Saturday, March 19, 2016

I’ve been meaning to write something about public space as domestic space over the past 8, even 10 years--about the way the limits of what we imagine as intimate have stretched, ballooned, really, as we’ve traveled the world, people with a small, shared shell. I don’t know why I’ve been meaning to write this, exactly, or what I want to say. I guess it's one of those things that’s nagged at me, that’s seemed to make my life different from that of lots of other people’s lives. As I sought "normality," sometimes without meaning or wanting to. Without realizing what it even meant. Part of what I'm talking about bathrooms. Semi-public showers, etc. And other intimacies like playing, or fighting. The paper-thin walls of my office come to mind, listening to my colleague talk trash, affirm her faith, sing along with the radio. 

Me rowing

Photo credit, my friend since 1988 and recent visitor Kathleen!

Tallulah at Coral World

Photo credit, my awesome former student Shayna.

Monday, January 4, 2016

Saturday, January 2, 2016

Happy holidays from St. Maarten!

October 22 seems like just yesterday! Lots has happened since--in my mind. My head is a crowded place. Now in between St. Maarten and Saint-Martin, in an anchorage that facilitates homeschooling and deep interpersonal work. Also drinking French wine every night. In a few days it'll be back to St. Thomas and a new semester, the hold full of illegal cheese.
Double rainbow over Simpson Bay
Sheep yogurt with Sicilian lemon jam, and hand-roasted espresso. Don't mean to brag.
Tallulah in a cloud of butterflies

Carousel ice cream (and they have a carousel out back)
Our role model

Thursday, October 22, 2015

5-minute poem

Sometimes it's fun to write something in 5 minutes and then show it to people.

I woke up to a rainbow yesterday--this morning, a pair of dolphins.
A pelican, ridiculous, beady-eyed, a nuisance I should chase from the bowsprit,

But watching--it dwarfs the crouching cat, the curved tip of its beak scratches precisely, happy to find nits--I can’t.

A school of fish leap, vanish, too small to leave a mark on the water.

What to make of all this? Does it add up to anything besides itself?

Does it matter at all that I am here, watching?

I drink coffee, leave for work.