not normal

The images of devastation coming from the California fires (in Winter!) have been so hard to process. Homes, memories, histories... wiped out... just like that. I can't imagine. And yet, of course I've imagined it happening to me, to us, over here. It's not difficult. We're all just one disaster away. I'm holding space and grief for all the people, land, animals, plants, water, air, and atoms affected by what was preventable. 

Today has been hard. I turned in final grades for the online Gaza course. Of the eleven students who had registered for "Literature Survey 2," just two graduated. I lost touch with the remaining nine, and hadn't been able to get a response from them in months. I will never know what happened to them. I imagine the best. I imagine the worst.

Of the two who graduated, D, promised to stay in touch "God willing, as long as we are alive, to learn from you." The conditionality was chilling. F, turned in work late once and apologized explaining that there had been internet outages and that their tent had been bulldozed. It made me embarrassed to receive that email. 

None of this needs to be anyone's normal. 

Pic: via Praxis-Archives 
#RestInPowerAaronBushnell

scribbling women, dogs walking, dog-writing, and bitches

When I first watched Bridgerton, I was struck by this remarkable line:

LADY WHISTLEDOWN: "According to the much heralded poet Lord Byron: Of all bitches, dead or alive, a scribbling woman is the most canine."

And I meant to use it when I taught Women's Writing again (which is now). It is such a mash-up of Byron's famous misogyny, Hawthorne's hatred of "scribbling women" and Samuel Johnson's screed about women's composition--that it's like a "dog’s walking on his hind legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all.” 

Also, while I was looking for the precise quote, I went down some interesting theory rabbit holes. While I was aware of Animal Studies, I wasn't aware that there was a specialized field of "dog-writing" that studies the intense relationships of women writers with their dogs (Elizabeth Barrett-Browning, Virginia Woolf, and so on). (While I'm no Woolf or Barrett-Browning--in our family, Scout is known as my dissertation wolf and Max is my book puppy. I don't think I could have gone on without their steadfast attention, affection, and presence.) The word "bitch" crops up with increasing frequency in the titles of these works about dog-writing: "Bitch, Bitch, Bitch: Personal Criticism, Feminist Theory, and Dog-writing" or  Writing with the Bitches, etc. 

It feels like I've come full circle with the Bridgerton quote.

Pic: Snow falling in the "portal," which what L and I call this corridor of trees from her house to the street.

Bending Meaning: Haiku, P.F.Chang, and "Peelings"

I'll never get used to hearing Big A talking on the phone to his colleagues and casually asking them to send him a haiku. Haiku is merely the hospital's internal secure messaging system, but it nevertheless sounds so charming. Although at other times I'm a bit stern and feel like if they're going to appropriate poetic terminology, they better be structuring their medical notes 5/7/5, you know?

*

Last year, Big A had a recurrent dream where Scout was accompanying him to a bunch of classes at Kalamazoo, his old undergraduate campus. In one dream, it was a poetry class where the instructor had displayed some of their published works on the desk at the front of the class. A can't remember the titles, but the poet's name was P.F. Chang--like the Asian restaurant chain. I wonder if Big A was thinking of Victoria Chang but was also a bit hungry?

*

I've been hearing this catchy Telugu film song on a number of reels and wanted to download it for my playlist. The song is about how the heroine is plagued by carnal feelings for the hero--"vochundai feelings-su" (I get these feelings). So I searched "Feelings" on I-Tunes, and nope, nothing. Turns out it's spelled "Peelings"--all the better to express the way it might be pronounced with emphasis in Telugu, I guess? Not really a word with a sultry vibe for me, however--it makes me think of dinner prep... or a skin condition.

