tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-284028942024-03-28T23:29:44.472-04:00PocoBratA Daily Self-indulgent Postcolonial/Feminist/Poetry-in-Progress/Culture Blog <br> <br>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.comBlogger3256125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-50389894842299127902024-03-27T16:46:00.004-04:002024-03-28T06:51:30.898-04:00"I'm a weirdo/doofus/nerd/naif" (Part MXVIII)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-qYENhVkeALxx_sdZ1SGra_IQgLk0FFbJ3Jmjq116NEKATQAd3vDRUVg8kP-qeOrJL-OHllnx8ibIzpCp6poW8VqxeyWQLgp2VCFjgvZ0wmfddUUR2fgqYSeZPeT_yGu7II1T0d_1zCryzWMwk0P7WfUGMa93ZDmNf-19wCM4w0WTBksFCSLIg/s3757/IMG_6286.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3757" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-qYENhVkeALxx_sdZ1SGra_IQgLk0FFbJ3Jmjq116NEKATQAd3vDRUVg8kP-qeOrJL-OHllnx8ibIzpCp6poW8VqxeyWQLgp2VCFjgvZ0wmfddUUR2fgqYSeZPeT_yGu7II1T0d_1zCryzWMwk0P7WfUGMa93ZDmNf-19wCM4w0WTBksFCSLIg/s320/IMG_6286.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I realized during my meditation this morning that my energy for contacting so many people yesterday (the "emotional labor" that <a href="https://allfortheloveofyou.com/ "><span style="color: #990000;">Steph</span></a> referenced) must be because of the ceasefire in Gaza making me feel like I could take a personal pause.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Also, I took Max to the vet for his one-year check; he was a champ. I was not a champ. The receptionist brightly asked if I'd brought Scout, and I immediately welled up like a doofus. And then she was so apologetic, I felt bad for her and worse overall. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">But I handily completed a paper proposal titled "<span style="background-color: white;">Extra, Extra, Extra!: Improving Critical Connectivity in Higher Education" and</span><b style="background-color: white;"> </b>am particularly chuffed by this:<span style="background-color: white;"> "In </span><i style="background-color: white;">Intersectionality as Critical Social Theory, </i><span style="background-color: white;">Patricia Hill Collins describes critical theory as critical in a triple sense: as offering critique, as essential, and as expository. In this paper, we similarly draw upon the triple use of the term “extra” to unpack the ways critical feminist practices may be viewed within Higher Education--namely as exceptional, as supplementary, and (in recent slang) as excessive."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Also, Nu's sleepover guests just arrived, and I love the giggly and infectious energy they've brought with them.</span></span></p><p>_________________</p><div>Pic: The Red Cedar from the new walking bridge. (Photo's from my walk this weekend. It's another grey and cloudy day here today, so it probably looks the same. <span face="Roboto, arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-size: 14px;">¯\_(ツ)_/¯)</span></div> <p></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-40704387234035876522024-03-26T03:38:00.008-04:002024-03-27T05:11:16.118-04:00"smile/what's the use of crying"<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqX3fUtnCSvcEGuzNzyX8uGMo10ARHmx8tcAg0dKOEMYly3qFVtrBBGZAFoGXxtwvEWncnSeE6QfQw0j1uDw8rpPNT7CpEO4D8YGuX3-12tj1D38H5YbTab4cBxMT-c4W3rlatkyIdCmPlLheIvE39H3CKUsvM1MRjrTwNH6V1MipUCZL8OlROA/s4032/IMG_6289.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqX3fUtnCSvcEGuzNzyX8uGMo10ARHmx8tcAg0dKOEMYly3qFVtrBBGZAFoGXxtwvEWncnSeE6QfQw0j1uDw8rpPNT7CpEO4D8YGuX3-12tj1D38H5YbTab4cBxMT-c4W3rlatkyIdCmPlLheIvE39H3CKUsvM1MRjrTwNH6V1MipUCZL8OlROA/s320/IMG_6289.jpeg" width="240" /></a>It wasn't always cozy and fuzzy, but I felt connected in human ways today:</p><p>gave Big A a (long overdue) dressing down... and then later we took a walk and an ussie...</p><p>apologized for being/seeming rushed to two students + three friends...</p><p>made plans with my girlfriend group + one friend + two colleagues...</p><p>reached out to two people who've been uncharacteristically quiet...</p><p>pushed through the daily banter to check in for real on my India fam...</p><p>Nu was so quiet at dinner time, and while my first instinct was that they were being surly, I kept on with open-ended questions to hear that they've been depressed again. And in a flash of clarity: "it comes and goes, Mama." :/ I would happily take their pain...</p><p>Pic: A sweet, sweet note referring to last week's presentation I found at my office door this morning. There are students here whose kind words feel like a commendation. Also, I received an email about being nominated for a state-wide teaching award. I suspect the nomination came from another kind student... and in perfect consonance, at the end of the workday, someone was singing the praises of this student as a student-teacher. How much each of us hurts... how hard we try to be there for each other... I'm so grateful for the people I know in this life.</p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-6606756619500102532024-03-25T02:40:00.016-04:002024-03-26T05:48:52.824-04:00a handful of hope<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJcGYPgiuBtR2neQfXDbWnhVtLXn0uCTJfzHMuXd9ei6Ie2S_fhSFEh7gYE_xnrb1_8KU7UKtGjSZYotbeo2fkbOZtvEpsdvh_KCHM4qskAj57_U7hR97_gIeNG5GAnm2Fq3BjmddXZGvhv6miUqKbsfjudfmShuF4YRgL3nuTK9SaL5kkXSGYdw/s4032/IMG_6280%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJcGYPgiuBtR2neQfXDbWnhVtLXn0uCTJfzHMuXd9ei6Ie2S_fhSFEh7gYE_xnrb1_8KU7UKtGjSZYotbeo2fkbOZtvEpsdvh_KCHM4qskAj57_U7hR97_gIeNG5GAnm2Fq3BjmddXZGvhv6miUqKbsfjudfmShuF4YRgL3nuTK9SaL5kkXSGYdw/s320/IMG_6280%202.jpeg" width="320" /></a><span>U.N. ceasefire in Gaza. (Just for two weeks with the U.S. abstaining). But... we have a ceasefire. </span></p><p><span>Big A is much better.