homemade parade

if I could take today in my arms

bewitchingly like a toddler 

to carry it into the future

to the world outside

where I have yet 

to go in 

perhaps 

because as winter 

breaths stab restive

I discover... lying here 

that I can say love and mean 

more than a million different things 

Pic: A scoop of snow remains in the bird's nest out front.

Updates: My back is better i.e., back to its customary and manageable amount of pain. I've successfully put away Christmas 2025: tree, decor, outdoor decoration, gift wrap, and all. Hallelujah.

12/30: Changing the last word of line #2 to "toddler" (from "mother") after a genius suggestion from Nance. 

the unwrapping/unraveling

I'm so grateful for your kindnesses. 

Sorry for being such a whiny ass B yesterday. In my defense, it was a lot at once. A reset is in order.

In the great Christmas unwrapping, my favorites were the book plates so I can really pretend (ha) to be a librarian, and a rainbow maker (it was a "nostalgia present" because I'd given At one when she was a kid and ended up enjoying it more than At had).

At, Nu, and I opened up Amma's suitcase before our Christmas afternoon nap. I'd brought that suitcase back from Bangalore in September and left it in the garage.When we brought it in this week... I realized it was locked... and I had no idea where I had put the key. I remember threading it through the ring of a purse but that was many moons ago, and I don't remember which purse that was. We ended up breaking the (tiny) lock with a hammer. I have saris for a lifetime. The kids didn't want a thing. 

Another thing to unwrap arrived right before Christmas, but I didn't have time until after... Final proofs of the book! The previous proofs looked like a Word document. This one looks like a book! I dedicated the book to Amma.

Pic: I've been giving myself lots of extra time for things since September, and have not been too tough on myself. But I plan to reset starting Monday so I can go into the new year with a fresh mindset. I"m not sure this resolution generator here is it :), but I have a few ideas. 

Post Christmas Crash: "stop crying your heart out"

We used to listen to this Oasis song when At was a toddler and then it popped up on the playlist today when we were ferrying stuff At was taking to donate to the thrift store/ put into storage in our basement preparatory to moving to Chicago TOMORROW. I knew she meant to move at the end of the month, but I didn't know it was going to be so soon. (Only two or three days sooner than I expected, but it seemed to make a big difference today.) 

And then tears were rolling down my face and I was trying to brush them away as I was driving and At was ruefully petting my arm and saying, "Mama, you're not doing what the song is telling you to do" (i.e., "stop crying my heart out.") That made me smile a bit. Then she helpfully noted that we've never lived this far apart before upon which I started crying again. 

And some stuff going into storage were picket signs for a cause At had poured years of work into and had come to naught and some stuff going to the thrift store was stuff I had agonized over and spent a way too much money getting for her. Plus our Flu and Covid shots hurt and made me bleed. And I haven't heard this song in years, and "all of the stars are fading away" made me think of my mom, and every thing has the potential to make me sad today. 

[I know this is the right move for At, and that Chicago is not that far away, and we'll talk, chat, and FaceTime, and all that... But this feels huge and uncharted. Plus there are all sorts of other risks in Chicago now for a brown person like At.]

Pic: The nonchalant snowperson from earlier this week, whom I termed my patronus, is a melty, deflated mess. They feel like today's patronus.

Christmas Chaos

I hope everyone's Christmas was happy. 

Our Christmas was.

Little went according to plan. Big A had a terrible cold, At had bad allergies, Nu was t-i-r-e-d, my back was shot... 

But we fell into our old Christmas patterns, talked about how much Scout loved Christmas, the food turned out great, everyone loved their presents.

At is leaving for Chicago on Saturday. So tomorrow one more present--flu and Covid shots.

Pic: Max and Huck are helping Nu and At open stocking gifts. 

all is calm

...before the Christmas storm. 

Max and Huck approve.

Tonight the kids get their pajamas and books so we can curl up with hot cocoa.

