The Burrow

I saw no backlinks in the System Restore post..... but my McAfee Security Center is now telling me all kinds of things are unprotected. I'll run Scan and Update from McAfee and pray for the best. I HATE this computer. I HATE this Operating System. I was browsing in the Apple Store on Sunday afternoon with G'ma. I can hardly wait to get my Mac........ being my own tech support is quite trying. And anxiety provoking. And nerve wracking. And stomach ache making. And ridiculous, because it's only a machine. As I've said before, I wouldn't put up with this behavior from my toaster. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

I have taken the opportunity to remove the monetizing backlinks by using system restore. I have embedded the words which created the unauthorized backlinks and will now post this blog and see if my first attempt at repairing the problem has been successful. I'm nervous!

It seems that Blogspot is now linking MONEYMAKING in my warning post. So, any DOUBLE UNDERLINED LINKS are NOT MINE. Looks like I'll be looking for a new site for theBurrow if I can't get rid of these intrusions. Stay tuned and stay away from their insertions ---- I refuse to be a lackey to the man.

In the following post, Attics and Basements, blogspot has added its own link to a moneymaking venture. Why, I do not know. How, I do not know. Removing it seems to be impossible. It cannot be edited out. So, until I can figure it out and return the post to its pristine condition - DO NOT CLICK ON THE DOUBLE HIGHLIGHTED WORD OPPORTUNITY. I didn't link it to anything. The evil empire has invaded my blog. I'd better get my survival plan ready.

Houses with steps are lots more fun than houses without steps. This was pointed out to me by the Big Cuter as we were moving from a multi-level home where his window opened out onto one of the rooftops. How, exactly, did I propose to provide him with a similar opportunity in our new digs? Granted, the chance to scare your parents half to death while you know you are perfectly safe is one of the true pleasures of childhood. Still, I can't say I was all that sad to remove the temptation. Houses with steps can have closets hidden underneath the staircases. Not front-hall closets or linen closets or clothes closets, but closets that hold treasures. Nannie and Grandpaw's was stuffed with carefully folded wrapping paper from celebrations held before the Cuters were born. But in and around those stacks of paper were board games we'd never seen before in boxes which had been repaired with glue and tape and string by Nannie's mother. There was a bag of marbles. The pick-up s...

I cleaned the garage today. Yes, it is summer in Tucson. Yes, it was hovering in the low triple digits. But I was sweaty from the gym with Amster and it really needed to be done. Garages are interesting in terms of cleaning. It's a matter of perspective. TBG looks at it as a shrine to the automotive gods. I look at it as a place that keeps my car marginally cooler during the day. The recycling cart (thank you, Daddooooooo, for this homemade gem), the garbage can and a spare refrigerator (one of my all-time favorite Chanukah presents) must share the space with the vehicles. On this we agree. 12-packs of Diet Coke and flats of bottled water (I am the Recycling Queen..... judge me not!) are welcome to their patch on the floor by the 'fridge, too. Beyond this, Houston, we have a problem . The fact that our garage has lots of wall space makes it a perfect spot for the overflow -boxes of "please don't throw it out but I have no place for it at this time in my life...

So Phil only wants to coach home games . The screaming heads are screaming, predictably. "Who does he think he is?" (Uh, PHIL JACKSON ???) "No one has ever done that." "It can't be done." "What about continuity?" Phil, being Phil, didn't rise to the bait. It's being considered, talked about, looked at. Yawn. I mean, really. What's the worst that could happen? He wants it, the Lakers refuse, and he retires with 10 championship rings and his angioplasties, hip replacements and gout. He'd be happy to do it, but walking away wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. I feel his pain. After 3 phone calls, 5 email threads, and an in-person plea, I agreed to create the monthly newsletter for The Happy Ladies Club (actual name disguised to protect the guilty). Though open to everyone, the membership roster skews towards an older, technologically challenged demographic. One-third of the newsletters are printed and snail-mailed to m...

He 's right. San Francisco is officially insane . Didn't want to read the link? OK, in a nutshell, you can be fined if you don't compost your waste. Compost? Urban dwellers composting? Exactly how much of my "waste"? What is compost, anyway? And how will they know? Princess Myrtle tells me that there are fewer and fewer journalism jobs available these days; perhaps those investigative reporters' garbage picking skills can be put to use once more. Political and philosophical rants aside, the notion that apartment-types will suddenly begin to keep kitchen scraps under their sinks strikes me as ridiculous. For example: banana peels begin to smell while they're still on the overripe bananas. Saving them for compost isn't going to make them any more fragrant than unpeeling one before you leave for a week's vacation and coming back to a garbage can that announces its presence with authority. There are lots of trendy containers for storing scrap...