</span></p><p><span>Forsythia is coming up everywhere.</span></p><p><span>Snow seems to be gone, and warmer temperatures are incoming. </span></p><p><span>Conference proposals are coming along nicely.</span></p><p><span>Students are making such lovely progress on their research projects.</span></p><p><span>Loved reading through the applications for MacCurdy, the feminist house I advise. </span></p><p><span>Pic: A forsythia bush on my walk yesterday. I think I described Forsythia as the "hinge to Spring" once--I feel the weather starts looking up when they're in full bloom.</span></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-46230149518150875712024-03-25T02:23:00.019-04:002024-03-25T04:35:23.838-04:00coincidence<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UZDDXVjjLroR1gC6klTm7pPjLldV3RqadghII0YHhXhFP-l2enSkjN4I3w6PsZscspen_pTQP3Nf3rG9qmZi1DiHaCsTsnMnRNalq8TiA15ccEE3QAq85QYkctYc5FwQBZIWBmuHUse2B-US_VC3fGKtYyHP5_v5U-LBejSrWBjnkvfUvY59HA/s1540/IMG_6252.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1540" data-original-width="1502" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UZDDXVjjLroR1gC6klTm7pPjLldV3RqadghII0YHhXhFP-l2enSkjN4I3w6PsZscspen_pTQP3Nf3rG9qmZi1DiHaCsTsnMnRNalq8TiA15ccEE3QAq85QYkctYc5FwQBZIWBmuHUse2B-US_VC3fGKtYyHP5_v5U-LBejSrWBjnkvfUvY59HA/s320/IMG_6252.jpeg" width="312" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">if a mouth wails of never</div><div style="text-align: left;">do the lifted eyes count</div><div style="text-align: left;">to hold the world close </div><div style="text-align: left;">to call it done... a day</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">crushed easily as a flower</div><div style="text-align: left;">we've said less this year</div><div style="text-align: left;">I catch the light, press </div><div style="text-align: left;">in one more goodbye</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">had you remained forever</div><div style="text-align: left;">I could have loved more</div><div style="text-align: left;">yet owe thanks for our</div><div style="text-align: left;">time here ur-gently</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">coinciding</div><div>________________</div><div><br /></div><div>Pic: Max frolicking. His rascally, trusting eyes and floppy ears are my favorite. This darling turned one today. This was also the week Scout took ill last year--he'd be gone in exactly a month. Somehow, it always feels like Scout arranged for me to meet Max. I know looking after Max and watching his antics lifted me from the depths of so much this last year. Love you, Maxie! I hope you enjoyed your banana and peanut butter pupcake, extra long walk, and the new squeaky toy you've already disemboweled.<p></p></div>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-62202942241706991542024-03-24T04:46:00.002-04:002024-03-24T04:46:58.707-04:00Happy National Puppy Day!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV6iqcv8EngINHEE4VQ1yIhi36CjRHwZJhrS1M_xEi2wZphFNNCmlN08lI0cmT8FAZ1EMtSjTme0fw_Vmd96TP_Wvl6UyxBBPTxPP138YIQo0MLRrvYfsmqKx8T_JkdBDfJKxyxqks_IIj0JOn9yKD8UjY8efNFXtcM9aeJLzOGMf6iUqasa4mMA/s2737/IMG_6272%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2737" data-original-width="2591" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV6iqcv8EngINHEE4VQ1yIhi36CjRHwZJhrS1M_xEi2wZphFNNCmlN08lI0cmT8FAZ1EMtSjTme0fw_Vmd96TP_Wvl6UyxBBPTxPP138YIQo0MLRrvYfsmqKx8T_JkdBDfJKxyxqks_IIj0JOn9yKD8UjY8efNFXtcM9aeJLzOGMf6iUqasa4mMA/s320/IMG_6272%202.jpeg" width="303" /></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Happy National Puppy Day!</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Max turns a whole year old tomorrow!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Huckie always looks like a puppy...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">TIL that Chopin's Minute Waltz was inspired by a puppy chasing its tail. In fact, it's even known as <span style="background-color: white;"><i>Valse du petit chien</i>!</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was a cold day, with snow still on the ground, but we played outside under blue skies and sunshine and then napped like champs. (I'd done all my weekend chores in anticipation of being out of town, so there was nothing to do today but make chicken soup and check in on Big A now and then.)</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Pic: Max and Huck in conversation.</span></span></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-76431209575479950912024-03-22T03:06:00.006-04:002024-03-23T09:34:13.223-04:00the hellebores of yore<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQUNj76ed1gs58BO9L_BSxLTDm5_sD6w0J0u3YHWrNTQfxkeMhB8ryeozbKkS94Q6_cGTId612rZhUSzC4mFtWrVmClphQJn_e1FnLdkJsuuhY6jVD8c66NYt52M-m2VsYXKfWwZeHBZOClZADDK575wm4uUPhXcI9_B1164uqZIGNX4nqVBE8lQ/s4032/IMG_6213.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQUNj76ed1gs58BO9L_BSxLTDm5_sD6w0J0u3YHWrNTQfxkeMhB8ryeozbKkS94Q6_cGTId612rZhUSzC4mFtWrVmClphQJn_e1FnLdkJsuuhY6jVD8c66NYt52M-m2VsYXKfWwZeHBZOClZADDK575wm4uUPhXcI9_B1164uqZIGNX4nqVBE8lQ/s320/IMG_6213.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>I took a picture of our hellebores coming up yesterday, and a good thing too... today they're blanketed in about five inches of snow.