the shortest day's journey into reading and writing

Happy Solstice! I thought I had a solstice hike planned at Fenner Center, but the event seems to have vanished, and we seem to have missed the UU's solstice celebration yesterday. Anyway... I'm still celebrating the arrival of longer days in my heart!

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I'm almost done with a review letter for a colleague from another university. I dithered for so long because I didn't know where to start as this person is just such an overachiever. I feel even my eight-page letter doesn't do justice to all they do. But I think I've done my best and it may be time to just submit it. (And move on to other writing projects.)

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When the kids and I met Justice Sonia Sotomayor at a reading five or so years ago, I was very taken by her two daily rules: do something for someone else (even if it's just a phone call) and read and learn something every day. Although I read a lot for work, it became a practice to read something "for myself" since then. I keep short stories and flash fiction around so I can read something even on days when I don't have time for a longer reading project. 

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I think that resolution just became easier to keep as my alma mater has just come up with what they're calling The Ten-minute Book Club--a treasury of literary pieces that are quite thought-provoking. There's another similar enterprise they're calling LitHits (it's a Substack) here.

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And while on writing, a well-known writer friend, PM, is doing a New Year's Eve "write-in" where all of us writers (and wannabes) will be online on New Year's Eve, writing to prompts or following the beat of our own hearts and drums. I can share their invite privately if anyone's interested. 

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Pic: Max, the librarian, will see you now! Doesn't he just look so magisterial in this? 

(Will I give away my books? I don't think I'm ready! We have a Little Free Library outside that I do keep stocked, however.)

out with the new

L and I decided while we were walking yesterday that it's hopelessly impossible/impracticable/unacceptable to be perpetually happy in the world we live in. BUT! It is possible to create and enjoy moments of joy and then both of us were trying to tell each other the other person was the best at that. "You are the best at creating joy!" "No! You are!!" The ultimate polite fight!

I've been getting so much joy in these past few months taking things to the Fretail Store and getting people things from their online wish lists. Especially from our Buy-Nothing group, which has become mostly requests from people who are going through hard times and need help getting presents for their kids. A family or two a day gets looped into grocery store expenditure and doesn't hurt us. Especially as our own kids are too grown, too cool, and too socially aware for most stuff. And especially since I'm very much of the but-for-the-grace-of-God/the-universe school of thought. 

"I'll get some books and toys for their tree," I chirpily offered online this morning. And then today's family turned out to have 11 kids. But you can't just buy for some kids in the family, so I had to be creative with multipacks of toys and books and games that could be shared. The choices I make are sometimes sad and informed by my CASA training: no food-themed toys, for instance, as food insecurity might be present (Have you ever seen a food-themed object and craved that food? Now imagine you are a kid with no money); no toys requiring adult supervision as single parents are probably already overstretched and overworked; nothing about looking for bio families--so no Are You My Mother-type books. 

Life should be more fair for children. A new mom I know says she'll never tell her kids about Santa since she doesn't want to perpetuate her childhood anguish at seeing Santa bring the rich kids expensive gifts and dollar-store baubles to the poor ones.

Pic: Unopened gifts culled from my kids' rooms headed for the Fretail Store. To be fair, the kids didn't ask for any of these, but I'd pored over catalogues and best-of lists and really thought they'd like them. 

a morning manifesto

(story)

Every morning, with 

exactly seven squeezes 

of lemon in my tea

I feel like every child 

who has ever dreamed 

of being free

(start)

and although the future 

turns out differently 

than it used to be 

everything is still birthed 

and broken, cracked 

open--I still believe 

(stutter) 

I... still try... for love

--here on the ground 

we... could be... become 

a surround... a vast tent... 

a tenderness for children as they 

throw their arms to the sky

_____________________________

Pic: The Red Cedar from the woods behind L's house. It's funny how things get into our heads. I've always liked pictures of the water, but as I was taking this photo, I could hear Engie saying somewhere how she always wants to photograph reflections.

Wild and Precious Life: every day magic

My goodness! First, a (too) generous mention from Nicole... thank you, Nicole! And then this confectioners'-sugar dusting of snow over the day. (Not enough to make me feel like I should shovel or cause any road accidents, but perfect for creating christmassy magic.)