Pic: The Red Cedar right behind L's house. From another walk this week. 

bookends

I woke up to see that a writer friend had tagged me in her exhortation to read more books in 2025 because she'd used a picture of our Little Free Library. And of course the week has been full of various enjoyable year-end roundups of reading lists. Then Lisa wondered about my top books of 2024... The thing is, I don't have a digital record of my reading. Reading is what I've always loved doing but also kind of my work work. So it never made sense (for me) to quantify my reading by hours/pages/titles. When I read for pleasure, like other things I do for pleasure, I tend to do it rather whimsically and for as long--or as little--as I want to. It's not very efficient. But that feels perfect to me.

Lisa's question made me curious, though. So I went to check on my scribbly physical planner, where I usually note what I'm reading "for fun" to compile this top-12. (I think these titles are a mix of 2023 and 2024 and are in no particular order.)

Ta-Nehisi Coates, The Message; Catherine Newman, Sandwich; Paul Murray, The Bee Sting; Percival Everett, James; Kaveh Akbar, Martyr!; Sally Rooney, Intermezzo; Fady Joudah, […]; Tony Tulathimutte, Rejection; Emma Cline, The Guest; Yiyun Li, Wednesday’s Child: Stories; Tania James, Loot; Elliot Page, Pageboy: A Memoir; Teju Cole, Tremor. (Fun fact: Teju Cole used to comment on this blog a very long time ago.)

Pic: OM's Facebook Reel of our Little Free Library. I did a quick search, and this is the first picture of it in the snow, I think. I love that our neighborhood keeps it so well stocked. It used to be all my responsibility in the other place where we had it from 2012-2016.

new year thoughts

I finally finished the paper proposal based on disability in Jhumpa Lahiri's Roman Stories I've been embroidering in my head for a while. It's going to two conferences. I don't know if I can actually travel to both of them--but those are bridges for later.

*

Big A got a holiday bonus and I got to give away lots of it--most of it to PAMA and PCRF. But we dug up some more for Lansing organizations like the Refugee Development Center, our local queer community space--Salus Center,  and Nation Outside a Michigan-based advocacy group led by the formerly incarcerated. 

*

I started a poem (and then ran out of steam): 

accidents constellate our past

hope peoples our future

we need imagination

to survive

*

I survived 2024. I spoke up, and spoke my truth no matter how small my voice started or how repetitive I thought I would sound.

And I'm grateful for everyone who listened even when I didn't say the right thing or say things the right way. I hope 2025 lets me walk gently on this Earth in solidarity with other living beings.

*

And now, as Rilke says, we get to welcome the New Year "Full of things that have never been.” Happy New Year!

Pic: Nu was hosting some friends for NYE, so Big A and I took a walk to the rooftop bar downtown. This party was loud, but the music and drinks were strong. I thought I was getting a photo of the fireworks on the skyline, but I think I got one of the the first emergency vehicle of 2025 instead. It reminded me a bit of NYEs past in NYC and Chennai as we walked past choruses of people wishing us a happy new year on our way home.

here we are now...

On the cusp of the last day of the year...

I have hopes for 2025--high hopes. Despite the election results and the impending inauguration. Why not? Imagination is free after all. But also, when I tally my efforts I judge based on whether on not I did my best. I usually am doing my best, so I tend to be kind to myself even if the results aren't what I'd originally hoped for. 

Right now feels a bit more stable than this time last year in terms of everyone's health (MIL may be mobile as soon as next week) and prospects, and I'll take that. The people in my life are my blessings and joys. The most important part is that I'm rich in human connections.

(And spiritual connections if my overcrowded altar is any indication. I tend to put everything people give me on it, plus it's a busy time of the year with both the nativity and the menorah out.)

Pic: My overcrowded altar yesterday. And I thought it was overcrowded two years ago... Additions have been Scout's picture, some new icons, the guide birds, and from this angle some of the holiday cards on the side table.

"Bitch, don't kill my vibe"

I was there for my family, friends, and community over the holidays...

but...

