this thing on my finger

      The spinning diva offers: "if you like it then you should have put a ring on it..."

or else what, I remember thinking--we should date someone else

     or once there's a ring on it we'll belong to them?

I mean, I really didn't get it. After all, I didn't even get a proposal from you

I don't recall ever talking about marriage we just seemed 

to think we'd be together: Typical Pisces-Scorpio 

with trouble distinguishing where our bodies and destinies separated.

But we did say we didn't want diamonds mined from sorrow 

so in other historical ruin, we turned to my grandmother's

wedding necklace that had been broken down into tiny necklaces 

for her four daughters and then into earrings for many granddaughters

--the honor of this landscape retreats, struggles, is small

I haven't even worn that ring in years... it gets in my way.

Here--now: we're making dinner, my fingers slicing things and then 

slipping, and the blood and the nick on my hand lose a battle

pain knots into a big bow of something sure to heal by tomorrow

it calls for the return of care, reduces your grand calling as a doctor:

to a childish charge... the blunt and careful binding of bandaids. 

Then you're gone for two days but I wear this "disgusting" (our 14-year-old) 

bandaid you wrapped around my finger, extending this trivial thing, wondering 

about separation and affection had you only... put a ring on it.

_____________________

I mean, I did say I was going to write teenage poetry when Big A is away at work (second para). Clearly, it wasn't an empty threat.

everything's a seesaw

On the one hand, these strollers that Polish parents left at the train station for Ukrainian parents to use as they cross the border with nothing... on the other hand the racism against foreign students trying to leave Ukraine... Life continues to give with one hand and take away with another.

A read that gave me life last week was this mom's account of life with her trans daughter in Jezebel--unfortunately written to demonstrate the humanity of their lives in the light of the new laws against trans kids.

And I finally finished Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad. I don't know why I didn't read it when it came out, because everyone was raving about it. And I understand why everyone I knew was raving about it, because they probably felt it was about them--it's certainly very slice of hipster/Gawker-style life. I got stuck on the casual mentions of child sex abuse in the early part of the novel with the record producer in the 70s picking up teenagers. And then I kept procrastinating on picking it up again. But I finished the rest of it in one swoop this afternoon and it was brilliant. 

flowers and sweets on the day after

My baby sister who loves birthdays used to think the day after one's birthday was the saddest day in the world. Today wasn't at all bad, however. (Although world news, which I had silenced since my family was trying so hard to make my day happy, is beginning to leak in around the edges.)

The traditional lush bouquet from my in-laws arrived today, and I knew who'd sent it even before I opened the card as there were fragrant stargazers at the center... I had told my lovely MIL a lifetime ago when she was doing the flowers for our small wedding that they were my favorite flowers. Stargazers still are my favorite flowers and I get a tiny frisson of extra love that she remembers still. (When I buy myself flowers, I tend to go for carnations as they are inexpensive and last at least a month.)

I had a walking date with EM at the horticultural gardens, at the Rose Garden to be precise. It was a lovely day (in the 60s!) so it was a fierce reminder that it was still March to round the corner and see no roses. We came back home to recover, drink tea and eat birthday cake and talk about projects and family. Then EM whipped out a giant box of Shatila pastries, assuring me they'd keep forever. But this box is so beautiful and so huge, I think I'm going to have a full on (outdoors) party to do it justice.

March Forth Again!

Birthday dinner with Li'l, Big, and Baby As as I used to call them a million years ago on this here blog... and also a necklace almost as big as my head.

I started the day hiking with L and then hung out with Big A and just talked and texted with family and friends all day long. There was an hour of massage therapy in there somewhere too. We ended up making 1100 dollars with the birthday fundraiser and at the end of the day there was a pistachio-raspberry cake with candles.

I learned about March Forth (March Fourth) just a couple of years ago, I think--but I love that I can claim this day for a birthday. In writing news today, I got a shoutout from Mel over at Stirrup Queens and a newer poem was published in Waxing and Waning. 

So happy in my heart. 

Sunny

I feel like I did bring some Florida sunshine back with me... it was bright and beautiful all day, and I didn't even have to delve into this delightful loose-leaf tea I found in St. Pete.

I got to wake up TWO human babies for breakfast (At had spent a few nights here to take care of his sibs) and the rest of the day was full of small surprises and mercies. 

For instance, the accounting on my work credit card--always a chore (with multiple logins and approvals) went SO smoothly. I got in a couple of walks with AK and S when I made my sabbatical-style weekly office visit for student meetings, advising, and committee meetings. 

And we got Subway for dinner as a pre-Birthday treat.

And also--we may be getting a bit ahead of ourselves-- but since we're "between variants" as the more pessimistic/realistic members of the family would have it, we started planning a family vacation. And then Big A started insisting that we book right away, like TODAY. And I told him that it reminded me of attending some free day cruise where someone did a timeshare presentation and kept insisting that I buy one TODAY since the offer would not be available tomorrow. 

That part didn't go over too well.😁😂

erm...

