"life is never just one thing"

I didn't see Big A at all today. He'd worked an overnight in Ann Arbor and I left for work an hour before dawn to make it to an 8 am meeting. By the time I got home after a late evening at work, he'd already left for work again. 

But to quote Connie Schultz, "Life is never just one thing;" other than that, it was a lovely day. 

We inducted new members to the English honorary and it's always such a delight to see students dressed up for the occasion and meet their families. I mean... you think you see your students grow in the classroom and love their work and the people they are and then you meet their families and it's a whole new level of understanding how much they're cherished, seeing the wonder their grownups have about these humans they have made in one way or another. It's kind of transcendent. 

Also, somehow I was going to place an order with the catering company and then decided to do it myself and found myself after classes at MacCurdy (the feminist house I advise) borrowing their oven to heat up trays of hors d'oeuvres. And also, I have the best colleagues... ok, the best women colleagues--who seamlessly did everything from setup to clear-up. The whole evening was busy and bright and social and fun--all the stuff I adore. 

And then when I came home I was so tired I couldn't even bear the sound of the loud TV show Nu (who had no school today and has no school tomorrow because of our frigid temps) had on. I just wanted to sit with my arms around my babies for while. Then Nu went to bed, I FaceTimed my sister for her birthday (it's already her birthday in India!), and then snuggled up to read with Max and Huck.

Pic: This treat of lovely words and signature shortbread was waiting for me after my first class today. I did work hard today, but this wasn't about that. It's from a lovely and private colleague in another department and says way more about their wonderfulness than anything it might imply about me.

"practice the art of resilience"

Many things did not go according to plan today--I got behind on a couple of tasks, my massage therapist canceled, I broke one of my favorite dishes as I was readying dinner, I burnt two parathas and also my hand, I accidentally heard a few snippets of news about the inauguration, and was surprised and saddened by news that Cecile Richards had died (that's when I lost focus and burned my hand, actually)...

But the title of this article played in my head like a mantra: "With their lives upended, they practiced the art of resilience." It's a story about a new exhibition at the Smithsonian featuring the work of three Japanese-American artists, two of whom had been incarcerated in internment camps during World War II. One of them, Miné Okubo, later wrote the book Citizen 13660 about her life in the camps--Big A's grandfather, Harold, was instrumental in getting that book published as she notes in the introduction. 

We'd been talking about taking a trip to D.C. to see the exhibition yesterday because of this connection... But also, I'll take every reminder of people going through terrible times and making it out to the other side. 

Pic: Nu showing me which kid they resemble on one of our treasured Miné Okubos--She gave Big A's grandparents a few of her paintings as gifts over the years they stayed in touch.

on the eve of an orange apocalypse

I've decided to pay the inauguration no attention. In my book, it's Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day--I will be observing events related to that. I feel flags should still be at half-staff in honor of Jimmy Carter's death. 

Like Robert Reich, who has lived through McCarthy and Nixon, I too want to acknowledge that tomorrow might be a terrible day, and I too believe that our resilience and decency will get us through. 

Connie Schultz on perhaps her last visit to Sherrod Brown's D.C. office today noted, "So much change coming for our country. But I heard our grandchildren’s laughter nearby and felt the hope in that. Life is never one thing." Life is never one thing. Yes, that's true as well.

Tomorrow, I have a ton of work to get through and MLK Day events to attend. I'm meeting a friend for tea. I have a massage scheduled. At is coming to family dinner; I'm making a family favorite--egg paratha rolls. Look how inconsequential 47 is to all of these good things. Instead of responding to the circus (that way lies madness and despair), my focus is going to be on building up community and solidarity outside the system. Soon enough it will be midterms with a chance to make governmental change.

Pic: L's picture from Saturday's Lansing Women's March in protest against the incoming administration. I had an admissions event at work and couldn't go, so L sent me pictures to show me what I missed. There are so many people who are working so hard on our side.

a solution

Pic: An image of the Leo P Dwarf Galaxy sent back from NASA's James Webb telescope.

How amazing that we can do this... And how amazing that this is out there for us to see... And for all the kindness and consideration I experience in my own life, for all the decency I see every day... in say, people walking their shopping carts back to the corral like they were toddlers who'd be at risk by themselves in the parking lot... I'll still hear reports of an unhoused person run over by a bulldozer.  Or while thankful  that the ceasefire in Gaza has finally taken effect, I'll wonder who decided airstrikes should be amped up after the ceasefire was announced. 