<p></p><p>The snow wasn't going to stop us from heading to Yellow Springs for a long overdue visit to Grandma S tomorrow...</p><p>Except Big A seems to have gotten the flu from patients (lots of Flu B out there, people)... so I guess we're not going after all.</p><p>My poor MIL! this is our much delayed and postponed CHRISTMAS visit! The post title sounds like an old-timey lament, and that's exactly how I feel.</p><p>Pic: Hellebores/Lenten Roses in the backyard before the snow.<br /></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-45153040916995331972024-03-21T03:44:00.009-04:002024-03-22T14:30:34.456-04:00small planet, big feelings<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDXkKfxusgQg7xivhCW-YTdCXPaD6kMPLnobGv6JRgZs6LxqXf2l_5NWvYUfxSINFRPvNBZrhrMlbcd8aaWqvOTP5VtO8lKMuJ9IF8LvOazV_HWOi12PGX_s0ma-IAvkIS6qbKmqn18Mnn1JheRqK4MedfIqIqnnRz9Q1NeooYPr2rfZBN-OYsg/s3690/IMG_6250%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1620" data-original-width="3690" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDXkKfxusgQg7xivhCW-YTdCXPaD6kMPLnobGv6JRgZs6LxqXf2l_5NWvYUfxSINFRPvNBZrhrMlbcd8aaWqvOTP5VtO8lKMuJ9IF8LvOazV_HWOi12PGX_s0ma-IAvkIS6qbKmqn18Mnn1JheRqK4MedfIqIqnnRz9Q1NeooYPr2rfZBN-OYsg/s320/IMG_6250%202.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Usually on teaching days, all I do--all it seems I can do--is teach and then head home to veg. But today, despite some kid-care challenges, I managed to have tea with BOL and then walk over to the Wharton to see <a href="https://www.smallislandbigsong.com/"><span style="color: #990000;"><i>Small Island Big Song</i> </span></a>with EM. <p></p><p>When EM first asked if I wanted to go to "<i>Small Island</i>," I thought it was a dramatization of the Andrea Levy novel we both love--it isn't. It turns out to be a beautiful cross-cultural collaboration between musical artists from about 16 islands dotting the Pacific and Indian oceans. I didn't understand a single word... and I didn't need to... the music was so joyous and transportive. I loved the artists' camaraderie and synergism. And their final song about the danger to the Great Barrier Reef sounded sorrowful and (rightfully) angry and nearly brought me to tears.</p><p>Things I thought about during the concert: </p><p>1) How my last set of season tickets at the Wharton was pre-pandemic and I need to see about getting tickets again. They have <i><a href="https://sixonbroadway.com/"><span style="color: #990000;">Six</span></a></i> playing this weekend, and I would have liked to go. </p><p>2) Because I couldn't understand the lyrics at the concert, I thought about how much my mom likes Nelly songs (esp. "Hot in Here" and "Ride Wit Me") although she probably only gets about 50-70% of the lyrics (because of slang and accent). The kids find this HILARIOUS. (I mean I do too... my mom has never smoked anything in her life let alone an "L.")</p><p>3) I hadn't yet finished <i>The Bee Sting </i>at that point in the evening, but its climate grief really connected with the music in <a href="https://www.smallislandbigsong.com/"><span style="color: #990000;"><i>Small Island Big Song</i></span></a>. One of the characters in <i>The Bee Sting </i>rages about how strange it is that poets keep writing about birds and flowers and so on as though whole species aren't disappearing every day. That is SO true! (10/10 for <i>The Bee Sting</i>, BTW.)</p><p>Pic: <i>Small Island Big Song</i> in concert. I'm off to see if I can find their songs on the internet. <br /></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-13119406902225208702024-03-20T19:10:00.007-04:002024-03-21T10:36:34.326-04:00"Ting-Ting" / The Bee Sting / Spring things<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUpTfK1uFoLIgypbEhUM9y6IrEiBPaGkD-JDz1q-vEsCzbQh5E0HpoQ46oEhhE3EuHc3hvt_e241laASHbS-UVFV8ac60SvvHcr3vOsXyBZuszqgN9dY4PNKTFT-HvR6f8kb1Xyl_aveUlq0Fy1aVMDU9caDb1xB_pFAcfo29KBSdRGzr02-sng/s2970/IMG_6227%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2483" data-original-width="2970" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxUpTfK1uFoLIgypbEhUM9y6IrEiBPaGkD-JDz1q-vEsCzbQh5E0HpoQ46oEhhE3EuHc3hvt_e241laASHbS-UVFV8ac60SvvHcr3vOsXyBZuszqgN9dY4PNKTFT-HvR6f8kb1Xyl_aveUlq0Fy1aVMDU9caDb1xB_pFAcfo29KBSdRGzr02-sng/s320/IMG_6227%202.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Nu's much-loved lovey, Silky the Bee, used to go "buzz-buzz, ting-ting" back in the day. We still use Nu's toddler-ese "ting-ting" to refer to bee stings.<p></p><p>I've been chuckling over that while reading Paul Murray's <i>The Bee Sting--</i>a book both At and Big A gave me copies of at Christmas! (I've since returned the copy Big A gave me.) I was savoring this novel, frequently chortling out loud, as it was delightful in a <i>Derry Girls</i> kind of way... but things have taken a disquieting turn and the sexual violence is quite terrifying... I can't wait to be done now.</p><p>Pic: Huck and Max got a Spring haircut and look a bit strange. The bows on Huck's ears make it look like she has ponytails! Outside is somehow snow AND flowers.</p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-77426038964424558572024-03-19T07:18:00.005-04:002024-03-20T07:35:09.507-04:00Poetry Hour: Mosab Abu Toha<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODgwB-5rqPk06TezPkHghhgHFQWWUEXn4b2hemAgoUV7EQZFZ4wxe2bbGv5V8eTDVbuOH64ziULt7SzYp5tP_eizDwJ064dmek1e38pfS7cI56uBC899AXH3yCDFCXzyLac06UJyIz3En55PomRM0xpHS8Pu2ei1cB9G6ZftrW8o4md0NsnCzIw/s1972/Image%203-19-24%20at%203.52%20PM.