Counter tops are likely to be wiped, if not wet washed or Windex-ed, unless they are buried under dirty dishes and pizza boxes. It's hard to throw your mail down on a sticky surface - although so few things come by USPS these days that it probably doesn't matter all that much. But the occasional wedding invitation or postcard from someone who's having waaaay more fun than you are deserve more than lying in last night's splashes from dinner. So, for most of us, sticky kitchen surfaces aren't an issue. Dusting, however, is a different story entirely. Dust is one of those things your Dad's mother noticed when she was visiting your house. It's what lets you know that you really don't need to keep saving those video cassettes since you haven't touched them in 2" of light grey flakes. Changing a light bulb reveals how infrequently you get up on the ladder to wipe down the shade. TBG was driven crazy by the fact that the cleaning people did not dust th...

Mopping the floor is an entirely different challenge than laundry. Laundry is not optional, as we proved in our last post (I adopt the 3rd person narrator to try to bring a level of gravitas to this otherwise less than intellectually challenging essay.) Floors have a way of getting ignored. Think back to the first time you lived on your own (after your freshman dorm room). A studio, a room in a big house, the 2nd floor of a 3-flat or a condo you rented from a friend's mother's cousin's aunt. Moving in was wild and weird and full of angst and anticipation. You finally got the boxes unpacked (or stacked in a corner until you dragged them to your next place where you would, once again, not unpack them). Your refrigerator had the essentials (butter, milk, eggs, veggies or frozen pizzas, beer and sodas). Your bed was made, your electronics hooked up and your car parked securely nearby. You'd done your "major shopping" for soap and toilet paper and laundry detergent...

The thing about laundry is that the clothes just get dirty again. No matter what you do. No matter how careful you are. Eventually, the jeans have to go in the wash. You've run out of not only the "I want to wear them" but the "I can wear them" and even the "what would my mother say" underwear. You can keep a kitchen clean by never cooking. Paper plates and plastic wear, eating right from the delivery carton, baggies instead of Tupperware, drinks from cans or recycle-able bottles (and yes, I recycle every one I touch - to the amusement and bemusement of my family) - you could never use your kitchen sink and life would go on. Sheets have been known to last an entire semester without being changed. Sweeping the floor; vacuuming; disinfecting the bathroom -- all optional, if you choose to live that way. And I've loved some people who do. Not forever and not without some embarrassment, but lived that way none-the-less. Most of them grow out o...

The Little Cuter's got a new apartment. The Big Cuter does, too. And G'ma's on the list to move as well. The Little Cuter and our Son-In-Rent (SIR from now on) have taken the plunge - can we share a bathroom without murdering each other? With help from a Playgroup Mom turned realtor they found a rentable condo which had fallen victim to the real estate bubble and were able to strike a sweet deal for a great space. The fact that the building is next door to the Cuter's elementary school is weirding me out more than the fact that they're sharing a lease. She had friends whose parents owned in that building; did she go on a playdate in the apartment she's now sharing with a man? If only the old phone lists I've carted around for decades listed apartment numbers as well as street addresses. But he's a great guy with a kind heart and she's got a big smile on her face, so what's a small confluence of events in the grand scheme of things? The Big Cuter...

A classmate at CAU has a sister who lives at G'ma's Old Folks Home. An idle conversation brought that fact to light, names were exchanged, and last night the sister called G'ma. It was a lovely call, and they made plans to meet in the dining room tonight at 6pm. This was the original intent of moving her into the Old Folks Home. She'd been doing fine living all alone in a one bedroom apartment, but days went by without her seeing anyone but the doorman when she went down to check her mail. It seemed logical that living with 300 other people in similar straits would inevitably lead to friendships. Silly me. I forgot that she was G'ma and not Daddoooooo. He could talk to anyone, and he did. At great length. About everything and nothing. G'ma, on the other hand, always seemed surprised when someone spoke to her, and I can't remember her ever bringing a friend around for a cup of coffee in the afternoon. She likes her own company, and is annoyed by chattering. ...

We used to go to 3 or 4 movies a week. We'd walk to The Biograph and see Bringing Up Baby or Sea Hawk or drive downtown to the big theatres or, our favorite, ride up to The Granada , as much for the theatre itself as for the movie. But the movies were usually worth watching. Last night, G'ma and I paid $3 extra for the special projection system and, with our fancy shmancy 3-D glasses watched Up . I cried. I admit it. There wasn't much dialogue in the first 20 minutes or so, but the storytelling was delicate, personal, thoughtful and sweet. And I cried. The "little mailman" is one of my new favorite celluloid characters, and his efforts "to assist the elderly" gave both G'ma and me the giggles. The bad guy was just nuanced enough to be interesting, the maguffin was beautiful, and the floating house is steered by the same mechanism with which Daddoooooo equipped the Testarossa he made for the Big Cuter in 1988. There was mayhem and a moral an...

Does the situation in the Middle East seem to get stranger and stranger with every passing day? Elections look like they'll be won by "the good guys" and then suddenly that candidate is under house arrest and the in's are still in. "Poor people in the countryside" apparently tipped the election away from the more educated city-dwellers making such a splash on Western televisions. All those green scarves and young faces were not enough to change the political climate. Haven't heard much from the Grand Ayatollah, though. Since he's the man who's ultimately in charge, it seems fair to say that Iran's political landscape has changed its haircut but not by much. Instead of a perm and a new color, Iran got a shampoo and a blow-dry. Netanyahu says he's all in favor of a two state resolution to the Palestinian/Israel conflict, so long as the two states don't undermine his political influence at the moment. The Palestinians who are despe...

