newsy

O, hello... it's me... with my adorable furry assistants... trying to be the best new effing co-chair of NWSA's conference in 2022 I can be. (Still not enough writing as I noted in March, but this is huge for me and I hope to learn a lot.)

In other news, I took great pleasure in letting fam and friends know that a Trader Joe's is coming to town--about 2-3 mins away from us. I foresee Big A biking over there for last minute groceries instead of Whole Foods. 

And in other gentrification news, I'm watching with horror--via friends and FB--the intersecting mesh mess of schadenfreude, transphobia, and anti-blackness in the latest Dave Chappelle vs. Yellow Springs clash.

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Pic: We're all looking at Big A.

home for the holidays

We don't have our tree up yet (we're waiting on At), but it looks like a winter wonderland outside.

(I'm not even mad that I slipped on the ice and seem to have hurt my butt.)

"love's the only engine of survival"

All I have in my camera roll for today is this cluster of birches right outside the horticultural gardens getting ready to weather winter...

But they evoke for me a reminder that we started family therapy today. Our goals are to be better parents, help Nu feel like they can come to us with anything, feel supported in their gender transition, and not run scams on their schoolwork.  

It was just me and Nu today as Big A is working in the faraway place. Our therapist is insightful and wonderful. Nu was honest and articulate and I was so proud of them. I really couldn't have asked for a better first (telehealth) session.

fresh as a bruise

this sky hangs around
mouth wide open

I have given it 

silly thoughts,
snacks, the smutty 
aftertaste of our quarrel

the anchor of our caution 
as we figure out 

this overhang 
opening words 

from older words 

whose meanings are lost 

the week that was

 

and I didn't have the energy to say anything 

since it was also

the last week of classes

the first week of Big A's new job

and so it goes.

I must note that Oxford, MI, the latest in the annals of school shootings, is an hour from us. I keep feeling lost after Parkland or after Sandy Hook when I kept the kids home until I had to send them back in the new year. And I'm realizing I've done this with varying intensity for the entire span of my children's public school lives.

my eyes are... out here?

Vulvae and "no one needs a douche" stickers from my student's WGS symposium station this week. 💓

Today, I spent the morning interviewing students for scholarships and...

It was demoralizing that a couple of potential students with great GPAs, neurotypical presentation,  pre-med intentions... just wouldn't make eye-contact with me. 

And I understand these are teenagers who've spent close to two years mostly seeing people virtually or masked, but this was not about that.

I interviewed with a (male, white) colleague, and at every question, even if I had been the one who asked the question, they'd look earnestly at my colleague while they answered. One student who was otherwise equitable at dividing their time between interviewers, focussed solely on my colleague while describing their football success. 

I checked with my colleague to see if he had noticed it too--and he had. He said he'd tried to look at me while they were answering to model etiquette. (To no avail, apparently.)

I guess I'm lucky this doesn't happen all the time, but c'mon kids!

revival

For I've saved stones 

in so many pockets

converted prayers 

to slips of paper

leaning over the edge 

I pray for everyone
will even pray for 

every thing

though I gag on words

I deliver them like

pardons, where

they parade

 

tumbling my meaning

--these funambulists

conjuring fantasy

and salvation