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="916" data-original-width="1972" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhODgwB-5rqPk06TezPkHghhgHFQWWUEXn4b2hemAgoUV7EQZFZ4wxe2bbGv5V8eTDVbuOH64ziULt7SzYp5tP_eizDwJ064dmek1e38pfS7cI56uBC899AXH3yCDFCXzyLac06UJyIz3En55PomRM0xpHS8Pu2ei1cB9G6ZftrW8o4md0NsnCzIw/s320/Image%203-19-24%20at%203.52%20PM.jpg" width="320" /></a>I tuned into the Mosab Abu Toha event for an hour or so during a convenient break between classes and meetings. </p><p>It was an amazing outpouring of solidarity and poetry. He read from <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/155510/things-you-may-find-hidden-in-my-ear"><span style="color: #990000;"><i>Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear</i> </span></a>and talked about the new sounds he could add to his titular poem.</p><p>Pic: A friend grabbed a screenshot of me in a tile right next to Toha's. Something to treasure.<br /></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-76393985499402379772024-03-18T21:36:00.001-04:002024-03-19T07:28:50.604-04:00Prep time<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbnkVj9xdT3wFlxadXNsQ32tOyl-cm9Ou_PLPoyKDhfXRjndQouQ_v4t9Y7M1K_4RhZFIqdF4C6LX7lNc3jrJwbJdOW3WB5qTkItb6mG3xllWhGDga1CjzmMG4TTdESIM1wPKRstpG4OEr8RFs1qVKuP_y2J2E82H8uKgCsa_4I6hm1HL3VmnZA/s4015/IMG_6216%202.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4015" data-original-width="2321" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbnkVj9xdT3wFlxadXNsQ32tOyl-cm9Ou_PLPoyKDhfXRjndQouQ_v4t9Y7M1K_4RhZFIqdF4C6LX7lNc3jrJwbJdOW3WB5qTkItb6mG3xllWhGDga1CjzmMG4TTdESIM1wPKRstpG4OEr8RFs1qVKuP_y2J2E82H8uKgCsa_4I6hm1HL3VmnZA/s320/IMG_6216%202.jpeg" width="185" /></a></div>So the Gaza talk is done. Honestly not sure how it went because I joined online and couldn't see the audience very well. I heard "outstanding," "beautiful," and "badass" (but all from people I kinda-sorta know). Anyway, I hope it was useful and landed well. <p></p><p>I spent way too much time prepping the talk--I said as much to Big A this morning while I spent another hour tweaking, tweaking, tweaking... But he said that I should spend all the time I want because it's something that matters a great deal to me. I thought this was the perfect response and philosophy.</p><p>Pic: My kids are <strike>excited to be</strike>... <strike>delighted to be</strike>... doing some Easter prep. (I don't think anyone would accuse them of spending too much time on prep. 😂)<br /></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-11907582428054775762024-03-17T02:45:00.004-04:002024-03-18T08:40:18.293-04:00Spring incantation<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1pZRuP9zISLDsm-AY0eOYHvKhcx9FCkMg4_RNzdwMbBlhGF292LsBl5EYBG_wSd8Lx0LyB4R3tf5JQgQKBCq2hsmMdgzM6AJ5Kw_2M0PpceuD79nH205SQlk1KhqmaEB6_38hCpd6PE1kb22L8cErreZkOJYxOeAiKmSXUrrdguh-dPx8gXy8w/s4032/IMG_6208%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1pZRuP9zISLDsm-AY0eOYHvKhcx9FCkMg4_RNzdwMbBlhGF292LsBl5EYBG_wSd8Lx0LyB4R3tf5JQgQKBCq2hsmMdgzM6AJ5Kw_2M0PpceuD79nH205SQlk1KhqmaEB6_38hCpd6PE1kb22L8cErreZkOJYxOeAiKmSXUrrdguh-dPx8gXy8w/w320-h293/IMG_6208%202.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">oh, these needles of rain </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">the skies are full of surprises</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />my only choice of speech<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">is a quiet, topographical melody </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">for I bring us to forsythia</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">and crocus, tulip, and daffodil</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">a readying redbud now, then</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">a promise of hellebore and more </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">__________<br />Pic: A redbud getting ready by the Red Cedar.</span></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-59383159874857823582024-03-16T19:20:00.001-04:002024-03-17T10:30:21.060-04:00polish and stories<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjcfhunoYdf03_XWpN5KrdQwEMuRKsBDkkpMfS5FQZ-26WOf1BtY9VxGt-0rnyTmXpA4C733BlfCdP2FxR39y5dPc-epFGLh5dNIeKUkCzE2Bzfz2VYjEoPTNxes9AAcvHrpQcdl-KVYw5PTjdCFXJPUZnLv3cmAFsi9ekhyt-SUYNgCMc5e-iQ/s2048/IMG_6209.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1137" data-original-width="2048" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjcfhunoYdf03_XWpN5KrdQwEMuRKsBDkkpMfS5FQZ-26WOf1BtY9VxGt-0rnyTmXpA4C733BlfCdP2FxR39y5dPc-epFGLh5dNIeKUkCzE2Bzfz2VYjEoPTNxes9AAcvHrpQcdl-KVYw5PTjdCFXJPUZnLv3cmAFsi9ekhyt-SUYNgCMc5e-iQ/s320/IMG_6209.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Pic: The GFs got together for nail polish. (I'm the one bottom center with clear polish.) <p></p><p>On the surface, everyone is okay. But as we talked, things about relationships, kids, jobs, coworkers, health, hopes, family, holidays, parents, and fears, kept coming up. And laughs. Plenty of laughs. </p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-33319351584171654662024-03-15T08:48:00.018-04:002024-03-18T10:26:48.547-04:00visions<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjuRJ9z66pGZPtsF8Sh1Xos0zNwPeJAxFjRq1q2GuBGZuFr5o2_IBXc_T_WaTlUF5RMkLJUoE_bIaYRlQ96H0hN7kJkpKeymNg7BeAqGf6QGwQbCpO4QE4jZfakznGcygnFb4w8X2B2aBS2doWROrN272MeuAcYz1iZa47DBRJCPiAFjgXkLZzw/s4032/IMG_6187.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2956" data-original-width="4032" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjuRJ9z66pGZPtsF8Sh1Xos0zNwPeJAxFjRq1q2GuBGZuFr5o2_IBXc_T_WaTlUF5RMkLJUoE_bIaYRlQ96H0hN7kJkpKeymNg7BeAqGf6QGwQbCpO4QE4jZfakznGcygnFb4w8X2B2aBS2doWROrN272MeuAcYz1iZa47DBRJCPiAFjgXkLZzw/s320/IMG_6187.