interview day

Nu interviewed for a job at the mall today. It amuses me no end that along with all the nineties fashions, hanging out at the mall has been coming back in vogue for this generation too. 

Nu thinks the interview went well, Big A took him to the mall as I had a couple of meetings. When we mock-interviewed yesterday, Nu was kinda amazing. I mean, I asked him the standard "why do you want to work here?" and he responded that he likes to help people and would like to be the small interaction that might light up a person's day. I wanted to hire him on the spot. 

Despite the 90s nostalgia, I think we're doing better as a society. I didn't worry even once about how Nu's quirky aesthetic would be received. This is so different from my SIL's experience when she used to wear a blue mohawk. 

Pic: Big A's portrait of pre-interview Nu.

in the woods

I've been sleeping with hands gathered

into tight fists

so nothing messy... nothing I have to fight 

enters my dreams

here where trees are leaning on each other

is a new aloneness

so I wait for thoughts of you to grow up in

the dirt of my mind 

Pic: Baker Woods

"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.