Rabbit rabbit

So much of any year is flammable.

What we call the beginning is often the end.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from…

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring 
Will be to arrive where we started 
And know the place for the first time.

T.S. Eliot, from “Little Gidding”

At the end of 2021, my dad emailed me these lines. "What do you think of this as a new year's greeting?" he asked. I have pages and pages of poetry and music he sent me over the years, and emails dating back to 2016 (when I suppose it first occurred to me that I might want to archive some — special ones, or ordinary ones from special people). 

Less than a month after he sent this, Dad was diagnosed with ALS. And three years later, we're* entering our first new year without him. 

How on earth do we do this? I guess we move forward, we do the things we have to do, and the things that bring us joy. We take our routines and tasks and try to turn them into rituals that make a life: light the winter afternoon candles, warm our hands with coffee cups on dark mornings, play the music that makes us cry even though (and because) it makes us cry. Walk the dog, wash our hair, talk to the people who love us enough to tell us so. Pay particular attention to birds and the moon and the sound of laughter. We sort through photos; we sleep and dream and drink water. I suppose that's how it's done.

*Not the royal "we." The "we" who loved him, who are stunned by the reality of his death, whose brains often find it impossible to comprehend it as fact. 

Do you want to make dreams, but not enough any time?

Tis the month when I normally post something every single day/whether or not I've got somethin' to say*

But not this November! I have just been taking notes, on scraps of paper, on electronic scraps of electronic paper, and in me own head. Things like

• My own typos that are cracking me up: Security breeches
• Things found on the internets that are cracking me up: Concatenated Order of Hoo-Hoo
• I angrily returned a pair of sunglasses because they were crooked. It turns out my face is crooked (all the sunglasses, including the replacement pair, sit askew on my face. I guess I inherited my dad's uneven ears after all!)
• On our way to the park with Clover in the morning, we watched a gaggle of geese cross the street in a line as meandering and leisurely as a group of middle school kids, while cars waited in both directions. Thirty seconds later, the geese were aloft, honking and flying low over our heads (I covered mine with my arms) en route to the pond. Walked across the street, then flew across the park.

And then, of course, there's the usual gleaning of the internets:

Trending.

Who can blame them, really?

Synonyms for fuddled.

Never enough any time.

Of moste pleasaunte taste.

*poet/know it

Missed a day

Blerg, it was November 18 that broke my record! I actually remembered while lying in bed last night, but having pledged to myself not to look at screens after a certain late hour, I accepted defeat and fell asleep instead of blorging.

In my defense, Adam and Jeannette came for dinner (!!!). In other news, a wreath arrived in the mail from Dad so we went ahead and started our annual struggle with holiday porch lights — we seem to go through many stages of them looking weird before getting them to a somewhat normal state. It's early to do these things, yes! But we want to make the most of a Closer to Normal Than Last Year season. 

It's the twenty-ninth birthday of my first baby, my sweet, stubborn, shockingly brilliant girl. She is far away, once again celebrating (or not — I hope she is!) in a distant country. I'll never forget her stories of the first birthday she spent without us, turning sixteen in a German village near the Black Forest, so homesick, but fêted at school with cakes and gifts, held aloft on a chair and paraded around, as her classmates sang! I thought, those Germans really know how to do birthdays right.

Mica mermaid, 1994

Isn't it your dream to be wholly invisible someday?

Both brothers were here, it was like a dream! The weather was mild, the walks were long and meandering, the soft serve was soft and sweet and flavored with fresh peaches. David finally won Clover over after nearly five years (she is a little heartbreaker). My brothers! My heart!

And now my parents are roadtripping up from Cackalacky for a visit, hooray!

I'm going to try to turn my attention back to bloggery, away from online time sucks, like Twitter where I get mad at people and compose angry tweets and delete them.

Actually mostly they are getting it. I just like this person's illustration.

Roundabout: paved.

Pandemic: continuing apace.

Brain: lacking focus.

Stomach: generally not terrible.

One must have a mind of winter

Food, fire, walks, dreams, cold, sleep, love, slowness, time, quiet, books, seasons – all these things, which are not really things, but moments of life – take on a different quality at night-time, where the moon reflects the light of the sun, and we have time to reflect what life is to us, knowing that it passes, and that every bit of it, in its change and its difference, is the here and now of what we have. 

