"yesterday... all my troubles seemed so far away"

(Sounds weird to say it, but...) I had a great day yesterday. 

On Friday, the E.R. doc had said that it was merely a matter of "hours or days" for Scout, so getting home a day and a half later and seeing him wag his tail in greeting and get on his feet for pets from me was terrific in itself.

And then I got to have all my kids at breakfast (two at the counter, the other two on the floor) wanting attention, sharing news, being themselves. Really... it's what I've missed every day since At went away to college. I spent the rest of the morning talking/reading --At's head in my lap; Nu (who's way less touchy-feely) on the sofa next to me, letting me squeeze their shoulder now and then; Scout and Huckie snuggled up on my other side. Then I made lunch for everyone. Then people went off to do their own thing for a while. Then I made dinner for everyone. Then we watched a show and played word games. It was like an ordinary and perfect Sunday.

And maybe I'm only seeing what I want to see, but while Scout does look unwell, he doesn't look like he's at death's door. For hours at a time, I could almost forget that the options we'd been given for Scout were surgery (with a failure rate of 7/10) and "humane euthanasia." 

Today we took Scout to another hospital for a second opinion, because surely those can't be the only options? But no--those are the only options. He's hospitalized for the day so they can do a detailed ultrasound to determine if surgery is even viable, and then we get to have that discussion about whether to put him through surgery all over again. 

I'm not having a great day today. Going this whole day without Scout when our days together are so numbered seems especially stupid. 

Pic: Scout (and Huckie) following me around yesterday.

hanging in there

Scout is hanging in there...

and so--

so are we. 

Pic: Scout and Nu this morning.

the waiting game

Just waiting to go home to Scout and I'm in that space where everything feels surreal, and other people seem alien.

All I've done today is cry a lot and wish for the day to pass quickly. It didn't, but no matter how slowly... time passes.

At the airport now, waiting to board the flight, which is delayed--but not by much. Fingers crossed.

stuck in Denver...

Big A is with Scout at the E.R. because my baby is not doing well. They see a lot of fluid they think is blood in his ultrasound and... it doesn't look good.

Over the last couple of years, Scout has run into health problems and I've involuntarily imagined the end. In none of those scenarios did I ever imagine that I wouldn't be right there with him. 

I'm scheduled to leave for home at midnight tomorrow. And there are no other available flights that get me in earlier...

I don't know how I'm going to get through the next 36 hours before I see Scout. I hope I see Scout. 

Pic: From the walkway bridge inside the hotel when I didn't know Scout was declining.

2016 redux: good bones, breaking news

You've surely read Maggie Smith's poem "Good Bones," which went viral in 2016 and you should read the article she published in The Cut yesterday about how her fame led to the breakdown of her marriage. Her ex sounds like a dick--any marriage in which one spouse becomes "the staff" in the household is deeply unjust and unloving.

That aside, I was distracted by her declaration that "When I walked in the door, I was married. Mrs. When I walked outside, I was divorced. Ms." This isn't the point of the article, but where does this belief that "Ms." is for divorced women come from? I thought the whole damn point of "Ms." was to move away from the marriage specificity of "Miss" and "Mrs." I was a "Ms."since I was 14? 15? Currently, I like"Mx" best of all.

I'm in Denver with our English honorary students who are presenting at the annual international convention. At and Big A are home to make sure Nu has some fun on their Spring Break. They're having sleepovers and going to movies and I'm missing them and missing out.

Pic: The kids sent me this candid of Big A at the moment he found out about Trump being indicted for the 2016 hush money payment. Has any photo demonstrated more "fuck around and you'll find out" energy?

the mom who changed

I'm older, my mom is old... and I've mostly stopped trying to change her mind about stuff. We're both stubborn, we rarely persuade each other, and she gets pretty upset.

This morning she said something bigoted on the family chat, and I couldn't let it go. So I texted back some links about why she was wrong. She  texted back, cheekily, "Om Namo Namaha Lecture-ji" (vague translation: "I bow to you, respected lecturer").

I just giggled when I read that. I have no illusions that I changed her mind--but it does mean I got to see my mom deescalate a situation for what feels like the first time in my life.

by night and candlelight

I found this lovely Jeanette Winterson lifestyle quote yesterday, which got me reassessing dawn and dusk:

"I have noticed that when all the lights are on, people tend to talk about what they are doing–their outer lives. Sitting round in candlelight or firelight, people start to talk about how they are feeling–their inner lives... To sit alone without any electric light is curiously creative. I have my best ideas at dawn or at nightfall, but not if I switch on the lights...." (The entire thing, including some yummy food ideas, is here.)

I started today with a candlelight meditation... and look at me now, headed to bed before midnight like some fucking champion functioning adult.

Pic: A single lit votive brings glimmer to everyday objects. (The tiny, dried wildflowers I bought home from Las Ramblas last summer are a shot of joy every time I look at them. I remember how the vendor was so engrossed in his book, he didn't even look up as he pocketed the Euro I held out and handed this bunch over to me.)