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Pic: I prepped copies of poems to hand out at the Gaza panel on Monday. <p></p><p>I felt so<i> rich </i>in poetry after I collated this collection to pass on to the organizers. </p><p>I had visions of myself just standing in the hallway shoving poetry under classroom doors, putting them on bulletin boards, and throwing fistfuls of paper into the air so it would rain poetry... <span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fQXa2S60BUE "><span style="color: #990000;">like Regina George distributing copies from the "Burn Book" in <i>Mean Girls</i></span></a>,</span> but more meaningful.<br /></p><p>I hope I do a good job at the event on Monday. And I'm excited for <span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://www.eventbrite.com/e/mosab-abu-toha-friends-tickets-795452940157 "><span style="color: #990000;">Mosab Abu Toha's event on Tuesday</span></a>-</span>-to which I have online tickets.</p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-67373778271046718412024-03-14T03:31:00.008-04:002024-03-15T03:58:14.527-04:00seeing red<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifVImvD79v4U8uKvFriXC8DzcwF_4R3ZU2lGTTio5mwF-DNhpO5R6jLapHSPJ6_5s5sZUYQUr_9o4kIaG8jEvXS6Kbtx9dUy5gzKOVtyJ4qY-pJc-8kQIaog-B_dnE-uDx7L2cyt9_cPn0d9bFdq5LcNSNDVg15Dr5a4U8wcqyxavO9H6UztUkiw/s3912/IMG_6185.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3912" data-original-width="2759" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifVImvD79v4U8uKvFriXC8DzcwF_4R3ZU2lGTTio5mwF-DNhpO5R6jLapHSPJ6_5s5sZUYQUr_9o4kIaG8jEvXS6Kbtx9dUy5gzKOVtyJ4qY-pJc-8kQIaog-B_dnE-uDx7L2cyt9_cPn0d9bFdq5LcNSNDVg15Dr5a4U8wcqyxavO9H6UztUkiw/w141-h200/IMG_6185.jpeg" width="141" /></a></div>Lysne Beckwith Tait, founder of <a href="https://www.helpingwomenperiod.org/"><span style="color: #990000;">Helping Women Period,</span></a><span style="color: #990000;"> </span>presented to my WGS students today. She also set up a "menstrual products petting zoo" in class for people to check out. As she rightly pointed out, when menstrual cups, discs, and undies are in packaging, it is difficult to figure out if one would be comfortable using them.<p></p><p>I absolutely love the story of the growth of the organization--it started out after a conversation with friends and now influences, advocates, and educates--it was instrumental in repealing our tampon tax last year, for instance. Lysne's book <i>Instigator: Creating Change Without Being the Loudest Voice in the Room</i> comes out later this year, and I can't wait!</p><p>Pic: Saying goodbye to Lysne in the parking lot. Of course, the <span style="color: #990000;">Helping Women Period</span> van is red. Mid-cycle red.</p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-84822845749822894862024-03-13T00:50:00.007-04:002024-03-14T02:40:50.916-04:00companion song <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFpKkkbv61NFR-2Hm_y_BJ_PhdA3BqzrmeNs4aH0DdLOewBJooV1YjmS6tJhUQD261y9YKQlr3AnaxcOwwxkL6ZkjDaIxg2F8Z2zFA-gKBdAa0eb_WolYOsVp1TkUSFy7k9o5YIafMByTeeOQ98Mn4aXbvcJ-bZpuQopcKKlbnB5lsLZK6ToFomQ/s3436/IMG_6163%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2623" data-original-width="3436" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFpKkkbv61NFR-2Hm_y_BJ_PhdA3BqzrmeNs4aH0DdLOewBJooV1YjmS6tJhUQD261y9YKQlr3AnaxcOwwxkL6ZkjDaIxg2F8Z2zFA-gKBdAa0eb_WolYOsVp1TkUSFy7k9o5YIafMByTeeOQ98Mn4aXbvcJ-bZpuQopcKKlbnB5lsLZK6ToFomQ/w320-h329/IMG_6163%202.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">desire turning into decision <br />at once terrifying, free<br />I am moved</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />into the path of turning knives<br />their rhythms familiar<br />I am here</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />afraid of turning the page<br />my mind un-scrolling</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I am opened</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">like a hinge into the world</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I've been here before--</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I return once more</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">_____________________</span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pic: Max and Huck, my writing companions, snoozing in the sunshine.</span><p></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-47301532794374521522024-03-12T01:06:00.007-04:002024-03-13T02:17:06.292-04:00looking up<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCsdXX4nhK6CeIykFBnSjz45E3JobNIjU8jKioqORDQ1rwsA5EKyA-0cRBS-LCxZMmu1573rnohw6_gbLC2TVEOXoujuW0i9RJNYaceLmzBCQ_5Kbc47TrxOe-n7iEyFcLJO71wuWDagpJ0mfsuuZkbTzucR5ELyXOwcr0TiJsq-A5LpHNTjWeA/s4032/IMG_6165.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCsdXX4nhK6CeIykFBnSjz45E3JobNIjU8jKioqORDQ1rwsA5EKyA-0cRBS-LCxZMmu1573rnohw6_gbLC2TVEOXoujuW0i9RJNYaceLmzBCQ_5Kbc47TrxOe-n7iEyFcLJO71wuWDagpJ0mfsuuZkbTzucR5ELyXOwcr0TiJsq-A5LpHNTjWeA/w150-h200/IMG_6165.jpeg" width="150" /></a></div>At the beginning of class, I make space for students to share what they're presenting/performing/playing and send shout-outs to classmates. Today, one of them mentioned that I would be on the panel for the Gaza teach-in on Monday and said it was a shout-out to me. It was such a small thing, but I felt so seen and supported. <br /><p></p><p>I also spent time today answering questions for an article on the "uncommitted" vote movement for the student newspaper. Students have been wonderful allies, and their idealism and outrage have helped me feel hopeful for the world. I'm convinced the push by our elderly lawmakers to ban TikTok is because that platform bypasses the hangups and hurdles of legacy media and makes it easy for young people to inform and organize amongst themselves.