I did, and it feels like a true reading accomplishment. I realized how many of the metaphors and mages we have in our culture (like, the bearded god up in the sky) come so directly from these ancient writings, especially as they become foundational for generations and centuries after, as we continued to read them. I'm not quite up for the Iliad, but I did find myself walking around with my head in the Odyssey those last few days, as I sped up my reading process, curious about how the last few chapters would work out. I finished right before my Mom's health crisis, and facing it, I really understood why ancient Greeks were so comforted by the idea of gods and goddesses who were right there by there side, as Pallas Athena was for Odysseus. I was also shocked by the violence. In the final fight between Odyssseus and his side, and all the bad men who were wooing Penelope, the descriptions of how each died were grueling and vivid and awful, and there was little mercy to be found.

This summer I also read Jennifer Egan's The Keep, and A.M. Homes, This Book Will Save Your Life, which I adored. I'm back in love with novels, again, and am waiting for Claire Messud's new book The Emperor's Children, to arrive.

Around our house, it's Disney's High School Musical, 24/7. Samira thinks it's just the tea, and we have fun bopping around the house singing its very singable songs. She also likes that there's only one kiss, and that it's on the cheek, since boy-girl kissing gets a big "Yuck" in her mind these days. The theme of performance is big right now at our house.
She auditioned for the fall play at her school, and it's the kind of school where everyone who tries out gets a part. I'm personally bummed that two days a week I won't pick her up until 5, though there were many pre-new-baby years where late pickup twice a week would have been greeted with hoots of joy. Bad timing on that one, but what can you do? Life really does just give us what it will, I'm learning.

I'm back to my keyboard after a harrowing few days attending to my mother's health. My dad called last Wednesday with news that after back surgery, there were some complications, and my mother was in an induced coma, and facing a possible tracheotomy. Needless to say, I jumped in the car, baby in the backseat, to head to the hospital three hours away and figure out what was going on. I also learned I was my mom's health care proxy, along with my dad. I was in denial that we were in charge of her health care decisions; it didn't seem possible that this strong and competent woman was not in charge. That meant that an ear, nose and throat surgeon with an intriguing eastern european accent got on the phone with me, explained the situation, then pressured me to give my consent. All I could imagine was my dear mom waking up from back surgery and wondering why she has a tracheotomy tube in her neck. In retrospect, she said we definitely made the right decision, that given the choice between not breathing and having a tracheotomy, the latter is the better choice. I did send the doctor to my dad so he could more properly offer consent. My dad, by the way, was petrified, but we got him through the whole experience, with the help of a bottle of scotch later that day; the man needed to relax in his hotel room with a drink, I tell you. Now I feel baptized into the sandwich generation, caring for young children and our parents, too, at the same time.

The good news is that my mom fully recovered--she is one strong woman, and she had a spell of good luck cast her way on this one. After two days of coma sedation, the doctors wheeled her back into the operating room, hoping that they would be able to remove the ventilator tubes from her throat and that all would be well. The best happened, the tubes came right out, her throat was no longer swollen, and twenty minutes later she was in the recovery room. Boy was she surprised when they pushed her bed into the hallway and she saw my dad, her dear friend Norma, me and the baby standing there by the elevator. It turns out she had no idea what had happened. She was very surprised when she woke up and it was Thursday, not Tuesday (the day of her initial operation). Those nurses and doctors had some explaining to do.

She's now back home, resting, glad that all those drugs are halflifing out of her system, and looking forward to the rest of her life. She's excited that her Alexander Method teacher will make house calls, and ready to start physical therapy. My daughter Samira made her grandma promise that next summer, they can go bike riding together and now, that's one of her goals.

Big breath of relief.