I've been reading to Max and Huck lately... like At and Nu before them, they really seem to like Open Me, I'm a Dog  by Art Spiegelman (he wrote Maus.)

another que sera, sera

* I compiled all the wonderful comments about my uncle and shared it with him. At first he tried to play it off and told me that I should have told everyone he got a law degree just to argue with my aunt (HaHa). But he LOVED it, and invited everyone to his "grand party" when he's enrolled to the bar (May/June 2026). I'm tentatively planning to go and would happily take anyone else who wants to go with!

* Did the annual review of subscriptions, donations, and bonuses. (Jeanie, I did not forget WKAR!) And I quadrupled what we gave our sanitation worker last year. Not only were they so upright about things, they parked our trash bin inside our gates every single week!

* [Sorry this is whiny.] I thought my back was sore, and that it would get better. I thought this three days ago. It has NOT been getting better. Much worse, actually. I'd say pain scale of 6-7? It was so bad I took an ibuprofen today. I'm going to have to ask people to help me do so many things tomorrow.

* I'm all done with cards, decorating, baking, presents, holiday bonuses, and food prepping. It's Christmas Eve Eve. Deep breath! It's like putting on a show, no?

* Pic: I sat on the stairs for a few minutes in stillness taking in the tree. (I like knowing that two green clothespins hold the star upright and that I made the tree collar this year from an old lampshade I found at the thrift store.)

snowy shrug

Pic: L's snowman is my current patronus ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

I managed to design+order+address+sign+sendoff holiday cards. Somewhat casually in keeping with the ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ mode, but still.

I usually agonize over every small decision and have the whole family vet proofs. But this year, I did it around 3 am unilaterally and ordered prints from... the local pharmacy. I decided to mail the cards out today, and didn't let the fact that we didn't have holiday stamps stop me--I used every different kind of stamp we had at hand. We were out of address labels too, so I doctored and used the free labels a couple of organizations had sent me as a thank you for donations. I don't think family and friends will mind or fault me.

Then I rewarded myself. 

I don't seem able to handle Christmas lights or Solstice parties, yet... but I'm off to OM's place in Grand Rapids for a sleepover. We plan to watch Homebound and  Champagne Problems (the latter recommended by J!)

Oh, I also sent off a new chapter proposal this morning, and the editor found it "exciting." Very early stages; fingers crossed.

dearly beloved...

One of my besties sent me an "Emotional Support Prince" doll  who's holding a sign that reminds me that we're here to get through this thing called life. What is really says to me of course, is that we should go crazy and reminds me that we shouldn't let the elevator bring us down (maybe we take the stairs?). Ha.

Happy Solstice! Although we didn't mark it this year, I'm so grateful that the days will get longer... I'll cherish every extra glimmer of light.

And in India it's my uncle's birthday. (I actually get my love for Prince from him!) My mom openly and unashamedly loved her only brother more than she did any of her three sisters and he in turn doted on his nieces (us), so today is a special day. I'm extra proud of him this year. At 74, he's just finished law school this semester. He said he got so annoyed with his lawyers who wouldn't take his advice on his real estate cases so he decided to go to school so he could represent himself! Not sure if that's optimal, but I'm in awe of his gumption and imagination. Needless to say, his classmates adored him. 

Pic: A close up of my Emotional Support Prince, who's sitting in our Christmas tree for now. 

yes, there is a holiday card

I wasn't sure what I was going to do about the holidays... I didn't celebrate Diwali this year--it was too soon after Amma's funeral. 

But Christmas wasn't a holiday I typically celebrated with her, so I thought I'd be ok. But no, it has been brutal. After I came back from NYC, I don't really know what happened between Monday and Friday? 

And now Christmas is less than a week away. Or a few days away.

I didn't feel putting together a family holiday card this year, but last week I realized that this was the last year my mom could be on one (grandparents and sibs are usually on our holiday cards) so I had to make one. And mom loved our dress-up shenanigans, so I ordered us some tinsel wigs.

Pic: The best we could do. Max was very offended by the idea of wearing a wig. And did A (behind me) not know his face was completely obscured? We were already late for trivia night and friends were waiting, so there were no retakes.

not a sparkly post

My sweet sister has been breaking my heart on the regular. This morning, we both just sat in silence at a loss for words on how to comfort each other. 

