Sabbatical

Yesterday was a very good day. Well, most of it--I had a slightly frustrating work zoom in the evening before bed about something I'm proposing to my institution that I've hoped for a long time, which may or may not get picked up--it may not get picked up now; it may not get picked up ever. I'm trying to remember to hold on lightly and just accept that God's will will be done. But when you spend time working toward something, it's also impossible that you don't get emotionally invested, right? Francisco is so kind and supportive. 

Okay, but the wonderful parts of the day--I did my writing: I'm working on chapter 6. I have this ambitious self-deadline, which I'll probably miss to finish it in a week and a day. Almost everything is in (perhaps everything will be in it after today?) it but right now it's in a gigantic morass of roughly sketched language. I'm also working on a presentation I'm giving Thursday to probably a very few (3?) people. 

Then Francisco and I went for a lovely bike ride to a canal, so nice to bike together. I love to see the canals--there are so many peaks into life there on the boats' little porches, on the boats' roofs, through the windows--I saw on the bikes, grills, gardening stuff and plants, a stroller, a graphic t-shirt and socks handing to dry, clothes hanging inside the windows, too (a glimpse into a closet?), a disused tea kettle, something that looks sort-of but not quite like a keg, a stuffed chair outside covered in paisley blue and brown, a solar panel on the roof. 

What in the world?! (above)

Blue paisley chair, above.

  

Chestnut trees in bloom

After picking up the kids, I ordered a surprise bag from that cheap app (we had no plans for dinner and our groceries weren't arriving until late) and we headed to a spot in the park to pick it up--it turned out to be 3 large sandwiches for 4 pounds. Francisco was so happy! (The kids refused to eat them because they had more than one ingredient--I ate one big one. Francisco ate 2.) Evidently I'd been depriving Francisco of fancy sandwiches, so I'm glad we could remedy that. We tucked into a nearby grocery story for sausage rolls for the boys. 

Then we enjoyed the park's waterfowl, which a woman was feeding, so was all gathered near us. We especially liked seeing the little goslings, which cuddled up under their mothers' wings. And the dad goose that really went after anything of the same species that came near them. Actually all the birds were pretty territorial, so we watched them all fly at each other. 

Now I'm going to head back to my  work from a comfy (well, not completely--my knees don't actually fit under this desk) coffee shop. 

The Weekend, Part 2

We sent Q out to pick up some waffles at the off-license for him and his brother. I made the adults breakfast burritos. Then we headed to mass (our church pictured above). Such a kind priest. Such a nice church. 

 

After church we picked up some grocery-store snacks and headed to the park where Francisco and I chatted and shivered (no wonder the British constantly drink tea) and the boys played heartily. 

When we came home the boys entertained themselves without screens, because they'd been so terrible they'd lost their screens, which turned into a pretty happy day. They were both in a good mood and refused to complain about the new dinner I made, which was pleasant of them, though they also refused to eat the dinner, which was tricky. And for our 30 minutes of family movie in the evening, we let the boys choose, which was agony for the parents. 

The Weekend, Part 1

The weekends, the kids leave me reeling. But in addition to surviving, we also had some fun. The boys made French toast for all of us for breakfast, with me mostly helping from my position on the couch. That was a huge success in my book.

I read Blaze a book he got from the library with Francisco, who nicely took them. Wow--the weekend all really blends together in a mass I can barely untangle. Anyway, for whatever reason (I don't get it), Blaze is totally fascinated by Egypt. So I read him his Egypt book. 

I took the boys to a free Apple-store workshop on emoji making, which I rightly suspected they would love (photos above). They made parents join in, too.

Then we hustled over to Westminster Abbey for evensong. The beauty of music and architecture is ... what do I say? I feel totally undeserving of such confluence of majestic beauty. And, on the other hand, mad that we have to leave all this behind, as if beauty is my right. (But I mean, it is particularly sad when God is not allowed any proximity to beauty as is the policy in our town.)