</p><p>Pic: Random, ultra-bright, volunteer crocuses that showed up on our driveway this morning. </p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-73636968158844982212024-03-11T02:09:00.011-04:002024-03-12T06:44:20.593-04:00a private communion <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWWkiJwVdKKeTEiG2CiX7vfb-owm_ZfDAjomfHe5GdVaqmfm6iangFFkiDeP1cv32YZ-nuczkdhAVwKRvLVcJFLowsrYNkytlCJ3kiaYu4ekA9RtT06jHZfvUOq7NKuAwtxRLdaQwd9_TbZjYsVL80uoLWiXQxaZg8UvlFTTl6cdo-BtC1JhEv6Q/s4032/IMG_6155%202.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWWkiJwVdKKeTEiG2CiX7vfb-owm_ZfDAjomfHe5GdVaqmfm6iangFFkiDeP1cv32YZ-nuczkdhAVwKRvLVcJFLowsrYNkytlCJ3kiaYu4ekA9RtT06jHZfvUOq7NKuAwtxRLdaQwd9_TbZjYsVL80uoLWiXQxaZg8UvlFTTl6cdo-BtC1JhEv6Q/w320-h301/IMG_6155%202.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I dream of tangerines<br />sweet with summer<br />how I will wait </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">for the right moment </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">to touch, peel them </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">with reverence</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />their flesh like that</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">of a new beloved<br />still secret</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />our meeting--kisses </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">sluicing nectarine </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">in blessing </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">________________________</span></div><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pic: Geese on the banks of the Red Cedar. I thought there was something very balletic about their pose...<br /></span><p></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-7335501110140319782024-03-10T19:29:00.004-04:002024-03-11T13:17:03.748-04:00spring forward anyway<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfL4Dby7m5B6PGX7_Mx8kO4IdmD6xLlVCLTlQ3xlq0AvZglzJXpMaZYwxuCnqc0AOOACvS1z0M8s54LbLGrtLDgmVvqJBDSVy1E_y2P63crbBXOh42fxQzdJvJrSaQUEqG3wTr7jF7bfYVED3FYwjUk85B3VUTWlsdA5xWP1gPXhYQUsZi_ZviDw/s3871/IMG_6150.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2981" data-original-width="3871" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfL4Dby7m5B6PGX7_Mx8kO4IdmD6xLlVCLTlQ3xlq0AvZglzJXpMaZYwxuCnqc0AOOACvS1z0M8s54LbLGrtLDgmVvqJBDSVy1E_y2P63crbBXOh42fxQzdJvJrSaQUEqG3wTr7jF7bfYVED3FYwjUk85B3VUTWlsdA5xWP1gPXhYQUsZi_ZviDw/s320/IMG_6150.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>We woke up to snow on the ground, but it's Spring in my heart anyway.<p></p><div>Big A wimped out because it was cold and windy, but I took a long walk in the snow anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's too early to start the garden like I want to, but I started an array of herbs in planters indoors anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div>Pic: Basil, thyme, rosemary, and mint growing in the solarium upstairs (the blue and red pots). Our quirky old house has lots of inconveniences, but its <a href="https://www.ebay.com/itm/192163725393"><span style="color: #990000;">passive solar design </span></a>means there's lots of light. I might as well use it for something good.</div>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-30779620117467798142024-03-09T05:47:00.006-04:002024-03-10T05:32:13.593-04:00scenic/cynic<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3iS6CTAvb_pVQBhwRJXhLNT_qLHOmIWjdPHdvwyzfXSGDS_D1oQ-YyhXNzy6Jm7h0mAYNPMrQRjiNp6XWIONkVE8OrWuZ-ZbBCZuBYLkDV5Ed6CSfTXngfKveueSiuIeci83GQNG7oonACoRqAr9exEaDngXT8FtaEqX-cmooQ7RRkuRakBDyQ/s4032/IMG_6114.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3iS6CTAvb_pVQBhwRJXhLNT_qLHOmIWjdPHdvwyzfXSGDS_D1oQ-YyhXNzy6Jm7h0mAYNPMrQRjiNp6XWIONkVE8OrWuZ-ZbBCZuBYLkDV5Ed6CSfTXngfKveueSiuIeci83GQNG7oonACoRqAr9exEaDngXT8FtaEqX-cmooQ7RRkuRakBDyQ/w320-h248/IMG_6114.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">When I leave this country of fog<br />my bags of salt fall into the river<br />carried away like tears</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*<br />breezes blow out birthday candles<br />whistle through my aching head</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">lift thoughts like kites</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">every day I make my body stronger<br />it will build a city, knock out bullies</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I dream as fast as I can </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">_____________________</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pic: The Red Cedar behind L's house. L will be gone for a month, so we had an extra long walk-and-talk this week.</span></div>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-58292427256725138312024-03-08T05:35:00.013-04:002024-03-09T11:43:41.735-04:00more tea<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuD7Axor5IkF2G6iHFK5vWK9fVMiN96DrURTRmM832LIsCxRfrMjHUcgM0sAXIHKltZQvuFbsUtX-8zZaPVzHftFaf4WUsfqfBBn5pTCpa41brQGQYc9mSXtApjLkxjSqZFk3C5V2k9GJxUVr7AITxJQtqaaJ10qDNPmtoKjArrSetp3wTiINrqw/s3488/IMG_6137.