The Burrow

Sometimes, a company gets it right. Allegiant flies between Phoenix-Mesa Gateway and South Bend International airports every Monday and Friday, but only on Mondays and Fridays.  The rest of the time, you have to travel on a major carrier, at three or four times the price. But this year, there are flights on the Wednesday before and the Sunday after Thanksgiving and Little Cuter wondered if Grampa and Gramma wanted them for the holiday. I'm still doing my happy dance. If Allegiant Airlines were a human, I'd be kissing her right now.

Rain brought up facts and figures in her comment yesterday .  She's less than enthralled with rich entertainers disrespecting the flag, and I understand her, completely.  We've been connected through blogging (hers at Rainy Day Thoughts ) ever since I started in 2009; she's never been anything but thoughtful and polite.  I often wonder how she has time to craft elegant comments across the interwebs while writing romance novels , keeping up two blogs, and running a working ranch with her husband.  I thank the internet for her whenever our pixilated paths cross.  Her opinions are well-researched; she lives a life much different from mine and I appreciate the window into her world.  But I'm disagreeing with the basic premise of her argument, the fact that the athletes were disrespecting the flag.  Waving a giant flag horizontally violates the Flag Code , if we are going to be picky about it, but I'm going for a broader perspective.  There were ma...

This has been a very weird week and it's only Wednesday. Facebook did or didn't know that the Russians were using the platform to influence our Presidential election.  They did or didn't notice that the paid advertising in question came from Russian banks.  They did or didn't alter the algorithm to send inflammatory fake news stories to groups which would naturally fall on either side of the issue. Do we believe Mark Zuckerberg?  I saw The Social Network , I know that he stole the idea from those good looking rich twins. NFL players were protesting Donald Trump attacking their mothers.  They listened to his words, parsed them carefully, and determined that the President thought they were sons of nasty women.  NFL players were protesting police brutality, systemic racism, President Trump's feeble response to Charlottesville.  Or..... overpaid professional entertainers were making mountains out of molehills, disrespecting the flag and veterans and pol...

I always buy the insurance.   The HVAC guy told me that the surge protectors on our furnaces were out of date.  It went something like this: If lightning strikes the house (and it could happen) they are likely to explode (not expected to, but it could happen) and then your appliances are fried. Fried. Since no one wants fried appliances, I agreed to replace the surge protector on each furnace with new and improved models.  The technician kept explaining the wiring and the lighting but I was focused on the warranty. If lightning strikes my house sometime in the next three years, either those surge protectors will do their job or somebody will be replacing my furnaces, free of charge. I feel very safe and protected.

The Twitter-verse is all a flutter.  NFL team owners are falling over one another, re-framing what were obviously well-chosen talking points distributed by someone with sense.   Smart, thoughtful, inspiring, involved  young men were inspiring and admired ,   despite the President's divisive, disappointing, and  inappropriate words.   All of a sudden, Colin Kaepernick is a folk hero. It's spread to Major League Baseball, too, and that hand on his shoulder makes me smile. http://tinyurl.com/yaslsy5z And then I remembered sitting during the national anthem.  A lot.  In many places.  And not because I was busy nursing an otherwise inconsolable infant at the time.  It was 1969 and 1970 and 1971 and '72 and my friends were being shipped off to what is euphemistically referred to as an unpopular war. There were bloody protests and enormous peaceful gatherings.  There were the Black Panthers and SDS and SNCC and the Weather...

I'm exhausted, thank you very much. I was structurally integrated, trigger point manipulated, rolfed and stretched and pressed and pulled today.  This is not a therapy for amateurs; it requires allowing the practitioner to gain access to the deepest muscles, the ones hiding behind other organs, nestling up against the spine.  They are not easy to touch, since normal human beings prefer to keep them safely stashed away.  Getting in there is filled with intense sensations. "You are going to thank me later,"  she said, recognizing in my growling a threat to her immediate safety.  She asked me to extend my right leg, flexing my foot at the ankle, reaching my heel toward the window framing her blue doorway. BREATHE, painted in yellow on that blue lintel, was   mocking me as I gasped. Instructed to drop my pelvic floor as her forearm pressed and rolled inexorably down my IT band, I found the sensation somewhat more bearable.... emphasis on the somewhat. ...

A friend was born in 5700; he's celebrating his 78th birthday this year. With (the apocryphal) 613 pomegranate seeds of good wishes http://tinyurl.com/y72ga3tc Happy New Year !

We met when the Jews came to visit after I was shot.  They brought a Shabbat meal and words of comfort and left me with a new friend for life. Our husbands embrace their alone time with the same degree of passion.  Writing is a passion and political activism is part and parcel of our beings.  We love our two kids and our one grandchild (each) with reckless abandon. We don't like to shop, but sometimes we give in to the urge.... and this is what happens when that urge strikes us at different times, in different stores, with different motivations..... but the same outcome. Sometimes it's obvious that we were meant to be in one another's lives.

