Bhogi today; Pongal tomorrow

Tomorrow is Pongal, the start of the auspicious Tamil month Thuy, and I always think of it as a handy reset for any lagging New Year resolutions. There's also actual Tamil New Year in April; lucky us. 

I'll have a long teaching day tomorrow, so I prepped some of the festival food today. This way I'll just have to make the sweet pongal for the pooja and the dosas for the celebration dinner. Today is Bhogi--traditionally, we're supposed to have a big bonfire to burn all the stuff we're discarding. As usual, I did the easier, sustainable thing and donated all the stuff we'd culled.

Pic: I really love my photo of cranes on the frozen Portage River about to take flight (from yesterday's hike).

(Also, I'm so chuffed that I seem to be made of some seriously tough stuff--while even Big A is sore and blistered after our longest hike to date, I'm business as usual. I did sleep so soundly yesterday though. If only I could numb my weltschmerz with five hours of physical exertion every day...)

another day of distractification

Big A and I spent over five hours on the Pinckney trails hiking and trudging though the snow trying to finish our 16-mile loop before sunset/the end of daylight. Also, I thought it was the full moon tonight and had just seen a trailer for a werewolf movie, so trust me when I say there was speed in my step. (The internet tells me that the full moon is actually tomorrow and it's called the wolf moon!)

It was an exciting, exhausting day. I tired myself out. I laid some fears and sorrows and anxieties to rest (for now). Tomorrow I plan to show up for the people who are counting on me. 

Pic: In the Pinckney Woods. "The woods are lovely, dark, and deep."

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.

heart with the old

I just want to say yes            somewhere, I want 

since we must begin             to watch this again:                            

seeing my problem              through lit windows

and your proof                     where we're made 

                                                                                  without our own consent

                                                                                  like the worst bargain   

__________________________________________________________

Note: I liked writing and reading these couplets in columns, rows, and just mixing it up even diagonally. Somehow it seems to work as long as it ends up where we're born without our consent!

Pics: Last year this calendar lived on my desk at work and brought me joy all year long. Each jar-shaped month was topped by a cheery sprig of flowers and as I shuffled the cards in the bamboo holder from month to month, the composition of the bouquet changed over the year. I was sad about having to throw it out. But I didn't have to throw it out. I cut off the calendar part of the cards and now it lives on as an arrangement of flowers. Perhaps I could add a small picture of Scout to it.

ready, steady, go...

And just like that the holiday break is over. 

I finally got the tree back to the basement yesterday--I coordinate 90%...maybe even 95% of the Christmas around here (almost everything except my own presents) so I was increasingly agitated I had to wait on this--but it is a two-person job. 

I spent most of today making sure everything would be ready for classes tomorrow. And now my classes have been published, syllabi have been uploaded to the Canvas sites, activities and diagnostics for tomorrow are ready to go, and I've just emailed everyone to welcome them to class. I've never been on a rollercoaster (too much of a scaredy-cat), but I imagine it feels like the mix of excitement, anticipation, and anxiety I'm feeling right now. I kind of love it.

Pic: Max and Huck were bored we stayed indoors most of the day. But also, I've always said Huck is half-puppy, half-kitty, and the way she drapes herself across the back of the sofa in the rumpus room proves my point.

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. 

in a time before this one

I had just enough left over 

for flowers

~distant and beautiful as frescoes~

or some oranges 

~contained and remote as moons~

I could not choose between

          them then 

I had no one to ask 

          and also

no one to answer to

so bright and sonorous

was my ~solitude~

so replaceable and bold

my ~independence~

_____________

Pic: I thought it was cool how the Red Cedar river had flooded and frozen into a pane over autumn leaves here. (Seen on a  walk with L through the woods yesterday.)

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.

Day 1, 2025

A quiet and cozy start to the year... 

Nu's guests are still camped out in the rumpus room, their ukuleles and guitars around them.

Back to work for real--but I hang on to emails so as to not be the weirdo who sends out emails when others are still on break. 