It was too drippy to walk outside so I walked in the mall. And let the record show I spent no money at all. (I did preorder copies of my friend Jan Shoemaker's new book, Slow Learner, at the bookstore, but I'll have to pay only at pickup, so technically I didn't spend today.) And then! I saw JS herself just walking along merrily and got a hug and an update on the wedding she had to attend on Saturday instead of (hmmpf) coming to my cookies and cocktails party. (It was a "dry" wedding she said, making a moue.) A few minutes later, as I was thinking the last time I was at the mall was when we were shopping for JL's mom's birthday...I saw JL! I bet pre-cellphone, 90's teens felt a bit like this when they saw their friends at the mall too.

Pic: Stopping to pick up the mail...

up and down and around

Yesterday's party is put away. And I vacuumed and dusted and cleaned the entire house. Do other people also clean the house after entertaining?  We used to have cleaners--sometimes twice a week--before we moved here. We're in a bigger house now but I'm the main cleaner. I feel we're going a bit in reverse here. 

Big A has been in Milwaukee for work for the past three days. I couldn't wait for him to get home... and then we promptly squabbled within the first half hour after he did. (All good now. I thought he was egging on Huck and Max who were playing fighting. I probably went too far when I brought up Michael Vick.)

Otherwise, a slow and quiet day. The all-day misty drizzle inspired me to make a big pot of soup. I'm so chuffed that Nu (the baking enthusiast extraordinaire) likes my cranberry-pistachio shortbread! I took a a long walk with L, a long soak by myself, and have all the cookies I can handle for dessert. 

Pic: These koi at the Radiology Gardens aren't coy. Haha.

it's two o' clock somewhere

Like maybe two or three days ago, I wanted to see my girlfriends and give them their presents and my MIL had sent over a huge box of cookies, so I invited people over for an afternoon of "cookies and cocktails" because I thought that sounded quirky. Since the plan was to start at 2:00, most people could come despite the short notice. 

I cut several sprigs of holly from our overgrown bush in the backyard to slip into little planters and felt very festive. And then it felt a bit naughty (in the nicest way) to add rum to our punch or Bailey's to our cocoa so early in the day.

We played a holiday version of Two Truths and a Lie (or Two Truths and No Lies or just Two Lies--my people don't believe in rules) so people who didn't know each other too well could laugh and commiserate with each other. I like when friends I made in different times and places get to know each other and become friends themselves.

I'm really proud of my cranberry-pistachio shortbread (I added dried rose petals) and the pretty ice ring (to keep the punch cold--I didn't have a "ring mold" so I used a bundt pan). Bonus: Planning and pulling everything off took up so much of my brain space that I didn't have time to worry about stuff. I keep telling myself that celebrations are good, that we should all be celebrating, and we should celebrate for those who are unable to. 

It felt good to celebrate and be with the wonderful women who have all done me so much kindness and supported me in so many ways through the years. They are life-sustaining in a quite literal sense for me.

The only thing is everyone brought cookies too, and although I sent people home with treat bags, we still have more than we started with. 

Pic: A shot Nu took when they snuck in to help themselves to more cookies. I can see my ice ring in the foreground (in my soup bowl pressed into service as a punch bowl), and me in the background (talking with my arms).

sentimental offerings

Another festival of lights at CB's "Winter Warm Up Party." It was beautiful--my neighbors J and E from across the street sang the blessing (I'm more used to reciting it) as we lit the menorahs (I did two). 

Big A's in Milwaukee until Sunday, so I took Nu with me. As always, they protested having to go and as we walked home, raved about how glad they were that they went and how much they love "community." I guess I do know best after all. Ha.

I am a sentimental mess just from reading Nicole's account of The Small One (Q: Is this the first time I've cried at a Wikipedia entry? Ans: No.). I love its theme of offering up devotion in whatever small way one can. "Little Drummer Boy" is another great example of this. And now I'm thinking of "Le Jongleur de Notre-Dame" that I first encountered in Anatole France's version in my French textbook. And now I'm thinking of how much my mom loved that story when I shared it with her, and how she connected it to the story of Kannappa who did all the taboo things (offered meat, spat water, put his feet etc. on the deity) out of love and devotion. And this in turn reminds me of a scene in a Tamil movie whose plot and title I've forgotten in which the Hindu heroine who is in love with a Christian boy goes to church to pray for him. But she doesn't know any Christian prayers, so she recites the entirety of an 8th century hymn-paean written for Durga in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary. It's a moment my mom and I found both funny and sweet. It's a hymn my mom and I love. And now I miss my mom.

Pic: A forest of candles at CB's "Winter Warm Up Party."
 

apostrophe

I know I can retell the stories 
until I get them right... 