And yes, there's an ack  in the title. TrumpCare is back, and it's worse than ever.  John McCain's best friend, Lindsay Graham, joined with Louisiana's Bill Cassidy in introducing a revised repeal-and-replace bill that Ohio's John Kasich tweeets   eliminates the guardrails that protect some of the most vulnerable among us. In a sop to my own Senator's NO vote in July, Arizona is poised to receive heaping piles of pork from Graham-Cassidy.  Can he be bought off?  I tried to ask his office that very question this morning, but the phone was busy ... very very busy .... in the car (on speakerphone if I had ever gotten through).. from home ... on my cell on the way to pick up the mail.  I'll comment on his website and his Facebook page, but I wanted to have my voice heard, too. Indivisible has a lengthy but readable outline of the bill here .  There's a sample script for contacting your Senators here .  If you live in Arizona  or Ohio  ...

It's hard to think of autumn when I'm sweating in shorts and a tank top.  It's too hot to plant, too hot to rejigger the irrigation system, too hot to revamp the containers and replant that which needs more or less sunshine.  The euphorbia along the edge of the roadway are scorched, I hope not beyond repair, but I'm too uncomfortable to help them. A lot of Tucsonans are sharing these thoughts.  Buying a frame for our new 11x14 FlapJilly portrait by  JPetersenPhotography , I had this same conversation with the cashier.  It's not that we're complaining, necessarily.  It's that we're bored.  We're ready for light sweaters and narrow wale corduroy slacks.  We're tired of sleeveless blouses and ready to don our cowboy boots.  But boots when it's 98 degrees, humidity or not, lead to very sweaty feet.  We agreed that we'd have to wait.  We agreed that we were pretty peeved about it. Michael's has everything Fall on sale.  Hallowee...

I'm trying to buy a wedding present, but I'm getting stuck in the past. I'm remembering him as a toddler, as the 3 year old birthday boy, as the suburbanite living across the street from his school until his parents finally returned him to his proper place, the city. I'm remembering his mother's gigantic cell phone and her fiendish attachment to it... and to him... when our sons were quite a bit smaller than they are right now. I'm having a hard time adjusting to the fact that it has been three decades since the boys hid under the kitchen table together.  I don't feel that much older, but one of those little ones is tying the knot in 6 weeks ... and pre-schoolers don't get married in fancy hotels downtown. Where have those years gone?  Amster's oldest is in high school.  I'm on Medicare.  The calendar pages keep turning and I don't notice anything changing. I suppose that's a good thing.  I suppose I should be flattered that the...

TBG watched about 10 minutes of Monday Night Football this week.  My campaign to minimize the intrusion of football in my life is gaining ground.  On the other hand, while I was visiting FlapJilly, he and Big Cuter spent much of the weekend dissecting the actions of overgrown men running into and away from one another.  They've been betting against the spread since the kid was in elementary school; they have years of records to prove it.  I suppose it's too deep a bond to sever.... at least, for now. ***** TBG's having another hometown moment, with the Cleveland Indians now proud possessors of the American League's longest winning streak.  The Tribe has won 21 in a row and ESPN is all Cleve-town all the time. It's nice to see my guy smiling. ***** Thinking about the Indians reminds me of my Marin friend, a self-described scary black man several decades my junior.  Talking with Dana Carvey (yes, I'm name dropping ... and I'm smiling as I'm doing it!...

When we moved to Arizona, I made a promise to myself:  You don't have to go to any more meetings. Today, I agreed to steward two meetings a month.  I couldn't help myself.  OFA asked, and I said yes. Our Southern Arizona leader, a woman with the wonderfully appropriate name of Mary Darling, met me this afternoon at Crave , a coffee bar cum gathering place which deserves its own post.  Her husband, the oldest 16 year old you'll ever meet , and another organizer were introduced, and then we retired to our own little table, where she pitched her idea. Filling every paragraph with and you're so good at that , she outlined a series of information sessions and postcard writing opportunities, visits to Rep. McSally's office, and personal commitments by the participants to  further amplify the message.   Amplifying the message means tweets and Facebook posts and Instagram pictures and, more to my skill set and comfort level, letters to the editor and op-ed p...

Sixteen years ago, Christina-Taylor's parents were unaware of the planes flying into the Towers. They were busy with her birthing. On another plane this afternoon, I did a little mourning and a little smiling.  I imagined her Sweet Sixteen party, an event that will never happen, which made me sad and mad and resigned.  But I could see her, dressed and accessorized to the nines, her hair as shiny as her eyes, greeting her guests, making sure everyone was having a great time, delighting in being the center of all the love and attention. Her father reminded us over and over again that Christina-Taylor would not want sadness to be her legacy.  I try, each and every day, to remember that, to focus on her laugh and her attitude and the fun we had together.  Some days it's easier than others. Flying home from my granddaughter, another tall, inquisitive, thoughtful, delightful girl, I felt the loss of the 9 year old holding my hand and jumping for joy over the prospect...

There were lions and zebras and chimps. There was sunshine and there was a cousin and there were lots of snacks. But mostly, my heart was filled with love. Some things are too beautiful not to share, things like this. I'll write more for tomorrow. Today, I'm reveling in the love.

