Wrecking Crew

                                            1

you talk like therapy                    I aim like an arrow

slipping sleeping pills                   then crash like a bomb

in between sentences                  like a stupid mecha god

                                           2

buried in the fizz                          we're hard to imagine

in far-off messages                      but echoes keep finding us--

from baby monitors                      like they're rescue dogs

                                         3

       I still don't know if          I should forgive you

        I still don't know if         I need to be forgiven

Alright

Everything feels too much all the time. Right now, staring down three classes worth of grading, fresh off yesterday's QPR training, the inexorable weather, the continuing pandemic, etc. etc. etc. make me worry about all the things and I wonder if every little thing will ever be alright. 

The main message of my chart?

Pandemic lockdown is such a trip that when JL shared this horoscope, I was happy to acquiesce with whatever it said about me. I mean it's not like I have much insight about how I'm doing or feeling from day to day, so why not let someone else summarize it for me? 

It's a good thing, I suppose, that JL is Pisces like me and I couldn't read the other horoscopes too... agreeing with every horoscopic thumbnail might be too absurd.

"Bloom! Bloom! Bloom where you're planted"

Meetings started at 8 am and ended after 7:30 pm today. Such a FULL non-teaching day with everything from curriculum planning and faculty training, to new protocols for CASA from the Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS).  

Lots of support from Nu and Big A who told me they were proud of me. That was unexpected and felt SO NICE! Also, when I was being hugged by those two, I was surprised anew by how much taller than me Nu is now--their face is still such a Baby Nu face!

We liked the vegan dinner I made today (a nicely-sauced stir-fry of Impossible meat and rice noodles topped with mint, julienned peppers, and shredded cucumber) a new-ish, Vietnamese-ish palate with our usual ingredients. We watched a bit more of Korra, (which is sad, neoliberal apologia compared to ATLA) and will probably finish the series this weekend. What's next for us? Perhaps Schitt's Creek, which we've tried twice but can't seem to get beyond episode 4 or 5. A colleague-friend said maybe we should just start from season two, and perhaps that's just what we'll do.

I don't remember going outside today; it's still freezing with snow up to my knees. I did spend some time in the tea garden where we have everything from floppy paperwhites and ratty poinsettias from Christmas to the cyclamen showing up to say, Spring, suckas. The cyclamen gave me such a pang of nostalgic yearning for Greece where it would grow even in the rockiest niches. And apropos of that tiny synaptic nudge, that super-insistent song the sisters taught us in school, "Bloom! Bloom! Bloom where you're planted" started playing in my head. I think I'm trying.

thoughts/prayers

shifting from kind sleep 

to the louder comfort 

of that old loneliness

 the bright, uneven burn 

of acceptable syllables,

premonitions of escape

Basement Biker*

There were triathlons in the old days and there may be outdoor bike races again someday, perhaps even as soon as the Ides of March...

But for now I get to see Big A do his thing in the basement--and it's a way more accessible spectatorship. (And not just for me, he has quite the fan club globally and at work.)

* I've been calling him "Basement Biker" and the song version is basically just "Paperback Writer" plagiarized for my own snarky purposes.

Funny Valentine

Sibling Valentine's Day call for the kids. 

Valentine's Day yoga for me and Big A.

Fin.