mimsy and outgrabe

After abandoning the blog during the pandemic year, I'm ready -- I think -- to return to it. My year has been no more fraught with ugly change and professional and personal turmoil than anyone else's -- and, as the pandemic has wrought across the world some pretty devastating consequences, from job loss to the loss of loved ones,  my year has probably held a good deal less trauma than many other people's.  Still, I wasn't in the frame of mind to report on the banality of remote teaching, sheltering in place, homeschooling, grocery delivery, and endless dishwashing. Nor was I quite ready to spill my innards onto the proverbial page about a newly developing chronic illness, or a tired drama that began two years ago with family members and climaxed in the most devastating and humiliating way last December.  Even writing those last two sentences makes my stomach turn. So that's all I'll say about any of that, for now at least. In an effort to reclaim something of my...

There's a man in this house your golden hair Margareta Last Friday's trip to the Cloisters was indeed restorative, although my small hour (or two) spent drinking red wine with C.C. in her apartment in the West Village was also soul-feeding (albeit a touch dehydrating). Then I flew to Bushwick in a cab and made it to the gallery just in time to see M.S.'s exhibit at Wayfarer's. Then she and her husband fed me tacos. (I didn't need to eat tacos probably but who turns down tacos?) The next day I was a little groggy from a lack of sleep, but I definitely felt like my psyche was well-rested, if that can be a thing. From the garden at The Cloisters Today I'm spending some one-on-one time with The Boy. I try to have "a day" with the kids each semester, a little time with each individually where I spoil them and treat us to a meal out where we can talk without their siblings interrupting or competing for attention. I've already done this with...