delicate like silly goose

Our hotel is right on a bend of the Colorado River, and it’s such a treat to see the water from our windows. I started the day with some leisurely yoga. We got breakfast in Moab and gifts for the kids (it’s always socks/tees plus a stuffie for Nu and a snowglobe for At as they have collections from their toddler travel days + treats for Scout/Huck/Max if there’s something special).

Then it was time to head for our reserved timed entry at Arches, and we did two amazing hikes: Delicate Arch and Park Avenue.

Delicate Arch is of course the iconic arch that is on everything from merchandising to UT license plates. Most of the way there, I was a monkey chattering away and scampering up the arid landscape and bald rock. But then I had a bit of a panic attack at the end of the hike as I clambered onto the crest and felt the winds buffeting me. I’d have to walk down to the arch, which is perched on the lip of a hollow, and I started imagining myself tripping or being blown hundreds of feet into the depths of the hollow. (I mean, the plaque did say people die on this hike every year—and it didn’t specify how.) And then someone's water bottle slipped from their grasp and fell into the hollow and I could see what a fall might look like in sickening detail. 

But... I really wanted to stand under the arch. Big A was fine with not standing under the arch if I didn't want to but was ready to help me get there if I wanted to do that (He really is a perfect hiking partner!). After a few minutes of sitting on the warm rock, I took courage from all the other people doing it, and we made it... very slowly (and probably comically). 

Pic: Big A and me under Delicate Arch. LOL at me clutching Big A in fear and leaning into him. I did warn the kind stranger who took this photo that I was going to be very slow getting into position. I like to think I'm delicate like a bomb, not a flower--but this time I was just a silly goose. #LaterPost 10/9.

Mars-scape

We took off early in the morning for a long day of travel. Two stops in Colorado (Denver, Grand Junction), and then we picked up a rental car to drive into Utah.

I started ooh-ing and aah-ing from the plane because the landscapes were so wild, rocky, and red—it was a bit like being on Mars.

(We found out early that the rental car we’d been “upgraded” was a big PITA—it was cool to climb into it via a running board the first time. But after that, every time I got into it, I felt a bit dirty—like I was going out to colonize some part of the world. It was way too big for just us and our backpacks and ALSO really difficult to find parking for it or to back out of parking for that matter. I immediately ceded all responsibility for driving to Big A for the rest of the trip.)

Our hotel suite was practically at the entry to Arches, so we took a quick trip through the park; I took hundreds of pictures and not even one came close to representing the breathtaking beauty and scale of what was before my eyes. We found some (Boss Day) dinner at the food truck court and then watched Will and Harper. We were tired and fell asleep at different times during this sweet documentary and had to fill each other in the next day as we hiked. Maybe we’ll watch it with the kids sometime? Half the movies on our family list of rewatches feature Will Ferrell, who AFAIK, is an international treasure. 

Pic: One of the many massive red cliffs inside Arches National Park. One of the hundreds of pix I took. #LaterPost 10/9.

a reflective break

We're on Fall Break, and I'll be back around Tuesday.

Pic: The Red Cedar from the walking bridge. Doesn't the sky seem bluer in the water?

 

comments and connections

Because of Nance's exhortation to vote hard for Langston Hughes, I found the work of Bruce Weigl through her comments. Here's his amazing and timely poem Autumn Leaves.

In other news, the Gaza course, which was supposed to start yesterday has been postponed to next week. StephLove had voiced concerns about internet connectivity in Gaza when I first mentioned it--and that's one of the reasons.  I hope they are able to resolve that issue. I also hope they're able to give me a little bit of a heads-up about which course I'll be teaching, so I can prep classes ahead of time.

I was so amused that Baby Engie's go-to fib for her hand injury in high school was apparently to claim it happened in a bar fight, according to a comment yesterday. While I didn't get into a fight, our team (Big A, me, + our friends SD and AH) handily (heh) won first prize at our local bar trivia (25$$$$$$), which we promptly used for our pizza and drinks.

Pic: We are the champions! Pictured here with our prize gift card before we spent it.

"punched a shark"

When a student asked me what had happened to my finger (Big A splinted it) and I started my boring story about the vacuuming, they suggested I just tell people that I "punched a shark." It's all well for them, they're from California, and where am I gonna find a shark in Michigan, but it's a cute idea :). 

My Spring term travel course to England is slightly over-enrolled, but I'm going to roll with that. I'm excited to start making arrangements... but my first task will be to update the Spotify playlist for the course. 

Also, what's happening in the world?! I took the weekend off for a sanity pause and we're basically on the brink of WWIII and my feed is full of apocalyptic images of flooding in Appalachia. I can't swim, so my empathy and horror are practically visceral. This world-life balance is an abyss, really.

Pic: I'm still in my work clothes, Max is curled into my side, Huck really thinks I'm going to play with their drooly toy, I set my passport down for a sec to take this pic... I was about to take a picture of my passport to send to my sis who is planning a trip for us in December. Everything will be better by December, right?

the making of things

"What is it like to eat an idea or its suggestion?"

It is the end of September     I feel the emptiness of the memories I forgot    but it's hardly a war     the heat is merely that of a kitchen    and I am fifteen and waiting   to transform ingredients into happiness     to make meaning with sweet triumph    I imagine my throne made with spoonsful of sugar   mean to spin jalebis airy as as asemic wishes     instead what I've made   clings to me like tears    my dad tells me    it's wonderful, it's wonderful     it really is wonderful, he says     but jalebis are proud as royal signatures      and what I have in the pan are droppings of batter     dad's hand lifts my chin   his other hand sketches in the air   name your dish after you make it, he tells me    he peers at the pan again    don't you see?    what you've made are the best "jalebi balls" I've ever seen    this is truly the best cooking advice        I will ever be given    to say what a thing is after it is done   the best writing advice        the best advice really

_________

Note: The quote is from RPT MC-60 00.27 8 by Tan Lin a poem about Wiley Dufresne's restaurant WD-50. We ate there once maybe 20 years ago? It seemed like a very New York thing to do at the time. (We used to go to fancy restaurants for lunch because the menu tends to be less expensive at lunch than at dinner.)

Pic: Across the fence, our neighbor's woods. 

painfully random

Yesterday at the baby shower (which I keep thinking of as the "party" for some reason and which it kind of turned into, I guess) a Cage The Elephant song started playing on the speakers and it really took me back to their high-energy concert... wait... was that just earlier THIS MONTH?! 

Quick check--and yes, it was on the 10th. Anyway, I didn't do much today except water all my plants, clean, and make dinner. But by the end of lugging the vacuum around two floors, I noticed my ring finger seemed a bit stiff. It was still hurting at dinner, so Big A took a look.

He thought I should take my wedding ring off before it swelled up anymore. So I did. And it feels odd to be without it. I don't wear an engagement ring, and I don't take my wedding band off at work, at night, etc. (Neither does Big A, actually.) Or it would feel odd if my finger didn't hurt so much. I have no idea what might be going on. Am I allergic to vacuuming, maybe? Too old to vacuum?

Pic: Big A and me at the Cage the Elephant concert, glassily waiting for the auditorium to fill. We got there way too early and were stuck watching a country opening act whose name I've since forgotten. Except Big A called them "Winona Sugarbush" and that I do remember.