Toughness

I'm flailing at everything today. Hope others are doing better. 

Sending Zen

MSU Japanese Garden

Early morning light, raked gravel, a linden tree coming into bloom twenty or so feet away.

Best thing I remember today.

The world is a mess, everyone at home is sad, but we're all doing small things, and many minds are changing. I hope our world can change too.

Round and Round

The day began with what we thought looked like a sky smile (you can see it better if you kinda squint a little like we used to have to in the olden times with magic eye pictures).

Lots of work through the day including the hard work of discussing Robin DiAngelo's White Fragility with colleagues at my PWI.


I ended the day by making really, really pretty bowls of poke for dinner. It was my 'Boss Day' so the kids helped extra, and shelled all the edamame, grated the veggies, and shredded the nori. All this despite being tired (Nu) and stressed (At--from his thesis). So much love.

We have been watching two eps of Avatar: The Last Airbender (free on Netflix RN) after dinner--like it's a prescription. I've watched the show passively before--when At used to catch eps out of order on Nickelodeon in the oughts and then again when Nu rediscovered it via At's DVDs a few years ago. But this is really my first time paying attention to the dialogue.What a sweet show! And apparently we're not the only ones taking solace in this classic in these times of strange and change.  (Also, the kids seem to get a kick out of finding out the sanskrit origins of terms like "Agni Ki" and "Bumi" from me.) 

Moping

This is Scout's favorite "mope" position and today, he kept switching sides back and forth while Nu and I listened to Sue Monk Kidd's The Invention of Wings--something I've wanted to do since we fell in love with the radical Grimke sisters when we were reading Rad American Women A-Z five years ago. (Incidentally, while there have been lots of girl-centered hero books since, Rad American Women A-Z remains my favorite because of the way it centers social justice.)

When I'm not actively occupying myself with something productive  (good) or self-flagellating with the news (bad), I find I too am moping in various positions and locations like our Scout. 

Somethings

I'm uplifted by the green madness of everywhere; purified by the outrage and anger of everywhere.

I startle awake, heart pounding, at full alert, 3-4 times a night.

I am happy-proud our 12-year-old Nu gave $100 to the Minnesota Freedom Fund.

I dreamt I heard protestors chanting "no justice, no peace" on our street.

Out on the river, it feels like everything's normal.

(Although nothing is, really.)

The Doable

L and I found this quarter-sized painted rock by the river this morning. It was a pleasure to discover and sure to be a treasure for someone who needs something like this right now.

I took this pic to share with Nu so we too could leave something cheery for others on the road.

I love the simplicity of this piece, as it reminds me that things needn't be extraordinary to bring succor.

It is doable; I can do this much.

This month I want to focus on what I can do, and I want to do it.

Going High

Out with L after a long two weeks of quarantine and the light as we came out from under the dinginess of Beal St. bridge was... radiant.

I'm thinking of protestors all over the world and thanking them for their radiance too.

Childhood's fave cousin (now ideological opponent) sent pictures of angry protestors  to the cousin chat-group hoping all of us were safe. I affirmed our safety and added an arch statement about militarized police being the real problem.

And all he said in reply was how glad we he was that we were all safe.

I guess I'm the asshole now.

"Indian Non-Binary Menarche Celebration"

Perhaps there was something portentous about the red lilies Nu planted this week... we celebrated with the red velvet cake they decided was appropriate. Big A made them a card with a "Congratulations" followed by a giant period and we all thought that was hilarious--that morning's laughter was definitely a celebration. But the South Indian in me needed to celebrate Nu more.

I googled "Indian Non-Binary Menarche Celebration" and got nothing. My own menarche was marked by a wedding-level gala replete with catering and professional videographer--but it was too focused on "womanhood and fertility." (It wasn't as lavish as this video I found online, but quite close!)

So we did things our way. We got grandparents and aunts on video calls and read Nu a dedication that focused on their maturity, strength... their ability to reinvent themselves. We kept some elements of the traditional ceremony--anointing with turmeric but connecting its deep roots and healing capabilities with family; playing Carnatic music, but especially Bharati's song about his "kannama" hoping Nu would appreciate the fluidity with which he uses this feminine form of endearment for Lord Krishna. At brewed them a pot of spearmint from his own veggie plot, Grandma S made them a slideshow, the Bangalore grandparents and A Pinni beamed the whole time, N Pinni read them Maya Angelou's "Still I Rise."