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2557" data-original-width="3488" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuD7Axor5IkF2G6iHFK5vWK9fVMiN96DrURTRmM832LIsCxRfrMjHUcgM0sAXIHKltZQvuFbsUtX-8zZaPVzHftFaf4WUsfqfBBn5pTCpa41brQGQYc9mSXtApjLkxjSqZFk3C5V2k9GJxUVr7AITxJQtqaaJ10qDNPmtoKjArrSetp3wTiINrqw/s320/IMG_6137.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">This Friday started off slow--just a couple of advising meetings in the morning. But the afternoon was chairing the WGS section of MASAL, presenting a paper, showing up to a mentoring pod (somehow, I'm the senior-most and the most mentor-y), and then the faculty meeting. The final part of the workday was the <span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://www.pocobrat.net/2020/03/the-tea.html ">annual International Women's Day Tea at MacCurdy House</a>. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The last part was my favorite, but I was tired when I got home. Thus endeth (I think!) my spate of late evenings at work this semester. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Pic: Tea at MacCurdy. The Eleanor Roosevelt quote framed on the wall makes it perfect: <span style="background-color: white;">“A </span><span style="background-color: white;">woman</span><span style="background-color: white;"> is like a </span><span style="background-color: white;">tea bag</span><span style="background-color: white;">. You never know how strong it is until it's in hot water.” Memories of </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-family: inherit;">other years: </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.pocobrat.net/2019/03/balanceforbetter2019.html ">Pre-pandemic</a> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: inherit;">and </span><a href="https://www.pocobrat.net/2023/03/one-celebration-at-time.html "><span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit;">Post-pandemic</span></a></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-4590368453771603092024-03-07T03:24:00.008-04:002024-03-08T08:25:32.009-04:00"to everything there is a season..."<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTZg5HjnYgFBK0hKuu2x29HX2MXFqbLYdiY4ZbdbCskv2n054BiNGYz7ZzHR8L39lKL3TEHtMySgxEecON-k2pLJduchZYzqUYbDkU3Iexc2HOsgKOYks6VD9j0hr90xFXZjyHjcFo79G9m690CZ9qH-kqQEpJA8sb3jtc0vjOiJ5r01QGSqkFQ/s4032/IMG_6096.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTZg5HjnYgFBK0hKuu2x29HX2MXFqbLYdiY4ZbdbCskv2n054BiNGYz7ZzHR8L39lKL3TEHtMySgxEecON-k2pLJduchZYzqUYbDkU3Iexc2HOsgKOYks6VD9j0hr90xFXZjyHjcFo79G9m690CZ9qH-kqQEpJA8sb3jtc0vjOiJ5r01QGSqkFQ/s320/IMG_6096.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>I spend hours every week caring for my plants in our indoor tea garden. It's a narrow space, but since it runs the length of our great room, the greenery and light lift me up every time I pass through. <div><br /></div><div>But... when I decide to sit in there to actually drink a cup of tea, I find that instead of experiencing calm and enjoying the space as it is, my eyes are darting around to check for errant dirt or for yellowing and browning leaves to pull, and other things to fix or move.<p></p><p>This is silly. It's a garden, there'll always be dead leaves and dirt and things to do. My new exercise is to enjoy the space without worrying about perfecting things. I lit the candle L gave me (lavender and neroli), breathed in the scent of my hyacinths budding, and marveled at the begonias blooming for the sixth year in a row. </p><p>There's gunk on the bird pedestal under the small cachepot... but I'll clean it in the time allotted to cleaning. This is not that time. </p><p>Pic: Tablescape with plants, flowers, and candle.</p></div>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-14137192551829435682024-03-06T20:14:00.025-04:002024-03-07T07:19:26.546-04:00upcoming<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiemDw5EjLN-yL1bwRBnrGvTWy1wyRPTUjgTiIUEpbYp7xAWm3-QSzJrpxNcZcsk8CClic8vFyX4VJOSEc31AA-mZUwHqk2_pjAVOlgIdQU-yh6X8ewLnenRTEPK-URz5jhAZ-6WkppAwG6JKGZr1LPXhe-99E-WRrorqQWfCmEQPhmsafMllSjaw/s4032/IMG_6119.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiemDw5EjLN-yL1bwRBnrGvTWy1wyRPTUjgTiIUEpbYp7xAWm3-QSzJrpxNcZcsk8CClic8vFyX4VJOSEc31AA-mZUwHqk2_pjAVOlgIdQU-yh6X8ewLnenRTEPK-URz5jhAZ-6WkppAwG6JKGZr1LPXhe-99E-WRrorqQWfCmEQPhmsafMllSjaw/w261-h314/IMG_6119.jpeg" width="261" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">"A book must be an axe for the frozen sea inside us." </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Kafka in a letter to Oskar Pollak </span></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">As it happens: </div><div style="text-align: center;">I have some books</div><span><div style="text-align: center;">I have at least two axes</div></span><div style="text-align: center;">I have the frozen sea</div><div style="text-align: center;">so I have all 3/3</div><span><div style="text-align: center;">*</div></span><div style="text-align: center;">the day is cloud-colored</div><span><div style="text-align: center;">my hair is in my eyes</div></span><span><div style="text-align: center;">I travel inside the love </div></span><span><div style="text-align: center;">I have built for you</div></span><div style="text-align: center;">where it is windy</div><div style="text-align: center;">*</div><div style="text-align: center;">but this time tomorrow</div><div style="text-align: center;">Spring will be closer</div><div style="text-align: center;">these shoots coming up</div><div style="text-align: center;">groping their way into </div><div style="text-align: center;">the air, would agree </div><span>________________<br /></span><span>Pic: Tulips (I think) coming up... Not my garden (I wish). From a quick walk to MSU this morning.