            I may never get them right

            don't be afraid, maya

it's just... the sky is falling
my body is failing 

            there's room right about here 

            for a quiet chorus 

but I hear only stalled words

vowels leave, aiyo aiyo 

            like an ocean finding freedom

            deep inside me

and though disaster is far away

I'm right here, waiting 

____________ 

Pic: I got some mall-style Winter Wonderland when I dropped off some stuff at the Fretail Store. (I'm so happy this store, which gives people the experience of shopping while giving away things for free, exists in Lansing.) Today was also a day I had to pick up Huck and Max from the groomers and then turn around to take Nu and myself to the dentist. This is what happens when I press pause on all non essential appointments in the final weeks of class. I guess I was tired; I fell asleep while the dentist and hygienist were still peering into my mouth.

it's beginning to look

a lot like a bit like Christmas. CF, my dear friend who moved to South Carolina sent us a beautiful Christmas centerpiece, JG sent us treats from Sunnyland Farms, AK sent a blooming amaryllis, SV made a donation in memory of Scout. It seems my girlfriends are into sending things that are more like experiences, and I love it.

Counterbalance: My uncle told me that there had been a fire in my sister's office building in Bangalore. My sis then sent me a video of the 20-story fire. Scary. A student whose poetry I love received a rejection. Sad. One thinks we'd be able to protect the people we care about from harm or disappointment, but we're so limited.

Pic: CF's centerpiece--I lit the candles to send her a thank you photo. Bonus peek of Nu snacking in the kitchen.

life or something like that

I wonder if there's an alternate 
autobiography somewhere
just a shift of a world away

                          in a "nice" arranged marriage
                          where my words have wars 
                          locked into them 

or one with so many or no kids 
I am--again--lost amongst

lives falling fast as rain

                           perhaps I grow angry like stars 

                           beginning to dim at dawn

                           all heavy and alone 

today (at least) all the alternatives 

seem wrong, basic, way less than

reality's own beloved mess

___________

Pic: Huck, Big A, and big baby Max. Behind them the clutter of life--mail, walking leashes, dart board, magazines. On the magazine rack, I can see my face peeking from the top rack from when I won that teaching award earlier this year!

sunrise-sunset

Graded like a maniac. Shepherded students through their first conference submissions process. Worked on getting all the grad school recommendations out. And I have just one more review letter to complete... I'll have three more due in January, but I'm not going to worry about that now. 

After all the service-y stuff, I really hope I can get back to writing and editing on my own project this week. It's time. And also--more importantly perhaps--there's a deadline.

Pic: The sky above me near sunset (beautiful). Max and Huck alongside me going about their potty business (not so beautiful). We don't have many windows on the west side of the house, so if I'm not outside, I'm likely to miss the sunset. I'm so grateful to Max and Huck for this sunset and everything else too.

DND

After krampus-ing hard yesterday, JN declared this a DND (do nothing day). I guess it works as a "Do Not Disturb day" as well. I love it. I'm going to use it. Someday.

Final grades are due soon, so it wasn't really an option to do absolutely nothing. But I built lots of nice stuff into the day--I got a massage, I went on a ramble with L, a long walk with Big A, then family dinner with At.

It was DND lite.

Pic: Goodbye from the puppet theater. My parents gave the kids this puppet theater when they were little--I think Nu was less than two years old. It showed up to lots of birthday celebrations and we accumulated quite a collection of hand puppets and finger puppets all put to great use by the "narrOator" (At's version of "narrator" 🙂💗). It lived in the rumpus room for a long time and then in Nu's Room for years. But for a year now, it's been hanging out in the upstairs hallway because no one wants it. I've known it should go to another house where some other kids can love it, but it was a bit difficult letting go as it bears so many memories of the younger versions of my kids, my parents, me... 

Anyway, when At came to dinner this evening, I got a few last pictures of them together at the puppet theater. I'm lucky my kids are so indulgent.

skin, hair, fur

Every night before he leaves for work, Big A has taken to reminding me to let go my feelings of overhwhelm and weltschmerz and focus on the things I can control. In the last two months, I've been staying up later and later... doomscrolling and breaking out in hives and acne and literally pulling my hair out (trichotillomania).  

Skin: So this week, I finally got to see a dermatologist who put me on tretinoin cream. Let the record show that I asked Big A to write me a prescription for tretinoin a month ago and he recoiled and refused as though I had asked for opioids or something and made me wait.

Hair: For my very gross and unattractive habit of self-induced hair loss, I ordered an OTC nutritive supplement.

