"bookstores, beverages, and besties"

A slow, quiet (bit sad) day for me today. But I saw this post this morning and have been thinking of "bookstores, beverages, and besties" tours all day.

I'm craving travel and people I haven't seen in a while and don't know how much longer I can hold out.

as I lay me down to sleep

childhood nightmares never go away

the roaring lions and underground hollows 

the things in corners, cupboards, under beds

I force myself to wait until it is morning 

to call out to my parents--on a phone line 

to hear them tell me everything will be okay

In every country a small goddess runs away

refuses worship, says she wants to be normal 

asking: surely, it's better to take than to just give

I see how she forces herself to still in hollows 

as animals stare, scatter, screech in importance 

I see how she wills her silence, says she'll be okay

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Pic: Scout tells me this poem is bunk and sticks out his tongue.

into the metaphysical

This list of ten "scenario spoilers" that was published in an issue of Wired in 1997 has been making the rounds my social media lately, and it is fascinating how many (all?) of these bullets are applicable to us 25 years later.

#9 "An uncontrollable plague--a modern-day influenza epidemic" is of course the one that grabs the most attention. I'm reading about the start of our pandemic in the middle part of Louise Erdrich's The Sentence and it feels so eerie reliving the fear and deficit of information in early 2020. 

Also eerie, reading this novel at 2:25 am when everyone else is asleep because there's a very insistent ghost in the book. 

I should probably go switch the load of laundry I started in the basement a while ago. 

But I've watched enough horror movies and I'm no one's fool.

blessedly ordinary

On StephLove's post about having a tree fall through their roof (I hope your roof is getting the attention it needs, StephLove!) I said something about roof tarps being great--we've lived with ours for over three years now. It has kept the elements out--I can't see it in the winter (covered by snow) or in the summer (covered by trees). Why it has taken over three years and our roof hasn't yet been fixed is its own boring and expensive saga.  

I love our quirky (no central air) house, which was built based on this lead article from an issue of Popular Science magazine (there's a typo-laden explanation here) but it always seems to need attention. Here, the guy who came to prep for the roofers found carpenter ants chewing their way through the outside. It's always something...

Other than that, inside the house, I had a blessedly ordinary day. I watered all the plants, cleaned from top to bottom, soaked, read for hours, had cauliflower pizza (which I would not repeat or recommend), and started the new season of Stranger Things with my cuddly Nu, Scout, and Huck. I'm so relieved... happy... to be doing ordinary stuff again.

moment of Zinn

Sometimes I peek over the edge of the abyss with my kids and feel their outrage, earnestness, and helplessness all over again. I am proud of their empathy and compassion... and also, I worry about how difficult their lives are becoming.

My annoyingly (probably) long email signature has forever quoted Zinn: “Human beings are not machines, and however powerful the pressure to conform, they sometimes are so moved by what they see as injustice that they dare to declare their independence. In that historical possibility lies hope.” 

I want to continue to hope... to act in "however small a way" in the service of what we all deserve. And if that means supporting my kids in the difficult choices and services they want to contribute to the world, then so be it.

updates on my worn down family

Nu is home from the hospital! We'll need a lot of outpatient care, which the hospital is putting into place... but Nu's home! It was a relief to do something ordinary like sit close to him and try to follow Pan's Labyrinth without subtitles--which since we've watched it 15+ times feels kind of possible.

At seems physically ok, but his car is not just towed--it's totaled. He arrived for his Boss Day dinner via bus and Uber and a bit shellshocked. We went for a long walk and I managed to make him laugh just a couple of times before I had to drop him back at his apartment.

Big A is back from a successful emergency trip to Madison, WI--his licensing for the new gig that starts in July had been held up for six months, but they were able to fix it in a couple minutes when he showed up in person at the licensing office. 

After too many nights by ourselves, the puppies and I were excited/content to have everyone back. Here's a photograph from this happy-sad, peculiar day. I can see Nu's hospital pallor and At's traumatized cast... And I can't unsee what Big A called his "big Saturn head" on one side and the rest of us orbiting it "like satellites" on the other. 

going somewhere

in the holy fanfare of summer's launch

deer have begun to eat my flowers 

ants--like anxiety--crawl up 

today a rainstorm teaches me new music  

drums up a calmer beat, hushes me

I'm sentimental, yet not expert 

can you tell me to come in, in welcome

I'll hold my eye open for you 

like the maw of a beast

Pic and notes: A family of geese "going somewhere" although I don't know where. Like this poem. Like the current scramble of instability--trying to figure out how Nu can finish the last week of school from the hospital; trying to read between the lines when At calls to say he's fine after being in a car accident but his car will be towed.