Bloomin'

I needed a nudge* to be grateful that despite the record-breaking temperature of -50 today, I still have some blooms in the tea garden. Here amaryllis, begonia, and violets... elsewhere there are bougainvillea and hyacinth...

We were supposed to have people work on our kitchen counters this morning. Last night J called to ask if he could work in the garage because working outside would be too cold, and then I called him back and canceled because really, even the garage would not be enough to keep him and his crew safe. Things will be pushed back by a month now, but it's not like I would be able to enjoy new counters if they came at the expense of people's fingers.

*The nudge came from MaryAnne's pictures on FB this morning.

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On Being Sorry

I'm so sorry that the poet Mary Oliver died. 

I'm sorry too to say that everyone I follow kind of posted the same poem... and having so many people ask what I was planning to do with my "one wild and precious life" made me quite anxious. 

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Empowered Sunday

I started Michelle Obama's Becoming today for bookclub on Thursday, wasn't sure what to expect, but it's been lovely so far. I read some passages aloud to Nu, and we both chortled at the precise same place when she described her brother's tics.

                    

And then J texted me to say that although I'd missed going out with the group that had gone to see On the Basis of Sex with the group on Thursday, I SHOULD TAKE NU TO SEE IT RIGHTAWAY.  So Nu and I started making plans. And then we wanted Big A to come with us. He wasn't going to come, but Nu and I were all: women and other minority-centered stories aren't just for women and the minorities they represent, it's important for white dudes to see others at the center of the story too. And so, he came. Let's hope he picked up lots of tips from Martin Ginsberg. Ha.


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Umm Om

Made it to an early yoga class in the socks PJ gave me in Philly when we organized the SALA conference two years ago.



I'm not there yet, but... my. socks. were. a. hit.





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H A M I L T O N!

Someone was Prom King and picked prom night over Hamilton tickets we'd had for the past six months the last time we went... but he came this time... he loved it.









Same old balcony seats.  In fact, we looked up the old tickets and somehow, we'd ended up with the very SAME tickets as last time.

And apparently, the show makes me very emotional. First I stomped off when it was mentioned that I was walking slowly and then I left the fancy restaurant before we ordered because all they could offer me was rutabagas. So much drama for one evening!


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Now Cage-Free

I reached out to the iconic Marilyn Frye some time ago asking her to speak at the college, and she declined. She must have sensed my immense (fandom and) disappointment, however, because she asked if I wanted to have coffee. Did I? YES. (I interpreted that as tea, but if I had to drink coffee in order to meet her, I would have.)

I got to gush about her work, and tell her I've lost count of the number of times I meet old students who have forgotten the details of every other reading, but remember  "the birdcage." She was so warm and lovely and generously claimed to love the stuff I'm working on right now. We talked for a couple of hours at Chapelure, and then I floated home on a wave of happiness.



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A Pattern of Tears

Perhaps we need to bring back rules about permissible dinner conversation again. On Monday, Big A made Nu and me cry with a story from the E.D. of a 10-month-old with a fractured liver (suspected parental abuse).

On Tuesday, I took over, getting people to read Ross Gay's A Small, Needful Fact  and Paul Nelson's An Elegy for Tahlequah's Calf.

We had a couple of days off for Thanksgiving with grandparents... but tonight, At finished the pattern off. As we settled around the table, he called this "the last dinner," horrifying me and reminding Nu that he would leave for college again in the morning.

Despite Thanksgiving, which was lovely, I think we're stuck doing family dinners wrong this week.

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NWSA-ing

"A" is for Angela...

Another for Nu's series in
Rad American Women.

#NWSA #Atlanta







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It's a dark and rainy day...

 

But here I am in Atlanta for my fifth NWSA.








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Sunday with Sonia Sotomayor

AAAAAAAAAA. SHE SHOOK THE KIDS' HANDS!! I made them shake mine right after. Haha.

She was here for the one-book-one-community MSU-Lansing event with her My Beloved World. The event was billed as Q&A only, but as she answered questions, she walked around the auditorium connecting with people. She is so awesome, and I kept tearing up with the knowledge that this smart, amiable, down-to-earth person is almost single-handedly keeping us from constitutional ruin.