Gaza was never far from my thoughts. This is the second winter many families are spending in emergency tents that are falling apart. Many GoFundMes started for escape have now been reduced to appeals for tent repair or food. Israel bombed Kamal Adwan, the last functioning hospital, and arrested its medical director, Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya, when he wouldn't desert his critically ill patients. More World Central Kitchen workers have died, and more U.N. workers have died. Amnesty International, the U.N., the International Criminal Court (ICC), and the International Court of Justice (ICJ) have all concluded that this is against international law, but people continue to be killed every day, and infants are freezing or starving to death. It all feels too much. They say Reagan was able to end the bombing in Beirut with a single phone call, where is the political will to end the bombing in Gaza? Incidentally, President Carter, who died today, was a real one for correctly calling the situation in Palestine apartheid. (I am grateful for all his anti-racist work, especially post-presidency, and at dinner today, we were saying how he embodied the best aspects of Christianity--service and love.)

I kept muttering Kendrick's song title to myself so I wouldn't say anything inadvertently because I knew people were just trying to get through a difficult year for themselves. For many of my friends, the US elections have left a pall, my MIL broke her foot on Christmas day, and Big A's cousin's wife died on Christmas Day after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer just three months ago. Big A hasn't seen his cousin in decades, but they used to spend summers together. Reading the eulogies about MS, I wish I had known her--she seems to have been a wonderful person who was a master gardener and friend to the unhoused. 

Anyway, I'll save my disquiet so I can fight another day. 

Pic: Today's rainy weather didn't help my mood or anything; but here's a memory of yesterday's blue sky. 

What it is/What is it

* At stopped by this morning and helped me address and stamp the remaining holiday cards and I got to hear more about their time in Seattle a couple of weeks back as we worked. I loved the story of how they were going to do a last-minute visit to the Kurt Cobain memorial bench before their 12 am flight back when they met someone interesting... it was such a meet-cute--Cinderella-esque midnight deadline and all!

*  Nu, At, and I took our Flu and Covid shots! (Big A got his at work ages ago.) We got the Novavax, and so far, so good. I've not fallen apart or taken to my bed like a Victorian lady... yet. 

* Hanukkah started last night! This is yet another year I'm using birthday candles for our menorah. I'm good at making them stick with a bit of melty wax, but it's not ideal. Big A's the one with Jewish heritage, so I'm going to put him in charge of getting the Nerot next year. 

*I've jumped back into work via email, phone calls, and light editing again. Is it too early? It feels too early.

*Pic: The whatsit I got at the thrift store when I took Nu to shop on Monday... I love birds and found this lidded container irresistible especially because it cost all of 6.06 and was also "on sale" so I paid less than 4.00 $. It says "Made in Italy" on the bottom and is so intricate... and impractical. Like what would one put in it?! (Nu's tongue-in-cheek suggestion was soup.) A reverse Google image search suggests it's a "trinket dish." I might use the bottom as a cache pot for a plant and the top as a frame for mint, moss, or a succulent that could grow out of the openings? Ideas?

from the other side of Christmas

I'm not sure how it happened, but when Nu came down for Christmas--and while I was still listening to carols and checking on the Christmas breakfast pudding--Big A decided to tell them how much baking soda you'd need to mix with cocaine to make crack. 

But the rest of Christmas was more traditional (for us, anyway). Big A was off Thanksgiving this year, so he's working over Christmas--this is the standard E.R. scheduling tradeoff. But the kids have learned to accommodate celebrations around his schedule over the years. I started to wake the kids up when A was on his way home from work after his night shift so when he got home and decompressed for a bit, we could go to cider, stockings, presents, and then Christmas pudding brunch, lazing around, snuggles, napping, movies, biriyani, and so on.

It kind of felt like the nicest Christmas in a few years. The kids have had a couple of rocky years recently, but we're on the other side of that now one way or the other. It's also our second year of Christmas without Scout--no one approaches his level of enthusiasm for Christmas, which will always be bittersweet. 

