Where else?

17 August 2026: Where else was I going to visit on my walk this morning?

A couple of long and strange days kicking off today, but grateful for some time to be alone and think before the rest of the day unfolds.

Soaked through...

16 August 2026: Took a long walk before driving up to NY today. Probably should have had an umbrella with me. Mostly, though, it just sprinkled.

Then the skies really opened for the last block or so. 

Felt appropriate. 

And maybe a bit renewing?

Walked through the door soaked, but it was okay. 

(Symbolism aside, I had to change and shower anyway before hitting the road anyway.) 

These two...

15 August 2026: Where would I be without these two? They have been kind of perfect through all of this. And they are navigating having Annie join us with more patience than I could have imagined. 

That picture of BabyCat was taken about ten minutes after Annie chased her all the way down the upstairs hall and down the stairs. Her face show she's mostly recovered from the "WTF?" of it and is in "I hate this, but okay..." mode. 

Exploring...

14 August 2026: Cat paws on the TV. Cat paws behind the TV.

Annie's exploring range is expanding. 

Pushing on...

13 August 2026: A dull headache persisted all day today, having set up shop on Monday. But it's okay. Very busy day, which is also okay. Lots of kindness from friends, which is more than okay.

49

12 August 2026: 49 years ago, my mom brought me into this world. This morning, she slipped past its bounds and gained her heavenly home. 

I am so grateful for all that she gave me and grateful that she is at rest. 

"Softy and Tenderly"

11 August 2026: Praying for her heavenly homecoming and so many joyful reunions.

Jo at 4

10 August 2026: Lil Soups for everyone today as we celebrated Jo turning 4! I woke up with her sleeping hard by my legs. On days like these, when I wake up sad, it means so much to feel her there.

Here's a photo that summarizes the big excitement in her life lately: being intrigued and intimidated by and sometimes angry at her new housemate. Really, she's been remarkably patient and easy-going about Annie's arrival, as has BabyCat. Very proud of them both. (Proud of Annie, too, but really hoping she gives up her aggressive colonizer attitude soon!)

There at 4:30 a.m.

9 August 2026: Made it back to WV by 2:00. 

Keep thinking about the wonder that is hospice. Called them at 4:30 this morning because my mom had a fever. There they were, ready to tell me and Yasmine what to do, what to look for, and to tell us to "get some rest." I can't even think about that kind of beautiful service without crying. 

As for the time between that call and when I left four hours later...it was like an alternate reality. Quiet. Profound. Ordinary. Sad. Normal. Just sat with her and thought and thought and thought and prayed. 

Saturday morning at Rocky Point Beach

8 August 2026: Back yet again. Took my walk early this morning as it's hot and humid here. 

The guy heading out in his kayak reminded me so much of Ryan that it almost took my breath away.

Another surreal day.

I leave tomorrow morning and thinking about how that will feel is almost beyond my imagination.

Yasmine

7 August 2026: Tonight, I watched my mom's caregiver feed her an entire Glucerna drink with a teaspoon.  In the midst of so much sadness, it was beautiful to witness.

Not even a year ago...

6 August 2026: Headed up to NY tomorrow for what will be a very hard visit. 

I was scrolling through blog entries from last August just to be sure I was right about Jo's birthday. (I was; it's on Monday.)

Felt my breath catch when I scolled by this post. Less than a year ago. 

Surreal.

She's home...

5 August 2026: For the first time since early June, my mom is home in her own bed tonight. So grateful.

Not Quite a Ghost, again...

4 August 2026: I am trying to get as much day-to-day course prep done ahead of time as possible, which is why I have spent the past couple of days rereading Not Quite a Ghost. I am teaching it for the first time, including it in the Young Adult Lit class. It's been fun working through it again through the lens of teaching and I find myself looking forward to diving into it with my students in October.

Comfort

3 August 2026:

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am." John 14: 1-3. 

My favorite superhero...

2 August 2026: Spider-Man remains my favorite superhero and I really enjoyed Brand New Day today. A kid from New York who wants to the right thing...

It was also good to get out for a bit after a couple of mostly solo and quiet days here. I just wasn't up for "cheap" society, to paraphrase Walden a bit. I even skipped a fundraiser last night that I had already bought a ticket for...but I just couldn't do it. 

Too sad. Too in my own head. 

But also okay. 

And (I think?) maybe more okay because I didn't go. I gave myself permission to stay home and just be. 

Then Spider-Man was a great way to get out for a bit. 

One day at a time...

"After My First Breakup, My Father Writes His First Email"

1 August 2026: This poem, by Emily Jungmin Yoon, has been in my inbox since it arrived via the Poem-a-Day email on Tuesday. I keep coming back to it. 

These last three stanzas, man...

How easy it was to forget this man’s sensitivity,
his love for music, that he took saxophone lessons,

             coming home to an unlit apartment.
             A taciturn man, who sings alone.
             Who, when years later asked 

what instrument he likes listening to the most,
said, the human voice.

Banana bliss...

31 July 2026: Yesterday, Jo provided some much needed light through her essential Jo-ness. Today, it was BabyCat's turn, showing off her glorious fluff while passed out after playing with the old catnip-filled banana. 

Dramatic snoozing...

30 July 2026: Another day about which, boringly and depressingly, I feel compelled to say that so much is bad and sad and hard. Grateful for the light that shines through, including from this silly, dramatic bundle of chaos and love.

Hadestown

29 July 2026: Got a chance to see the filmed version of Hadestown just before it ended its theatrical run. Really enjoyed it and found myself thinking about all the Orpheus-themed works I've encountered over the years. Really is the summer of being grateful for your early training in mythology. 