She said she'd pulled a hamstring as explanation for why she was walking so slowly. I was bit taken aback when she first came in though and had already added her to my list of Supreme Court justices to pray for (#RBGForever).

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These are the three poems I sent DA

Muse, After Hours, Asifa.

Now we wait...

(Super full and very grownup day today: Search committee work and meeting, candidate interview, CASA visit, CASA updates, Tamil class, book club (Little Fires Everywhere), kid cuddle time, sending poems to DA.)

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Did She? Didn't She?

I took the day off today, found a magazine I hadn't read yet, and gave it a read.

Some of the news seemed... a bit off, so I checked the cover and realized that it was from 2015. 

2015!



Anyway, there was this article about Amy Poehler, at the very end of which she talks about wanting to take up drums in 2018.

That's this year... which is almost two-thirds gone. I want to whisper to her: Do it! Do it! You can do it! There's still time!








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Muse

I imagine entering bodies:
kissy     wormy     secret
tendrils bloody, tender,
cobwebbed.

Rejection gathered like:
skirts  breezes  friends
smiling achily, saying
farewell.

Still until creation erupts:
caves      calls      papers
becomes melody, menace,
practice.

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Roman Tamil

My teacher, ST, wanted me to memorize this kural I had never heard before.

And I repeatedly kept messing up on the archaic word "aagula" until I used "like Caligula" as a mnemonic. It worked.

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"I was teaching the names [of plants] and ignoring their songs.”

Just the most uplifting, poetic On Being with Robin Wall Kimmerer yesterday.



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Sacred Games

There's so much love for the Netflix adaptation of Vikram Chandra's Sacred Games right now. I watched a couple of episodes (that counts as work--staying abreast of the field--right?) and noticed that the subtitles are really off. Sometimes for no reason I can discern.

Like:



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"Tony died."

At came down to breakfast. breaking the news about Anthony Bourdain--apologetically. And now, at the end of the day, I am just grateful that everyone I know online seems to recognize the curiosity, empathy, and generosity that made him so extraordinary. Big A had worked overnight, but I knew that this would be the one celeb whose passing would affect him. And sure enough, as soon as he got off his shift, he texted: "Tony died." We have all his books, watched some of his shows back when we had time, and knew enough to love him. And all my media and/or NYC people had stories about meeting him, of him being an ally without making it all about himself.

On the way home from getting Nu from school, while we were waiting for the train to clear the tracks, we were rear-ended. I had taken the puppies for a little car ride, and Huck is so tiny that she flew into Nu's lap from the backseat. I went to talk to the driver of the other car, and it was a young woman who immediately began apologizing so profusely, all my criticisms were silenced. It looked like both cars were fine, and she swore that she wasn't texting, so I told her to be safe, and brought the kids home. Big A was rather loud and adamant that I should have taken her insurance information anyway.

Of course, I've been crying--somewhat disproportionately--since then.
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Love and Flowers

Late last night at Meijer... I was beaming by the time I got to the end of the grocery shopping list, because as an addendum to her snack requests, Nu had penned a love note to me. Discussing that at breakfast gave me something else to smile at all day. I had missed bedtime since I had gone grocery shopping right after my book club meeting last night, so I asked Nu if she knew that I had come in to kiss her goodnight after she'd fallen asleep. "Yes," she said, "I know." And then: "I don't remember, because I was asleep, but I know you kissed me goodnight, because you always do that."

The kids are keeping me sane post Santa Fe, post Asifa, post Parkland, post, post, post... Kinda like how although it's wet and cold outside... but at least there are flowers.

moss roses, lobelia, elysium 

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Rolling with the Homies

Woke up to At's text telling me that he was going off Twitter as someone had doxxed him.  He sent me an eerie screenshot of an exchange where the guy mentions us all by name.

I think I win some kind of award for what I texted At back:





And you know what? All jokes aside, I AM really proud of this kid.

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