I put LifeStraws in everyone's stockings including my own (during an anxiety-prone week is my guess). I'd wrapped everyone's presents long before I left for Greece. That was a while ago and I lowkey forgot some of the details, so I was nicely surprised as people opened their presents too. Ha. As for myself, my massage budget has been replenished, and I've been promised a trip to the Grand Canyon in October! I'd mentioned to Big A that I had poetry accepted to three anthologies this year and that I'd like to maybe get a book of poetry out into the world in the coming year--and I got a stack of autographed books of poetry including Mosab Abu Toha's for inspiration. That was the sweetest present.

Pic: Nu being a silly Christmas elf, and all of their siblings--Max, Huck, At--looking at them adoringly. There's a sliver of Big A still in scrubs in the corner and the clutter of opened and unopened presents all around them. 

P.S. In the comments to yesterday's post, Nance used the term "sanitation worker." I'm not sure if it was intended as a gentle correction, but it worked as one. It immediately sounded like a more courteous term, and when I looked up how the relevant union refered to themselves, it seemed the term of choice. So it will be what I will use going forward. As the better Maya said, "Now that I know better, I [can] do better."

colorful leftovers

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve! Today was just making sure everything was ready for tomorrow. Nu didn't have presents for everyone, so we went thrifting as we had missed all the craft bazaars and Nu doesn't like big box stores. 

I've gotten really tight-fisted about spending money on things, as extra money goes to GoFundMes and E-Sim top-ups. But spending money on celebrating community is a joyous loophole. Planning and coordinating an event is also a welcome distraction when I'm trying to fall asleep. Guests from Saturday's party shared pictures with me and it got me thinking back, and I thought I'd record my favorite parts for next time. 

Of course, it was because of all the people who came that it was a lovely afternoon. It was so great to see faraway friends from Grand Rapids, Midland, Alma, Manistee, Mt. Pleasant, Ann Arbor, Detroit, Flint, and more. By far, the best thing I did was use my quarterly massage budget to ask my therapist if she could be at the party to give guests mini massages. She was amazing and people loved it. (It sounds like I made a big sacrifice, but it's Christmas now and my birthday soon, and don't cry for me, Internet--I will probably have a massage budget again when my fam finds out.)

Table: I used a fuzzy green blanket someone had given me as a tablecloth (lol) and had to move some of the decorative elements off the table as people brought in so many cookies. I made the Christmas Toffee that Nance recommended. (Also, I can't say how much I respect and love Nance for not using the more common name for that snack.) By far, the prettiest thing I made was a similar hummus Christmas Wreath and it took all of five minutes (you can kind of see it at the far end of the table). I spent a good part of Friday bugging Big A and LB if my Christmas Tree goat cheese actually looked like a Christmas Tree (Big A: Kind of?" LB: "Sure, Maya"), so it was a relief the wreath immediately turned out like a wreath and I didn't have to bug anyone for validation.

Playlist: New this year was Finneas "Another Year" ("I don't believe that Jesus Christ was born to save me/That's an awful lot of pressure for a baby"), Charlie Puth "December 25th" (the beginning sounds so much like "Last Christmas!!"), and RuPaul "Hey Sis, It's Christmas" (If you want nontraditional interpretations of "gay" and "ho"). Not really Christmassy but wintery songs like Fleet Foxes "White Winter Hymnal" and my favorite British-American bands--Slade "Merry Xmas Everbody," The Pretenders "2000 Miles," John Lennon and Yoko Ono "Happy Xmas (War is Over)," and Lindsay Buckingham "Holiday Road'. Plus a bunch of Diana Ross, Aretha Franklin, Cher, Norah Jones, and Linus and Lucy suites from A Charlie Brown Christmas to round things off sweetly.

Pic: AS's photo.

roUGH and toUGH

Discussions from the annals of today's family chat:

Don't cross the picket line. Starbucks Union baristas are calling for customers to boycott Starbucks through the 24th as they strike for respectful negotiations and fair wages. (This is easy for me since I don't drink coffee and am notoriously [hilariously] intimidated by situations where I have to order in a line when people are waiting behind me.)

