises* This was Nu after dinner. Max seemed to think it was the fun-est thing in the world and followed them around with heart-emoji eyes.

4) "Mr. Melancholy and his 'lunages'." A line from I Saw the TV Glow, which Nu was watching while I worked. Nu and At had already seen it together when Big A and I were in Arizona and liked it a lot. Turns out the line was "Mr. Melancholy and his luna juice." Umm. Yeah. Either way, I didn't get it. I think it's one of those things where you have to pay attention.

Pic: We've been going to Pride parades for years at this point, but I think I started giving the kids Pride presents only during the pandemic. Here, Nu and At are trying to figure out the prisms they got this year; Max thinks At, who'd stopped by for dinner after a shift at Chipotle, smells delicious. 

up and down and all around

The writing group didn't meet today... but good news about two conference acceptances. I'll chair the panel on narrative medicine; and I'm really excited about the panel I organized, titled, "If You Build It, They Will Come: Critical Feminist Practices for Campuses, Communities, and Campus-Community Partnerships."

I think we've finally finished edging the pond... but there have been some work-related woes, so we may be putting the house up for sale if things don't turn around. I'm determined to enjoy it while we're here!

I loved Sandwich so much, that I downloaded We All Want Impossible Things right away... and it's just so sad, I don't know that I can go on.

A long walk with Big A with the weather app predicting no rain as we set off... and then after we got to the halfway point, it began to rain. Oh, well, I'm not actually made of sugar.

Pic: A family of geese out on an outing.

a handful of summer things

It feels like I just got home from a fun family beach vacation on Cape Cod because I just finished Catherine Newman's Sandwich. I'd picked it up on Nicole's recommendation. Actually, the whole novel felt like it was being narrated by Nicole with that characteristic sense of warmth, humor, personal history, and integrity. I snorted and chuckled and laughed out loud so much while reading this on the cloud reader, that everyone knew I wasn't working on my laptop. Also: Was there a character called Maya? (Yes, there was.) Was she the same age, and at the same stage in her PhD, as when I used to go up to Truro for a week every summer as a guest of a dear friend's family? (Yes, she was.) 

And inspired by something Jenny did a couple of weeks back, I treated myself to a trip to the bookstore. I browsed and browsed but didn't buy anything although I still have my birthday bookstore money to spend.

Also: I got a massage after months off.  Wonderful R, who used to make house calls, has moved away. I had bought myself some massage gift certs around the holidays, but the person was flaky about scheduling and then sent a group text that they couldn't honor the certs because they had been diagnosed with cancer. (They're being sued by a bunch of people who say they have proof this is a ploy. But I keep thinking what if they really do have cancer--how shitty would that be to have to fight these BBB claims while also fighting cancer and being impoverished by having to pay for treatments under our horrible healthcare system?) Anyway, I'd already spent half a year's budget on massages, so I had to wait until now. I got an acupressure session today, and it feels hurts so good right now.

Pic: Eating my colors. This is the poké bowl I made for Big A's Boss Day: Miso rice, shaved sprouts, grated carrots, chopped cucumber, avocado, cherry tomatoes, mango, and tiny peppers + broiled salmon/tofu. I was going to add arugula before plating, but I forgot.

...the little children

our world wanes thin 

this hard-won hope 

afire and at once

*

               sky bright - tear dark

                flowering - hungry

                  prayers - profanity

*

its ruined road looks

back, asks us a riddle

shadowed answers 

*

                  seem to see a child

                 say just some child

                  it is the same child 

_____________________

Note: I was going for "suffer the little children" for the title with its biblical sense of "allow" but also to evoke the idea of suffering.

I think some of the early images came from a dream in which someone I admired told me something was "not strong, but it is right." I was very impressed by this insight in the dream and on waking up. But I agree with Big A that it doesn't really seem to make sense or hold up.

________________________________________________________

Pic: The first ripened tomato from the veggie plot. May there be many more (if the deer, squirrels, birds, chipmunks, slugs, bugs, groundhogs, and bunnies grant).

summer slide

I guess I have my own version of summer learning loss a.k.a. summer slide. I'm not losing knowledge over summer, I keep forgetting things that worked for me last summer. I'm having to relearn. I have to remember that I have a folder of no-cook dinner ideas. I have to remember that turning the shower to "cool" for a few beats at the end will keep me from sweating when I get out. I was doing these things by rote by the end of summer last year, but haven't yet fallen back into those habits this year.

Yesterday, when I was horrified by a movie plot twist At and Nu shared with me, I was informed that I had reacted the same way when they'd told me before. "Sorry to retraumatize you, I thought you already knew" At said. Every time I remembered that bit of the conversation today, it made me laugh.

Also: I was so relieved to get back into reading today. I was stalled on a book for over a week in a terrible self-perpetuating cycle--I wasn't enjoying it, so I wasn't making time to finish it, and I couldn't start another book while that one was unfinished (plus I had that deadline, so I didn't have much free time). I finally finished it yesterday and got to read a whole book today. (Rachel Hawkins's The Villa. I particularly enjoyed the allusion/shoutout to Mary Godwin Shelley writing Frankenstein at the Villa Diodati.) It was a relief to know it wasn't me or the genre--that other book was just bad.

Pic: Big A, Huck, and Max. They're all leaping in the air because of their proximity to the treat jar :).

Summer Solstice: Full of Pride

Early morning date with a sweet delicious baby-- DVA's grandkid was visiting, and I got to play and feed the baby as DVA got showered and dressed for the bridal shower they were going to. It was truly lovely. I'd forgotten the way babies make noises of contentment as they're on their bottles--their bodies calm, their fingers curling and uncurling in delight. So precious. All sustenance should be so enjoyable.