Nu got the traditional trays of offerings (fruit, pampering products, books, and a ton of girlie presents), and we added rainbow-themed sandals, bag, visor, and sweetened the deal further with unlimited screen time for the rest of the day.  I think the pictures do a good job of demonstrating my earnestness and Nu's own enjoyment in all the ceremonial love. 😍 😍 

Update

Our entryway Ganesha was rooting for him!

Big A is home from NYC (yay!). He came home earlier than scheduled (yay!) because he'd developed viral pneumonia (boo!) but he was experiencing chest pains, so hearing it was *just* pneumonia was kind of a relief actually (yay?). He's tested negative for COVID (YAY!!) but his x-ray patterns indicate that it could be early-stage COVID (boo). He drove himself home from NYC because he didn't want to expose people on the plane to whatever it is he has... and that's just the kind of awesome person+doctor he is. (YAY for him!)

All told, I've been quite relieved to have him back home. But still a little salty about folks undertaking the unnecessary risks and exposure that makes it necessary for Big A to undertake risk and exposure.

Anyway. Big sigh. Relief.

Sitting Witness

Although my dad is more likely to read the sports section of a newspaper than pick up a book of poetry, his school experience of the Tamil poet Subramania Bharati would get him so fired up that he'd declaim "Thani oru manithanakku unavu illayenil intha jagaththinai azhithiduvom" frequently. So I'm no stranger to Bharati's radical outrage, the threat/aspiration to burn the whole world down if even one person is harmed. 

 I can mourn the horrific murders in the midst of this pandemic of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd and don't find myself distracted by other actions a grieving people may undertake. But in case anyone hears it, thinks it, or needs it--here is a lovely primer of "How to respond to 'riots never solve anything.'"

And please donate, if you can. Every one of us with a credit card in this family (At, Big A, I) have donated independently of each other this time.

https://payit2.com/fundraiser/98548… (@BlackVisionsMN)
https://secure.everyaction.com/zae4prEeKESHBy0MKXTIcQ2… (@reclaimtheblock)
https://unicornriot.ninja/donate/ (@UR_Ninja)
https://gofundme.com/f/georgefloyd

Two Months +

I was hit with an intense wave of nostalgia for things the way they used to be a few months ago when I stopped by college to water my plants and pick up some books.

Plants are doing fine;
i need to tidy some shelves.

I didn't see ANYONE--it made me yearn for colleagues or students and prompted me to wonder if the somewhat outdated model of faculty offices would be another casualty of the pandemic.

Will all the years of shared office space through grad school and adjuncting, yearning for an office of my own, and then finally earning an office with a tiny window have been for nothing?

At read me his thesis on John Brown as we drove north, and we were both surprised how quickly we seemed to get to the Maple River.

Muddy Darling

Nu: Very muddy and so very darling.

At has been busy with writing his thesis, so this week Nu has been a superstar planting ground-cover and honeysuckle and viburnum and lilacs and lilies...

(Deer have already eaten the lilacs and lilies., but we're hoping they--plants not deer--can recover and make a comeback.)

Defence

The kids rigged up some netting around the veggie plots today. The good news is that our raggedy three-legged-deer is doing well. And well, there is no bad news, but the tomato plants were chomped down to the stalks, and I'd like some tomatoes this year.

This sequel actually started last night, when Scout woke me up around two am, and I found our friend was back when I turned on the lights. The great news is although their gait is wobbly as they move from one tomato plant to another, their gallop is speedy--something I discovered as a fresh outburst from Scout startled them and they shot off into the dark.

Days Like This

Some of this certainly rings true?

Ha... Ha... Happiness

Still a bit weary--but this picture's sole purpose is to make me chuckle. At is in his "Prestige Worldwide" tee and a Wonder Woman apron, with hesitance about plunging his hands into the dough displayed in every inch of his being. (The long-ago speech therapist was right--sensory play is the answer.) And of course, being in the kitchen with At is its own happiness too.

I guess I would not have felt so hurt yesterday if I were working on a good project... and I have identified a couple of writing projects I could tackle. I haven't actually started them or anything though. Haha.