Social media realities. This was a shoddy book (I flipped through it) and a shoddier movie (probably). Still, now I have to pay attention to this million-dollar misogyny machine nonsense to review how P.R. can distort social reality. The guy developed a feminist reputation, despite being a predatory harasser and retaliatory creep and then hired a P.R. firm to flip the script on his co-star Blake Lively. The alarming part here is that she's more famous than he is, but he thought he could get away with it because... he's a guy? 

Pic: A really leaden day: gray skies, gray water, chilly temps. 

getting brighter

Some people might have thought the party was taking place around the cookies, the laughter and conversations, or the lovely massage therapist giving mini massages...  but the real action was on the floor where the babies and the puppies were finding each other and having conversations: "Doggie!" Ruff-ruff!" "Touch Doggie?" "puppy-kisses, puppy-kisses, tail-wags."

We didn't get to singing carols until really late into the evening, and I was quite taken aback by how easy it was to sing along to The Dysfunctional Family Christmas Songbook that JN brought. 

OM came in from Grand Rapids for the evening, and I showed her book to everyone so lots of people put it on their TBRs. Her rum balls were really boozy, and after everyone left, we could barely move and curled up with hot cocoa for a long, no-holds-barred chat.

I'm looking forward to the extra minutes of light and brightness as the earth hinges into solstice...

Pic: Max, Huckie, + toddler and baby feet... Perhaps Max and Huck have found some cookie crumbs from the Cookies and Cocktails party? (I hope it's not cocktails they're after!)

things 1 & 2

Friends, has everyone gotten their Flu and COVID vaccines? Big A is seeing an uptick in cases at the E.R. so it may be past time. I'm at two superspreader events this weekend and am hoping my immunity/luck holds.

Shamefully, I haven't gotten mine this year yet--I need two to three days to recover from the shots and the timing hasn't been right with travel to Arches at mid-term break and Greece at the start of winter break. I've promised myself that I'll get it right after Christmas. 

I've also determined to work on my sleep hygiene. In my defense, there are some mitigating circumstances such as A's nighttime job, my own anxiety, my hankering for quiet hours, etc. The overall appeals of health and wellness didn't work on me--I felt I could deal with fatigue, aches and pains, hair loss, wrinkles, and all that. But At's specific warning of dementia really shook me. If I could go to bed at midnight, or even 1:00 am, and get 4-6 hours of continuous sleep that would be an A+ improvement for now.

I'm just saying--once I get my sleep sorted, I'll have no bad habits at all. I will be so boring. 

Pic: Welcome Committee photo. (Too bad Welcome Committee photos are always blurry due to all the excitement and tail wagging.)

2/3 I am meandering; 2/3 a.m. meandering

I've heard that depression is worrying about the past, anxiety is worrying about the future, and happiness is living in the moment. 2/3 isn't so bad, right? 

I think I have anxiety and moments of happiness/joy. I feel fairly done with the past. And also really lucky to have escaped without major trauma given how naive and gullible I used to be. Big A and my sister, who know all the stuff I used to get up to, marvel at this all the time.

I think I get by because I am blessed in my family and friends--I couldn't wait till Friday's book club meeting to see L so I swung by for a chat and hugs (and also got roses because she'd been at the supermarket and they were on sale). Later, LV was in town to run errands and stayed for dinner and we dug out the tiny bottle of prosecco chilling in the fridge to celebrate his tenure. (It was perfect because Big A was working that night and couldn't drink, so LV and I could polish it off ourselves.)

Now it's 2:25 a.m.: Big A is at work; I'm wide awake. It could be worse, it could be 4:00 a.m., he could be home and we could be goofing off. Big A can sleep during the day to even things out, but I won't because my work happens during the day. 

At told me the other day that I'm going to get dementia if I don't get enough sleep. 

I worry about that. 

But then sometimes I think I'm channeling the spirit of my great-grandfather who, according to my mother, would wake in the middle of the night to light an oil lamp and write poems about Hanuman, the god he was passionately devoted to. 

