Dispatch from my first 'Wonder/Wander' side quest
In an effort to infuse my desk-centric mundanity with a little magic, I decided to designate my 2026 Fridays "Wonder/Wander Days." The idea came during a December group call featuring
Wudan Yan, a successful freelance writer and fact checker/agency owner. She described her impressive approach to protecting free time away from her computer. (Do we say #Goals anymore?)
Aliza Nisenbaum: Día de los Muertos Exhibition at the Des Moines Art Center
I created a recurring Friday calendar block before that call ended and dared to declare my plan. Alas, my ambitious (delulu?) vision of completely work-free Fridays dissolved this very first week. I am not complaining about my full plate of projects. I simply need to recognize that, between school pickups and volunteer committee meetings, my weeks look different. Instead of fully unplugged Fridays spent reveling in the woodlands, my weekly wonder/wonder intention will involve more side-quests. The whole point is to prioritize movement, discovery, and connection.
With that in mind, I set out for my first destination. It was a nearly 40-degree, sunny January morning, so I hopped on my bike to the Des Moines Art Center. (I drive by the museum daily during middle school dropoff, but months have passed since I've so much as buzzed through the galleries.)
Since becoming a full-time freelancer juggling growing kids and a slate of community committments, nothing has refreshed me more than my soloish trip museum-hopping in Madrid. Thanks to this (world-class) neighborhood jewel and our wonderful local galleries, there is truly no reason I can't give myself a taste of that in my hometown.
Today, two of the exhibitions tugged at my heart. Both are in their last weeks, so I caught them just in time:
“Aliza Nisenbaum: Día de los Muertos,” curated by Art Center Associate Curator Beth Gollnick and
Manuel Álvarez Bravo: Collaborations in the Anna K. Meredith Gallery
Each highlighted Mexican and Mexican American artists. The Meredith Gallery also featured poetry that brought me near tears.
Today would have been my dad's 90th birthday, but he died more than two decades ago. Spending focused moments surrounded by gorgeous black-and-white Mexican photography and colorful contemporary Dia de los Muertos paintings proved grief isn't linear.
I paused and read this Octavio Paz prose poem (a translation by Eliot Weinberger was printed on the wall) three times:
The day unfolds its transparent body. Tied to the solar stone, the light pounds me with its great invisible hammers. I am only a pause between one vibration and the next: the living point, the sharp, quiet point fixed at the intersection of two glances that ignore each other and meet within me. Do they make a pact? I am pure space, the battleground. Through my body I see my other body. The stone sparkles. The sun rips out my eyes. Two stars smooth red feathers in my empty sockets. Spleandor, spiral of wings and a fierce beak. And now my eyes sing. Peer into its song, throw yourself into the fire.
I can see why encouraging learning through local participation would invite discussion, since different people will bring different experiences to the same question. Taking part in a local activity can give a classroom topic a practical purpose. I would keep that thought nearby when looking for ideas about Jankowice community education. I do not have a settled view yet, but this seems like a good place to slow down and look more closely. How could a school invite families into a project without making participation difficult?
My first thought about writing clear and useful local advertisements is that the everyday experience deserves as much attention as the larger explanation. Specific descriptions can save both the reader and the advertiser a round of basic questions. This is why I would approach local classified advertisements with a specific question rather than a fixed expectation. A short discussion of an everyday example would make this easier for me to connect with, especially as someone still learning about the subject. Which details should always appear in a short local listing?
My first thought about learning languages through everyday situations is that the everyday experience deserves as much attention as the larger explanation. A familiar situation can give new words a purpose beyond memorisation. That is the kind of detail I would keep in mind while exploring practical language learning. I can imagine different answers depending on the situation, so I would want to understand the context before drawing conclusions. How would you practise vocabulary so that it becomes easier to use in conversation?
What interests me about telling meaningful stories with digital media is how a broad idea becomes part of an ordinary day. The order of images and words can change how an audience understands a story. For me, that is a useful way into the broader subject of digital storytelling techniques. I would probably come back to this question after trying to work through one concrete example rather than deciding immediately. How do you decide which details belong in a short digital story?
When it comes to using a tourist guide to plan a flexible trip, I would rather understand one useful detail properly than rush through a long list of ideas. A useful guide should help visitors understand distances and pacing as well as major attractions. That is the kind of detail I would keep in mind while exploring tourist itinerary planning. I would be interested in a simple example, because it is often the ordinary details that make an idea memorable. What would you check before turning a list of places into a day plan?