Caught her mid-prance...

28 July 2026: This cat loves to prance. I always think she looks like a cat ballerina when she walks.

"This Isn't Final"

27 July 2026: 

"Don't give up on all that you love

Just because it's getting hard

And don't give up on the person you've become

Just because it's getting dark" --Lily Kershaw, "This Isn't Final"

Sunday snapshots...

26 July 2026: Some images from today that make me happy. 

(BabyCat lives here, too, and is always worth looking at--I just didn't catch her posing when I had my phone out.)

Home makes me happy.

First day in WV...

25 July 2026: Made it back to West Virginia in great time and she's getting settled in. Not happy, but does seem to like the open window. She'll stay in the office by herself for a least a couple of days, I think.

Lots of Big Thoughts on my drive. So much sadness. It's the anniversary of losing Ryan, too. 

But it's a profound thing to take an animal in and commit to loving it and caring for it. And it's striking how quickly they work their way right into your heart. 

Somewhere in New Jersey, "You Are the Sunshine of My Life" came on. I thought to myself, "this little cat is just that--sunshine breaking through all this darkness. And 'that's while I'll always be around' for her." 

I don't like change and this will be a big adjustment for Jo and Veronica. But we'll make it work. 

Cat-napping...

24 July 2026: Tomorrow morning, this little one, my parents' cat Annie, will join me for the long ride to West Virginia. Praying that she adjusts well to life with Veronica and Jo (and me). She's a real sweetie and just the perfect amount of weird.

We meet again...

23 July 2026: Stopped by my youthful angst stomping ground this morning on my walk. 

Slightly better vibes than the previous two stops.

Free knots...

22 July 2026: At the end of a very long day (a nine hour drive to NY--three hours longer that usual; a visit with my mom at the hospital for about four hours), I stopped at a local pizza joint in Rocky Point for a slice. Because I am me, I talked to the guys working there. I told them a bit about my long day--mostly because I was grateful they were still open. 

I told them how I always gotta get a slice when I am up here. They were so wonderful and kind...tried to give me a free second slice and when I said "no, thanks," they threw in some garlic knots instead.

Don't believe what people tell you about New Yorkers. They rule. 

2.5 hours of distraction...

21 July 2026: Another trip to NY tomorrow and there's so much on my mind and heart. Grateful for the 2.5+ hour distraction of the weekly trivia game. 

It's not just a distraction, of course: it's also the chance to be around nice people hanging out with people they like and having a good time. It's pretty cool. It's also "bring your grandchildren" season, which makes me smile. 

Twelve!

20 July 2026: Rough day in our family, but a bit of joy found its way in, as Evan turned 12. He and I had a nice phone chat (complete with my singing telegram). Then later, Tara sent me a video of him showing off the Lego model that I sent him and he put together. He's just a good kid and makes me smile.

Sunday morning tableau

19 July 2026: 

This lovely little tableau sort of stopped me in my tracks when I got out of the shower this morning. 

The open window.

The new curtains--that just delight me--blowing in the breeze.

Jo's beloved Gray Mousie.

Jo herself, waiting for me to throw it.

On the bedside table, the little plush Jesus that Jane got me months ago because when she sent a pic to the group chat, I said it was "cute." (It is.) She finally had a chance to give it to me last week.

Took a moment, breathed it in and thought,  "My home...and I am so lucky."

Vigil

18 July 2026: Not sure how I feel about George Saunders' Vigil, which I finished this afternoon, but these lines sure did speak to me at this moment in time:

"I could comfort.

I could.

Thank you, thank you, I whispered" (172).

Work Cited

Saunders, George. Vigil. Random House, 2026.

Three boxes...

17 July 2026: 

Kind of made her choose...we are back to just two. (The newest, the one she's sitting in above, is now in the recycling bin.)

For the historical record (ha!), I also want to note that the air quality is so bad from the wildfire smoke that my eyes burned on my walk. The smoke smell also gets in the house, even with all the windows closed. Apocalyptic vibes, indeed.

Mid-July vibes...

16 July 2026: Pretty quiet day here today, but I managed to get a lot done. Got a lien-free title for the car (took less than 15 minutes at the DMV, I think?), did some cleaning out of my kitchen cabinets and took a bunch of stuff to Goodwill (inspired by cleaning out the Martinsburg house), and did some "work work," too. 

All of that is good...but the vibes all around sure seem oppresive. Can't be outside too long because of the heat and the wildfire smoke. Can't even eat salad or berries without worrying. So many signs of broken systems in a broken country. And so much uncertainty with my mom.

I meant to get even more done tonight, but might just take is easy. Checking out the new Little House on the Prairie. Hope it's good.

Trivia playing...

15 July 2026: For the first time in forever, I was a trivia player and not a host. A couple who plays at Rumsey every week have been asking me (also forever) to join them for a different company's game at the Casino. Finally decided to do it and had a really great time. Hope I can do it again.

Gotta find fun and joy when/where I can.

"The Eye"

14 July 2026: "You can dance in a hurricane / But only if you're standing in the eye..."

Trying to get to the eye today, if not to dance, to simply find some control. 

This summer's research agenda...

13 July 2026: In the spring, when I was thinking about this summer, I had a modestly ambitious research plan: work on turning my conference paper on Not Quite a Ghost into a full-length article. By the time the summer started, with my mom's health crashing, I knew that wasn't going to happen. My heart and my head just weren't in that writing mode. 

A few weeks ago, I started to think about another summer with not much to show for it. I am kind of used to not having big adventures or fun stories, but I can usually at least say, "I got a lot of work done." And I don't want to keep dumping sad news on folks.