The other day she said she was more worried for me because I'm the "sensitive one" and all of this is probably more difficult for me (she's the younger one!). 

She's making a trip to a temple this weekend because she said her wish about Amma was granted. (?????) What wish, I asked in confusion. She said: "Like a fool, I asked that Amma be released from the ICU since she hated being in there by herself... and a promise is a promise." 

I told her I'd be taking the deity to task for doing such a bad job. Yes, you were supposed to release mom from the ICU... and keep her healthy. 

This sent me on a tangent about how my mom loved (and taught me to love) the poems of the 17th century Bhakti poet Ramadas (a pen name, which translates to "Rama's devotee"). He famously embezzled money from his (Muslim Sultan) employer to refurbish a Rama temple, was caught, thrown in jail, and then wrote a lot of angry poetry to the God Rama scolding him for his inability to rescue him. 

One famous and irreverent poem called "Ishvaku kula tilaka" reminds Rama of the many pieces of jewelry Ramadas bought for him with his embezzled monies and asks Rama--"What? Did you forget? Do you think your dad bought all that for you?" lol. So rude! It's actually in a tradition called Ninda Stuti, where the devotee assumes a familiar relationship and goads the deity before seeking deliverance. But that's totally what I would be doing... 

My mom would have thought this was hilarious. We would have sung "Ishvaku Kula Tilaka" together and then followed it up with "Palluke Bangaramayena" (Can't you reply? Have your words become as precious as gold?).

Back... with some secrets

We made it back ok! We even enjoyed our surprise road trip. Things could have gone wrong, but they didn't. StephLove recently asked how Big A's health was, and I actually had to stop and think about it. While my mom was in the ICU, Big A was making trips to the E.R. as a patient with unexplained FUOs and then... we just stopped going as the fevers faded. No diagnosis or explanation, but I'm grateful things didn't go wrong-er. 

We returned to a full house. Nu was back from the week they'd spent volunteering with St. Jude's in Memphis, At had spent the weekend at home taking care of the puppy sibs, and homecoming was loud and loving. The kids brought the tree up from the basement, and we're officially in holiday mode now.

Secrets: I didn't buy a single thing in New York. (Like not a single keepsake or souvenir or even any presents for the kids.) 

Big A and I did our usual thing at the beginning of our weekend where we seriously contemplated moving to NYC after retirement and then scrapping it as we realized afresh that we'd have to give up too much to be able to live even half as well.

I think we're going to do tinsel wigs for the holiday card this year. 

And in the laziest hack ever, our tree goes into storage completely dressed, so all we do at holiday time is unzip the tree cover and plug in the light cord. 

Pics: Nu's photo of At, Max, and me with our freshly decorated  uncovered Christmas tree.

the reckoning

A lovely last day in the city where we met and fell in love two decades ago.

Es Devlin's Congregation at the Perlman Center (poetic) , the Ruth Asawa retrospective at MoMA (brilliantly wintery) and a leisurely linner at a hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant where my curry had all the coconut milk I craved and my papaya salad was liberally laced with chillies. 

Presumably because of the tiny snow storm, our flight home kept getting delayed... from 7 to 9 to 10 to 11. And went through a similar number of gate changes. I guess we can't say we were taken by surprise when our flight got canceled. 

There are no other direct flights until tomorrow, and Big A has to work Monday night, so we're going to rent a car and drive through the night to make it home. 

Pic: A glimpse of Congregation.

mild disappointments

Today was series of mild disappointments, the kind that happen when you're too hyped up for something. 

The show that was critically acclaimed and came so highly recommended was... alright. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't terrific. Liberation takes place in Ohio in the 1970s around a group of feminists, and Big A who grew up in Ohio in the 1970s surrounded by his mom and other feminists found it rather underwhelming. Same (despite my differing biography). I really loved the mini series Mrs. America (Hulu, I think) and expected something with that level of punch.

The friend I was so looking forward to meeting... I couldn't wait to get away from them. I seemed to get on their nerves no matter what I said. There's a lot of love between us, but they seemed to be able to see secret agendas in a lot of what I said and did. And that was exhausting. (I didn't have any secret agendas.)