I take walks with Max and later with Big A. Everything is grey and leaden. Unrealistically, as soon as Christmas and the NYE have been celebrated, I expect the world to switch into Spring. This despite having lived in the midwest for close to two decades now. Climate change is making this happen sometimes, but that is a different kind of panic. 

I catch up with people on text and WhatsApp and calls. When the kids were younger, it was important to me that we were all in a family group hug at midnight. These days, it's important that I get some quality conversation in with everyone.... Yoga with Julie/Adrienne, some reading, some Arabic practice, some soaking in the tub, some putting Christmas away... I took care of seven (out of my million plants) and experimented with a couple of new thrift-shop projects...

I make lentil soup for dinner; the bakery croissants that people have been ignoring all week went on the dinner table nicely toasted... and thankfully vanished. The round shapes of the lentils are supposed to represent prosperity, and Nu decided to pretend that each circle is a million dollars coming their way. Everyone should start sending their wishlists to Nu. 

Pic: Early in the morning, out with Max.

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.

in the end if there is no end

I meant  to write  about sunlit Delphi,  the old gods secret in the shadows

but here in Michigan, the old  gods are past, and the sky does what it does 

whatever we dream will be better than this, better than here, better than now

I set out a place for my guru to sit in, laid out offerings of flowers and fruit

the grit of river sand, screams from my childbirths, and grief from our fights

I never knew the words to prayer, or I've forgotten, yet wait for fortune to fall 

for lives are libraries of restored light: take all you want, we're still returned here

 our words, oceans bending to belong in every mouth; other words lie under ours

 could this be our quiet power, our godly levitation--loving and freeing at once?

_____________________

Note: I know what I want the last line to do, but it's not doing it right yet... I'll keep fiddling. 

Pic: The Red Cedar this afternoon--icy, grey, and deserted. The snow has receded, temperatures are climbing, and everything seems wet, grimy, and sodden. 

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. 

when we edit the beast

the sadness scratching out of the dirt of your body             like an animal           is gentle         is a gentleman     who says, after you       

I can only guess what you're after      what you think I'm after    our lives are short       you beg me to remember the risks

but I know we arrived dancing       even before we were born                    and even when dead we may     return with new things to say

____________

Pic: Backyard winter wonderland. I especially love how the snow erases all our landscaping mistakes and covers up our many unfinished projects...

Nu spent yesterday hoping today would NOT be declared a snow day since today was the last day before Christmas break and there were all sorts of fun activities planned at school. 

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.

bloopers and getting back

Pics: From this morning's photoshoot. I wanted a picture of my sister and me with the Acropolis in the background for the holiday card. But our selfie skills and timing were off and we kept messing up the shots: our big heads were in the way, or our expressions were unready, or it tickled, and by the end we were just laughing so hard the pics were unusable. But looking at these pictures when I was by myself on the trip back made me smile every time. (We have matching blue silk blouses and olive-wreath headbands for "atmosphere.")

I was ready to be back home, but simultaneously SO SAD to say goodbye. Incidentally, we said goodbye FOUR times at the airport--thinking each time we might not be able to make it back to a common area in the departure lounge to hang out although our flights were within an hour of each other's. My flight was earlier, and the same ticket agent witnessed our super-clingy (cringey?) goodbye twice. I don't care. I probably won't be able to see my sister until the summer or even longer. (And I'll probably never see that ticket agent again in my life.)

Big A told me forty-five minutes into our hour's journey back home from the airport that he'd had pain on his left side all evening. I would have taken the bus back home if I'd known earlier. (It immediately made me think it sounded like a warning sign of a heart attack, but he claims it is probably just some inflammation. I trust his diagnosis though.) My sister's partner too sprouted a fever this week. I feel like our partners should be able to make it a week without us? I've kissed a sleeping Nu hello, and have been hanging out with Max and Huckie who gave me a hero's welcome home (but then, they always do no matter how long or short my absence has been) while eating the remains of the dinner and fruit salad the fam had earlier. I missed all of this...

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.