Lots of celebrity kids have been in the news lately. David Letterman made an ass of himself not only because he was rude and insensitive but also because he missed the underlying fact that it wasn't Bristol but Willow, all 14 years old of her, who was in NY at the ball game. Not that smacking Bristol is ok - the poor child is the victim of abstinence only parenting by grown-ups who are frequently away from home - but going for the cheap laugh on what turns out to be a mistake anyway, well, that's just embarrassing. Kobe's little girls were all over the NBA Championship Trophy celebration. In his arms, scratching his beard, gently touching the MVP (or whatever it's called these days) trophy with the tips of their teeny tiny fingers, these kids were as sparkly as their outfits. Shia LeBoeuf was the cover article in Parade Magazine. No, he doesn't have kids. He's the kid. Fending for himself since he was 10 years old. His parents certainly seemed to have enj...

In elementary school and junior high and even into high school, I was known as "The Walking Dictionary." It was humiliating, in an intellectually superior sort of way. Luckily, I was able to recognize the jealousy underlying the title. I figured that I knew and they didn't so they got to make fun of me even while asking me what the word meant. It never really bothered me. I came by the talent naturally. Daddooooooooooo and G'ma were college educated and not ashamed to talk like it. Just like President Obama, they never talked down to their audience. Instead, they assumed that we would make the effort to follow the conversation, and that we would ask if we didn't understand something. I still have the Merriam Webster Collegiate (!) Dictionary I received as I started 6th grade. Did I ever like that title. No extra-large print, no concessions to childhood, this book was Collegiate. And this book was used. The colored tabs on the N and the A and the P fell ...

Did you notice that the March 14th Alliance (formerly the March 16th Alliance but that's another story) was triumphant in Lebanon's elections this week? Their defeat of the Hezbollah/Iranian-funded-Shi'ia/(non-Maronite) Christian opposition party was a lovely coda to President Obama's Middle East visit. TBG and I read about it in the Wall Street Journal and followed it on CNN and MSNBC and bored the Amster to tears discussing it. Two weeks ago we might have noticed it, but wouldn't have given it a second thought. Now, though, I'm thinking that a Hezbollah defeat in Lebanon might have repercussions in the West Bank, from whence Hezbollah wages war* against Israel. And that's a consideration I couldn't have made before CAU . I did all the (excruciating) reading before we arrived on campus, and I read all the articles in the packet we received upon checking in. Every last word of every last page. Not all of it was fascinating but I read it and though...

Jeff van Gundy wondered why his brother was referred to as Mr. van Gundy in the Wall Street Journal today. "Why are they so formal? And the NYTimes, too. He's not Mr. Anybody, he's just Stan!" And this is another nail in the coffin of mediated media . He's not "just Stan" for crying out loud. He's coaching (albeit not that successfully) in the premier event of his sport. He's all that's on television and if the freakin' Wall Street Journal is writing about his double knit pullovers and off the rack slacks then he certainly is Mr. Somebody. Do you detect a note of hysteria here, perhaps? As the walls of my fortress are attacked, I must strike back. I ask you: What is wrong with showing respect? I have never been able to call my parents' friends by their first names. Not after I was Sadie Sadie Married Lady nor Mother to G'ma and Daddooooo's first grandchild nor after funerals and illnesses or anything else that life might pre...

Lost my cell phone. Never done that before, though I've washed it a few times. Went to the AT&T store to buy a new one. Just wanted to make phone calls and text the Cuters from time to time (sometimes more than others.... can you spell March Madness??). Had seen the ads on tv and thought I might even get one for free. And, in fact, there was a free phone. Absolutely free. Of course, that's free before the required for the rebate purchases/commitments/taxes on purchase price before said rebates etc etc etc. By the time Jesus was finished explaining it all to me I was willing to sign anything just to get out of there. At least I could keep my same phone number. So, free wasn't exactly free after the purchases/commitments etc etc were factored in, but the phones which came in at $29.95 were pretty interesting. The camera came as a standard feature. Why was I dismissing a VGA camera when I had absolutely no idea what it meant except that it was on the chintzy-est phone? Sud...

Like your favorite pair of slippers, which make an accommodation for every bent toe and sore heel and feel perfect as soon as you think about them, seeing old friends again has a very special texture. You know what needs massaging and what needs attention and can take a deep breath and know that it will be understood immediately. A look, a raised eyebrow, a glance is all it takes. You agree about the past and it doesn't seem that far away, even if 30-some years have gone by. Just sitting on a ledge behind the fraternity house brings the sound of Ruler typing his last paper - after the graduation ceremony - from his room overlooking the deck. TBG's big brother in a black fishnet V-neck top, blue jeans shorts, black socks and wing tips - Joe College, he thought - is coming up the steps just as he did years ago to celebrate with classmates now far-flung, dead, divorced but with us in that moment. The years slipped away. We were 20 again, and the world was our oyster. No aneur...