Dinner was at an upscale Thai place (Chalong), and it was good, but I love regular Thai food just fine, I guess? Big A told me that the Thai government actively promotes Thai restaurants worldwide as part of their "gastrodiplomacy" program. Wild.

Pic: Our Liberation  playbills and the beginning of a baby snow storm.

in NYC

Left home at 3:30 am this morning for a weekend trip to NYC with Big A. 

I tend to give away a lot of our extra cash to GoFundMes and buying groceries for internet strangers, and Big A who makes way more than I do lets me do what I want, so when he wants to live large once in a while, I play along. 

Here we are at Le Benardin, eating plates of perfectly arranged art, having possibly the best meal of our lives... (and definitely the most expensive). 

There was a bisque with tarragon foam that I will dream about forever. And it's time for me to wonder again why I don't use things like parsnips and tarragon more frequently in my cooking. (I only seem to use parsnips at Thanksgiving and tarragon on summer rolls.)

going strong today

I'm at best skeptical about workplace personality assessments like Myer-Briggs (unscientific!)  and prone to scoff at stuff like Enneagrams (cultish!); however, I found my CliftonStrengths assessment was eerily accurate.

I really liked the focus on strengths rather than on perceived weaknesses and found myself agreeing with an assessment for perhaps the first time. My top five strengths (at this moment anyway) were "Learner, Achiever, Belief, Input, and Positivity."  (Here's a quick reference to the 34 strengths.) 

But as we learned at my table where there was another "Learner," the way we were described in our individual reports were very different because of the other strengths our Learner selves leaned into. My individual learner strengths combined with my positivity, achiever, belief, and input made me a very strong teacher. Yay!

I spent four hours with some terrific people exploring and learning to "name, claim, and aim" my strengths. I got to take the test for free through the college, but High5 and StrengthsProfile are said to be similar. I really want everyone I know to take the test.

I'm surprised Empathy wasn't in my top five...

And why is Creativity not listed as a strength at all?

taking a message

in the swift silence of dreams 

or their silent swiftness 

I know what it takes 

take it from me, what I feel 

now is only the strange 

weight of grief

not grief itself--that may take

lifetimes, I doubt anyone

can take that from me

______

Pic: A frozen Red Cedar.

vanity x 2

The podiatrist took a ton of x-rays today and thinks that my toe is healing great; YAY! It looks wonky, messy, and swollen--but I guess it's what's on the inside that counts? (But it does mean I'm not cleared to wear cute shoes on my trip this weekend; boo.)

I'm so inspired by this medical visit that I think I might finally call my Primary Care for an appointment to try to figure out if we can do something about the daily nausea. I thought it was a side effect of grief, but it hasn't gone away. Not eating all day and then eating only in the evening (when the nausea abates) for the past three months has been hell for my metabolism and is really making me look rather... puffy. (I'm pretty sure I'm doing this for health reasons too and not just vanity.)

Pic: I loved this glimpse of a rainbow alongside a green-light (although not for me, I was waiting for my left-turn arrow). It's a sign, right?

the unopened suitcase

12/11 UPDATE:

Friends, you're all so, so kind holding me in your thoughts and figuratively holding my hand over the distance in this. I wimped out + ran out of time and the suitcase remains unopened in the garage. 

Perhaps it's something I'll do when the kids are here over the holidays? I won't be doing it alone, and they'll get to choose what they want to keep before I give things away.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________

That heavy suitcase of mom's things I brought back from India remains unopened. 

In the garage. 

I'm meeting PRS at the end of the week, and I want to give her some of mom's things, so I will have to open that suitcase this week.

I've forgotten what it is that I deemed so precious that I felt I absolutely had to bring with me.

I suspect I'll open it to reveal just things (my mom was very fond of things).

It'll remind me again that my mom wasn't done with life. I've met lots of people, even people my age, who would be content to leave the world. But although mom was in her 80th year, she was so enthusiastic about everything. She wanted to travel to so many more places, kept making new friends, kept buying and wearing all the expensive stuff and looking fabulous...