I am Loved, I am Enough

 I just needed a reminder of love today. Last week, I didn't get a teaching award I was nominated for (it went to someone amazing, but I still feel sad.) and today in student evals in addition to the usual notes about grading and reading load, a student suggested that I had made them feel stupid and that I wasn't "fond" of them. The one thing I always want to do is create a safe space and teach with tenderness, so that comment cut me so bad.

On top of it all, my planner has consistently been showing me that while I have been doing alright taking care of the fam, myself, and home, I consistently have little to record in the professional section--I'm not writing, editing, publishing. I need to stop cycling through distracting myself through every media available to me.

Plotting

What shall we plant in our veggie plots?

Receiving and Handling

These lovely flowers from L and T yesterday and a giant thing of hand sanitizer they found somewhere--it was a porch drop off made of Purell pure love.

I've been isolating from the kids because of having been exposed last week (we think), and have been making the kids dinners (masked and gloved) that "feel like a hug" to make up for the lack of physical contact. They're calling these "hug dinners" and have asked and received chickpea salad, mint chicken (rotisserie-style chicken with a whole bunch of mint leaves and ghee) and puff pastry pizza.

Yesterday they wanted nachos and hmmm--meeting that request while also honoring the family health chart requirement of significant protein and including all five colors of veggies was challenging. But I met it like a champion--veggie sausage, mixed frozen veggies, and beans cooked with onions and taco seasoning and semi-pureed so the whole thing took on the consistency of refried beans. And that's how we met the requirement even before adding the usual toppings (chopped onion, salsa, avocado).

Here's to the Chroniclers

Over at the NYT, Teju Cole says true and clever things about chronicling life in this pandemic, and it reminded me of all the bloggers who update frequently, and are giving credence and structure to readers' experiences via their own daily meditations.  I miss my old blogging peers from the time of the Mutiny and people I met there including Cole himself. I remember him saying something faintly nice about a poem of mine here once upon a time, and how it made the rest of my week/month--something like that. Ha.

I've tried to get the kids to keep journals; Nu got as far as decorating the cover of the new notebook I gave them; At scoffed, but he's quite tweety, so there's that. Anyway, these days, I'm starting internet meanderings with: Ana Begins, Grumpy Ramblings, Harry Times, Not of General Interest, Shu Box, Something Remarkable, and Stirrup Queens.  Updating here daily has helped me remember and process these days--yes I've cried every day for the past week, but apparently I've done so for discrete reasons. (Not really; it's mostly been related to living in the pandemic, but at least I have a list of different things that set me off.)

Here's a link to Cole's essay and some pull quotes where he articulates the anxiety of articulation in the right now.

Teju Cole: We Can’t Comprehend This Much Sorrow: History’s first draft is almost always wrong — but we still have to try and write it. 

"This year has been a blur, but I remember one day clearly: Sunday, March 8. It was the last day I ate at a restaurant, the last day I went to a concert (Red Baraat at the Sinclair in Cambridge, Mass.) and the last day I hugged a friend. It was also the first time I thought that I should begin writing about what was going on.

"That thought was immediately followed by its negation: Why bother? The same incidents, the same references and the same outrages would inevitably be picked over by other writers; for all our social distancing, we’d all be crowding around the same material. I also knew that anything I wrote could soon be — in fact was almost certain to be — contradicted by new developments. But what worried me most was that certain points of emphasis in my writing would later prove to have been misjudged, and that this would somehow reveal that my heart had been in the wrong place all along.

Full-blown Weltschmerzen

I had barely laced up my shoes for a walk-run when Nu texted to say there was a deer in the yard and "they look like they're injured." I think I smiled that the 12-year-old was generously using their own preferred neutral pronoun "they" instead of "it" to refer to the deer. Anyway, I climbed back upstairs, and we looked at Nu's deer through the rumpus room doors. 

The poor thing was badly hurt--way more than I expected. Both back legs were bloody and one leg had no hoof, just bone peeking through. It was surprising how they didn't look like they were in pain--actually they seemed very calm and unafraid, although they left when Nu tried to give them some blueberries. 

We called The Humane Society who said they weren't licensed for wildlife and told us to call the non-emergency police line where no one picked up. Nu and I texted friends down the street to be on the lookout. Nu said as we both started to cry that the deer would probably die from the injury or get euthanized, but there ought to be treats and kindness in the meantime.

The thing that really gets me though was how the deer looked at us--unmistakeable eye-contact through the glass doors from 15-feet away. A bit pleading, like--can you help me? I had to go cry in the shower for a while. We didn't know how to help.