Fur: Months ago, JN decided to be a Krampus for Krampus Nacht and asked if I would be their handler. It was still a bit of a surprise to see "Maya: Krampus Handler" on the organizing committee's list of duties. I didn't want to leave home this evening, but also didn't want to stand JN up, so I did go. It was small "f" fun.

Pic: A crowd of Krampuses in Old Town. I was so out of it, I wasn't in the least bit scared. 

"praying for peace/living with love"

The world is so beautiful and the world is so terrifying. Over 17,000 people have been killed by bombs and gunfire in the past eight weeks... It's so strange how I still go about as if everything is ok... Although my country vetoed a humanitarian ceasefire yet again. 

I think of the children holding a press conference in English--a language foreign to them--to beg the world not to bomb them. And yet, over 7000 Gazan children have been killed in just these two months; many thousands more are maimed and injured for life. I think in particular about the mother holding her lifeless baby saying she took 580 IVF injections to have him; the tender searchers in the rubble after every airstrike. I think of how many hospitals, schools, and homes have been bombed, the patients, medical staff, students, teachers, and families in them evanesced. No poem can contain my grief. Nothing can calm my disbelief that this is happening so publicly... so blatantly.

Sunny Singh, who has always been so kind to me and my students lost a friend today--he was a fellow teacher of English and a poet. His name was Refaat al-Aareer. In a better world I might have met him some day at a reading or a conference or in someone's home. And he is just one of thousands who is gone suddenly and too soon with their hopes and dreams still pending. This is a poem he wrote last week:

If I must die

you must live to tell my story

to sell my things

to buy a piece of cloth

and some strings,

(make it white with a long tail)

so that a child,

somewhere in Gaza

while looking heaven

in the eye awaiting his

dad who left in a blaze-

and bid no one farewell

not even to his flesh not even to himself-

sees the kite,

my kite you made,

flying up above

and thinks for a moment an angel is there bringing back love

If I must die

let it bring hope

let it be a tale

_______________

Pic: Baker Woods with RS yesterday. She asked me if it would look bad if she celebrated Hanukkah with all that is going on. I told her we'd be lighting lamps with Nu (Big A's great grandparents were Jewish and there is a family menorah/hanukkiah). I'm glad we have celebrations. I want us to put away our bombs and celebrate life. (I saw the words I used for the title of this post on a church's marquee this morning on my way to work.)

"in a hole in the ground..."

I'm so, so, SO excited. 

Whether it's because I'm a water sign or because I grew up in a city with one of the longest shorelines in the world, I've always loved water. (And this despite being a bad swimmer.) I like looking at water most of all, and I think sunlight on water is the most magical thing ever. 

So I've always gravitated to homes near water, and when we lived on the Pine River in our previous home, it was the happiest I've ever been--with the view (not the rising cost of the home insurance for that place). I was glad our current house has a tiny pond, but I've been wanting to enlarge it forever. And this week, we finally did! 

We dug in a not-straight line and around existing trees and shrubs, and it turned out a bit... crescent shaped? heart shaped? 

Pic: Our tiny pond in the foreground, and the "hole in the ground" (Big A) we've dug. Now to line it, fill it, and enjoy it.

another love poem

my class is united by laughter
until we look alike 

                            it digs a hole in the day where 

                            our anxiety disappears

as if sifting through our souls

for the answer

                            and finding only half words

                            and silly dreams

freed us forever/for a moment

(or so it seemed)

______

Pic: First-year-seminar poster exhibition. The moment I'm thinking of was in another class, but the picture I took there has too many recognizable faces, and I haven't asked for permission to post it. I'm glad the semester is almost over... but I will miss the camaraderie and intellectual tussle of the classroom. Sending extra love out into the universe for the young ones and the little ones today.

AJLT

And just like that, it's exam week: I wish I could tell my student people to take deep breaths. Lots of last-minute anxiety, so the days are long, but overall a sense of satisfaction and good endings.

It was the kind of day where I constantly pivoted like a dancer: from sharing the first years' sense of accomplishment in the morning (their first semester at college down, look at the posters they made!) to making notes as students presented on projects they've been working on for six weeks (and marveling at their insights and how skilled they are at encouraging each other!) to a discussion with the college's board of trustees in the early evening (just the department chair and me, we thought it went well). 

That last task reminded me that someone put me on a list of nominees for the MSU board of trustees. When I demurred, EM said (referring to the spate of Title IX missteps at MSU since Larry Nassar) I was totally worthy because at the very least I wouldn't sexually harass anyone. Well, in that case... 