When I open that suitcase it will remind me that all this is is just unworn clothes and jewelry from her closets. 

What if it's all paltry rather than precious. 

unexpected glimmers

"I can't find you... ARE YOU UPSTAIRS SLEEPING IN MY BED?" L texted halfway through the evening, making me giggle. 

Actually, I'd left her holiday party early, and Big had brought me back home because I'd started some story and was going to cry. But before that I had a really great time. 

J's very timely post on how to survive the holiday season and the one Nicole directed me to on Cup of Jo came in useful!

And look, the hyacinths I randomly stuck into various planters are beginning to show... This one by my reading chair announced itself through its fragrance and then I saw its precious pink candy stripes.

Also, Max, Maxie, Max-a-Million, my late-in-life, baby is underfoot, curious, and with me everywhere.

lines by heart

everyone comes in crying
and they slap you into it if not
everyone should fade away 
held soft in love and memories

so time comes forward

like the very next verse in a song 

a wormhole to eternity

narrating the next up tempo jump 

you're a child carried to bed:

dim room, steady hands, hushed love

safe now to dream of eternity

as we're all right here in the next room

_______________

Note: Three months today. I'm struggling a lot--with grief--but also trying to understand the finality of it all, the seemingly meaningless trick--where did they go? 

Nance described something similar reading obituaries in the wake of her father's death, "I'd read them, look at the photos, and feel a sense of real awe and loss that This Was A Person Who Was No Longer Here." 

I think I'm trying to figure it out... Like what is this cosmology and can I speak it into being? 

______________

Pic: An icy Red Cedar and lots of intrepid ducks with Big A.

stopping by the woods on a snowy... afternoon

I graded most of the day and then sat on my butt trying to motivate myself to get off it when L emailed to see if I was up for a walk.

I was.

Except I couldn't find my phone when she came to pick me up. She tried calling, but my ringer is usually off when I'm teaching, so that didn't work. We finally found it using "Find My Phone" under a pile of kitchen laundry I'd been folding and then abandoned some time this morning.

All of which to say, when we got to Baker Woods, it was the much needed rest and reset I needed.

And now back to my regularly scheduled promises to keep and all the miles to go before I sleep.

Pic: Baker Woods with L.

Intersecting at Stoppard

Tom Stoppard died this week. I've been in awe of his work since I was an undergraduate, maybe even before I actually ever read his work, simply from the sheer audacity of the premise of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. The more I knew, the more there was to love. Later, he fed my theory that writers who come to a language late as foreigners (like Conrad, Rushdie, Nabokov, Brodsky, Stoppard) write so precisely, because they have some additional intuitive insight into language. Much later, I learned of his deep connections to India as it played out in Arcadia and Indian Ink.  (In the linked article here, I was charmed to see a reference to Hermione Lee a much beloved English professor and the president of my college at Oxford.)

And it turns out that theater is life. 

In a literal sense. 

In a letter to the Times of London, in response to Stoppard's obituary, Michael Baum, a Professor emeritus of surgery, wrote: "In 1993 my wife and I went to see the first production of Arcadia by Tom Stoppard and in the interval I experienced a Damascene conversion. As a clinical scientist I was trying to understand the enigma of the behaviour of breast cancer, the assumption being that it grew in a linear trajectory spitting off metastases on its way. In the first act of Arcadia, Thomasina asks her tutor, Septimus: "If there is an equation for a curve like a bell, there must be an equation for one like a bluebell, and if a bluebell, why not a rose?" With that Stoppard explains chaos theory, which better explains the behaviour of breast cancer. At the point of diagnosis, the cancer must have already scattered cancer cells into the circulation that nest latent in distant organs. The consequence of that hypothesis was the birth of adjuvant systemic chemotherapy and rapidly we saw a striking fall of the curve that illustrated patients' survival. Stoppard never learnt how many lives he saved by writing Arcadia."