Tonight, though, I am realizing two things: 

1) I've gotten a heck of a lot done this summer already. Wrote a big grant application. Taught the Summer Institute. Worked on Common Reading stuff with Hannah. Got two syllabi ready. And a bunch more little projects. That makes me feel good, even if it doesn't scratch that writing itch in the same way. 

2) I also got professional development work done--just a different kind. And here I am grateful for two new Associate Editor roles that I've taken on: for the McFarland series and for Studies in American Humor. I've reviewed and sent out articles for the journal, learning new skills and to read in a slightly different way. For McFarland, I am once again working through a manuscript that excites me so much--and that I feel I can help make even better. This kind of work--easier to wrap my distracted head around--is meaningful.

Now I find myself tempted to erase everything above. I want to push away those cliched, "Things seemed bad, but here's a bright spot" kind of posts, which I think I write too often. And texts from New York as I write this are so bleak and sad. Who the hell cares about a research agenda? 

Maybe I'll let it stand, though, as an artifact of a moment in this hard, sad, and strange summer.

The "Little Ones" Cleaning Team...

12 July 2026: Erin met me out at my parents' Martinsburg house to help with the clean-up/clean-out. I can't say enough how much help she was and how much real progress we made together. I feel a million times better about it all--despite being tired and dirty afterwards. 

She is a rock for me and a sanity checker. Profoundly grateful for her. 

As for the post's title, when we were growing up, the rest of the family called us "the little ones..."

A friendship divided...

12 July 2026: 

[Catch-up post...]

Had a great time yesterday with Jane, Kara, Patrick, Connor, and Maggie seeing the Nats play the Yankees.

This was my first Yankee game in forever. Seriously: it might be 20 years?

The Yankees won with a home-run driven come-back in the 8th (just like the night before). They also won today, again with a comeback.

"each wind is self-registering..."

10 July 2026: "The wind-driven rain had carved ruler-straight ridges behind each pebble, from which he could read the precise direction of the storm. 'All this is perfectly distinct to an observant eye,' he wrote, 'and yet could easily pass unnoticed by most. Thus each wind is self-registering.' With this he closed his Journal, his great monument to self-registration, forever" (Walls 493).

Finished the Thoreau biography this morning in the waiting room of the walk-in clinic. I think being in public prevented me from getting too teary as it closed out. 

Amazing life. Amazing book. 

(Finally decided to get this crud looked at. The verdict is something viral. Got a nasal spray and steroids.) 

Work Cited

Walls, Laura Dassow. Henry David Thoreau: A Life. The U of Chicago P, 2017.

Cold Case

9 July 2026: Yesterday I discovered that a network I didn't even know I had is showing a block of Cold Case episodes every afternoon. 

This is very good news: I really liked this procedural in my grad school days--Rita and Vogel used to come over to my apartment to watch it. We'd cook dinner and everything. And I remember some of these episodes so well. (We'd also play a game where you had to guess the killer before the last act break.)

It's also potentially very bad news, maybe distracting me from my work. Ha.

Anyway, an episode started today that I instantly remembered, including that Jason Dohring, who I loved so much on Veronica Mars, was in it. And man--rewatching this? You see everything in that performance that you would later see in Logan Echolls.

In fact, I was just thinking that when a graphic popped up...

Okay, StartTV...why is your programmer targeting me this way? 

"How swiftly, at last, but unnoticed..."

8 July 2026: In 1859, shortly after his father died, Thoreau wrote to a friend, "How swiftly, at last, but unnoticed, a generation passes away!" (qtd in. Walls 437).

Once again, this biography reveals a Thoreau whose life and words stretch through time, touching this moment. As I work to clean up and clean out the my parents' Martinsburg house, they are especially poignant and well-timed. 

Less than thirty pages left and I find myself sad that I'll be done soon...

Work Cited

Walls, Laura Dassow. Henry David Thoreau: A Life. The U of Chicago P, 2017.

His favorite spot...

7 July 2026: Thinking about something I learned today from someone who knew my dad. Something that changed--just a bit--how I feel about a subject that he and I really disagreed about. I know I am being vague, but it's enough to say that I am grateful for that insight. 

Progress...

6 July 2026: I've got a weird little summer cold--not ideal--but I tried not to let it slow me down today. Again, I feel the need to get as ahead on everything as I can, especially in a week with no travel and not a long on my calendar. 

So, it felt good to make a lot of progress on my ENGL 301 course prep, some work for Studies in American Humor, and on closing out our Department of Education grant. That last one feels really good. Cannot wait for that all to be done.

Also have a fresh manuscript for McFarland to look over (in my role as Associate Editor of the series). I'll really dive into that tomorrow.

As I type so often, bit by bit...

Sundays with Henry, Veronica, and Jo...

5 July 2026: 

"When Min, a Maltese kitten, joined the household, her wild freaks delighted him and he played with her by the hour, pausing to shake his head in his Journal: 'What sort of philosophers are we, who know nothing of the origin and destiny of cats?'" (Walls 283).

Still working my way through Walls' biography of Thoreau, seeing connections--both profound and silly--on every page. 

Work Cited

Walls, Laura Dassow. Henry David Thoreau: A Life. The U of Chicago P, 2017.

250th...

4 July 2026: Spent the day with some of my favorite people. Home by late afternon just in time for some big storms to roll through and break the heat. Nice to have the windows open after days...

Culture Gabfest

3 July 2026: A few years ago, I started to wonder about what it would be like if/when podcasts I've been listening to for well over a decade end. It's like a pale version of imagining the end of a "real-life" relationship. I don't even want to type of the names of some these...like it would releasing bad mojo.

