"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.