[As it turns out, I wrote a letter to the editor myself this week trying to reach David Shulman. I actually met David in the late 1990s at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. I was with a group of people at IAS and heard someone say "Tamil Pessalama?" (Shall we speak Tamil?). I turned around expecting to see a Tamil person (the intonation and accent were so perfect), but here was this genial white guy. David is a genius (a MacArthur Genius even!) and works on poets I revere. But more recently and importantly, he's been a lifeline for me with his tireless work and compassionate voice for Palestine. I wrote a note thanking him and sent it to him at his university email address, but it was deemed undeliverable. So I then sent it to the letters editor at NYRB where he has written most recently with an earnest request to forward it... and they must have! Because this morning, I received a lovely email from David that brought tears to my eyes. (I wonder how much of my letter writing is due to reading The Correspondent!)]

Pic: Michael Baum's Letter in The Times. All the deaths since mom's seem extra poignant--Andrea Gibson, Robert Redford, Diane Keaton, Alice Wong, Dharmendra, Jimmy Cliff--I'm seeing them all through her connections to them too.

some noes

I would have been miserable as a lawyer. I had to do lawyer-like things today in my role as a CASA and also in my role as a Title IX advisor on campus, and while they were necessary things, I felt quite unhappy doing them. It reminded me a bit of what our realtor JS said. He used to be a cop and said he liked being a realtor because when he was a cop, 90% of his interactions with people were negative and as a realtor, it was the inverse. 

*

I had a good time at the thrift store (I found some great copies of some fairly recent books) but somehow managed to forget the one thing I actually went in there for... an old lampshade I plan to use as a collar for our Christmas tree.

*

Speaking of which, no--our tree isn't up. I took Thanksgiving down just this past weekend, and I like a little palate cleanser... all the better to savor Christmas decorations. (Also, the kids won't be here until mid December, which is when the tree will come up from the basement. Hallelujah.)

Pic: I kind of did decorate for Thanksgiving! (And didn't do *anything* for Halloween.)

beyond thankful

Today is At's Boss Day.  

And it made her so happy to hear that Big A's favorite photo from Thanksgiving was this one of At on the sofa with the puppies, because it is so reminiscent of that whole genre of paintings from the 19th century, where women are reclining luxuriously on sofas while reading with pets--except this one is updated for the 21st century by At reading on her phone.

I mean... it's nice, I suppose, to be compared to a fancy lady in a painting... But also, while Big A's love was never in question, he used to brag a lot about "my boy" and found At's transition tough, so this compliment meant a lot to At.

And a shoutout to whatever art appreciation course Big A took in college. Some of it may come from his artist grandparents and mom, but his art references frequently have me looking stuff up.
_______________
ALSO, THANK YOU FOR READING!! It's going to take me a minute to get through the comments...

in the aftermath the answer is yes

It is hard to look at me

for I am your museum

and also your miracle

to reflect your starlight  

so my heart stays home

embarrassed by sadness

I rise and fall on wings that

may be pages and they may

take me away to forgetting

I can see the road right here

how it gets there--connects

--without touching a thing 

____________
Pic: The aftermath of yesterday's winter storm.

time zones

another day rolls over 

into tomorrow

I wake, roll over in bed 

reach for my phone

                                            wondering if my mother 

                                             texted me in the night--

                                             it happens a lot as we're

                                             in different time zones 

                                             

then the screen flickers    

my brain reboots

and the past three months

come charging back

                                             and I... remember why 

                                             she doesn't text

                                             and why she can't call

                                             still most days 

I will catch myself 

"saving things" 

for our nightly chats 

although she died 

                                            nearly three months ago...

                                            but when I listen  

                                            to her old voicemails

                                            her voice starlit

gathering warmth and love

I wonder what if 

what if

what if

the past is just another kind 

of time zone

__________________

Pic: Nu's pic of me, Max, and Huck napping. I guess I'm happy when I'm asleep? I love how Max sticks his tongue out when he's happy. (The plates of half-eaten food everywhere are Nu's thing while they're home on Thanksgiving break.)

ruh-roh! I have a broken toe

I mean I knew, but now it's official. I have a broken toe. 

Except now it's being taken seriously and I have an appointment with a podiatrist and a boot. The boot is cumbersome, but it compresses the top of my foot and that feels so good. It would have been seriously helpful if I had gotten it two weeks ago when my foot was all swollen, puffy, and about thrice as painful. Well, now I know better.  