Anyway, I listened to the final Slate Culture Gabfest episode on my walk this morning. I can still remember where I was walking when I heard certain segments over the years. Today I thought about their discussion of Big Night in the early days of the pandemic, with a clear memory of turning onto Hensel Drive on hte final loop home.  

Sad to see it end and grateful all the years of content and conversation. 

I'll miss them.

Paperwork days...

2 July 2026: A couple of "paperwork days" have me feeling a bit caught up and crossing some big items off of my lists. I still feel behind, especially with course prep, but day like these (and a heatwave keeping me inside by late morning) are helping with that. 

Strange summer, to put it mildly, but anything I can do now to stay on task or even get ahead will be such a relief...

"All I Want"

1 July 2026: I've always really liked this one and get swept away by that last reprise of the chorus, wrapped around new lines:

"And it feels so close (All I want is to feel this way)

Let it take me in (Be this close, feel the same)

Let it hold me so (All I want is to feel this way)

I can feel it say (Evening speaks, feel it say)"

90s nostalgia, for better or worse, hitting me really hard these days.

"in the midst of human stories, God reveals himself"

30 June 2026: Quite moved by Pope Leo's comments here.

"Leo also explained that writing, as a human exercise, ultimately leads to God.

'When we delve into the very depths of our humanity, we are not far from God; for there, in the midst of very human stories, God reveals himself,' Leo said."

That's it, right? That's the beauty and power and the point of it all. 

"Hot Pants Rain Dance"

29 June 2026: Sitting here now watching the Bob's Burgers episode "Paraders of the Lost Float" This one never jumped out at me before, but tonight I am loving how it's ultimately about embracing joy and fun when it comes to us. "Hot Pants Rain Dance" epitomizes this vibe, of course--a vibe that I welcome this evening. 

Strange, silly, but ultimately true that this show has gotten me through so much hard stuff. 

"Nature is not yours until you are more hers"

28 June 2026: Still working my way through Laura Dassow Walls's biography of Thoreau. The section on Margaret Fuller's death provides moving details that I didn't know before (some of them disturbing). Walls concludes that section with an idea that really struck me: 

"Once again harrowed by tragedy, Thoreau turned not away from the things of nature, but towards them, voicing again his awe before the fundamental strangeness of materiality. Nature is not yours until you are more hers: that sympathy had been part of Fuller's legacy to him" (294).

Work Cited

Walls, Laura Dassow. Henry David Thoreau: A Life. The U of Chicago P, 2017.

"Boulder to Birmingham" (Live)

27 June 2026: On my drive back to WV today, this version of "Boulder to Birmingham," one I had never heard before, really moved me. And made me think of my dad.

Three nights of dinner...

26 June 2026: 

[Catch-up post]

Every night that I was in New York, Chris, Jen, and Aidan invited me to join them for dinner. Twice, they cooked. And on Friday night, they took me to "Food Truck Fridays" at a local park. 

(I think I type the next seven words all the time, but here it goes again...) So much is so hard right now, but I am blessed beyond measure that my brother and his family are sources of light and literal and figurative sustenance. 

In my rearview...

25 June 2026: 

[Catch-up post]

Someone was very good for her vet visit.

Her anthem...

24 June 2026: 

[Catch-up post]

It's very hard that all my mom wants is to go home and she can't accept that we can't just make that happen. It's very hard that she keeps saying, "I want to go home." It breaks your heart.

Every once in while, though, she reveals a sense of humor still there. "You want me to hoist up the John B sails?" I asked her. And she smiled just a bit.

(The next day, after a long period of silence, she said, "Hey, Heidi: guess where I want to go?" I realized she was being just a bit cheeky, so I answered her, "Hawaii?" And again, she smiled ever so slightly.)

Sunshine just in time...

23 June 2026: Taking it as a good sign that the rain stopped and the sun came out in just enough time that I could mow the lawn this afternoon. Had to get it done today or it would have had to wait until Sunday or Monday...and even those days might not have worked. In the grand scheme of things, that's not a crisis, but I do get fixated on stuff. Having one less thing to fixate on? I'll take it. 

So yeah: that sunshine was quite welcome.  

Fixed!

22 June 2026: Finally got a long-delayed home repair completed today, thanks to some well-prepared, compentent professionals. It's always so cool to interact with folks who are so very good at what they do and take real pleasure in doing things right. 

Porch reading...

21 June 2026: Didn't expect Father's Day to hit me the way it has; I'm okay, but it's...hard, especially because of everything going on with my mom. 

Earlier today, I fought off some weepiness by going outside to read on the porch. (Would be weird to sit on the porch in broad daylight and cry.)

Sitting there with my big old Thoreau bio, I realized that wasn't a bad tribute to my dad, who would take his books out to the deck to read, often with Sugie or Snow with him. My girls stayed inside, but one of them wasn't happy about it. 

Saturday phone call

20 June 2026: Grateful for a long-delayed phone conversation today. And to my brother, who facilitated it. 

Left it all on the field...

19 June 2026: Site visit is done. Proud of us and the work we've done. Left it all on the field, as they say. Now we wait. 

And, after I clean up the classroom, I am heading home to crash and try to relax this evening. 

Ready for tomorrow...

18 June 2026: Valerie and I set up a classroom for our site visit for a grant to support the SUWP. The room looks pretty good, considering it's hard to "show" a lot of what our NWP site does. I like this picture, though, based on an idea the third member of our team came up with last week: we asked the teachers in our current Summer Institute to respond to the prompt. They did great. I mean, present company excluded, teacher have great handwriting--but beyond that, their comments are golden. 