Pic: Amaryllis are blooming in my tea garden. Time to go start the narcissi so they'll be in bloom by Christmas (I say, hopefully).

Five-year-old me

What would my childhood self think about grownup me? 

I've been thinking about it since Nance mentioned that she keeps her kindergarten picture on her dresser to remind her "of the little girl who wanted to be a teacher and a mom. I look at her often and think about how so many of her dreams came true and then some. It helps me stay grateful."

I'm five in this picture, and my favorite thing was to line up my sister, our ayah, and the dolls in my playroom to play school--with me as the teacher. So I think five-year-old me would be thrilled that I grew up to be a teacher and tickled to know I have kids and puppies of my own--I think they'd find that part really hilarious. Back then, the expectation to be "good" was intense--I wonder what five-year-old me would think of my daily quest to be a better person, to keep learning... When I was little, I was always afraid of being orphaned (I read too much even back then), so I wish I'd known my parents would know their grandkids...

Like Nance, I too am grateful that so many of my dreams have come true--even dreams I did not yet know to have for myself. I can see myself at ten or eleven lying on the terrace looking up at planes and wondering (not even wishing, really) *if* I would have a job, if I would fly on a plane (only my parents had flown at this point), and if anyone would fall in love with me. 

Pic: An old B&W portrait of my family (dad, sis, mom, me). I remember so clearly that my dress was a very pale pink and white with a soft collar and square white buttons with a pink inlay; my sister's dress was a hand-me-down from me, it had been a favorite until I grew out of it--I called it the "peacock frock" because it cascaded in overlapping "feathers" and had a deep blue embroidered motif on each. I'm pretty sure my mom's organza sari is orange with white polka dots. When the square belt buckle (buttons and buckle were all purely decorative) on my dress fell off, I used it as a tool at my art table to scrape excess crayon off the paper and even out the colors. I wore a school uniform to school, and "play" clothes at home; I had a very small collection of "fancy" clothes to wear to parties, the club, and so on and I remember most of them quite fondly. My sister was wearing a corrective leg brace at that point, which is why my parents are holding her hands on either side. No one is holding my hand... I wonder what I seem so pleased about... Wow. I did not expect to remember so much. And look at my HAIRY forehead!! lol

outtake/best take

We got the tree up (and by "we," I mean At and Nu) and tried to take a picture for the holiday card.

We usually take a video and then pick a frame or two, but it proved impossible yesterday. You can't even tell that Big A and I are wearing pajamas that match the kids!

I hope you can tell we're all wearing Christmas-tree hats. Although it took me a minute or two to understand why everyone was shying away from the "white, pointy hat." :D 

Pic: Not the best frame, but I think it represents everyone trying to hold it together the best.

extra ordinary

the way some things seem to grow
wide, wide wings and know

how to find comfort 

how winter branches from summer

boughs to reenter a reminder--

earth could be paradise

it could be what finally sets me free

lets me see--when walls close in

my skies open again

______________

Pic: View from the eastward bridge over the Red Cedar. It's not yet officially open, but I sampled it with L last week and Big A this morning. Reader/StephLove, I touched it! 

Last day of classes, first holiday party

Last day of classes, first holiday party. 

It's that time of the year when faculty colleagues, admin, staff, community members are celebrating in the same room. I wore my Christmas tree earrings.

Pic: "The Scots on the Rocks" are singing "We Three Kings" here. They prefaced the carol with the James Bond theme--cute. 

Later, they sang "Last Christmas" and a non rape-y version of "Baby it's Cold Outside" both of which Nicole had recently mentioned as being favorites!

"it's that little souvenir of a terrible year/which makes my eyes feel sore"

I thought I was done collecting snow globes... 

But I was at the store getting personal hygiene products for my students' community service project and this snow globe called out to me. Scout loved Christmas... and I like how this one makes it as though Scout is getting a visit with Santa this year too.

It plays "We wish you a merry Christmas" and I never wind it up all the way, so it plays really slowly and sounds super sad. Like those songs which do double duty with an upbeat happy version and a slower sad version. "Que sera, sera" in The Man Who Knew Too Much is the only example I can think of right now... It's a really big thing in Bollywood films, something the kids love to parody with basically any song. 

Anyway...

It's the first Christmassy thing I've set out this year.

(Big A and I still tear up every day/every other day when we talk about Scout, who took so much of my heart with him. Does anyone have the timeline for when things will get better?)

