Building

At what point does a row of bad days become a bad week? 

It feels like I'm busy all the time yet progress I can measure seems infinitesimal and ephemeral. 

I need the heuristic spirit of those who artfully build/balance these cairns in the Red Cedar. 

My focus and karma for now must be action not reason; the work itself, not the outcome.

Forever?

It's August and we're still having multiple daily work meetings spaced out all day. The rest of the day is building each class and syllabus manually on our new platform, Canvas. While all this counts as doing the necessary--perhaps even as accomplishing something new--I didn't get a chance to settle in to 'deep work' or dream up projects this summer.

There are days of dread about what might be in store and today was one of them. Would I worry less if there was an end in sight?

Life as busy-work

Our governor has closed indoor bars and has limited indoor gatherings to <10 ahead of campuses reopening, and is rightfully getting some love on the capitol lawns as EG's photo shows. Lots or ire too, I expect.

We figured out some glitches with Nu's Khan Academy sign-ins and established some house rules for timely work. Then Nu and I worked like friendly but respectful office buddies for a large part of the morning. Big A set the kids to work on clearing the front drive and they may or may not have had a leafblower battle, but they did a great job. Our long driveway was cleared by the time Big A and I set out on our riverwalk (we did a 'full Sparty' today--all the way to the football stadium).

I've needed to read something light after heart heavy reads earlier this week, and picked up and abandoned a couple of books before I decided on Kevin Wilson's Perfect Little World.  Among those abandoned--The Dinner List. I was slightly irritated by the 'Indian' name "Sumir," which while plausible, is so close to names like "Samir" or "Sumit" that it seemed like a typo. Then I was full-on irritated by another ostensibly Indian, but nonsensical name "Swani." OK, c'mon; how difficult would it have been to appeal to your social media hivemind or do a google search to find actual names?! Another book I abandoned was something donated to our Little Free Library--I had been forbidden to read it when I was a teen, so I went into it with high hopes, but it was very disappointing, and even determined skimming didn't turn up anything smutty. 

And finally after dinner, At took us through  Starship Troopers in an abbreviated (liberal fast-forwarding) and annotated ride (connecting to Umberto Eco's work) and then we retreated to our books, screens, and alone time. As Nu said somewhat wistfully earlier this week when they came to say goodnight, "And another day is done."

24/7 Panic Snapshots

Gratuitous cute-goofy picture

I woke in panic several times last night:

Once because my mind was singing the chorus to MISSIO's "Wolves" and it was terrifying in the dark.

Once because I was imploring Mai and the macaque to run, run, run (just finished Ocean Vuong's beautiful and brutal On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous).

Once because I dreamed I had taken At and Nu clothes shopping and they were breathed on and almost touched accidentally a few times by other shoppers. (How extra stupid would this unease have been a year ago?!)

And finally, because of the reasonable, rational, familiar dread of the school year approaching and all the preparation that needs to be accomplished in the weeks that remain. It's here--July 24th... 24/7. In exactly one month we'll be welcoming students back to campus.

Here We are

I feel like I've taken this picture every summer since I discovered the lotus pond near the formal English gardens at MSU. But the early morning sunshine and a very busy bee tweak this picture into being a bit different. The flowers aren't as profuse this year (maybe because there seem to be fewer garden workers overall), but they're still a  high point of summer.

Days, weeks, months have blended into a jubilee of mindful living, serious journalling, busy work meetings every weekday, A LOT OF reading... and not enough writing. This really spoke to me yesterday: 

I figured that there was a magical sequence to daily activities and if I could just get the sequence right, the writing would follow. It was a helpless feeling: oh, no, I've got the sequence wrong. Too bad about today!

Still and all, hoping to do better tomorrow.

How can we know?

Normal is long ago in the past and faraway in the future, but today I was indoors all day with rain and meetings.

Every now and then I could hear my babies and had to trust that there were two human and two puppy kids in the tangle and that they were all kinda doing ok. 

On the outskirts of the ordinary

In case you can't tell, Nu got really dressed up... to go on a walk... with me... down our own driveway...

For a few minutes this morning, singing along to Lizzo (Juice) and rigging a bath lighting fixture out of things we already had like X-mas ornament hangers(!), I was blissfully happy--until the enormity of everything else stomped through my chest.

Big A has tummy pains that are terrifying in their intensity--I jumped out of the bath yesterday thinking I'd have to take him to the E.R. right away, but he won't go and he won't do alternative remedies like cumin-turmeric water, and he won't make an appointment with his doc. I don't know what to do, frankly.

At has been in a haze--some of it is allergies and allergy meds, but my sweet child has seemed sad, faraway, and unapproachable all day.

Scout has been acting like a puppy, playing tag extra hard and doing puppy things like he hasn't for years--chewing on pillows and running away with people's slippers.

Hucky? Hucky is always just Hucky. My Hucky bear never cares.

Be Loved

Slept fitfully--fairly standard for me when Big A works nights--and when I checked my phone once--we sometimes have chat fests in the middle of the night--I noted that Twitter had deemed it necessary to notify me at 3 am that Kelly Preston had died of breast cancer. A nice reminder that all our other health dangers persist and it made me very, very conscious of not trying to think of my own delayed checkups and treatments and trying not to prod my problem areas again. Ugh. I guess I was a bit anxious about Big A as well--he's had persistent stomach pains, chest pains, and vision problems since his Covid. 

Anyway, I know who Kelly Preston is, but I've never seen her in a movie, I don't think. But once upon a time, I loved this song--way back in 2002! Because Jane magazine had recommended the Songs about Jane album then. When "She Will be Loved" became popular a few years later and got a video, I loved the surprise of how Kelly Preston's character completely transforms it--she was the perfectly overblown, problematic beauty it needed.