Incidentally, that's exactly how I felt when my cousin shared this video (it has English subtitles) about the plight of the migrant laborers in India yesterday on the cousin groupchat. I kind of went off the deep end so she called to check on me and panicked when she couldn't reach me (because I was in the shower crying yesterday too).

What's the News?

I feel more like Scout than Nu today.

Lots to tell.

But it'll have to wait until tomorrow, because today's been a bit much.

NYC from a Distance

New York looks strange and empty--at least in Big A's picture. He's scheduled to work at New York Presbyterian and stay at the (Leona) Helmsley Medical Tower, which I keep calling "the Cruella DeVille hotel" in my head.

He just finished reading Atticus Lish's Preparation for the Next Life, which I read when it came out (2014) and loved and recommended. I wouldn't say it to him because of the way it ends, but something about two people from vastly different places in the world falling in love in New York resonated with aspects of our own story...

Countdown and Cope

People have been asking me how I am, and I have to say--I'm great!  I dreaded the countdown to Big A's departure, but now I get to countdown to his return from NYC!

I'm booked so solid today, I doubt I'll even have to time to miss him. Work meetings to discuss campus contingencies, a panel presentation on social justice in my colleague's class on pandemics, a hike with L, and book discussion with the 'Food for Thought' people. Then dinner prep and dinner with the kids.

From yesterday's picture, it would seem coping involves midday Margaritas, all the Oreos, and the last twenty pages of The Great Believers I saved so I could be anguished over something unrelated to saying goodbye to Big A.

Goodbye (photo-note)

"not gonna cry, not gonna cry, not gonna cry"

"love you, pups! love you"

Out and About

We were just coming back from our afternoon walk when we ran into R, T, and L--who  took this picture from across the street. I demurred when she brandished her phone, but she growled: "Just stand with your husband, Maya!" Big A and I are still chuckling about that hours later. I love L so much.

Big A has two flights booked for NYC tomorrow so he'll be able to get to his first shift on Friday even if one flight gets canceled. We've made so many contingency plans like this trying to manage all kinds of risk. I have to admit it all still feels pretty unreal. He'll leave first thing tomorrow.

Looking Up

Made some good progress clearing debris from the garden beds, dredged leaves from the pond, found two morels, and would have worked some more in the garden, but I stepped in something yucky (bad puppies!!) and temporarily lost my will to live.

But seriously--the hope of planting veggies fills me with hope. It signals things like: *happening in the future* and *moving forward* and I need that right now.

After all, the lockdown seems like an infinite present, where cancelations and uncertainties abound: no biennial August family reunion in Montana; Dear Evan Hansen tickets on hold for a year; no idea if classes will be online on in-person come fall...

At was inducted into the national history honor society, so we celebrated today as "History Day." I made him a timeline of all the places we've lived, and taught him how to make mango lassi; he picked a historical movie for the fam to watch--Philadelphia, which ties in nicely to what I'm reading--Rebecca Makkai's wonderful The Great Believers.

Full Fam

I felt nearly 100% today, and I had no fever at any point in the last three days, so we've decided that I'm safe to be around the kids. A lot of this sounds arbitrary, panicky, impulsive--and it is all of those things. In the absence of an accessible test, I don't know what more I can expect of myself.

Something I realized while I was confined to the bedroom this weekend is how lucky we are to be able to quarantine Big A comfortably with his own bed, bath, workspace, and mini kitchen setup so he's not too cramped and can grab drinks and snacks when he feels like it. An extra aspect of weekend sickness-suckiness for me was having to ask for things to be brought to me and that felt like a lot to ask the two human kids who had to deal with their own schoolwork, meals, and pandemic issues. I love how cute and funny they were quasi-faking toddler-level neediness by showing up and piteously asking "cuddle?" now and then.

Anyway--it's still cold and drizzly, but here's a picture of all my loves, reasonably distanced. (Bonus: both cherry trees are close to full blossom above them.) Their kind expressions make it clear they're humoring me because I wanted a picture of everyone before we sent Big A off to NYC on Thursday.

NYC. On Thursday. 

Worst Mother's Day Ever

From our birthday trip to Chicago right before the lockdown

I had to self isolate from the kids all day and monitor my temperature.

It has been 36 hours since I hugged anyone and this sucks.