I wish there was a way to take the good people I have in my life and make them be in charge of everything to avoid these bottomless petty cruelties.

it's her birthday, and I don't want her to cry (or even want to)

My sister's birthday is coming up next week and I'm so excited for her to see my present: it's a pair of  necklaces--one with her name in Greek as a memento of our trip together last year and another with her name in hieroglyphics looking forward to our proposed trip to Egypt in a few years. 

But today I woke up to a text she'd sent me (just me, not on family chat) that her job seemed to be in jeopardy. She's already started looking, but she's at the very top (the next level is CEO) and thinks there aren't any openings. This makes me very worried for her (she loves what she does) and how it will affect her dynamic with her partner (I'm not a fan). And also, our parents are on her health insurance (it always boggles my mind that parents aren't considered family enough to be on your health insurance in the U.S.) etc. I'll certainly have to step up in many more ways if my sister's job disappears. 

Also, what terrible timing! It's her birthday on Wednesday! I know corporations don't know or care that it's your birthday, but it doesn't keep my sadness or outrage away. 

Pic: Today was another super long day, and it's still cold, with more snow on the way--but when I went out with Max and Huck after a few hours of work, the sun was coming up. I pulled my shoulders away from my ears, and pressed reset on the day. 

tipping our hats

Today, Nu was remembering a baby book called Go, Dog, Go! much of whose plotline (if we remember right) consists of one dog asking another if they liked their hat to which the other dog replies they do not like their hat. (So many hats, Engie!). 

We were discussing if this was (a) radical and friendly honesty--the second dog not liking the first one's hat did not cause any bad feelings or (b) negging--with the second dog keeping the first one on their toes so they would keep coming back. It occurred to me at that point that Nu had always been such a good liberal arts classroom discussant. And I'm so happy to say that Nu got into the college they wanted over the holidays. Given their first two rocky years of high school, this was not at all a given. But they've managed to overcome a lot of those early impediments (complicated no doubt by the pandemic and pandemic schooling) and even got a persuasive college essay out of it. Hopes and prayers for my Nu.

Speaking of things evolving to reach maturity, I remember taking At and a baby Nu to a conference on the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) in New York because I didn't have childcare. We had to leave early because, unlike At who as a baby loved going to classes and conferences (or at least was calm when I went), Baby Nu was having none of it. (There was an embarrassing moment where Nu arched their back and slipped straight out of the baby carrier--while I was on stage. It's a wonder I wasn't reported to the U.N.) Anyway, that conference attendance evolved into an idea, then a paper, and now is a book chapter that's coming out later this year; I'm Chapter 12.

Pic: The Portage River in the falling snow. I haven't been outside much in this somewhat breathless week, so this is still from the weekend's hike.

I tug on my seatbelt, I tap on this thing

 "Every day is a faded sign/I get a little bit closer/to feeling fine" Sheryl Crow "Everyday Is a Winding Road"

fifteen days in and you ask

~ how has your year been~ 

                            planes and cranes arrow towards

                            skies pale as paper, and as empty

here on our dear irreplaceable planet 

you say: Don't take things so seriously

                            so ok... maybe not completely empty

                            --you know the bare spots left under

random careless scraps in the garden-- 

that's me, I say--their geometry of loss

                            an aloof echo, upturned in farewell 

                            truly, I have no virtues except for you

_________________________________________________________

A ceasefire is the bare, fucking minimum. And I can't express HOW happy I am that we finally have that in Gaza. I wish this could have happened before any lives were lost... or in May when these same conditions were first negotiated...  but thank you, thank you universe for this reprieve. 

If you want to see something beautiful, here is a clip of Al Jazeera journalist Anas al-Sharif announcing the ceasefire deal while taking off his protective gear while the crowd around him literally carries him on their shoulders and here's another clip of children in Gaza dancing in the streets as news of the ceasefire spreads. 

Also: Cuba should never have been on the US's state sponsors of terrorism list, but happy, it isn't anymore.

Pic: This beautiful sunset on my way home... Near Olive Township acc. to my phone.

Pongal Sonnet

I've come such a long way

... north  I   now  celebrate 

this  Pongal  in  the   snow 

all  of  us  have  journeys 

I   suppose, we're all  from 

somewhere else as we know

like daffodils, not even Hindu 

still, here they are, little suns

intimate on the offering plate 

with the shakarapongal where

they  relate a welcome  flight

through pressure, sludge, ice--  

bright in the salute and shatter 

of our  planet's  feral sunlight

___________________

Pic: Late evening Pongal offering with Nu, Huck and Max. I took a picture to share with At who couldn't make it to pooja... Huck is dancing! 