Pic: Inside a snow globe with Scout and Santa. Wish I could be in there. #It'sMyBlogAndI'llBeMaudlinIfIWantTo

The title is from one of my favorite nostalgic songs from the 90s--The Sundays' "Here's Where the Story Ends." 

snake sandwiches and puppy scuffles

I guess today continues the theme of elementary-school-level hijinks from yesterday. 

One of my fellow members (on the search committee to hire a biologist at the college) noticed that my eyes got wider and wider the longer the conversation about "arboreal garter snakes" went on. 

They kindly shared this information with the rest of the committee. 

Then the "jokes" started. What do those snakes eat? Well, they don't know about Maya yet. What are we ordering for dinner tomorrow? How about some snake sandwiches? And so on and so on. I'm glad I brought some levity to a work meeting that went on until past 7 pm. 

Snake sandwiches. Shudder.

Pic: (1) Max, (2) a previously-loved stuffie now being used as a chew/tug toy, (3) Huck, and (4) Big A on the floor by my feet as I graded. I can barely tell where Huck ends and the stuffie begins.

"I'm a weirdo"

I stopped at JG's before I headed home to drop off a care basket and a card that many of us, her old colleague-friends, had signed. Sadly, when I was getting the basket out of the back of the car, the vase of flowers I had balanced on the hood of the car [Q: why?!?!?!?; Ans: it had been a very long day!!] fell and shattered in her driveway.

I barged into her kitchen looking for a dustpan and brush to sweep up the mess and she kept insisting that they'd get it in the morning. Then her partner MB sneakily tried to rush past me with the dustpan. That triggered something atavistic in me and I sort of grabbed him and tickled him to make him give up the dustpan. And then we went out and cleared up the smashed vase together.

Later we were all talking about something serious and I just burst out with "OMG, I tickled MB." I mean we all laughed... but they're probably thinking I'm a weirdo, because that's exactly what I'm thinking. 

(And also now I'm thinking of how Radiohead says "weirdo" in a weird way and all the times my friends and I thought we'd spotted Thom Yorke at various cafes in Oxford. It was the early aughts and they were already quite famous, so I'm not sure anymore.)

Pic: Big A and I have weirdly elongated parking lot silhouettes!

“The Drifting”

I was so sad today to learn that Lynn Rather, a wonderful human and poet, has passed on to another plane. I met Lynn only once--we were billed together at a reading--but she made a strong impression of strength, sass, and cigarette smoke. AK and DD were good friends with her and with her at the end.

from “The Drifting” by Lynn Rather

on nights like this I think

I have not loved enough,
I have not given as much as I could.

snow blows and drifts across fields.
that is what it does.

the wind roars and then is gone.
that is what it does.

they give themselves utterly, and move on.

__________

Pic: The pretty, pretty snow persisted today. I took this from an upstairs window--I'd just stepped out of my room, and my heart lifted on seeing Nu and Max playing outside.

from fall to falling snow

traveling away from awakening

from fall to falling snow

in a hush wide as freedom 

here I am, disguised as myself
first as rock, then as sand
then sand in an hourglass

I hear birds questioning the day

the cold is sage as a mother-- 

and savage--holding us still 

__________

Pic: Snowfall along the Red Cedar. I've been keeping my promise to myself to get out (of the house/of my head) and walk more.

"Oops, I did it again!"

I just finished Deepa Varadarajan's Late Bloomers the book Nicole inadvertently recommended. It's not terrific, but it is about South Indians in the U.S., and I kept reading out of curiosity.  It's about people in their 50s dating other people after having been married to each other for 30+ years.

Coincidentally, an older colleague of Big A's is going through a divorce at 60+ and I was surprised to hear Big A say that perhaps after 60 people should just stay put in their relationships. I find that disturbing--surely people should be free to start over at any point in their lives? Why should someone live another 30 potential years with someone they don't like?

And then, oops! Straight on the heels of finishing one book about South Indians, I started Abraham Verghese's Covenant of Water and am loving the intensely South Indian location and poetics of it all. There was a moment where a character helps a vendor lift the wicker basket off their head and land it on the ground--and that gesture seemed to tug at some memory of seeing that... in a movie? My grandmother's house? I think the writing is beautiful and the story compelling... but honestly, maybe I like it so much because there are flashes of the city I grew up in? And there's an elephant! What more could I want?

Pic: Big A, Huck (lounging near me), and Max (longing for me). 

And now... leftovers

Things I forgot (or was too tired) to say yesterday.

* There were no in-laws or international students yesterday, and I really missed the expansiveness they usually bring to the table.

* My awesome MIL was the one who told me that I should let people help with the meal if I wanted them to feel at home, and it's very good advice.