I'm not as religious, but I write? Right?

Pic: Our Christmas tree in the light. Oof, we really are running out of space.  

between the glass of dreams

they say every poem is a ghost story

keeping its secrets, still looking on in 

what I remember is opening the door

knowing this made surprise and sense 

the curious ritual of intuition and touch--

feeling one's way as though blindfolded

seeing everything entire as a visionary

I stay the same; I've never felt this way 

________________________________

Pic: Christmas coziness--our tree has every ornament (that survived our many moves) from the kids' kindergarten ouevre upwards. 

I told Engie we don't do advent calendars. And that was true, but this is Nu's last year at home and I thought I should at least try it? Big A and Nu like jam, so I got the (what I like to think of as the anti-Nazi jam) Bonne Maman calendar, and... they rarely barely remember to open it. I keep reminding them though, because I love those darling little jars when they're empty. And oh, what a sweet Bonne Maman advent calendar proposal story!

interior monologue randomness

*Thank you, America for welcoming me back with a school shooting. I've been thinking of Madison, WI friends all day. I know Sarah's kids are in public school (the shooting was at a private Christian school), but it's got to be scary having something like that happen in your city. (It's also the second or third time the media have tried to wrongly blame a trans kid for the shooting. WTH?)

*It's Dec 16th and I did not get an email from our Provost, so it's ok to assume I still have a job.

*I've landed very firmly back into Christmas prep territory. I did a ton before I left, so there's just stuff I'd be doing around this time anyway (cookies, last-minute wrapping, panic gift sourcing). I'm writing this relaxing by the glow of our Christmas tree.

*Our holiday cards are delayed, but that's because I wanted to include a pic of our sisters' Greece trip. I enjoyed wearing matching things every day with my sister and being a dork.

* Speaking of dorks, our partners have made miraculous recoveries. 

* Also, Big A drove an hour+ to pick me up at the airport with a drink and snacks and I had flowers and chocolate waiting for me at home. True Love! I'd stopped eating chocolate a few years ago, but I never waste anything, so loved ones have figured out that I'll eat it if someone else buys it for me--this is a cheat, right? 

*In the same vein, I've been sending all my discretionary cash to people's GoFundMes in the past year, so having to spend money on myself on the trip was a bit jarring. But it was for my sister's big birthday, and I don't get to decide how she spends her corporate salary. Nevertheless, I had to spend a lot of time talking myself through these rationalizations before I could fall asleep at night. 

*I avoided the news this last week, but I learned today that Reem's grandfather died in an Israeli shelling. I'm not a "I'm glad they get to be together now in heaven" type of person; I'm a "they should both be alive together on earth kind of person." So I'm both sad and mad. 

*Lisa asked if my sister and I had done a trip like this before--we haven't! My kids are finally at a point where I can take off for something like this without much prep. Ironically, although my sister doesn't have kids, our elderly parents live with her, and it requires a lot more planning on her end now. 

*Nance and Lisa also picked up on my mention of a squabble. This was despite both of us being on our best behavior. We haven't lived together in thirty+ years and are very different. For instance, we have diametrically opposed views on this year's revolution in Bangladesh. But at the same time, we want similar things like the secular India of our childhood that was a shelter and leader to third-world causes. So we can make it work. We plan to go to Egypt for my 60th! 

 

Pic: Friday's Cape Sounio sunset.

Hydra, Poros, Aegina

We took the ferry to three islands in the Saronic Gulf today: Hydra (which has no cars and only donkeys and mules for transportation), Poros (with its sweeping views of the Peloponnese), and Aegina (home to the only temple of Aphaia and the pistachio capital of Greece--they roast the pistachios with lemons and that turns out amazing!).

We met a few groups of people we'd seen at various sights earlier in the week, and it was nice to hang out with them, dance with the boat DJ who started playing Bollywood songs, and play cards when the sea journey got monotonous. I could stare at waves all day, but perhaps that's not for everybody? 

