fathomless

people meet prayers        meet poems        meet promises        in overcrowded hearts      in empty situations        our fists in the face of fate      of gods        facing clandestine enemies        for survival eaten raw        what feeds us        what do we feed on          whom do we feed         where do we go        how do we go home        go back      go back to where we came from        home, home        home, home on the rage          what parts do we play        how many parts do we break into       spinning like stars        like dancers       like fragments        there is no hiatus to hate        sometimes they never suffer        but they never resurrect        in this life's assignment         I remember their faces      their names       what they used to do        and that they used to be

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Note: Mahmoud al-Madhoun, chef and co-founder of Gaza Soup Kitchen, who fed over 3000 people a day using whatever supplies he could scrounge up was targeted and killed by a drone strike this week. Three workers with World Central Kitchen were also killed this week (seven were killed earlier this year in April.) In a week where food and feeding people was dominant for most of us, I'm so broken by these daily reports of the targeted deaths of those trying to feed people in this engineered famine. 

a kind (of) bereavement

 

            our old house has new folks 

                       and so... now we are ghosts

              no one sees although we lived

                    here barely 12  years ago 

         morning  mists cling  to  us 

                        ghostly as nights of regret 

             our older selves are yet silent, 

                      uncertain, unknown outside

            we find we forget to exhale

                         are reminded there are no 

             songs in sighs and although

                          not quite death, cold-ness 

                 takes away our breath, leaves 

                          us to mourn a different lack 

                 of warmth despite being back

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Note: I felt a bit strange walking on our old street in Yellow Springs early in the day. I think I imagined that a neighbor or two would be out and that we'd have a warm impromptu reunion. I had plans with friends later in the day, but wanted the chance encounter too! Speaking of friends, I'm ordering a few copies of Rebecca Kuder's Dear Inner Critic Workbook to give as Christmas presents. 

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Pic: Our descent into Glen Helen for a long hike yesterday. Back in the day, when we lived across from the Glen, I feel we solved many of our parenting dilemmas and disagreements over a walk through these woods.

Three generations; three dogs

Pics: I snagged a photo of Nu, Big A, and his mom/Nu's gran for the family holiday card while we were in Yellow Springs...

And I like how when we pull back a bit from the tight frame of my three people, I can see the happy chaos of Max, Huckie, and Izzy making things a bit more festive.

I can't believe it's December!

Surprise Pizza!

We headed to Ohio this morning for Thanksgiving #2 with my lovely MIL. When we got there, we were a bit confused that all was calm and really relaxed with no signs or smells of cooking. Indeed, there were no signs of Thanksgiving at all. 

So we hung out and chatted and ordered pizza when it was time for dinner and all was well. I'm kind of glad my MIL didn't have to go to all the trouble of starting a big meal all by herself.

Pic: Max and Huck have always been suspicious of the robot vacuum, and it didn't help matters that it seems to be making off with Nu's ukulele here.

Some Thanksgiving Ubuntu

At the end of Thanksgiving dinner when everyone was saying what we were thankful for, I said I was so thankful for all the people we had around the table. This was true. We had a very full table. 

But the table was also full of a staggering amount of leftovers. I made 12 dishes not counting the pies (which I did not make) or the appetizers (which I did assemble/make)... and people loved the appetizers and the soup and then seemed to run out of steam for the meal itself. Even after people rallied and took leftovers home, there was still A LOT on the table. 

I'd really worked my butt off all day and I wanted people to enjoy it today instead of stockpiling leftovers forever, so I offered it on a local Facebook group. Then there were like 200 people blessing me (just for donating extras!?!) and quite a few takers. I had to take food to my grandbaby's family and drop At off anyway, so I loaded up the car and set off. And then At said they'd like to go with me to drop off food, so I got so much extra chatting time with my older lovey. (Jenny--see what I mean about my older one being a bit like yours?)  

At the end of the evening, as I dropped At off and headed home, I felt so satisfied: as though I was flying home, as though every traffic light in my way was green... I realized later that it could have just been because this was a day when the roads were empty... but it still felt pretty awesome.

It reminded me of my Ubuntu Canteen days.

Pic: A reasonably vague shot of the table when Big A and I got up to set up the dessert station.

flowers, food, and "face-wrestling"

I decided to do the flowers for the Thanksgiving table myself and that reminded me of Mrs. Dalloway saying she'd get the flowers herself. Then I briefly wondered if I was like her in surrounding myself with events as a way of avoiding the void.

Anyway, the day before an event is always suspenseful for me. I tend to make a lot of food, but we have just the one fridge and freezer, so I can't overshop or cook in advance, and it's a gamble if I'll find everything on my list. I didn't find parsnips today. But I suspect no one cares about the parsnips but me.

Pic: Max and Huck in a post-dinner "face-wrestle." There's a lot of groaning-growling-baring of teeth and positioning of jaws in scary ways... and they seem to be having so much fun. It reminds me of my two boy cousins--whoever arrived first at my grandmother's place for the weekend would wait anxiously for the other one, and the minute he arrived, he'd be greeted with the affectionate invitation, "Let's go fight, da!" And then my baby cousins would kinda fight like Max and Huck do now.

last day feels

We had our last class today. We're on Thanksgiving break now, and when we come back, it'll be Finals Week. There's no way I can be missing my students already... But I kind of do. And for the second semester in a row, I forgot to take the customary end-of-semester group pics. So I really do want to get them back together again one last time to take that photo.

In my first class this morning, one kind student began to thank me for a "great" class... and before I could say thank you, everyone in the class was thanking me and then they clapped for me! That has NEVER happened to me in a classroom before! It felt so sweet and supportive in the moment, I wasn't even thinking about what actual evaluations or the stability of the work environment might look like.

Speaking of which, I'm reading Unsheltered--an older Barbara Kingsolver I found on my shelves--perhaps it's not the best time to read about someone who lost their tenured job and is anticipating living in an age of President Orange (the first time around), but that's where I am anyway. 

Now on to big decisions... Should I squeeze all our Thanksgiving guests around our existing table by adding an extra chair on each side, or should I use a card table to rig an extension? Does apple cider go well in a hot toddy? Do I have enough rosemary in my herb garden or do I need to buy some?

Pic: I think I got a picture of an Eastern Bluebird in the tree. In any case, there's a bird in a tree and it's decidedly blue. LB was so indulgent and patient waiting for me while I waited for the bird to settle.