"something else"

This is Nu's new friend Fredd. Fredd looks horrified and cannot move. Me too.

I haven't left the couch, much less the house today. I'm feeling a bit under the weather (headache, sniffles, fatigue) and a bit worried about how this will change the pattern of our already somewhat fractured homelife if it develops into something else.

Notes from the Outside

Quick walk to Sparty today, and L and I marveled that this postcard pretty was our reality. (Ours to look at anyway.) Someday (maybe this summer) I'll use this for garden inspiration.

It was very fragrant when Big A and I were outside this afternoon. At Beal, there was a gentle shower of cool, white... something. We wondered if the nubs were flowers, but it was snow.

Here's Floofy

A floppy puppy floofing on the floor? Fun to say! But no.

It's just the pile of doodle fur I trimmed off this afternoon. 

The puppies are lighter and smell better, although it was tiring and took way longer than I expected. Huck looks polished enough for a job interview; Scout looks a bit scarily dino-headed because I trimmed too much off his face.

Also, after months of requests, At shaved his beard off yesterday and took us all by surprise. The last time we saw him beardless was in his high school senior pictures. Without his beard and his hair at mid-length, he looked a bit awkward (cough Lord Farquaard cough). I gave him a trim too.

Yes, please!

In other art news, this uncharacteristically "earnest" superhero nurse painting by Banksy and Indian folk artists using gods as characters to message social distancing and hygiene.

I found my heart in the woods today

There're unmistakable signs of greening everywhere and although in a group (L & T & R), social distancing and Michigan's winter #7 of 2020 allowed me to stay with my thoughts, thinking through things, work-in-progress/work-at-standstill, recipes, and how in ten days Big A would be on a plane for NYC.

This graffito of a heart did bring me a smile, but much as I appreciate street art, I wish people wouldn't paint on trees.

shadow / reflection

Back to afternoon walks with Big A after a few days off... It had been rainy/he worked three in a row/one or both of us didn't sleep well/some other excuse.

I'm burying the lede a bit here, but Big A's scheduled to report to NYC for a couple of
weeks--although their cases are down, their regular docs will need a break. He volunteered about a month ago, and his schedule has just been formalized.

He offered to "just stay the heck alive" because it made him sad to imagine me falling apart. Reader, I plan to take him up on this generous offer.

'C' is for Sibling

Nu took the box part from a boxed set of thank-you cards and created a lovely 3-D photo frame for At's birthday.

The box was originally plain blue, and Nu painted the grass, flowers, stars, and crescent moon, propping up the photo on a toothpick so you can kind of bobble it.

I thought the moon was a 'C'--and when I asked what it was for, Nu looked me straight in the eye and deadpanned: "it stands for sibling" before breaking into giggles.

I love every part of their creativity.

[I remember when we took this picture so clearly--we had just moved to Yellow Springs at the end of the 2007-2008 academic year, and were visiting Grandpa R and Grandma C. It may have been Nu's first time in a hammock. At is 9; Nu < 1. Taken on my Nikon DSLR, which I loved, but haven't felt the need to use in years now...]

Feeling 21

At's bright smile, 21 birthday candles collapsing into the Bananas Foster, and my hurried, clumsy picture... but At's bright smile!

Big A, Nu, and I (and Scout and Huck) had fun decorating the table and making a "boozy" dinner (ravioli in vodka marinara, bourbon-blackened salmon and veggies, Bananas Foster), looking at old At baby pictures, and celebrating the fiercely compassionate, delightfully mellow, and cheekily erudite firstborn. He loved all his presents--the party planning essentials, the new Michael Yates book, cheese aficionado tools, and our big spend--the Dyson hot/cold fan/air purifier thing he can take to his bedroom now and dorm/first apartment etc. later.

At had originally (months ago) wanted to have a family dinner and go out to a bar with friends, but modified his plans to a Zoom "Conspiracy Theory Party" because of the lockdown. I heard him kind of cackling long after midnight, so I think that part went well too.

😍🥰😍😘🥰😍 

Once upon a time

I'm not great with numbers, but every calendar I consult infers that this baby was born 21 years ago (tomorrow).  It sounds like a long, long time ago, and yet feels like it all happened in the spaces between one hug and the next.

And with At, there're always LOTS of hugs. 

This is Us

Sparty wears a mask; be like Sparty!
(MSU Stadium on Monday 4/27)

While Lansing didn't get the volume of Covid cases predicted, Big A has been seeing patients in the E.D. and has been self-isolating. This article--"What the Pandemic is doing to the Children of Doctors and Nurses" (and children of other frontline workers: grocery, mail, sanitation, transport, etc. too, I daresay!) posted by ND, Big A's NYU batch-mate, really struck a nerve. 

I mean this... is literally us:
"Some health-care workers have moved away from their families, and many others have isolated in spare bedrooms or basements, trying to explain to their kids that they can no longer hug them because the consequences of even a single touch could be dire."

Pre-dinner Deliciousness

I think so, anyway...





and Scoutie seems to agree.

Looking Back, Looking Out

Owl totem @MSU Gardens this morning

In retrospect, it was surprising how suddenly things changed. One Saturday I'm celebrating my 1920s-themed birthday extravaganza and by Friday of the very next week, classes had been moved online and At was home from college for the rest of the year.

We finally unpacked At's college stuff from his car (it's only been over 40 days, no biggie 😛) and I took all his boxes down to the basement, because Big A uses it for an office space and hence it's now a no-go zone for the kids. (Incidentally, after years, I'm also doing the kids' laundry for that same reason.) 

Anyway, At wanted me to get the box with his PS4 games--but I couldn't remember it. Then At got serious and asked me if I'd seen a box with books. And yes, indeed I had, and had even read the titles on the spines with approval. 

Problem solved--it was in that box. As he put it: "Classic Mama! I knew you'd remember books." 

Family Pic (J/K)

I mean--family pic for sure, just not my own 😊.

We found this large family on an early morning hike. It was just me and L going quite fast--so for an hour at least, it felt like pre-Covid days...

Still a few letters to write for students headed to grad school and some guest lectures and appearances for colleagues teaching Spring Term. But otherwise just an ordinary day, stuck at home with family. And I enjoy both home and family and am so so so grateful for both, but the boredom is nevertheless real.

Sunday, Fuzzy Sunday

A quick walk with L and R while we talked about the first section of The Overstory, and this bit of green with the trees and farmhouse in the distance was pure serendipity. Talking about the book with R who's reading it for her bookclub tomorrow,  reminded me so much of feeling the tug of that book pulling me out into the unknown, and the running list of unfamiliar words I started keeping as I waded deeper into it. This would be the perfect time to reread it, actually.

KB, yesterday's birthday girl, and SS, last week's birthday girl, wanted to do a smaller Zoom chat this afternoon, and lots of gaffes and laughs ensued. When K said "quarantine poetry," I thought she'd said "horny poetry" and nodded a bit too enthusiastically. Speaking of... no walk with Big A today, but I pulled together a really nice lemony, chicken-meatball soup using up all the garnish-y stuff from our Indian takeout earlier this week and the eggplant that might have ended up in the compost heap soon. And it went great with the rosemary fougasse we'd baked yesterday. Home Ec success.

The Low Road

Big A is cheating the puppies at play in this picture; I want the record to show that 😊. Also, despite a full day, it felt quite low. But also, I've been remembering Marge Piercy's poem, and plan to share it with the family tomorrow at dinner.

(In other news, birthday parties for KB and SS and a fougasse bake-along with PM and posse.)

The Other World

I had to make a quick trip to college to pick up some books and papers... and felt like a phantom. I didn't expect to see teaching colleagues, and I didn't. But I'd thought admin were still around given the volume of daily emails, but they weren't. My desk calendar was stuck at March 14th... has it really been that long?! My office plants mostly weathered my spectacular negligence--the geraniums were even in full bloom! A couple of the pothos had developed tired, yellowing leaves though and the ivy had browned. I did a quick water, prune, and replant in 20 or so minutes, picked up the stuff I'd come for, and dashed.

The nice part of the the trip back was dropping off birthday presents for KB and SS, baklava for JG, and a gift for KM (from Nu).  It was nice and it took longer than I'd planned because everyone (incl. KM's dad) wanted to chat. When JG and I set of for a quick stroll we had 45 mins and the timer to turn back went off at the corner of her street because we'd run into colleagues and had chatted for 22 mins.

It was a good thing dinner was (by kids' decree) takeout from Pizza 1. I picked up their order at 4 and made it home by 5, just in time for TV and cuddles.