Summer is still magical

But why do so many things make me cry?

Babies w/o Breakfast

The biggest = the saddest.

We're moving to a different online instructional platform at work, and my morning meeting ran late (there are so many morning meetings!!) and according to Big A's phone pic, some of the kids got hungry and anxious for breakfast. 😂

It's gloriously cooler with gray-stormy-gloomy weather outside. I canceled all school-adjacent activities for the 12-year-old, and can hear them cackling with their older sibling over ridiculous videos in the rumpus room now.

Out of the meeting, but deep into the woods of my email and editing...

Making Normal

At and Nu made me tea from the mint they'd harvested and dried last week.

Also, I should confess that I start a "tradition" nearly every other second. Here, the kids had  indulged--reluctantly--my proposition that we do yoga together, so I got them new yoga mats to sweeten the request (they immediately had a 'mat fight' and a 'telescope session' while I tried to save the tea from ending up in our laps; it wasn't zen :).

In the meantime, other incipient 'traditions' from earlier on in this pandemic--bake-alongs, hours-long cousins-zoom-chats, checking in on CF, EM, CC,  KB, JG, and students who cropped up in my head on a weekly (at least) basis have fallen off.

This week's realization is that I'm trying to remake normal or carry on like things are normal when they're patently not. I suspect I'll be back to upholding practices to make things feel less turbulent soon, but in the meantime, let me acknowledge my sad, madcap need to manage a worldwide pandemic.

In Between

                    I'm constantly veering between these two modes of engagement and information gathering. I know which one is useful and helpful, but I just can't help myself sometimes. 

Mostly here

I took an accidental selfie while trying to get a picture of Big A and the puppies the other day, and first, my skin can't really be that clear--what?! But also, my half face is a solid metaphor for my current fragmentation--how it feels a bit empty despite checking off most of my family, household, and self-care goals every day (I continue to lag on the professional front).

Eating my second nectarine in the hammock today was blissful, yes--but also, I could hear myself thinking--hey, look! I'm eating nectarines in a hammock! I'm having such a great time! My somewhat desperate enjoyment of summer, the urgency to do all of the summer things is partly Pure Michigan (ha); but surely, me trying to convince myself things are fine is related to our strange, sad, pandemic times?

Standing

Summer--like snow before--
remakes my world into
an unknowable
loving

In the vines' arch embrace
Leaves bloom, pat me
as I pass in lashes
of love

It seems you dream of
us in the wake of
these whispers--
hearing

Voices that are right, ready:
Justice is late in coming
but protest is already
here.

"But different than the day before"

A birthday visit with a dear friend, some water and pruning for the office plants, and a big grocery shop yesterday; a heart-to-heart with the kids, lots of gardening, and Indian takeout today.

Every day a variation of the same.  I can almost hear Mr. McGee say:

"I was busy doing something close to nothing.

But different than the day before."

Faces, Places

Facebook has been killing me with these oldies. Seven years ago. Just seven... and we're back to At on the cusp of high school, Nu as five-year-old.

Here's what I wrote about them then: "That's not the victory salute for winning awards in English, Math, Science, and Art, becoming a member of the new model U.N., and moving on to high school. Nor is that the look of a kid who taught herself to read and count ALL THE THINGS at five and is moving on to first grade as the youngest member of her new classroom. It simply says: Watch out, world! Summer vacation's here!"

My loves are the best thing in my life. And I'm so blessed that they make time for each other, are mostly patient with each other, and always find something to obsess over together--working their way through Dr. Who or Avatar or Lego binges, or making up strategy games, or playing video games companionably side-by-side. (In my ideal world they'd be reading side-by-side, but I can't have everything.)

The pandemic has been harrowing in so many ways, but it did give me a chance to relive having all the kids in the same place all over again. That part was bliss.

Wait, Wait

Crane (?) at The Red Cedar rapids today.
At and Nu took turns insisting this was a "turkey"
over breakfast. Gales of laughter every time.
My little rascals.

The wait has been so long... and yet doesn't seem enough.

Things begin to open up at the start of next week.

I've been dying for a massage yet don't actually want to die for one?

A Long Way from Home/Normal/Ideal

 Big A is in front of the tree;
Nu and At are in the foreground...
for the kids, their first time out of the house since March!

NAACP march to the capitol today. We heard several stirring and compelling speeches; the youth speakers were especially impressive. I wish this time our momentum results in change that will support rather than punish BlPOC.

And I wish I could say it felt good after, but I came home and fell apart: I had a thunderstorm-induced headache, cried because an article had to be changed from MLA to Chicago style, and  couldn't even rouse myself to make dinner... At made grilled cheese for himself and Nu,  Nu fed Scout and Huck, Big A got some delivery, I ate a tub of colorful chips... everyone survived.

I feel like I did a A LOT of railing, crying, and whining (mostly to a very kind and listening Big A), and the kids seemed to play a lot of video games and sang a lot of "It's a long, long way to Ba Sing Se"--ostensibly to cheer me up.

Somethings

I'm uplifted by the green madness of everywhere; purified by the outrage and anger of everywhere.

I startle awake, heart pounding, at full alert, 3-4 times a night.

I am happy-proud our 12-year-old Nu gave $100 to the Minnesota Freedom Fund.

I dreamt I heard protestors chanting "no justice, no peace" on our street.

Out on the river, it feels like everything's normal.

(Although nothing is, really.)

The Doable

L and I found this quarter-sized painted rock by the river this morning. It was a pleasure to discover and sure to be a treasure for someone who needs something like this right now.

I took this pic to share with Nu so we too could leave something cheery for others on the road.

I love the simplicity of this piece, as it reminds me that things needn't be extraordinary to bring succor.

It is doable; I can do this much.

This month I want to focus on what I can do, and I want to do it.