* Nu made the biscuits this year and they were terrific--I'd bungled them last year.

* A pinch of turmeric in the pumpkin gravy and regular gravy gave them some extra color and antioxidants. 

* Nu decided to go with a beige palette for dinner--just biscuits, mashed potatoes, stuffing, chicken, gravy. No cranberry sauce, pumpkin gravy, roasted root veggies, or lemon-dressed salad for my baby, apparently. I insist everyone eats their five colors every day, so occasional beige meals are ok. I guess?

* At was so late getting here although they'd promised to arrive early. I fumed for a while, but when I saw At getting out of the Uber (linked to the family credit card) over three hours after texting "OMW," my annoyance somehow melted. I raced towards the car yelling "pumpkin emergency! pumpkin emergency!" At was so bewildered! It was hilarious and it totally made up for everything. I mean... no one wins when you're mad at a kid, anyway.

* We watched A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving Special and a charming 2017 movie I Don't Feel at Home in this World Anymore (recommended, but has flashes of unsettling violence).

*Huck showed Max, whose first Thanksgiving this was, all the ropes on where to position themselves for the best treats and whipped cream licks. We missed Scout--who showed up on multiple So-Thankful-For sheets. We're going to miss Scout extra hard on Christmas because that puppy liked to go BONKERS on Christmas Day.

Pic: Colorful leftovers from yesterday's feast is what's for dinner today.  Pies, not one of which I made, are further down the counter. (And I didn't realize Big A and his computer are kind of photobombing a bit too.)

chuffed + stuffed at Thanksgiving

I am so thankful for family, friends, and community this year. 

And I'm feeling like a Thanksgiving pro today. After years of hosting, I have a stable menu that pleases and serves everyone. Fifteen years ago, when I started hosting, I'd be in such a dither about what to make--now I know exactly what I'm making and how long it will take. 

In fact, around 11, I realized I was a bit ahead of schedule and that I should save some tasks for when people came around so they could feel like they'd helped with the meal too, so I hit pause. This means that I was able to sneak in a walk and a soak despite the busyness of the morning. Also, I was able to pull all of meal prep off with nary a cut or a burn. 

I didn't get enough pictures, what with orchestrating the ovens, trying to dissuade Nu from cheerfully and charmingly trying to cheat at every Thanksgiving game, and Max going bonkers with first Thanksgiving energy.

Pic: My place setting with the hand-turkey Nu and At made over a decade ago...

that's so 90s

I shopped, I prepped, I read, I soaked, I fired up my Brittney Spears essentials playlist, and walked and walked and walked. 

While I was making our dinner, Big A and I were talking about how Brittney had always been sort of a guilty pleasure for me amidst my largely alternative and classical Carnatic catalogue. There was always just so much tabloid noise around her that was distracting... and I'd felt like I needed to distance myself from that.  

And while we're at it, I feel bad now about laughing at Monica Lewinsky jokes back in the day. I'm happy she has been able to reinvent herself as an anti-bullying advocate. I wish I'd been feminist enough to see the media pile-on for what it was in the moment.

Pic: Beal Gardens, celebrating its 150th anniversary, is always a delight.

Fierce

Things I control: My inbox is at zero, I've graded and sent feedback on every student's project, I'm caught up with committee work... 

Things I do not control: A text informs me of an armed robbery a few blocks away, news of a shooting at a superstore close to where we used to live and where MIL still lives, L tells me she was friends with the MSU student who died in Gaza.

I'm going to take the next two days off to loaf and read and cook and eat and laze and hang out with my people. I shall loaf and invite my soul. 

Pic: Max and Hucky celebrating with an impromptu tussle at my feet.

my mom speaks on trust, lust, and gods

My mother once told me 

that even if God himself told her so

she wouldn't believe my dad could have an affair. 

I was so touched by the trust 

she had in dad... and then she added:

"You know how he is--he really hates to spend money."

This never fails to cheer me up

as does her her other quirky semi-religious 

pronouncement wondering why on earth Hindu women 

always prayed for a husband 

like Rama--famously so faithful to Sita 

"He made her life such a misery," she says, She's right. 

He literally made her walk through fire

to prove her chastity... and still abandoned her.

"Now, our Krishna," she says, smiling (he's her favorite)

"yes, he may have had all of those 

161108 wives... but he kept each of them happy

we never hear of him making even one cry." She's not wrong.

