Moments

A lunchtime visitor-nuzzler actually makes work easier for me in this picture. I wonder how people with younger/needier kids are faring.

I'm up by 6 most days. I have plenty of time to myself before the kids are supposed to wake up at 8:30. We start the day with a 'cuddle'--sitting in the rumpus room between At and Nu while they continue to wake up/tell me about their dreams from last night/plans for the day/random theories about Avatar or the world while Scout and Huck rotate for pets. This is truly the sweetest time in the day for me.

We start breakfast at 9 or there may be 'extensions' esp. as we're not allowed to get off the couch unless the clock is precisely at 9/9:05/9:10 etc. #RandomKidRules. After breakfast they're working on their projects and are technically on their own for lunch (usually leftovers or something microwaveable). I'll get visitors now and then and requests to play cards/watch a video/share some outrage especially if I work in the study, but the next time I see them could be at 4:30 when they're supposed to report to the kitchen to help me with dinner.

All this to say, the kids are quite low-maintenance for me right now, and I have *exactly* two months (we're supposed to start classes on August 24th) to make this time count for something.

Larger than they appear

The jumpy brown blob
(perpendicular to the top of my arch)

I thought baby frogs were tadpoles--I had no idea they could be juveniles this minuscule, but it turns out the internet knows all about them already. Not L and I this morning--we were surprised and incredulous and spent whole stretches trying to avoid squishing them accidentally.

Speaking of perspective and relative size, Bowdoin College appears to be taking a really interesting approach to Fall 2020 classes, with mostly just first years on campus. We're supposed to be forging ahead at Alma and it may yet all turn out ok--and I'm looking forward to 'normal' term especially as I miss my students and colleagues more than I usually do over the summer. But I was taken aback when KB asked--pointedly cutting through the fingers-crossed aspect of our planning--exactly how many deaths we were willing to suffer before we decide to move online. 

Over at Bon Appetit, Roxanne Gay talks about "cooking the bad news away." Or trying to, anyway. And yes, the privilege of it: "It is an immense privilege, and one I do not take for granted, having access to fresh food, having the money to buy it, having the leisure to track down ingredients, and the time to cook. I am overwhelmed by this privilege as I read the news each day, knowing that more than 22 million people are unemployed; that there are endless lines at food banks across the country; that people are getting sick and they are dying; and cities across the country are hampered by inadequate testing, no contact tracing, and an anemic federal response. It’s all too much, and feeling that way is also a privilege."

Pride (and no prejudice)

All real time Pride events have been canceled obviously, but I wanted to celebrate this June with my lovely, brave ones.

So some tea and presents--button pins, bowties, and bandanas. And it was such a small thing and so simple, but it just made them so happy.

I wished I could bake a cake made out of rainbows for all the kids. Ok. I can't resist a Mean Girls reference, but seriously--I saw father's day posts to estranged fathers from past students on FB that broke my heart. Just love the kids. Just love.

All together now

It was Father's Day, and it was happy.

Look at all these babies with their dada again!

Industry

The kids have begun curing herbs from their veggie plots and are hoping to make their own blends (I suspect watching Avatar made them crave tea again).

Breakfast was all excitement and getting me to dig out various empty jars so they could pick out two to store their putative product.

Here they've hung up bunches of peppermint and lemon sage (both of which came back from last year's plantings) in the tea garden because it seemed apropos. 😍

It's getting hot in here (SO HOT)

I've just embraced the non-AC-having, south-facing double-storied-windows-and-skylight having solarium as my personal beach: working on my tan, reading trashy novels, drinking cold drinks, and falling asleep in a sweaty heat haze. I guess it's not as hot as last summer because of the tarp over one skylight. which we're not fixing until next spring? I mean--I don't know if we'll get to a beach this summer. So I have some travel books up there too (Greece!). Sometimes I'll text the family chat to say, "at the beach--bring your books and drinks" and might get a kid or two to read with me for a while, but no one loves this sweaty lounge spot more than I do.


And yes--it always makes us chuckle that Nelly's transparent play to get women to take their clothes off has somehow been my (conservative, India-raised) mom's favorite summer song since At was a baby. But yes, it's a good idea to take off some clothes.

And it IS getting so hot--I was going to cook, but it turned out that we got some pizza from Art's instead.

All in a row

Red Cedar River
Are they on a field trip or something?

I'd looked forward to my massage all morning and luxuriated in the afterglow for the rest of the day. I'd been debating getting one on Monday (spas are part of Michigan's slow open this week) and then I pulled something during the yoga flow I've been doing for decades and that clinched it.

Also, it's our wedding anniversary! Perhaps sometime later this year, we'll be able to get away for our yearly 'honeymoon' trip, but not just yet. Big A and I made our wedding anniversary dinner and a big pitcher of margaritas together, Big A ordered us yet another cookbook (Jubilee by Toni Tipton-Martin), then one of our jokey family dinners, followed by our nightly two eps of Avatar. Things are getting tense in the Airbender's universe, and At and Nu gave me a severe warning about reading up on how it ends. They're in bed now; just saying.