Boxcars!

17 June 2026: It's sometimes hard not to feel guilty about doing "fun" things these days, but man, I had a great time tonight at my first Boxcars' game of the season with Carrie and Amy. Perfect night for baseball (even if the home team couldn't pull off a win).

"Secret of Life"

16 June 2026: Listening to Faith Hill's 1998 album Faith while I get some work done this afternoon. This was a major soundtrack of my summer of '98, when I was doing Summer Scholars research at Roanoke. Anyway, there's a lot of gems on this one, including "Secret of Life," which always struck me as wise in its simplicity. 

Maybe my favorite lines?

"The secret of life is to try not to hurry,

But don't wait, don't wait..."

Love that tension in the ideas and the way she repeats that second "don't wait."

I find myself navigating that tension (internally) a lot. 

Anyway, kind of cool to return to this album 18 years later. And Faith is so cute in this era! (She's always beautiful, but this late 90's cute is really something.)

Disclosure Day

15 June 2026: I really enjoyed Disclosure Day. A lot of fun and filled with hope and light. I'll take all the hope and light the world offers these days.

Knicks, Revolution, and Lil Soups...

14 June 2026: Checking in with the girls?

Jo had Knicks Fever last night, just like me.

Veronica, earlier this afternoon, about five minutes after I freed her from the office, where I had trapped her to apply Revolution. (Yes, another "Revolution on Cats" day.) From freak-out mode to staring at me from the coffee table in five minutes...

Not pictured, the Lil Soups they will both enjoy later this evening, a belated birthday treat for BabyCat.

Summer Institute 2026 and Christian's Birthday

13 June 2026:

Two things make today special. 

First, it's Christian's birthday. Every year, I am more grateful for how amazing he is. 

Second, we had the in-person portion of our Summer Institute today. Like every year, it's simply inspring to be surrounded by talented teachers who give so much.

Respites...

12 June 2026: A quietly dark day here, with a lot of uncertainty up in New York. It was also a busy day. Today that combination felt overwhelming at times--so much to do and all so soon. 

But other moments were respites: a phone call with a friend, a drink (mocktail for me) and some conversation with a couple of friends. So grateful for those moments that let me catch my breath. 

"Cracklin' Rosie"

11 June 2026: Since it popped up in an episode of Deadloch, "Cracklin' Rosie" has been on my mind. It's a great little song, but it also makes me think of my mom, who really loves Neil Diamond.

"I can't believe this. They f****** forgot my birthday..."

10 June 2026: After our regular post-Common-Reading-meeting-lunch, Hannah and I were walking back to her office. She mentioned something about the day's date and I stopped and gasped. 

"I forgot BabyCat's birthday!" (On Monday...)

Hannah, who is always the best, a) didn't call me out for being ridiculous, b) didn't miss miss a beat, telling me, "I am sure she understands. She knows you've been going through it."

BabyCat, of course, is the cat who is least likely to understand, but I'll see if I can make it up to her. I'll give her some extra treats tonight and get her a Lil Soup over the weekend. And she can freely imagine her own little movie, Eleven Candles. 

In the meantime, here's a picture from mid-May that illustrates just how gorgeous she remains at age 11. 

Good luck, little one!

9 June 2026: This little baby was on my back patio when I started mowing the lawn today. Watched me just about every time I passed her. 

Worried, worried, worried that she was sick or injured or abandoned the whole time.

Put the mower away, swept the driveway and sidewalks, and then checked again. She was gone. 

Watering watcher...

8 June 2026: Caught someone watching me water the flowers this morning. 

Culture Gabfest

7 June 2026: I always wondered how I'd feel when the Culture Gabfest called it quits--which I could kind of sense coming?--but to have the news come right now? Well, I literally cried. 

So grateful for eighteen years (!!!) of top-notch entertainment. 

Home...

 6 June 2026: 

[Catch-up post...last one...]

Drove through blinding downpours in the homestretch, but made it. Grateful always to have this place to come home to. 

The Anna Karenina principle proven (again) in a single day

5 June 2026: 

[Catch-up post]

"All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

By the end of Friday, I couldn't get these lines out of my head. 

[Hospital] Room with a View

4 June 2026: 

[Catch-up post]

When I first noticed the view from my mom's hospital room, I almost gasped. 

An image of such peace and beauty from a perch that is anything but. 

(I was born here in this hospital, but can't remember being there since.)

A minor miracle...

3 June 2026: 

[Gotta get through a series of "catch-up" posts...]

This is a silly picture, but an less than an hour before it was taken, I was sobbing because I saw that this sweet dog would be okay. So much is awful, but the months-long dread and despair that I felt around all things Snow-related has lifted.

Internal timeline cleanse...

2 June 2026: So much on my mind, but it does my heart and head good to catch these glimpses of my girls, peacefully oblivious. 

"Salt Then Sour Than Sweet"

1 June 2026: Very, very hard days here. Finding comfort once again in Sara Bareilles, whose music always comes to me at just the right times. (That this is also a Brandi Carlile collaboration is a lovely bonus.)

American Rambler

31 May 2026: In American Rambler, which I am really enjoying about 100 pages in, Isaac Fitzgerald writes some lines that I could not more heartily co-sign. Writing about attending Easter services at a Swedenborgian church and thinking about the parishoners, he explains, "That devotion is something that still perplexes me--unless it's a devotion to art, or my friends, or walking. But in a way, as I grow older, I'm beginning to realize that it may all be the same thing, and that's enough."

