I promise that I won’t spend every blog post essaying on family matters and the convolutions of mental health! For those who come here specifically to find out what’s up in the World of Kend, here are the broad strokes of what I have planned for the month of July:
Job applications for the long term:
My goal is to work in academic libraries or public libraries with a thriving student userbase, and preferably land north of the US/Canada border. My ultimate desire is to be there for any of my mother’s family who might need a hand in the years to come, particularly my Aunt Dianne, since pretty much all of my mother’s generation already has checklists of who is going to care for what in which year for which family members. I mean, my parents and I still joke about me building a granny flat onto my (fictional) wilderness cabin for them to live in someday, but truthfully my eldest sister would give me the evil eye from New Jersey if she thought I was staking some sort of serious care-taking claim. And my parents probably would get the most out of time spent around both a kid (or kids) and grandkids. I can’t offer much by way of toddler-sized entertainment. So northward, ho! … only Canadian libraries already took some huge cuts in 2019, and 2020 is probably not going to improve the odds of a baby librarian winging in from Montana, even if I am a dual citizen. (Many years too late: Thanks, mum!)Realistic plans and projects for the interval:
I adore Polson and wish it had a fabulous college right here that just happened to be hunting for librarians with a fetish for science fiction and diagrams of DIY dehydrators. Unfortunately (or fortunately, really) I know all four elementary school librarians as well as the great crew at the Ronan City Library one town over, and the head Librarians for SKC in Pablo and FVCC in Kalispell as well. As a matter of fact, I probably know or at the very least have heard lots about most librarians in the state, given my past work with the Montana Library Association as their Director-at-Large (basically, recruitment and retention) for the western half of the state. And before that, I was editor of MLA’s newsletter for several years, so I’m in the creepy position of wanting to compliment everyone’s fabulous program on X or Y from three years ago, only they have NO IDEA who I am. “I know I should know you” is more or less the soundtrack of my working life. Anyway, in sum: I’m not out to poach the job of any of the local librarians. They’re too fabulous. So while I’m conniving away about a future in Canada, I am making much more practical plans for the near future.Lessons from watching Fiddler on the Roof on repeat:
C’mon, what better theme songs are there for beautiful but sometimes VERY HARD TO ENDURE times than “Sunrise, Sunset” and “If I Were a Rich Man”? Figuring out what about where I’ve come from and what about who I am now I should hang on to is more or less the project of my adult life. And while I’m not particularly drawn to any sort of lifestyle that involves owning vast tracts of real estate o a superyacht––ach, how I long to live in a land of public transit once more––I wouldn’t mind being able to absorb being nickel-and-dimed by the public healthcare exchange or a feline dental surgery without having to pick change out of street gutters. I’m sure there are plenty of ways to be comfortably poor, but they probably don’t involve pursuing routine healthcare through the American healthcare system or keeping a cat from developing ulcers. I’ll be continuing to write (some of it for pay, some of it an “investment in major life projects” AKA not for pay) and garden, and keeping an eye out for local work that won’t keep me sitting down for 8 hours a day in front of a computer. If I could invent a cat treat that all cats would be guaranteed to love, I’d be raking it in at the local farmers markets. As it is, cats are cats and the most unpredictable treat-eaters on the planet. Sputnik, for example, doesn’t actually eat or lick catnip; she gently rests her chin on top of it and then spins her body around in circles like a deranged Lady Susan. Only, instead of delivering your condiments, she delivers baleful stares and the occasional guttural sneeze.I’m not actually done with 8-tracks yet:
For a while I’ve been kind of wondering where all the energy went. Not, like, “I want to change the world by breakfast!” frenetic energy, but the kind that I used to invest and receive equal returns on when it comes to illustration, photography, writing, and reading. Since pretty much every major web outlet has already bemoaned how difficult it is for many people to read during COVID-19, I’m not too particularly worried about struggling with that. Even if it’s abnormal for me, at least it’s normal for these abnormal times. Or something like that. And I honestly can’t remember when my life started feeling so overwhelmingly busy that I inevitably began finishing each day with a pile of in-process projects. Me mum and I would sew together on the regular when I was a high schooler, and somehow that worked out fine. In college, I somehow managed to carry on with much of my collaborative writing (on the INTERNET, which was terrifying to my parents at the time), and I think I did okay academically in spite of that. In the years between programs, I was like “I’m going to master baking!” “I’m going to be a solo hiker!” “I’m going to turn my cat into an Instagram sensation as my outdoor adventuring companion!” (Have you MET my cat?!) “I’m going to do INSANITY and punch Shaun T in the FACE with my EXCELLENCE!” Even when I was in the MFA program, I intentionally reserved and protected certain times to work on my illustration, ahem, skills. (The skills upon which one of my Drawing I professors kindly remarked, “Perhaps you should consider something other than Drawing II next semester.”) So not only do I have a quilt that I started in 2012 left to finish, but I have an epic number of purchased-but-unread books to finish, art projects that I’ve been filing away as ideas for what feels like a century, and cute little cat outfits to torment my poor anxiety-ridden turkey with. Basically, I have no shortage of things to do that would enrich my life and help today-me reconnect with what past-me found most thrilling and hilarious about life.
I just get so exhausted contemplating how much energy and focus I must have had then. Not to mention, how much better vision I must have had. (It’s really hard to spot bindweed fragments from 5 yards away with all the distortion that comes along with supercompressed high-power lenses. It’s like spotting a hangnail embedded in rebar while driving for your life down an Oklahoma freeway at 80 mph away from a tornado: It’s just not going to register all that much.
So there you have it. Step One is to fold the laundry I washed last week and finally put it away instead of just continuing to pull different outfits from the pile as I go. Step Two is to file away the personal ephemera that I brought home from work without completely losing it. (Some of the cards those kids drew me over the years. HOW DARE THEY.) Step Three is to convince my cat that the neighbor’s cat is not, in fact, her personal boy-toy; or perhaps it should be to convince him that she has no ovaries, only an overabundance of unsocialized fascination with toe-beans. (They’re really very cute. But STOPPIT.) Step Four is to lurk on the web waiting for the Canadian border to open for nonessential travel so that I can make a dash for Lethbridge to see family. Step Five is to successfully grow a squash. It’s not looking very hopeful yet, but I have at least … a month, right? You don’t actually want to know much more about steps Six and Seven, since they currently consist of high-octave yodeling and constructing pterodactyl wings rated for human spaceflight. (NASA has not yet returned my calls.)
As for things that are bringing me joy right now that I’d recommend to others:
Learning about mushrooms. It’s still damp and cool enough up here in the Intermountain West to qualify as shoulder season for mushrooms, and I’ve been wondering if I can cheat and break my “not allowed to buy books when jobless” rule if it could possibly bring foodstuffs into the house. I’ve loved fungi for a while, but I’m finally around people with the interest and the know-how to go foraging safely. IT’S SO MUCH FUN. Even if you’re not in it for the morel fettuccine, you can do so many neat projects and activities with kids with them. Spore prints ARE SO MUCH FUN. Also, Elise Gravel’s book The Mushroom Fan Club brings me joy every time I think about it.
I haven’t finished too many books lately as previously mentioned, but I have really enjoyed pulling down some of the ARCs that suffered from “I’m stuck in a foreign country while the world impodes” syndrome, including middle-grade Home for Goddesses and Dogs, The Growing Season: How I saved an American farm––and built a new life, and Kept Animals.
