Starting from the bottom up

it was about a year ago that jo was in the hospital and we didn't know what would become of her. she's settled into the new normal now. she uses her walker, we change her sheets, she concedes to a bath, the druggist blisterpacks her multivitamins and her estrogen (there are some wars we stopped fighting).

yesterday when i stopped by she admired my shoes. "you're such a one for the shoes!," she said. "oh jo," i demurred, thrilled to bits. five minutes later she said, "you don't really bother much with your hair, do you?"

i guess when i'm an old lady, i really will wear a purple hat.

i have been pondering anthony's suggestion of the golden pradas (see his comment on the last post) but no. i hate flats. it has something to do with not having dainty feet; flats tend not to suit me. but mostly it's because i can't get over their metaphorical literalness, if you'll allow me to say that: their "flatfootedness." there's no wit to flats. worse, as with birkenstocks, flats have always suggested to me a person who would say "my comfort is paramount, far more important than your aesthetic pleasure." it would kill me to be such a person. i cringe just thinking about it. shoes are all about putting visual thrill out there in the world, for myself and for others. even when they hurt, they give me huge, if masochistic, satisfaction.

here is how i solved my problem. tell me you still feel a tiny bit of a thrill?

and yes, i'm afraid that's it for now. the week is coming at me like a water cannon, and i haven't so much as a slicker for protection.

Terrible truth

for ethical reasons i won't blog about my students, which means it's been hard to write much over the last week. and who am i kidding, it's been hard to find ten uninterrupted minutes. going back into the classroom after being away for so long is shocking, exciting, depleting, disorienting, sobering, thrillingly scary, and absolutely crammed with realizations, most of them banal yet resonant. among them: teaching is tiring. it takes an incredible amount of energy to respond to 40 people at once. i'm not exactly complaining; i don't mind the work; it's just hard. it's like cooking a multi-course dinner party for a dozen friends. several hours into the prep, your fingers pruny and your feet aching, you find yourself wondering how this ever seemed like a good idea. when the wine starts flowing and conversation pools around the candlelight, though, it's all good.

and then there's all the other beginning-of-term stuff that ramps up. meetings, to be sure, and graduate student committees, and proposal-writing workshops, and office hours and major grant deadlines and so on, but also the socializing. next week i will be out monday, tuesday, wednesday, friday, and saturday evenings, entertaining visitors, attending talks, putting in an appearance at the obligatory department party. again, it's not that i don't enjoy it (well, okay, i could live without twinkling at the dep't party); it's just that after about 90 minutes of hanging out with anybody, i need a nap.

around the time that cycle ends, grading will start coming in.

all of this is doable, i keep saying, as long as i pace myself. right? right??

but the truly heartbreaking realization -- banal yet resonant -- is this: i am actually going to have to break down and get myself some comfortable shoes.

now, that i might not surive.

Venial equinox

it's the vernal equinox, halfway from the depths of winter to the height of summer. in a nice coincidence, christians are marking good friday. it's persian new year. feels like all the world's engaging in meaningful ceremonies to mark the passage of time, death and rebirth, the end of one cycle and the beginning of another.

well, i have a l'il ceremony of my own. i call it putting away the winter boots.

oh, chie, you are a temptress. i don't know whether it's your cosmopolitan background, your just-nerdy-enough internship with a podiatrist, your sassy designs or your gorgeous colors but i tell you what: i fell in love instantly. i would have bought your boots even if i couldn't stand in them. but when i slipped them on ... oh, www.chiemihara.com

it wasn't like that for us, was it? i'm ashamed -- now -- to say that i didn't even notice you at first. it took mo's keen eye to hook us up. but you were so understanding that you became the go-to boot this winter. skirts, jeans, dresses: nothing flummoxed you. and yes, yes, you could go on through the spring and perhaps even the summer (this is alberta, after all) but .... well .... the seasons are moving on, and so am i.



remember how i thought i could get through a 9-day trip to london on two pairs of shoes? trooping through chelsea i thought my feet would perish, my knees would give in, my back would crack. i found you, little no-name diesel knock-offs, in a little no-name store and thought i could fly. rest well -- you've earned it -- and i'll see you next year.



in their forties, people are meant to be learning all sorts of things about themselves. what i am learning is: i love boots.






i can hardly wait to see what the easter bunny has in store: