And then I yelled up again: never mind....
I mean, Kali statues at the temple are practically wearing skulls as a necklace; my 14-year-old can wear what they want.
And then I yelled up again: never mind....
I mean, Kali statues at the temple are practically wearing skulls as a necklace; my 14-year-old can wear what they want.
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.
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.
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.😁😂
I'm bad at asking--and especially bad at asking for money--so just sitting with this for a bit.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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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.
My neck hurts today--not sure if its because I lifted heavier weights than usual, slept wrong, or because I did something to it when I fell. Anyway, my personal physician will be home tomorrow and I can get checked out then.
In the meantime, I've been binge reading To Paradise, and getting intensely Edith Wharton vibes from the first part set in a sort of alternative Gilded Age. I also watched The Last Duel, with its immersive medieval ethos. Two historical periods in one weekend is a bit much even for me.
I had a massage with R, my lovely gender-fluid masseuse; some Christmas gift cards to spend; and got some tasty treats (milk chocolate pistachios).
At showed up for dinner, and I got to play Hot Ones at dinner with the fam. The best part was doing a 15-minute Tai Chi session before At left (with Nu, Big A, and the puppies sort of joining us from assorted places around the rumpus room).
Also: I got Wordle in two.
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*Boss Day must be the best thing I ever made up: we celebrate everyone's "birthday" every month. My birthday is on March 4th, so it's my Boss Day on the 4th of every month--At is on the 2nd, Nu the 11th, Scout and Huck the 18th, Big A the 23rd, and so on. I get the "Boss Baby" a small present (usually a book and some treats) and they get to pick dinner (home/restaurant) and a family activity (show/game). It makes for a nice mini celebration every week. We celebrate the puppies on the same day, because it was too confusing for them if only one of them got special treats. I thought I'd link to a few Boss Day posts, but there were too many when I searched "Boss Day."
Earlier this week, EM drove through the imminent snow storm to bring us a portable Lunar New Year celebration: a dumpling feast, cake, sweet treats, and the traditional red envelope with a money gift for Nu. It was only when I was putting away the bags yesterday, that I found the felt good luck decoration at the bottom... I hung it up with the other ones, and took this picture to send with a thank you message.
(It triggered the memory that the last time we'd eaten out with EM was the Lunar New Year dimsum we had together at the start of the pandemic in 2020. Someday, we'll do that again.)
I wanted something warm to note for today... red is warm; love is warm.
I feel normal(ish).
Nu's long, fraught semester is finally over.
We had cuddly, chatty visit from At.
A soul-affirming planning meeting with the Tender Hearts Garden collective.
Started a good book: Lily King's Five Tuesdays in Winter.
Started an interesting show: Decoupled on Netflix.*
And... JG sent pictures from Hawaii where they'll be till April, and I've been encouraged to visit.**
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*Decoupled is clever and the skirmishes between protagonist novelist Arya and real life novelist Chetan Bhagat are uproarious. But the show tries to do that thing where it pretends like the only people who matter in India are upper-middle-class, English speaking folks. In fact, it treats people doing their jobs (security agents, wait staff, domestic workers) as the butt of jokes and that got a bit tiring for me. Also, in this day and age, even real people don't have to live with a name like Arya Iyer--so we certainly don't have to name a fictional character with every upper caste marker there is. Some of it is anti-South bias too? I mean, North Indians seem to think everyone from the south is Madrasi/Iyer.
**I don't think I will go--lately, I've seen too many indigenous Hawaiian activists begging mainlanders not to visit because of Covid. But it's still nice to have pictures.
Still feels unreal that At is now a 25-year-old, but we made it official with birthday biriyani, presents, and cake today. I think about all...