Also appropriate musings for today, both Whitman's birthday and what would have been (well, still is) my parents' 56th anniversary.

Work Cited

Fitzgerald, Isaac. American Rambler: Walking the Trail of Johnny Appleseed. Knopf, 2026.

Finishing The Master

30 May 2026: I hadn't planned to, but last night I found myself finishing The Master. Echoing the pace and style of his subject, Tóibín's prose makes a reader take their time; you literally can't dash through these pages. To be clear, this is a feature, not a bug. 

So when I picked the book up last night with about eighty pages to go, I thought I would maybe get through forty. But I was so quietly captivated by it that I just kept going. 

I think I'll think about this one for a while: Henry's push-and-pull between the social and the individual, his quietly torturous repression, and his devotion to his work. None of these are easy to describe or classify. And all of that makes perfect sense to me.  

Three books...

29 May 2026: Working my way through three different "for fun" books, which I can't remember doing before: American Rambler (for my book club), that Thoreau biography, and The Master (those last two from my bedside table piles). 

My dad did this all the time. I can't say I saw the appeal--dividing my attention like that. But now that I have the time to do it (and am making the time to do it), I get it. Like, of course it's great. 

I didn't set out to do this as a little tribute to him, but I like that it is turning out to be--and I hope it's a habit I keep up (or at least, reading more than one book at a time).

Uncle Joe

28 May 2026: My Uncle Joe passed away today. It's been, quiet simply, a brutal six months in my family. 

Thinking tonight about all the fun times I had at his house, how handsome I always thought he was, and how the one time I ever rode a motorcycle, he was driving it and I had my arms around his waist so tight at first but then relaxed and felt both safe and exhilarated. 

5001

27 May 2026: So I just noticed that Blogger is saying this is post #5001, which is kind of wild. Been at this since 2007 and posting daily since 2016. 

Seems like that's enough for a post today--at least once I add a little groove: this song that's been in my head since I heard it on an episode if Ponies (which is a very fun show).

The Master

26 May 2026: Working my way through another book that has sat on a bedside table for nearly a decade: Colm Tóibín's The Master. Beautiful and haunting prose throughout so far. This passage stuck with me today, as Tóibín's fictionalized version of Henry James remembers meeting a wounded Civil War soldier at a Union hospital camp: 

"He wanted to hold his young frined, help him now that the worst was over, take him home to his family to be looked after. But he also know that, as much as he wanted to aid and console the soldier, he wanted to be alone in his room with the night coming down and a book close by and pen and paper and the knowledge that the door would remain shut until the morning came and he would not be disturbed. The gap between the two desires filled him with sadness and awe at the mystery of the self, the mystery of having a single consciousness, knowing merely its own bare feelings and experiencing singly and alone its own pain or fear or pleasure or complacency" (166-7).

Work Cited

Tóibín, Colm. The Master: A Novel. Scribner, 2004.

Memorial Day 2026

25 May 2026: Had a really wonderful time spending the day in Rockville with Tim, Kevin, and Amy. We watched the parade (so cool and diverse!) had lunch and then just talked and laughed. Awesome day. 

I Love Boosters

24 May 2026: A lot about this current cultural moment is awful and frustrating, but it really is a gift to get to watch a Boots Riley movie. I Love Boosters is a fun ride with a big swing of hope at the end. I'll happily take it. 

Lisa and Shelby

23 May 2026: Two highlights from today: 1) Lunch with Lisa, a friend who worked at Shepherd forever ago but then moved on to the working for the US Patent Office. I hadn't seen her in so long, but we had kept in contact via social media. Carrie and James were there, too, along with Lisa's friend from Baltimore. Just a very chill and fun time, reminding me how cool Lisa is and how lucky I am that we are still in touch.

2) Shelby's graduation party. I've known this kid since she was little. Her mom is one of my favorite people. They have been through so much and are still so close. To see her now be a nurse--it's really is special. 

Trying to beat the rain...

22 May 2026: On my walk this morning, I said hello to these divas. As always, they barely acknowledged me. Iconic.

Quiet, rainy, May day...

21 May 2026: After a very early heat wave, a few days of cool rain are setting in. We need the rain, so I am grateful (mostly). 

I ran errands most of the morning and got some work done on campus. I was home by a bit after noon. 

It's been a quiet since then--getting a bit of work done, talking with Tara (stuff with my mom is...hard), and keeping an eye on Jo (who is having another bad stomach day), and reading for fun. Reading two books at once (soon to be three), which I realize is an unintentional tribute to my dad.  

(Jo's okay now...just crashing big time on the couch. I said to her, "I am sorry you aren't feeling great, but it's been nice to be here with you today.")

Big Sister Energy

20 May 2026: 

Today while the group chat with my siblings was a bit lively, the song “I Melt with You” was playing on Pandora. 

I realized the first time I really heard that song, I was in the back of my mom’s minivan and we were driving Tara back home from a semester at college in the spring of 1990. I was always so excited to have her back home.

Anyway, I had my little Walkman and played a song for her that I was just swoony over: “Paintings in My Mind” by Tommy Page.** (Ha! It's not a great song, but I was young...) 

I can picture her*: putting on the headphones, listening, and telling me it was a great song. Immaculate “Big Sister Energy,” tolerating and even humoring my enthusiasm for the New Kids on the Block-adjacent pop star.  

Then she was like, “Let me play one for you…” 

Because she was the coolest person I knew, I agreed that it was a great song. (And come on—it is!)

Sometimes I think too much, maybe, about the hard parts of growing up. When I think of my siblings, though, so much is good and filled with love.

*A “painting in my mind,” if you will.