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."

a day in Detroit

Big A made plans for us to spend the day in Detroit today. My only big decision was what I should wear to the restaurant that wouldn't be too dressy for the Detroit Pistons game. Clearly, I don't go to games very often. I needn't have worried... most people wore team merch, but there were fancier clothes and the real (literal) rockstars were wearing furs and showy jewelry. 

The Detroit Pistons were playing the Toronto Raptors, and because the wonderful Nicole is from Canada too, this seemed like a sign about the scheme I pitched her about visiting Detroit-MI-the Midwest.

I'm reading Long Bright River for one book club and The Frozen River for another and am preparing to get the two thoroughly confused because both titles have "river" in them. Anyway, I was describing Long Bright River to Big A on the way home, and I used the term "addicted" to describe a character. Ever the humanist (and a volunteer doc in Suboxone clinics), he gently reminded me to use people-first language. I'm learning. [Update: A recommends this guide.]

Pic: Waking up from a nap to Big A and Max looming over me. I know I tend to anthropomorphize our canine kids, but Max really does look so much like A here.

renewal and respair

you take my hand

hold my body like a prayer

in your hands

in your hands
your kind, capable hands

I arrive alive

_____________________

Pic: This came from Rebecca Solnit's feed, a good reminder of the steady work of respair. 

I'm so grateful for my family who are so good at putting me back together.

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.

fitness all the goodness

Pic: Weird angle, but that's Engie and me after we finished Day Two of Prana with Adrienne on Julie's invitation. Thanks for introducing me to this yoga series, Julie! 

Yes! Engie visited me on her way to do important stuff and we hung out and it was lovely! It was like a snow globe outside with light, falling snow, and we also took a walk to some of my favorite gardens. They were all empty and wintering, but I did describe how things are in the summer. I'm sure it was just as good as the real thing. 

(Also, this yoga series is clear and easy and I did not realize there was so much available for free on the internet. I have a Mirror, which needs a subscription and hasn't been reliable in a while having been bought out first by Lululemon and then Peloton... now I'm realizing that perhaps I don't even need it?

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.

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. 

life is for everyone

oh friend, pain is trying
I so regret all  the things 

I didn't do with this body

in all its many instances 

and interruptions of love

to how my mother calls me

Kanna, my eye, and claims 

she loves both  her children

the same--how can I choose

between either eye--she'll ask
 
how sentimental  these stories

we tell ourselves, despite haste,

the blade clenched to scapegoat 

joy, awe--spliced by anxiety as

faithful as any real physical law

Oh friend, in  the heart  shapes

of our language, I hear how we

are larger  than  you, than  me, 

how survival means we live... 

not forgetting what we live for

_______________________

Note: On our walk today, Big A talked about his swollen, arthritic finger joint and it reminded me of when Lisa had posted a picture of her RA flare and broke my heart when she noted how it hurt when she held hands with her youngest because he's too young to know not to hold "too hard." And that got me thinking of friends and family who must consider/monitor/battle health conditions and how we all do our best with the bodies we've accrued over the decades. But also how the body is a stand-in for "more." I loved this article on how Kindness improves our health.  

Pic: KM and JB's wonderful collection of menorahs at their Hanukkah party. I wish I'd gotten a picture when they were magnificently lit up.

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. 

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."

Christmas bonuses

Christmas is extra special because At spends Christmas Eve here. The kids didn't want to go to the candlelight service at the UU (I guess that was always me), but they still enjoy getting their Christmas Eve pajamas, fuzzy socks, and ALL THE books.

Speaking of bonuses, I set out the gifts and cash bonuses for the trash collectors and mail deliverers this morning. In the past, our trash was collected by a team of two so I set out two of everything for them. But I guess the team has been reduced to just one person because only half the things had been taken when I went out later. I'm blown away by the uprightness of this! I would not have known or cared if the one person had taken it all. People are just so amazing. (This person is doing all the work and they deserve all of the cash bonus; I plan to get the remainder to them next week.) 

Pic: Nu and At in their fuzzy pajamas. I'm proud of the old copy of Susan Faludi's Backlash I found for At and the copy of Michael Kimmel's Guyland I found for Nu. Classics both. 

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.