The nurse practitioner has prescribed me some pain medications to pick up at the pharmacy. I didn't tell her I did not even take OTC pain meds all this while.

I'm usually pretty wimpy with discomfort and pain. But at this point, the physical pain seems merely a distant echo of the psychic pain. 

Pic: My photo of the x-ray. My foot looks so weird!

field notes

I wear echoes

ragged through the city

when we talk

I talk only of childhood

I dream we dig

as if we know this earth 

and can't say why 

I wait to be turned back

they're all saying 

that leaving is necessary

they don't know 

I will never say goodbye 

_________

Pic: Red Cedar yesterday with Big A. At the start of our walk, it was tough getting my taped-up right foot into my sneaker. That made A say we should go to Urgent Care instead of on a walk, but I really needed a walk for my wellbeing. If my foot's broken, it has already been broken for over ten days, so what would another day matter anyway?

post Friendsgiving post

While I was puttering around, putting things away after dinner, I found these three (At, Huck, and Max) all cozied up...

At told me she's moving to Chicago at the end of year. 

"At the end of the year," so there's some time, I thought. Before realizing that it's already the end of November. 

I'm happy for her as she's outgrown Lansing. And she was supposed to move to Seattle this year before all the tragedies happened. And Chicago is much closer. But it will mean that our impromptu trips and hangs are numbered.

Nu who was napping elsewhere when I took this pic watched the Lilith Fair documentary with me. I watched it earlier this month and LOVED IT SO MUCH. I laughed, I cried, I goosebumped up, I texted people about it, I was inspired... When I say something is feminist, this is what I want it to mean--not merely that it's women-centered, but that it is anti-patriarchal. That it is about people who support each other, that they offer opportunities to groups who are typically shut out, that they make childcare and family healthcare available, that they listen to critique (for instance, that black women artists are underrepresented) without getting defensive and work to fix it, that there is confidence being in such a space that racists and homophobes are unwelcome. 

Nu and I were looking at each other all starry-eyed, wishing we could go to one...

T for Thanksgiving!

I like how our additional table (build a longer table is my guiding motto), turns our seating into a T for Thanksgiving!

(Although I want to call it Friendsgiving or Thanksloving or something else entirely to avoid celebrating colonial narrative... even as I acknowledge the aspect of gratitude... anyway...)

somehow...

we're doing Friendsgiving at our place...

Friends are coming over armed with support and food and we'll have some international students too...

But that doesn't mean I don't feel the need to prep our standard menu. It has actually proved to be a good distraction.

The family menu has been fixed for... IDK... the last ten or so years? But this year, I added icons to remind myself of what could be bought/prepped before the day, and it has been a life-changer!

___________________

Pic: The kitchen is crowded and cluttered in the lead up the big feast and I'm kinda... happy?

scary (probably toxic)

Now that a winter storm is approaching, I am regretting my choices to mope my way through the four days in Puerto Rico with no trips to the beach or the old city... Could I not even have opened the balcony door and spent a few hours soaking in the sun?

Why the heck was I so determined to be as miserable as possible?

Also, why do I keep listening to my mom's old voicemails. My sister asked me if I found it comforting or sad... And it hits differently at different times...

Possibly the worst thing I'm doing to myself is lurking on my mom's sibling group chat. I got added for updates when my mom was in the hospital, and people have forgotten I'm in there. Now when her four remaining sibs are making plans and carrying on about their lives without her, I feel so bad/sad/mad... I should just leave, but feel like that's another connection I'll lose.