More by Jeanette Winterson on the lovely, cozy, dark seasons of the year here.

It snowed. We have warm lights on the outside and the inside of our house, toasty sweaters and socks, and thanks to Mom and Dad, a brand new heated mattress pad on our bed.

I met Emily today to go Christmas shopping, which we did while clambering over snow banks and avoiding icy puddles. We also sat for a long time talking over coffee at a cafe, which was so lovely. I spent precisely eight dollars on teeny stocking stuffers and took pictures of other things to contemplate later. 

So much in the holiday spirit was I that I also ordered special stamps for my theoretical holiday cards!

If you ever feel daunted by the snow and cold, get yourself a dog with a mind of winter. Or two.

Living is no laughing matter

(Birgit Puve for The New York Times)
ALL OF MY GOALS ARE PRESENT IN THIS PHOTO

Gearing up for the month of November, when it's my tradition to write something in this blorg every single day. The summer was a rush of rabbit rabbits, apparently — and that's how it feels looking back, fleeting and sweet and bright. Oh, summer.

Changes

What a luxury to have a little time to prepare for change! Gus will die of lymphoma, but he is 100% dog right now, happy to walk and bark and eat and lie around in the yard and ride in the car and wrestle with Clover. He is receiving a few last chemo treatments, but they aren't too hard on his body. The last couple of nights it took him forever to work up the resolve to climb the stairs at bedtime (he's always always needed a running start). I don't know if the chilly weather is making him stiffer than usual (if so, I can sympathize). Anyway, it's sad to hear him crying as he tries to psych himself up to do it.

Mom and Dad are moving to North Carolina, and not to jinx it, but they got to have the bidding war of their dreams on their beautiful Cambridge condo. They came to stay for a week while all the open houses were happening, and I think aside from possibly a Christmas or two, it was the longest they've ever stayed with us. Despite my dad's motto about fishes and visitors and how they smell after three days, it was so fun.

The air turned so cold that I put the heat on Friday night for the extremely quick fly-by visit of Holly and Maia, despite the fact that there are still air conditioners in two windows and most of the storm windows aren't closed. Leaves turning, birthdays approaching, my favorite most bittersweet time of year.

Challenges

My weird work life sometimes throws up these challenges, and it's my habit to accept each one breezily and then spend some private time panicking about what I've committed myself to, before ultimately pulling it off somehow. It's so regularly terrifying that it feels like it should pay better. But probably it's good for me?

Creatures

Mark is out of town for a few days and Clover loves me more when he's away! My yard is full of little brown sparrows.

Blood is thicker than water

I was thinking about health today, and growing older, and drinking water or forgetting to. My parents are such good water-drinkers — it's part of their routine to get glasses of water before bed, and if I were an excellent host I'd always leave a carafe of freshly filtered water by their bed when they come to visit.*

Anyway, I was just drinking some water and thinking about water and dehydration and realizing that lately every time I realize suddenly that I haven't been drinking enough water, I think of this one phlebotomist who was disappointed in me because I was dehydrated and she couldn't find a good vein. But...phlebotomists love me, I thought. How can this be possible? "When did you last drink water?" she asked me, frowning. I was instructed to fast for twelve hours, so it had been twelve hours since I drank water. Still, I felt I'd let her down, and vowed never to disappoint another phlebotomist again.






*Note to self: add carafe to wish list. Also, filter. 

27

Reporting live from Chicago, where I'm visiting Zoë with Mom and Dad, my trusty road trip companions. We have eaten and coffeed well, and seen some Chicago sites, finally met Z's sweet petit ami, and I've gotten to spend time watching BoJack Horseman with my girl, which I've been meaning to watch ever since I saw this great talk by Lisa Hanawalt. It is so good to be here with her.

Because it is such nice landscaping.