Our very final stop on the tour was the Greek Orthodox church of St. Nektarios, which was built in 1993. I scoff at the 20th century anyway and when the guide said sick people from all over the world come there, my horrified sister made eye contact with me and mouthed "Let's leave," so we did. Not a very inspiring last stop, but we were requited with an absolutely amazing sunset and a beautiful full-moon-rise over the water on our way back.

Pic: We started the day with a squabble, but please don't misread our grumpy faces and fist-bump which was to show off our matching bracelets.

Athens and Cape Sounio

 Nothing prepares me for how majestic the Parthenon is. We saw a few temples on this trip including Corinth (Apollo), Delphi (Apollo), Cape Sunio (Poseidon), and one planned in Aegina (Apahaia). But the Parthenon (Athena) simply dwarfs the rest. And it is so iconic, that standing there I imagine democracy (in its most rudimentary form exclusive of women and non-landowners, but still!!) or philosophers setting our course for the future, and it gives me the shivers every time despite the crowds.

We Facetimed with the parents so they could see it a bit too. We had press-on nose rings and tried to fake it like we got matching nose-piercings with the spending money my mom had given us to freak her out. She immediately saw through our fake but said it kind of suited us, so perhaps we should really get one sometime?

All of our breakfasts and dinners have been buffets provided by the tour. This afternoon included a lovely taverna lunch--where the maître d' worked hard on short notice to accommodate our vegetarian requests, a private car to Cape Sounio to see the temple of Poseidon at sunset, and then dinner by ourselves for the first time since we arrived.

Pic: Posing in front of the Parthenon; we're wearing matching blue (Go, Greece!) scarves.

Meteora (and South Korea)

Even from the base of the boulders in Meteora, it was impossible to tell how they'd managed to get a monastery up there, or how we'd get up there in a bus, but it happens somehow through the magic of pulleys, and roads, and stairs. 

My love is ancient Greece, so I gave Byzantine Meteora a miss on my previous trip. My sister was keen to go though, so we looped it in this time, and I'm glad we did. It was pretty incredible.

Also, on the bus I met a young person from South Korea who had been at the poeple's protest that brought down martial law just last week, and they shared their pictures with me and I shared them on the family chat and immediately became cooler to my kids.

Pic: We're dressed in long skirts and have covered our shoulders because that's the required dress code at the monasteries we visited. We both went to convents for school, so we chatted up the nuns just like old times. We're wearing the matching necklaces we got at the museum store--my sister's is visible, mine's hiding under hair.  

Delphi

As I climbed the ruins, I looked up at the lofty crags thinking how that view hadn't changed for centuries. The rocks that had been carved were impressive, but the rocky cliffs all around were simply majestic. 

Somehow, in my head, I expected a cave of some sort to mark the omphalos-aspect of it, but other than that Delphi delivered. It was charged with power (like Stonehenge, like Tirupati)... In fact I noticed at least one other person saying a prayer at the Temple of Apollo. 

At the museum I wandered off by myself because my head was too full. I thought Kleobis and Biton, the Argos twins, looked like they were wearing dreads/locs. I kept coming back to the room with the charioteer--that beautiful figure--and marveling that the only reason we have him at all is because he disappeared in a fourth century earthquake before he could be looted or razed and magically remerged almost completely intact in 1896. Life/history is so strange.

And then I read Helen Monroe's poem and cried. "Higher up in the mountain, in the stadium/ Coursed the Charioteer. /Of all the thousand statues only his alone/ Has won the long race with Time/ Here at the goal he stands, lifting the reins,/ Young, beautiful, alive;/ Gazing at our incomprehensible world/ Through enameled eyes.

Pic: We're bathed in light at the Temple of Apollo. (And we have matching scarves today!) Also: we found a simple necklace featuring a pair of silver peafowl--that I liked and made my sister happy--at the Museum shop.