__________

Pic: This mossy-jeweled beauty in Baker Woods yesterday with LB and TB. I was jabbering about my mom a lot yesterday.

falling back

my mother says the sun 

is always a prized guest

silken beams trailing 

like roots, tickling,

                          lighting up treasures--

                          leaves fallen-golden 

                          who in their turn lay 

                           sunlight in my path 

I can barely believe

how these hinged wings, 

like words, are forgiving- 

fervid, budding in mud 

                          into a fullness of flood

                          this near sunset of leaves

                          blood-red, vital--and yet 

                          leaving--so close to a fall 

________________________

Pic: I got TWO walks in! One up to the Red Cedar by myself. And another with LB and TB to Baker Woods. I'll be stuck at meetings and appointments all day tomorrow, so I'm glad I got an extra one in today.

a pedestrian diagnosis

To keep this simple: Neither of my walking companions have been available recently--L has been away in Oregon all month long and Big A's work schedule is jam-packed. 

I haven't been getting out much without them, and both the lack of walks and companionship are doing a number on my brain.

I'm glad I figured that out... now to make the time to take myself out for regular walks.

Pic: I took a book and hung out on the banks of the Red Cedar today. It was such a mild and lovely day.

messy

Oh, I'm so guilty of this meme. I've been trying to model calm and supportiveness to the people in my life, but  I'm (not so) secretly spiraling. 

I have a Pollyanna-ish streak, so I keep thinking things will get better; also--I have privilege guilt, so I think things could be so much worse. And I have friends across every spectrum and I keep a lot of things unsaid for fear of hurting their feelings.

Unfortunately the events of the past month are bubbling up to the surface... of my skin. I'm all stress-induced cystic acne and anxiety hives so bad, I'll think of uncomfortable conversations and then just spontaneously erupt. This morning I woke up with scratches on my throat--probably from clawing myself in my sleep. I'm a mess. I feel SO bad about myself. 

I'm glad I finally told my oldest friend SD that I disagreed with them and we went back and forth over text for a while and finally realized we'd never agree. And then they texted: "I love you no matter what." So thankfully, there's that. And yet, I could imagine my kids, who are more radical than I am, scoffing at SD's love and saying the love of someone with those kinds of beliefs shouldn't matter to me. 

But it does. But also, I'm a mess. Follow me for more tips.

"Please DO NOT wash Nazi socks"

I'm hurrying to my first class, head full of details from one of the job searches we're currently on, when I see the sign: "Please DO NOT wash Nazi socks." I walked by... and then walked back... to consider it some more until it clicked--this was a message from the costumer for the student production of Cabaret that is set to start this evening. 

For the rest of the day, I muttered stuff about Nazi socks and it brought me to giggle mode every time. It buoyed me up so much I was able to make it--instead of bailing--on a girlfriends' book club meeting even after a longish search committee meeting.

Not only had I not read the book for book club--honestly, I couldn't even tell you the name of the book under discussion (which never happened). I got to catch up with everyone and drink a colorful margarita though. 

I'm being blasé, but of my four bookclubs--all of which I joined when I moved to Lansing and was desperate to find community--this one consistently picks books that are pretty badly written, but I love the people in it. What more can I say?

Pic: The sign: "Please DO NOT wash Nazi socks. Thank you."

hybridity

I took myself out for a long walk before work this morning and it helped me figure things out. I remembered an agency I could approach for someone's emergency housing situation and the way to change the settings on a program that has been causing the first years some grief. 

It also solved the problem of what I'd be making for dinner: I made a white bean chili with rice.

Apparently that's what happens when you add leftover veggie pulao and rajma in a pot with fresh tomatoes and spinach and the jalapeno-elote appetizers you served over the weekend. After Nu and Big A had remarked on how tasty it was, I told them the alternate name for it was Diwali leftovers soup! Suckers! They didn't see that coming!

Pic: Geese and ducks on the Red Cedar. Shouldn't they already be headed somewhere else for the winter?

plaid power

A 12-hour day at work, but a nice set of classes, and I even found time to read between meetings, so it was nice all around. 

Just a few more weeks of teaching and then it'll be winter break... 

I'll really need to get back to writing at that point. Work on every project has been stalled for weeks--I easily write 1000s of words every day, but it's usually in service of someone else (rec. letters, references, reviews, etc.). I'm looking forward to prioritizing my work again soon.

Pic: Plaid is big on our campus because of our Scottish roots. Today in honor of an evening reception, I had on plaid blouse, plaid pants (OK, leggings--since the pandemic, I so rarely wear actual pants anymore), and plaid socks for the win.