You'll Freeze Out There

I enjoy watching people gesture wildly when I can't hear what they're saying. The other day, at the Harvard Art Museum, my parents and I enjoyed several long minutes watching from a balcony as a woman below us gesticulated in an animated way in the direction of a marble statue. She seemed to be explaining or commenting or lecturing for the benefit of her companions. Her hands moved in pointing, slicing, chopping motions. Just now I watched two women across the street walking together in the cold, stopping periodically so one of them could wave her arms about and move her mouth. Was she angry at the other woman? Telling a funny story? Why couldn't she keep walking while she told it? It's really cold out today.



Among today's words I've so far blurbed: plutocrat, podcast, pocketbook, poach, plywood. I wanted to go overtly political all over "plutocrat." I wanted to gesticulate wildly, in fact.

I love podcasts.
I have a strong feeling about plywood, too.
I have learned to poach an egg pretty well, if I do say so myself.
The word "pocketbook" makes me think of my grandmother.
The word "plutocrat" makes me angry.

I Want a Dog Named Laika

I don't need a dog named Laika, because I've got a whole lot of dog in Mr Gus. HOWEVER, I do sometimes dream of a little sister for Gus* who would love me best.

I am thinking of taking a Book of Faces hiatus, just a week or so. It has more to do with politics and the news than anything else right now. I think it would be good for my mental health to avoid social media and even lighten my consumption of NPR for a spell.

(I keep thinking about the above idea and NOT DOING IT, which is in keeping with my adult onset, Internets-related ADD, but oh well. As my dad would say, "Squirrel?")

In other news, I should've been a kindergarten teacher because I want all the clothes with little animal prints, like this and this and this. And I prove to myself daily what a little old lady I'm becoming. E.g. I just ordered some new reading glasses online and I am pretty much beside myself with excitement.



*I've said this before, but I'm pretty sure Gus thinks of me as "that nice lady who lives with Master and me."

Theo Loves Me So Much

No, really, he does.* Mark was very happy to see me after my ten days away, and Gus was moderately interested in my return, but when I walked in the house, Theo came running over and threw himself at my feet (he flops over on his side and gazes endearingly up at you when he wants to be petted and scratched and kissed on his head). He is the nicest cat.

Keeping an eye on me at all times.

As happy as I am to be home (I missed Mark. I missed my furry boys, and I missed my routine/life, which is a pretty good sign I think), now I am nostalgic for my time living the hotel life in Zoë's neighborhood, with Mom and Dad for roommates, and Zoë just around the corner.

Hotel lyfe.

Best parents.

A sweet scholar I know.

*Although there is no doubt, he ADORES Isaac.

Home

Or nearly home, paused in Cambridge until I get fetched (along with the loot I bought at Ikea) in the car by Mark. Mom and Dad treated me to so many delicious meals on this trip, and the sweet potato sandwich I just ate at Clover was one of them.

Overhead, at Clover Central Square. Why oh why don't they come to Portland?

Hyde Park

I tried on a shirt yesterday covered, subtly, with tiny birds.
But...Peter Pan collar.

It was a warm day, so the thermal layers of undershirts, socks, tights, vests, and jackets were less appealing than they had been on the chilly Thursday previous. Still, I was able to buy Zoë some early birthday presents, toasty layers of warmth and flannel for when it gets bitterly cold.

This morning is my last in Chicago--it's been incredibly luxurious to have a whole week to visit the girl (thanks to my mom and dad, who got us a hotel room right in her neighborhood, just a few blocks from her apartment). She's been busy every second, but we've eaten many meals with her, seen where she lives, traced her route to campus and work, and she and I even got to work together a few times (me on billable stuff, her on grad school stuff). Hyde Park is lovely, comfortable and neighborhoody. We are leaving her, not just with warmer clothes, but her winter things, her banjo, many books and kitchen appliances (pressure cooker, idli maker--the essentials, if you're Zoë). Also, again thanks to my sweet parents, a bedside table and a dresser, a floor length mirror, new towels, bathmat, and other goodies from Ikea.

Miss her already.

Happy//sad

Last month, my dad had a Big Birthday (one of those divisible-by-five birthdays), and Adam and David appeared in Cambridge to surprise him. He may have had an inkling that something surprising was going to happen, but he was genuinely startled to see them walk into Veggie Galaxy, where he, Mom, and I were eating breakfast. We had a lovely several days, fit many museum visits and copious snacks and long walks in, and at some point realized that it's been years since the five of us were together, just us (sans kids or spouses). I love them all so much, and I am so lucky to consider every single one of them a friend.