On the podcast side of things, I’ve been digging into Queens of Noise and Stone and Steel as well as Girl, Serpent, Thorn––and avoiding the literal stacks of gorgeous books that I’ve bought copies of that are now actually sapping my enthusiasm for reading more than building it. The stack is MORE THAN HALFWAY to the ceiling from the top of the very low bookshelf, my friends. I’ve liked everything I’ve read for the ‘cast so far this year, but it goes without saying that anything I read for a queer science fiction and fantasy podcast is going to be, well, that. So consider yourself forewarned.
As a listener and consumer of podcasts, I’ve also got some recommendations. While My Favorite Murder and Embedded and the other true crime list-toppers remain my go-tos, I’ve been decimating my downloads list in a truly terrifying way. As a result, I’ve been diversifying. Now I’m into Slate’s Decoder Ring, the 99% Invisible podcast, The Disappearing Spoon podcast (written and run by the gentleman who wrote the similarly-titled science book), and Julie’s Library. If you’re looking for ways to entertain the kids on a car trip, it just doesn’t get better than Julie Andrews (and her daughter) being THE MOST INTENSELY PURE HUMANS IN EXISTENCE. I’ve been going back and forth on my NPR podcasts lately (Pop Culture Happy Hour and All Songs Considered are mostly great, but occasionally … very coastal elite), but I’ve really fallen in love with some shows that have huge followings that I just somehow never heard of, like The Bitter Southerner podcast and The Secret Life of Canada, both of which are largely concerned with social history from a nuanced insider perspective. The Californian Century is now finished, but it’s read––no, PERFORMED––by Stanley Tucci, so going through the backlist is pretty much essential listening. And Proof––the podcast from America’s Test Kitchen––has been a near-constant companion this last month as I work my way through their backlist of upbeat investigative food reporting (is that what they’re doing?) episodes and then proceed to monopolize entire conversations with factoids on radiated seed research and the apparently deeply entrenched debate over ketchup. Overdue changed their intro music and it’s still weirding me out, but they and the Guardian Books Podcast remain the most consistently interesting places for adult bookish thoughts that I’ve discovered so far. (Not science fictional, though.) Ronan Farrow’s Catch and Kill podcast has given me an unexpected respect for newspaper and magazine fact-checkers and legal counsel, and The Missionary is a sometimes muddled but always interesting iHeartRadio investigation into some (possible? probable?) medical malpractice issues at the heart of slapdash modern American mission work. Speaking as an MK … who as an adult remains friends with many working missionaries … it’s pretty … fascinating. And not wrong. And if you’re not already listening to Brené Brown’s ongoing podcast Unlocking Us, it’s not just that you’re missing out, you’re missing out on something really important and wise. She talks to Alicia Keys and Dr. Marc Brackett and grief expert David Kessler and Sue Monk Kidd and Laverne Cox and Ibram X. Kendi and Judd Apatow (the list goes on) about topics ranging from shame and accountability (Tuesday’s episode), vulnerability and laughter, how to apologize and why it matters (so much crying), as well as longing, belonging, and faith (the episode from April 27), loneliness and connection, “permission to feel,” and anxiety, calm, and over/under-functioning (among others). GET YOUR PHONE, my friends.
I’m not far enough into the summer to really be able to rank my seed suggestions yet, but I would say that scarlet runner beans and collards, kale, and salad greens are a pretty solid bet in a damp and chilly Montana spring/summer. The tomatoes, squash, and miscellaneous starts from various sources are finally kicking into gear now that we’ve had at least three days above 65 degrees (F). My attempts at beans, peas, and native flowers have more or less proven the point that the older your seeds are (regardless of source, but especially when it comes to the kinds of packets you can find at a grocery store) the less likely they are to germinate and thrive. Once I get the weeds cleared out again (someday) I will start documenting the overwhelming leafy jungle that is now the backyard for real.
The partners system that allows our library to share books with other Montana libraries is finally back up and running (may it stay so forever more), and I’ve officially maxed out the number of books I’m allowed to place on hold (40), so you can look for some thoughts on recent-ish picture books in the near(ish) future.
Until then,
keep safe.
-K