I remembered it...

30 November 2025: Thinking about this post and this conversation today. 

Love that man so much. 

The bin has one job...

29 November 2025: In these strange and sad days when I am sticking close to home, spending lots of time on my own, and embracing any source of comfort, it's not surprising that my daily posts are cat-focused. Anyway, here's Jo doing something she does every time I open the linen closet to put something away. At one point, I kept stuff in that fabric bin, but now it's there just for her to do this. 

Lights...

28 November 2025: Over the course of hanging the Christmas lights today, I stopped and talked to all three of my siblings about our dad's condition. Later in the day, Jeff organized a conference call. It was comforting to all talk together, but my goodness: the reason is so sad. So yeah...another hard day. 

I can't imagine putting up any decorations this Christmas except these lights and I can't imagine not putting up these lights. All of that makes sense in my heart and my head. 

First year with the new landscaping and you can really see the lights so much better now. That makes me happy.

Jojo taking a peek here.

Every time my dad sees pictures of my lights, he says, "I like the colored lights." Just another way I am my father's daughter. 

Thanksgiving 2025

27 November 2025: A very muted Thanksgiving, but nicer than I could have imagined even 24 hours ago. Erin, Eric, and the girls came over and we had the Alma Bea catering that I ordered back when we thought our parents would be with us, too. It was so good, but also sad that they weren't with us. 

But those kids? They make things better. (Jo helped, too.)

"Our Real Work"

26 November 2025: Just came across this Wendell Berry poem and somehow it fits the moment, especially after another day filled with not knowing what to do or which way to go. 

Poetry continues to show up for me, blessing after blessing...

Annual vet visit...

25 November 2025: So much is so bad right now, but the girls had their vet visit this morning and it went just fine. They howled and hollered all the way there and back (especially Veronica), but were back to normal as soon as we got home. That made me smile because I realize how safe they feel here.

Photo evidence...

"Peaceful Easy Feeling"

24 November 2025: I have no idea what will happen with my dad in the next days, much less the rest of this day. 

But my siblings and I have been texting about his favorite songs and that's so beautiful to me. 

I can hear him singing along to this one in my head right now. 

"Catching the Light"

23 November 2025: Read this poem today in preparation for my book club meeting this evening. (Our selection is The People's Project.) It is precisely the poem I need for this moment, thinking about my dad and one of the last conversations we had. 

Basketball's back...

22 November 2025: Everything else is as fraught and uncertain as it was yesterday, but now I've got basketball back. The women's team had their home opener today and while couldn't pull out a win, they're back and that's enough.

"One Art"

21 November 2025: Taught the most beautifully meta class of my life today, leading students through Bishop's "One Art." 

Do the thing. Say the words. Master the disaster. Even though it's still a disaster. 

Point to the cracks. Point to the fragility. Let them see that that's what makes it beautiful and human and real.

The joking voice. The gesture I love.

All there in that classroom, moving me along. 

Last night, when I was waiting any moment to hear that my father was gone, I couldn't imagine being in that classroom the next morning, much less to talk about that poem.

But he made it through the night. 

Who knows what comes next?

But whatever it is, the classroom...and language...and art...and teaching will be there. And he will be there, too. 

"Gulf Coast Highway"

20 November 2025: Praying, praying, praying for my dad. Thinking about some of his favorite music.

Me as a House Finch

19 November 2025: This little guy showed up on my bird feeder this morning and I decided he was my avatar for the day: tiny, round, red-headed, anxious, determined to gonna get sh*t done, pretending to be brave...

Got some good news from home (my brother's surgery went well) which helped make it a pretty decent day overall, all things considered. 

(Really enjoying using these bird snapshots as my personal memes...)

"Eternal Flame"

18 November 2025: You know you are emotionally and physically exhausted when the bridge of this song makes you start crying as you sit at your desk at 9:00 a.m. 

(To be honest, just the way she sings "so lonely" has gotten to me since I was a serious and weird little  kid. Now I am just a serious and weird adult. Ha!)

Back home...

17 November 2025: I don't think I've ever gotten back from New York and felt as strange as I did when I got home today. 

How strange to be back here and plan for getting back to "normal" when my dad is still so sick up there. 

How strange to move through every task and ordinary motion when nothing is resolved up there.

About an hour after I got home, I just sat down and took in the silence and sadness. 

Then I took a (less windy) walk and it helped.

Sitting here now with Jo and watching Bob's Burgers, which also helps. A lot.

But strange, strange, strange and so sad. 

Wind walk

16 November 2025: 

[Catch-up post]

Yesterday felt so long, but by 5:30 or so, I had only about 3500 steps. I also just needed to get out there and walk and think and just be alone for a bit--even though it was dark and my throat hurt and my voice was hoarse and there was a literal "gale force wind" warning.

There I was, for over an hour, doing laps at the high school, for almost all of it, the only lunatic on the track. At one point, the wind almost blew me over. 

But I did it and it helped and it felt good.

Erin gently teased me about my "wind walk," but I told her it was just what I needed.