I hung out with my own babies for the rest of the day at the Pride festival. We started by the river where the feminist coalition and DSA had set up a radical reading library with zines, books, and community events under the banner "The first Pride was a protest." They had a lot of materials and quotes by queer Palestinians on hand-lettered posters. After we'd helped with repositioning their tent and tying down some of the posters (At knew them from DSA), we went over to the "rainbow capitalism" side, seeing more people we knew, getting freebies and treats and then stopped for cold drinks and pizza at the pub before heading home. At headed off to work, Nu headed back of to Pride with friends. They joked that they were so full of Pride.

Pic: BOL holding a polaroid of us at Pride today. BOL, Nu, At, and me.

Circling

I can be a gate

even birds with broken wings have visions

they see our world without lifting in flight

I can be a flame

every time my heart returns, I feel again 

how simple and honest it is, how not shy

I can be the magic

stirring in the song that may fracture the sky 

the calm violence in my implicit transformation 

I could be a god

sunk deep in sleep and remembering my life

baked merciful in stone and skin and sunlight

______________

Pic: LB and TB got us all together for a picnic and a performance of "The Complete Works of Shakespeare" at MSU's Summer Circlemseries. I enjoyed the cross-dressed, campy Juliet misinterpreting Romeo's "call me but Love..." and calling him "butt love" way more than I should have.

an easy hang

A lovely day-spend with the lovely KPB. 

I joked to KPB about how I finally sent off my work because I had to get ready to hang out with her today and how she was helping me check things off my summer fun list too... Today: A walk though the Rose Garden, Baklava at Sultan's, and a meander through the Broad Art Museum's new exhibits.

Bestie KB set me and KPB up when she left to go live in Minneapolis.  So KPB reminds me a little of being with KB (they even have similar names and initials)! But KPB and I have lots in common and today was just an easygoing ramble of chatter and jokes and shared positions on things that matter. And new ideas--now I want to get a glass-cutting tool and work with old bottles.

Pic: "Angel Soldier" by Yongbaek Lee (2005). In this hanging video installation, there are soldiers wearing flower camouflage moving ominously through a vista of artificial flowers. It's their movement that gives them away, so they're difficult to detect in a photograph. (But if the photo were a clockface and you look in the region of 10, you can kind of see the muzzle of a gun.) Broad Art Museum today with KPB who came down from Alma for the day.

an adult marriage

Somehow, it has been 18 years since we were married! Our marriage is officially an adult now. On some days it feels like it has been 40 years and perhaps just 5-6 years at other times? 

IDK. Math is tough for me.

(I usually don't specify how long we've been married because we have a 25-year-old, and I don't want to get into the inevitable mathy-judgy questions about that. But essentially, IDC.)

The morning was deadline-fueled editing, the afternoon was interviews with candidates for a faculty position. But I took a couple of hours off for a drive and dinner with Big A, reminiscing about our top favorite things about the last 18 years. 

Pic: Wedding afternoon. My tiara is off, A's coat buttons are undone. We're in my MIL's house in Ohio. I have a photo like this on the nightstand, and it always makes me laugh because the kids once said it looks like I went and married a teenager. 

the time I need

My deadline was this past Sunday. I got an extension until Wednesday, because I wanted to spend a few more days fine-tuning things. When I asked for the extension, the editor good-naturedly said I should "take the time I need." I think about how they (could have but) did not say I should take "all the time I need." I'm using it as a kind of rubric--does the tweak I envision fit in the "time I need?" If it doesn't, I'm making a note and passing on it/passing it on. 

I lugged my laptop to the sports bar where Big A was watching the Dallas-Boston NBA game tonight. While there, he tried quite valiantly to tell me all the "subplots" and rivalries beyond the score. His description of someone looking like a cream cheese was very apt--I recognized them as soon as they showed up on screen. Anyway, the Celtics won, everyone was happy, and we're home.

(That's two sports-themed events in the space of a week... who am I these days?!)

Pic: Big A in this year's Father's Day tee. It's Star-Wars themed and has all the kids' names on it. Huck and Max just got a treat from the treat jar. 

have loved him my whole darn life

I posted a short tribute on FB for Father's Day. I wrote, "My dad was the first feminist I knew. (He loved the poet Bharathiar deeply, and perhaps that's where *he* got it from...) I am so lucky to have had his fierce love and support in all things big and small all my life. I know he's loved me since I was born, but I've actually loved him my whole darn life."

But there's so much more to say... How he came from a family of six brothers, and mourned the baby sister who died as an infant for decades. How he'd tuck my sister and me into bed like it was a military operation--even lifting our feet to tuck the sheets under them. How he teared up when I got my first period, because he was so sad for my future lifetime of cramps and discomfort. How when I said he loved fiercely, I meant fierce in all its senses--sometimes he'd be so moved kissing us, his face would be like a grimace. How he made a rule that my mom could not compare us to other kids. How he'd find something good about even our failures or frame them in the most generous light. How he'd had secretaries to "take dictation" at work, but would painstakingly write notes to us in his (truly) terrible handwriting.

My mom is right--good dads get more kudos than good moms because good dads are rarer than good moms. But as the years go by and he gets older, I cherish every day and every conversation with my dad even more. I'm hoping to take all my A's--Big, Little, and Baby--to go visit him in India next year.

Pic: My dad and me on Elliot's Beach; I'm sure my favorite uncle took this one. I look so much like dad in this one.