Pic: The island-flavored picture I took of Puerto Rico IN THE AIRPORT.

among my more mundane considerations

One of the weirder things I've caught myself thinking is that now that I have my my mom's picture on the altar in addition to Scout's picture, my Baldwin votary, and all the Hindu, Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Pagan, and other spiritual paraphernalia I have going on...

no one else better die because 

I have no more room on the altar.

the lay of the land

like another woman
but for a very different reason

I tell you to lie back and think of England

you should go to sleep

I really have to go to sleep 
I have an early morning class, I have an early morning meeting, I have to wake up super early

so leave me be 
and just go to sleep
lie back think of England

that'll be terrifically bland 

and boring enough to be soporific 

think of Charles, I say. Think of Queen Elizabeth, think of Queen Elizabeth's purse

empty friend

try not to touch

this narrow secret

where turning informer

I learn the limits

of contagious history

the cold, lucid account

that decides if you

are calling for someone 

or just... crying  for them 

_____________________

Pic: Max and Huck eye the treat jar and contemplate ringing the bell for service.

a quarter of a century...

between this conference presentation (MLA, 2000)

and my most recent (NWSA, 2025)

* Feroza, who is beaming at me in the first picture, is one of the editors of the poetry anthology that came out last year.

** I believe Amma took the first photo... I found it in her stash anyway.

the assumptive world

the year will go back

the earth will give back

this moment becomes a hinge

here an inner sense

and there an inner view 

begins between our worlds

I imagine us in sunlight

imagine us all in a fuller life

beautiful for longer than eyes can see

______

Pic: Baker Woods with L.

hair that might hurt

It's funny how something as small as a busted toe can mess up the pattern of a regular day

and hurt

I was telling Big A this, and he was trying to make me feel better by cataloguing all the things that don't hurt: "your cheek doesn't hurt, your nose doesn't hurt, your hair doesn't hurt..." he was saying to make me laugh

and then I panicked a little

what if my hair hurt every time it broke or fell out

ow

Pic: A hobbly walk with L around Hannah Plaza today. I liked all the birds (sparrows, mostly) in the trees.

kindness at the drab door

surprise snow this morning

and a shock to see that the stubbed toe of yesterday is a bruise half-foot long (the toe itself is so painful and wobbly it is likely broken)

but at work, the kindnesses at my drab office door continue

and that's enough to make me feel lucky

(in some things)

a physic of sisterhood

the swift traffic of anger and rage

the slow wheels of despair

hope breaking like time 

in a song

my childhood watches carefully 

as  your  cruelties turn into 

a street that forgot where

it was going

how you are writing your story 

for a small woman although

I know no small women--

am more than one

_________

Pic: Full moon last week (when I started this poem).

news from far and near

Horrified to hear Megyn "R. Kelly," as some wag on the internet framed her, try to vindicate Jeffrey Epst*in using semantics. Of course, a 15-year-old is a child.

Saddened to hear of Alice Wong's passing. She zoomed with our students twice in the years after Disability Visibility came out and it was transformational for everyone. She was such a champion for Gaza too. Getting E-sim cards out to people so they could communicate was one of her big causes lately.

Defeated to hear that despite the so-called ceasefire, bombs and gunfire have killed and injured nearly a thousand people in Gaza and that rains have swept away whole tent cities leaving families with no shelter. The Israeli government has not allowed replacement aid in yet.

I continue to be mopey (and also mentally kicking myself for not lying out in the sun even once in PR when I had the chance, WTH?). But I reviewed the copy-edited manuscript and sent it off to the editor after sitting on it for over a month. I kept finding something to tweak every time I opened it; I decided I just have to let go. So off it went! I liked writing the acknowledgements and of course I dedicated it to Amma.

And I'm glad to be home.

Pic: Walk with Lynn to The Healing Gardens. Those koi have gotten so big!

I'm sure Puerto Rico is more beautiful

...but all I've seen of it is the convention center where the conference is and the view of the bay (and the convention center) from my hotel window.

NWSA is usually my happy place, where I'm wildly social--partying every night, making appointments to meet different groups for every meal--but I had absolutely no energy this year. I could fake short spurts and then I'd go veg at a talk or by myself in my room. 

I got elected Caucus chair last evening and then texted Big A that I was having the worst time ever and went to sleep. Apparently he texted me near midnight and then a couple of times after that. Then he proceeded to get worried when I didn't respond and called me around 3 am... I know I have a reputation for bad sleep habits, but surely I'm allowed to deviate once in a while?

Can't wait to head home today.

Pic: Sunrise from my hotel room window.