**RIP, Tommy Page. I still think you were swoon-worthy.

Summertime Syllabizing...

19 May 2026: Couldn't help myself and got started with some fall syllabus work, specifically for the YA Lit class. I'm including a couple of new books this time (Robertson's The Barren Grounds and Ursu's Not Quite a Ghost) and dropped some others. I reworked some assignments and gave everything a read-over, tinkering with some language in places. 

Felt good to get so much done.

I feel like I am always pushing, pushing, pushing to get ahead as "just in case," I guess. Hamilton's "Non-Stop" always plays in my head when I think about it. 

But now I am telling myself to push ahead for those reasons, but also so that maybe I'll have a lot "done" and can actually see how I really feel with nothing pressing to do. I honestly have no idea how that will feel...

Today I met (again) with a financial planner from Thrivent. He asked if I imagined myself working part-time after retirement. I told him that I didn't think so, but I also can't imagine not working. 

Is it love for the work or more of that running ahead "just in case"? Both? 

Small Things Like These

18 May 2026: Early in the spring, Randy (who I wrote about here) handed me a slim book. He remembered me saying that "Hanrahan" doesn't appear in a lot of literature. This book, Small Things Like These (by Claire Keegan), he said, had some Hanrahan in it. 

I just finished reading it and my goodness: what a book! 

I found myself thinking that it's precisely the kind of book my dad would enjoy and that we would enjoy talking about. His favorite short story, after all, was "The Dead." 

This book's answer to its central question--what do you do when you must acknowledge an travesty happening almost in plan sight?--is profoundly moral without being simple or naive. Just an absolute jewel.

Best breakfast dates...

17 May 2026: Met Cory, Hannah, and Theo at Tudor's this morning for a breakfast date. Hard to think of a better way to start the day! 

"the humble pencil"

16 May 2026: After sitting on my bedside table for nearly ten years (!), I am finally digging into Laura Dassow Walls' biography of Thoreau. I am still in the early chapters and really loved this little excerpt about his family's pencil business, something that I have always wanted to know more about:

"Thanks to Henry's improvements, for a time Thoreau pencils were the best in America, sought by artists, engineers, surveyors, architects, carpenters, and writers--everyone who depended on a good pencil. Thoreau's own working method coevolved with the family pencils. Quite literally, Thoreau's writing career rested on the humble pencil, so much a part of him that, when he drew up a list of travel essentials, he forgot to mention a pencil, the same way he forgot to mention air to breathe or water to drink" (40).

Thinking about how lost I feel sometimes when I don't have a pen or pencil on hand...

(Also thinking about setting a goal of moving a certain number of books from that beside table--and the other one--this summer. We'll see. Right now I am working on two.)

Work Cited

Walls, Laura Dassow. Henry David Thoreau: A Life. The U of Chicago P, 2017.

"Called back"

15 May 2026: Today marks 140 years since Emily Dickinson died. I was thinking of my last visit to her grave--exactly 12 years ago with the Prominence of Place class. 

Need to get back up there...

Life-saving training

14 May 2026: Walking back from a meeting across campus, I saw a big group of our staff leaving their (very first) Professional Development Day. That alone is pretty darn cool--that the University invested in training our hard-working staff in this way. But what really got me--what made my eyes well up--is how many of them were leaving the the Narcan boxes they were trained to use that day. They also did some CPR training. 

So smart. So important. 

First big spring storm...

13 May 2026: The first big thunderstorm of the spring is rolling through as I write this. Unlike Jo, who is looking disturbed and about to hide under some furniture, I am grateful for it (assuming it doesn't get too severe). We need the rain and only a few hours ago, I finished planting all of my flowers. 

As I planted the flowers in the bed by the front porch, I thought about how beautiful they were last year and marveled at how small they start. Now it's cool to sit here and think about the work that the rain will do to help them get there.

(Reminds me of the kind of moments I describe in this post: standing in the yard shoveling snow and trying to imagine summer and then standing there in the summer and trying to imagine winter...)

Spring yard work...

12 May 2026: Just finished the lawn and am taking a little break before trivia. 

It's been a busy day, but kind of casually busy, if that makes any sense; no real stress or rushing. Or rather, when I felt like I needed to be rushing and thus stressed, I realized I didn't need to be doing either.

Voted this morning. Planted a little redbud tree sapling tree a neighbor was giving away. Went to the dentist. Went to Walmart to get (more) mulch and some odds and ends. Wandered through Sunny Meadows on my annual annual-buying trip. Came home and kept working on the spring clean-up and prep work I started yesterday. Listened to a New Yorker Fiction Podcast story while I did the latter--a kind of tradition. (Yard work--fall or spring clean-ups--and Christmas light hanging/taking down=New Yorker Fiction Podcast episodes. A little tradition that I quite enjoy as it makes the tedious work more pleasant.) Then mowed the lawn. 

Tomorrow I'll see about getting the flowers in the ground and porch pots. Need to spread the weed and feed, too. I've got a couple of work obligations, but will do my best to stay unstressed/unrushed. 

It's almost like these little yard rituals--a yearly necessity--need to be done before I can settle into whatever summer break rhythm will emerge. 

Break routine...

11 May 2026: Always a strange time of the year--these early days after a semester ends. I am trying to push through some lingering projects and some spring yardwork...and then figure out the daily routine.

My summer to-do list (work-wise) isn't that big, so it's kind of hard to imagine what the days will look like. Until I do, I feel a bit uneasy and unmoored, but I am trying to embrace the possibilities.  

(Finding myself entertained by the unintentional double-meaning of this post's title...)