Above: Isaac Newton--this globe!

Perhaps I was just in a good mood because I was at evensong, but I even liked this modernist Dr. Seuss thing with broccoli trees and saxophones. 

Sabbatical

The view from my office floor--so many skylights in this house--which are fun with puffy spring clouds. 

We took ill-fated advantage of the British Museum's Friday evening hours to take the boys to something they'd each enjoy--Blaze likes Egyptian stuff; Q likes Greek stuff. 

Above: Cobras on a Pharaoh's clothing. 

We learned about the Rosetta stone together. 

The problem is--we're all tired on Friday evenings. 

Greek gods--above and below, exquisitely carved. 

 

Female gods. 

The sign pointed out that there are different fabrics in her dress and in the cloak across her knees. 

Nereids. 

I loved the fabric details in their clothing. 

The sleeves. 

We had been contemplating Athens to fit with Q's interests--I'm glad we didn't go because all 35 minutes we spent in the museum were eristic. I think we're done traveling for this year. 

More spring clouds. 

Sabbatical

 

Yesterday was lunch with Francisco after coffee-shop working. Then I headed home to cook for our dinner guests, friends of Francisco's. He ordered lamb and dessert from the Turkish restaurant we like. 

I made Thai quinoa salad and risotto with peas and roasted tomatoes and chocolate cake. So fun to host!

Sabbatical

Yesterday: coffee shop writing with Francisco who was, depressingly, booking our return flights--2 months to go. Worst news ever. (Aside that when we return, we're returning to my childhood home, which is the best place to visit. Plus, there will be nieces and/or nephews! Most anticipated events of the year.) I biked a bit--I'm trying to "train," which is to say get back on a bike, for an ill-advised biking activity next month. I'm not an athlete--I just find it thrilling to be on the road a bit. This means that today my back is aching. 

From our garden. 

Last night we finished The Fantastic Mr. Fox. So good. And the boys told us how it was different from the book. 

I made a chicken dish that was adjacent to chicken tikka. It was pretty good. And, unrelatedly, guacamole.

Then I had a work zoom for a fall class. I'm looking forward to teaching again. (But not to other things like emails and committees and another thing that I am especially dreading, which is a new leadership role for me that has a name of a piece of furniture. It's not sofa.) My goal: To not take things on. I'm failing. 

But back to sabbatical--this morning mass and then a walk to a new coffee shop. 

 

The view from my window. 

This reminds me of Blaze's name, a derivation, which means dove. 

These colors. 

So wonderful to start the day with the food of eternal life. And with the saints. 

I've been thinking about how the bread of life is the apparently unassuming, quiet miracle to which all other miracles point. The problem is when we get obsessed with physical health or financial well-being, when spiritual healing is the most real thing that Christ offers to every single person. And this spiritual healing is both once--baptism--and every single day--a deepening conversion. 

Anyway, the stained glass of Joan reminded me that I've wanted to tell you about my reading. Right now, The End of the Affair. Graham Greene's been meaning so much to me this year. 

And I just finished Fates and Furies. So much sex--I was so embarrassed. And I don't know--I'm kind of tired of this "he said, she said" thing--The tv show, The Affair; the play, Faith Healer; this book. But Groff is a great writer. And her unfolding of the story is interesting, giving us the most relevant piece of information, in light of which everything changes, in the last chapter. I guess we never really know another person--or ourselves. 

I read Saint Joan, the play, with George Bernard Shaw's preface. Francisco and I saw this play some years ago in New York. I didn't realize that she wasn't canonized until the 20's--and he wrote this not too long after, taking a different position, that she was neither saint nor witch, but rather a realist who transforms war and politics and religion--the first protestant. It's his way of canonizing her for his own religion, I guess. 

And I'll have to tell you later about Darling, You Shouldn't Have Gone to So Much Trouble. (Could have gotten that title wrong.) It's at home.