(Mom's not in this picture--she took it!)

David, Mom, and Adam at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.

On Saturday, my sweet Aunt Peggy died, my mom's oldest (and beloved) sister. She was 17 when mom was born, and always lovingly mothered my mom in a way that her own mother didn't. I haven't seen much of her for years, but she was a loving presence in my life when I was (unhappily) at Wellesley College, not too far from Peggy's house. I love this photo of the sisters (circa 1945 or so):

Mom's the baby.

31415

Happy Pi Day, lovey doves. I crowd sourced ideas for the best kind of pie to make today, but I plan to disregard all the great suggestions (pecan, sweet potato, cherry, etc) because I've got four ripe bananas and a creamy dream of banana cream pie in my head.

Lulu is visiting for two weeks while my parents gallivant around northern California and Portland-the-Second. I hesitate to mention this, for fear of jinxing it, but she has been quite civilized so far, waking me at 6:45 or even 7:00, rather than, say, 4:45 in the freaking morning. We mince around the block, Lulu sniffing each individual brick, me breaking every bit of ice that my feet can find. Later in the morning, Mark and Gus head off to the beach while Lulu and I settle in for a long walkabout. Mostly, I let her decide which direction to go, and I catch up on my ever-expanding podcast list.

Don't let my glad expression give you the wrong impression.

Isaac is also here for two weeks, for a luxurious spring break! Zoë, meanwhile, is using her break (only one week) to visit Berkeley, one of the grad school possibilities. Did I mention that at least two grad schools have pretty much offered to shower our girl with money, attempts to lure her to study with them? She is weighing her options right now, but what looks certain is that she won't need to take on any debt whatsoever to get her PhD. So, so proud of her and curious to see what she decides! As of now, it looks like she'll either be in California, Chicago, or India next year.

This weekend's kitchen plans include building a pendant light fixture that will hang over the sink. I'll show you when it's done.

They Played Roy Orbison and Patsy Cline

Apparently I've forgotten how to blog. I've also forgotten whether I object to using "blog" as a verb.

Here's a pretty picture:

The sky looks like this today where I live: the clouds look all puffy and cartoonish like that! I ate breakfast with my dad at the Palace Diner in Biddeford, drank a malt iced coffee with my sweetheart, texted with my girl in India, spent some quality time with my three boys (two of them non-human). I wrote some words on paper with a pen. I got no paid work done, as a little reward to myself for a week of getting lots of paid work done. Good job, self.

So Much

So many things have happened, all full of meaning and most a kind of beauty, but the majority of them fall into this "daily routine" category that is pretty boring to talk about.

My gift laptop died a sudden tragic death, and then from out of nowhere my sweet dad ordered a wee silver Chromebook for me to try out (I'll give him a chance to try it too--it's a small laptop that only works online, so no iTunes or Photoshop etc.). So far, the only thing that's been challenging is printing. I guess there's a way to do it, but I'll have to figure it out. Uploading photos is completely different from the way I usually do it, too, although Google Drive makes that actually quite simple.

There's the tech news of the month!

In cat news, I went to Holly's house for a few days. I consorted with her two Edward Gorey cats, learned how to make hammered silver stacking rings, ate delicious food, and hung out with her and her amazing, suddenly tall and grown up kids.

I love being with Holly and her family, and I will probably never stop being amazed at how it takes no time at all to get there and how lucky I am to have someone in my life who knows me so well and ALSO takes such good care of me. Speaking of being spoiled, I stopped at Mom and Dad's on the way, where I was treated to delicious food and good movies and a massage, among of course many other things.

Lulu was feeling frisky, thus blurry.

Meanwhile, back home, Gus hasn't been to the beach in a while because he is limpy. He's had leg/back/hip/something issues on and off ever since he came to live with us, but it usually passes after a couple of days and then he's back to wrestling and running with no problem. This time it doesn't seem to be going away, so we're taking him tomorrow for an x-ray. Poor boy, I know he misses his pals on the beach.

Also, my nephew sweetie Jonah came to visit us for a nice long spell. He is such good company, so easy and fun to have around. We took him art walking Friday night, and he helped with a video shoot on Saturday which may have been long and somewhat exhausting, but which resulted in some fantastic photos (by Mark). Here are a couple of stolen ones:

Ah, boys in boats, in Maine. On a beach, in August. And did I mention that I painted the living room, even its endless ceiling, even the copious amounts of trim and French doors and fireplace and mantle?

I am such a planner, not so good at actually following through on things, and I have spent weeks with paint chips taped here and there, veering back and forth between grays and blues and blue-greens and creams and whites. Finally, I just picked one and did it. Ahh.

Okay, friends, on with August.

Winter Gets Cold in Ways You Always Forget

Yawn. We're bored of slush and snow and gloves and boots and itchy socks and cleaning the pellet stove and scraping the car. Actually, I lie: Gus loves the snow so much, he would be happy in Antarctica, I'm sure of it. We persevere, we venture out in our layers and enjoy the sun when it appears and appreciate our warm waterproof footwear and one of us rolls in the snow and eats the snow and buries his whole head in the snow with joy.

And then we all come inside and take a nap.

My brother David was in Boston for work briefly, and he brought the sweeties with him to hang out with my mom and dad. I drove down there on Saturday to play with them for a day, and it was wonderful.

We had brunch at Clover Food Lab, where Stella and Ben got to work drawing pictures and we all ate delicious popovers and fruit salad and drank perfect coffee. We strolled around Cambridge in the sunshine, played at a funky playground, and got some quality hide-and-seek time in back at Mom and Dad's condo.

 (That's my sweet brother, not standing in front of a dart board or modern torture device.)

Okay, March, let's go. Let's march together in the direction of sun and growing things and finally putting a different pair of shoes on our feet.

The Fair

Mark and I went to the Common Ground Fair this weekend with Mom and Dad, while Isaac spent a few days in New York, staying with Zoë in her luxurious suite (Max was there too). There's never enough time to see everything we want to see, taste all we want to taste (a patient Lulu waited at home for our return), and we swore that next year we'd get a dog sitter so we can spend more hours wandering through exhibit tents and watching border collies show off and eating the best fair food on the planet.

Could the day have been more perfect? Yes, it could've been ten degrees cooler. But it was lovely anyway, and we drank iced chai and ate potato chip fries and admired border collies with Jason and Amanda.

I always leave the fair with dreams of planting vegetables, raising chickens, building things, camping, keeping bees, knitting, buying a CSA share, seeing more of Maine, milking goats, and (mostly) bringing friends and family members* back with me next year.

I just talked to Zoë, and we realized that it'll be September, 2014 before she can come with us again (she'll be abroad all next year). Weird! She would've loved the farmers from Songbird Farm, and so would Max: they had a bicycle-powered corn grinder setup, an adorable sign, huge smiles on their faces, and at one point they all picked up musical instruments and started singing in harmony. We bought some pickled beets from them, of course.

Yay! Bees!

Puppy countdown: TWELVE days.

*Holly would love the fiber tents, the alpacas and angora rabbits and spinning demonstrations. Jonah would love the chickens. Oona would love the border collies. Ben and Stella would probably want to climb inside Hobbit Holes and slide down muddy hills on cardboard. My bruddies would both love it. Actually, I can hardly think of anyone who shouldn't put it on his or her calendar for next year.

Ten Things That Help

1. Pie.*

2. Friends and family, their kind words and sweetness.

3. This fella.

I like to imagine I'm writing an obituary for Minnow (a real one, published--in my imagination--in the New York Times), in which I refer to Theo the Cat as his "protégé."

4. Mom and Dad, and the Caribbean parade that went down their street on Sunday.

5. Taking a walk, the sky, the ocean, people being weird, birds, the smell of burnt toast.

6. Books.

7. Coffee.

8. Work.

9. Naps.

10. Puppy porn.

*Ooh, that pie photo is blurry because I was like "HURRY UP HURRY UP PIE, PIE FOR ME." Here is the recipe, and I swear this was the best pie I've ever made and one of the best I've ever eaten. I whipped crème fraîche with a little sugar to dollop.