"joy still stays joy"

10 May 2026: Just a bit ago, coming in from my walk--a walk filled with Big Thoughts--I finally read a piece my friend sent me that she cut out of the New York Times. By Melissa Kirsch, it commemorates thirty years of "National Poetry Month" (which is April, so yeah...took me a while to get to it). 

Kirsh, like me, is drawn to springtime poems, especially those about April, a month of boomeranging weather contrasts here in the Northeast. She writes, "The internal work is much the same, sitting quietly, paying close attention to the weather inside, you can observe the hope that blows in with the fear, the lightness and heaviness that seem to be competing." Just a really lovely little essay.

The piece ends with some lines from this Jane Hirschfield poem that I have read before and even linked to on New Year's Day. 

This read-through, some different lines caught my attention and some of what was on my mind on my walk: 

"Stone did not become apple. War did not become peace. 

Yet joy still stays joy. Sequins stay sequins. Words still bespangle, bewilder."

"Joy still stays joy," I say to myself, which somehow makes the sadness bearable. 

Commencement day...

9 May 2026: Another good and busy day--two graduation ceremonies, lots of time with folks I am fond of between the ceremonies and then after, then pizza and a movie with Carrie and Rachel (we watched Sentimental Value--very good!).

Just a lot to be grateful for...

Pre-commencement running...

8 May 2026: Two graduation rehearsals this morning, then back home to do some cleaning in preparation for the Sigma Tau Delta end-of-the-year get-together, then back to campus for the Education pinning ceremony, then back home for the get-together...

It's something to be tired before graduation day, but I'll take it. All good and fun things!

Not all chair-dancing is grading-related...

7 May 2026: Just hit "submit" on the final set of documents for our Writing and Rhetoric textbook, a real bear of a project that is--for now--done! 

Found myself chair-dancing as I hit that button as this song was playing...

"The sun is but a morning star"

6 May 2026: Henry David Thoreau, among the writers who changed my life, died 164 years ago today. It says something, I know, about my state these days that I find thinking about his dying makes me emotional. Apparently, among his last words were "Now comes good sailing," which is an idea almost too beautiful to think about. 

He's been on my mind these past few days, both for this post's title--the final line of Walden--and for an earlier passage in the book, where he talks about "contracting yourselves into a nutshell of civility or dilating into an atmosphere of thin and vaporous generosity." Two seemingly different vibes in those lines, but put them together and you have a pretty good sense of what he's up to in Walden. 

I am grateful that his words come to me when I need them.

Early evening morosity...

5 May 2026: Here are some utterly banal but true statements, based on my recent and current experience and, with some liberty, the experience of my siblings:  

It is a kind of torture to be far from a parent who is dying. Much of it is also somehow easier than being closer. 

So, too, is it a kind of torture to be close to a parent who is dying. Parts of it are also somehow easier than being far away.

(The folks on the ground have the greater burden, I know. It's not even close.) 

Dead week meetings...

4 May 2026: I spent a big portion of today in meetings with my colleagues talking about teaching and writing. It was interesting, affirming, energizing, and just all-around wonderful. Best job in the world. 

Elmer!

3 May 2026: Well, this story lifted me out of some Sunday evening blues...

"The next day, veterinarians soaked Elmer in more oil and gave him multiple baths until most of the glue was gone. He gently headbutted shelter employees’ legs in the following days, seeming to ask for more massages. 'He honestly feels like every day is spa day,' said Cassie Davidson, a spokeswoman for the Humane Society of North Texas."

When I got to the part about his foster mom getting to keep him, I cried. (Of course I did.)

We did, indeed, have time, baby...

2 May 2026: Just finished the second season of School Spirits, not bad considering what I posted a last Friday. But sure enough, with some of my regular TV shows going on hiatus and work slowing down just enough, I got to enjoy every episode and can cross this one off my "to be watched" list. 

Onto the next one...

Five months...

1 May 2026: The new month kind of snuck up on me, but it is, indeed May 1. On my walk this afternoon, I realized it's been five months since my dad died. 

For the most part, I think I am handling this grief pretty well. It is still so hard and sad. I still find myself thinking, "I should tell him that" or "Dad would like this..." and then remember that he's gone, well...more times than I could have imagined. But I think all of that is pretty normal. 

The other stuff that's come rushing in since he died--Brandon's death, worrying about Vogel, my cousin's death, my mom's illness, so much work stress, and everything our government is up to--it's overwhelming. 

Maybe there's a gift in a quiet moment like this one, just thinking about him. 

So...it's been five months. There's been good stuff, too. And we're still here. And it's May, maybe my favorite month?

The lilac bush behind Knutti is in bloom. I snapped some sprigs to bring home. As I write this, they are filling the first floor with their fragrance. Another gift of May and everything that Spring represents.

Spring 2026 Grading: DONE!

30 April 2026: Just hit submit on the last set of grades. As always, feels good. Like last semester, though, finishing this time seems different. Surreal and...anti-climactic? Or maybe just weird because what's ahead is so unsettled. It's hard to imagine what the next few months will look like...

But we must do what we must do. Chair-dancing resumes.

Pulled up Pandora, which offered me this tropical (and thus summer-y?) classic. 

 

This song will never not make me think of a parody version that I heard second-hand from an elementary school classmate, who heard it on the radio: "Last night I dream of some bagels..." I can't remember all of lyrics, but I believe they included "with butter dripping off the sides / poppy seeds, you decide..." Do I even need to remind you that I grew up on Long Island?

Speaking of Long Island, Pandora is now playing Taylor Dayne's "Tell It to My Heart" and we are dancing in this chair.