I started a fundraiser for my birthday for the first time ever, and it's just not getting the traction of my other Facebook posts. I couldn't use the Facebook fundraiser template since this non-profit does not have a 501c3 classification, so this isn't being promoted by Facebook, and I wonder if the GoFundMe link is making it algorithmically inaccessible. In any case, it's not working very well.

I'm bad at asking--and especially bad at asking for money--so just sitting with this for a bit.

 

"Floridays"

The obligatory blue skies + blue waters pic from our quick trip to St. Pete, Florida. Big A gets CME classes; I get to eat breakfast in bed, visit museums, eat ice-cream, and (this is the most important part) walk around in summer clothes.

We're back tomorrow, but it has been a nice break from winter and the ordinary. It occurs to me that while the length of our trips without the kids (usually 2-4 days) hasn't changed, our childcare givers have moved from  grandparents > paid sitters > friends > (and currently) our young adult child.

Rooftop fireplace, drinks, appetizers, and then back to watch the SOTU--a buzzkill with how things are in the country/world. While I don't agree with Pres. Biden on things (don't extra fund the police, cancel student debt!) his kindness is solid. I noticed today when he was talking about the seventh grader with diabetes, he said the child needed insulin to stay healthy--not that he needs it to stay alive (the child was right there and it was gentler). And he gave another shoutout to the LGBTQ community and trans kids, which made me cry. Kindness after cruelty will do that to me.

blast from the past

My birthday is coming up this week and we have a nice family dinner planned. 

But I've been yearning for one of those all-out bashes that used to happen--usually planned and hosted by someone else. That hasn't happened in years. Some of is the pandemic, sure--but some of it is just that we're in a different stage of our lives. 

Facebook kindly reminded me with this post from twelve years ago when my friends L and J postponed a vacation they were planning to take because it fell in my birthday week. The mayhem of comments that ensued with everyone jumping in with recommendations, some weird references to Tom Hanks's birthday, my London friends threatening to gatecrash, and Sunny Singh (the author Sunny Singh) giving me sage advice on partying all month long made me chuckle. 

I've been talking to L more since this reminder popped up and reconnecting with others too. And much as I resent Facebook for its manipulative ways, I'd completely forgotten about this interlude until it reminded me. What a sweet memory from a more innocent past. 

"send us some poems and essays"

I've never wanted a war, but this is more of an anti-colonial struggle anyway--it would seem the people of Ukraine are fighting for their right to exist. 

The courage of the attitude that Ilya Kaminsky shares in his tweet... the courage, the hope, the beauty, and--what Hindi speakers would call--the sheer dil [heart] of it is simply breathtaking.
 

recovery

We (Nu and I) had plans with CF today. We were supposed to see the Kahlo exhibit and then come home to hang out and pet puppies and eat pizza and watch the movie remake of Nella Larsen's Passing together. 

I'm not gonna lie--after the accident yesterday, I wanted to just cancel it all and stay home and worry about the war in Ukraine, racism against refugees, the poor deer, and my Bluey. But this morning I woke and decided I did NOT want to think about anything on that beyond-my-control list. So Nu and I bundled up and walked to the museum, met up with CF, and spent a satisfying couple of hours together transformed by--and transcendent with--art. 

The picture is of Detroit-based artist Beverly Fishman's piece "Recovery". I love how the angles of the work play on some of the unusual angles of this Zaha Hadid building (a little bit of which is visible in my pic). And I loved, loved this part of the artist's statement: "The notion of recovery is central to the experience of the exhibition. In the face of a global pandemic, along with the ever-pressing need for wider social, racial, and environmental reckonings in the United States and abroad, it is all the more important for people to seek out moments of solace." 

So that happened. Then CF went and got their car while Nu and I ordered the pizza. Then we got home and hung out and petted puppies and Nu took a nap and CF helped me find the VIN number on Bluey and take more pictures for the insurance company. I didn't have the energy for a whole ass movie, but we watched three episodes of Abbott Elementary (so about the average run time it would take to watch a whole ass movie, ha) but its wry teaching humor fit better than a more serious reckoning with the world. 

I'm still in recovery mode.

everything can change in a moment

Posts like this one about life in Ukraine put everything in perspective. I can't imagine... or maybe I can easily imagine having to leave a home you know to huddle in a subway station to escape the bombs raining down.

So in comparison, I guess we got off really lightly--Nu and I are fine, and I hope the deer who jumped out at us as we were on our way back from book club at RS's is fine too. There's no blood, and I hope that's a good sign. (Please don't tell me any different. I've never so much as run over a frog before, so this thing is nightmarish. My mind keeps replaying the second the deer landed in front of us and has me wishing I had been able to swerve harder.) As Nu said, if we'd left a few seconds earlier or later, things would be different. Both of us romanticize/anthropomorphize deer and get silly about them, so we've both been pretty down since it happened.

My poor Bluey, too, is so not fine. To make matters worse, Big A is away for work until Monday and only on the phone, so I'm just feeling extra alone in my guilt and misery.