TBG doesn't want to get on a plane.  As I told him, I'm not leaving him behind.  He's not coming with me.  It's an active choice on his part, I can't feel sorry that he'll miss the fun. Chicago will be sunny and warm this weekend, perfect for a party and for visiting with friends.  There will be breakfast with Niece-the-Youngest and a rental car to take me hither and yon, visiting old friends, dropping in on the bookstores on Broadway, sitting on a bench by the lake at the Far Far Park.  There will be visiting of the grandchild and the concomitant giggles and hugs and stories and dress up. If only I didn't have to get up at 4am to catch my plane in Mesa.  Still, saving nearly $300 by flying Allegiant rather than a major carrier makes driving in the dark somewhat more acceptable.  Even with the weekend car rental, I'm more than $100 to the good for this trip. All this fun, all by myself. I can hardly wait.

DJT's 6 month ultimatum to Congress - fix DACA or I'll intervene - might be a political ploy, might be making good on a campaign promise, might be a sop to his base, might be the kick in the ass that Congress needs to get something, anything, going.  It might be all those things.  But one thing it is, for sure - it's cruel. How do you expatriate someone who's never lived a sentient moment outside the USofA? It's been heartening to hear Martha Pollack, Cornell's new President, say that the University will continue to aid its DACA students.  I loved hearing John Kasich inviting DACA recipients to come to Ohio, where they will be welcomed with open arms.  I've been tempted to join rallies and street side demonstrations; the invitations pour into my mailbox in a steady stream. In turn, I've tried and tried to write something more eloquent than It's Just Cruel.  I want to add my voice to the outrage.  I want to make a difference.  I want to change s...

James Bond on endless repeat was a perfect choice for a holiday weekend; I salute the tv programmer who thought it up.  It's quotable, it's easy to pick up the story, and it's easy to leave when something or someone better comes along.   It's inter-generational, whether you're all laughing at the early and cheesy special effects or tossing your derby like Odd Job. It's nice to know that some things really don't get old. ***** I activated the annual incarnation of my Costco card last week.  I called the number on the peel-off tag, and an absolutely delightful young voice welcomed me, confirmed my identity, and then heartily congratulated me. She seemed genuinely happy.  Her Have a great day!  as she hung up left me smiling.   It was a typical Costco experience. ***** That's what I thought about over the long weekend.  I exercised and I went to the movies and I browsed Macy's housewares department with Scarlett.  I read the next five or...

TBG and I each heard reviews of Baby Driver.  Neither of us remembers where.  We were struck, individually, by the reviewers' accolades. http://tinyurl.com/ycu8x35l I'll see anything with Kevin Spacey, even the latest season of House of Cards.  Jon Hamm's Everyman-with-Attitude is always one-note, spot on perfection; he's really not as deep as he seems. Lady Jane, my companion this afternoon, tells me, with more than a little twinkle in her eye, that Lily James married a black jazz man in Downton Abbey.  Jamie Foxx's over the top crazy is reliably on the edge of terrrifying. And Eliza Gonzalez, over there on the left if you're reading on your desktop, defines sultry.  She also wields a mean machine gun, because what's a heist movie without guns and cars and babes with weaponry? And this is, most definitely, a heist movie. It's also a buddy movie, a romance, a coming of age film.  It's about family and debt and commitment.  There's no...

Today should be the last day of summer vacation.   School should start the day after Labor Day.  I know this as a proven fact; my inner clock reminds me each and every September.  I'm sorry if you disagree, but you are wrong.  Seriously wrong.   Families should gather for one last day at the beach/the park/the ball field/the river/the backyard and eat hamburgers and toast marshmallows and catch fireflies as the moon rises over the neighbor's chimney.  Fourth of July seems like ages ago, the air is a little bit cooler, the days a little bit shorter, and it's time to get back to work. Here in Tucson, kids have been in school for a month.  It's just not right.   In honor of Labor Day, I am taking the day off.  Instead, I'm reviving an oldie but a goodie, from August 24, 2009.  Read and enjoy and say thank you to someone who works for a living.  ***** The First Day of School Daddooooo always gave us a new pencil the night bef...

I'm taking the weekend off, aligning myself with Labor and celebrating all of us with deadlines and assignments and duties.  Here's my Labor Day post, recycled and improved every year since 2012 ***** My  Zaydeh  was a paperhanger. So was his son, my uncle. They belonged to the Paperhanger's Union. When he retired, my Zaydeh got a lapel pin and a photograph of himself and the also-retiring Union Rep. The Union Rep got a pension and health insurance. No one knows if he got a copy of the photograph, too. It was that kind of complicated relationship to Labor, with a capital L, that dominated my growing up years. Daddooooo's father owned a business. G'ma's father was a worker. In the same way that her parents' accented speech and his parents' religious devotion were there, so was management/labor, bruising the edges of their relationship. On the one hand, I sat on my Zaydeh's shoulders as he bounced me around the living room, singing  Zum Gali Gal...