</span></span></div><p></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-72167088232870774262024-03-05T03:17:00.024-04:002024-03-06T07:35:45.079-04:00a koan noting nothing<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JmDffhGOJUDaT3vwpwWhcFqRNhG72yuQai4IEoFRdPKTKZJIxWx7d7QQiN3swcU1l3VqeL62CkiiYKaNi5dMloUcpQki8HA_6O2eVDvbgahbagodf7MH2PTJ7ioiVS5_tPW2ZFohyHKDwfYYIdiFUhjj5gn_ILOfUTDzC-UBmTo7SPJPxK-Zow/s4032/IMG_6092.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0JmDffhGOJUDaT3vwpwWhcFqRNhG72yuQai4IEoFRdPKTKZJIxWx7d7QQiN3swcU1l3VqeL62CkiiYKaNi5dMloUcpQki8HA_6O2eVDvbgahbagodf7MH2PTJ7ioiVS5_tPW2ZFohyHKDwfYYIdiFUhjj5gn_ILOfUTDzC-UBmTo7SPJPxK-Zow/s320/IMG_6092.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">look, I said to the sky<br />my yearning is born <br />in the wrong time</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">these hands that held</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">books and babies </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">now hold air </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">even falling like beauty </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">this light is silent</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">oh, cold god </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">___________________</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Notes: I like knowing <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2016/03/loves-labours-found-saving-shakespeares-puns/471786/ "><span style="color: #990000;">"nothing" was pronounced "noting" in Elizabethan English.</span></a> The "nothing" itself didn't come from emptiness but from a <i>very</i> long 12-hour (14 with the commute) work day.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pic: <a href="https://museum.msu.edu/the-redress-project-honoring-missing-and-murdered-indigenous-women-and-girls/"><span style="color: #990000;">The REDress Project by Jaime Black-Morsette</span></a> at MSU. From my walk yesterday.</span></div><p></p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-16046066998671927742024-03-04T01:07:00.028-04:002024-03-05T01:40:54.435-04:00I march forth<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxNakqsDhtIDcSln470M6rnQr5n5X3HoCk1x8g7MvRnHp2YlEOCRg9Vbo6_jYY88Rlj1M3IPbWAmjDFJm-FbzjAjZA8ONvCgTFzr50F8g6r8IHbItoGVBqfvLn92bkOJMWHLw5PItYi0NS6Rvkxi5xVabogdDx3sNq1gsUr4Ni2Phama-4jTZ3g/s3024/IMG_6097.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2988" data-original-width="3024" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxNakqsDhtIDcSln470M6rnQr5n5X3HoCk1x8g7MvRnHp2YlEOCRg9Vbo6_jYY88Rlj1M3IPbWAmjDFJm-FbzjAjZA8ONvCgTFzr50F8g6r8IHbItoGVBqfvLn92bkOJMWHLw5PItYi0NS6Rvkxi5xVabogdDx3sNq1gsUr4Ni2Phama-4jTZ3g/s320/IMG_6097.jpeg" width="320" /></a>It's only my fourth year of knowing my birthday doubles as <a href="https://nationaltoday.com/march-forth/"><span style="color: #660000;">"March Forth Day,"</span></a> but I'm carpeing everything I can out of the diem. </p><p>It's the Monday after break, so there was tons to do. Plus, I had to send an overdue change of schedule postponing everything to both the publisher and editor. But I owned up and did that like a grown-up. Then I found some time to take myself out for a long walk and a long soak and read for an hour amidst my plants. </p><p>Evening was dinner with the fam at Ruckus Ramen, and then back home for presents and cakes (<a href="https://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/lemon-cake-with-raspberries-and-pistachios"><span style="color: #660000;">pistachio-raspberry-lemon</span></a> + a Whole Foods Chantilly cream with fruit as At is allergic to pistachios.)</p><p>I am ever so grateful for every minute of this. </p><p>Pic: At's friend H took this picture of us (Big A, Nu, me, At). H also drew me a "three-legged cat" for my birthday, which I know I will hang on to for a while because... memories. </p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28402894.post-484724133366288862024-03-03T08:02:00.004-04:002024-03-04T08:09:32.182-04:00"take a hike," they said<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhocX0z33dstL020gMPBIh5lrF52iZZ4Bba7GXUhUnsysMwaVrAsWAbeEv1WG6PoFYiJv9D_EAGMuyT-V9vxKy991J5o0JZlP_shgsoibeHL7t2KUFKjdobws4ezlcC6iAZ9GPSfHVXvM8R0u4nr4EI38gmkDGnDXMKVsYGMjedqCvZrBA1-8NjbA/s4032/IMG_6062.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhocX0z33dstL020gMPBIh5lrF52iZZ4Bba7GXUhUnsysMwaVrAsWAbeEv1WG6PoFYiJv9D_EAGMuyT-V9vxKy991J5o0JZlP_shgsoibeHL7t2KUFKjdobws4ezlcC6iAZ9GPSfHVXvM8R0u4nr4EI38gmkDGnDXMKVsYGMjedqCvZrBA1-8NjbA/s320/IMG_6062.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Well, actually no one did. But it has become a tradition to go on a hike before my birthday. Last year we went to the Ledges on a very snowy day. This year I couldn't have asked for a better day for my pre-birthday hike! It was such a balmy 60+ degrees and sunshiny and at some point, I had to slip my arms out of my long-sleeved shirt and wore the sleeves dangling like an extra pair of arms. <p></p><p>Burchfield Park--new to me--was an easy eight-mile loop and scenic all the way through.</p><p>Pic: Big A my navigator + water and snack carrier ahead of me. </p>maya http://www.blogger.com/profile/11164383180083433329noreply@blogger.com6