The Burrow

I haven't commented on my physical well-being in a while.  Today, a good day, seems like the time to bring you up to date. I decided not to climb the Sears Tower this November.  It's not that I couldn't do it, it's that I don't want to train for it.  The thought of spending an hour a day for the next twelve weeks in a stairwell became ever less appealing.  I can tramp up the only steps I regularly encounter (to the Pilates studio on the 2nd floor) without holding on (most days) to the railing.  I can plant each foot firmly on the tread, lifting my knee high enough to land on the next one without canting to the left.  Most days, I don't need both feet on one step before proceeding onward and upward.  Going down is a whole 'nother story.  Then, again, I don't know a lot of people my age who spryly bounce down stairs.  Hiking down was always harder for me than hiking up; this feels like a return to normal.  Well, almost. gaia.com ...

We were friends in Junior HIgh and we were friends in High School and then I never saw her again.  I don't remember why, or if there even was a why.  We just stopped being in one another's orbit. Before our 20th High School Reunion, in 1989, I found he once again.  Would I see her at the party?  No, she said, her life was empty; she had no husband, no children; it didn't measure up to what she was sure everyone else would be sharing; she didn't want to be there, listening to that, feeling bad about herself. I didn't press it.  I hung up the phone (yes, we actually spoke on the telephone back in the 20th century) and thought that the years hadn't changed her much.  She was still the glass half empty girl I'd listened to when we were teens. She played Janis Ian's odes to loneliness on her guitar, while I sat on the floor beside her. She wasn't at the 40th Reunion, but so many others were that I forgot to wonder about her.   I looked a...

Five years ago, at this very moment, her mother was not reading The Burrow. She was giving birth to the most fabulously styled  tiara wearing rock star!  Happy Birthday, Princess FlapJilly! May all your dreams come true.

I tried to listen to the news today, but it hurt my heart.  Time passes and nothing changes.  I fear for our country, and there's nothing I can do about it.  So, I'm focusing on the wonderfulness that was 1939.  Not World War II or the end of the Great Depression, but the movies that were released that year.  That's what makes me smile. The Best Picture nominees alone would fill my DVR - Gone With the Wind, Love Affair, Stagecoach, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Goodbye Mr. Chips, The Wizard of Oz, Ninotchka, Dark Victory, Of Mice and Men, Wuthering Heights.  I've never gotten past the crazy Communists in the first few scenes of Ninotchka, but otherwise those films are all on my list of All Time Favorites.  But there is more, so much more.  Babes in Arms, Beau Geste, Drums Along the Mohawk, Elizabeth and Exeter, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Intermezzo.... I'll watch any of them anytime.  And I have. Last week, TBG and I watched Five Ca...

The man is taciturn.  That didn't make for great viewing, but it made me smile. He was exactly the same man who held my hand as he explained the DOJ's strategy in sentencing my shooter.  He stuck to the facts.  He made certain that he understood what we were asking before he proffered an answer.  When he smiled, the whole room joined him.  When he spoke, the room listened intently. ***** The Democrats were certainly well prepared.  Their questions came with visual aids. The Republicans spoke fast and furiously, and they had nothing for me to read while they were talking. ***** There was a lot of reference to the absence of documentary evidence. No one asked if the parties involved delivered all the information that would have made the Report more complete. ***** When Sen. Jackie Speier gave him a minute and thirty-nine seconds to tell the American people what you want them to take away from this report , Mr. Mueller didn't need all 99 seconds to...

To the 9 people who read today's post before the pictures were added - SORRY!

When your children's birthdays are 16 days apart, there's really no reason to have two separate parties.  The Cuters shared parties until he wanted a football party and she wanted a sleep over.  Little Cuter followed what she learned as a kid, and hosted a dual Prince and Princess Celebration for her children on Saturday afternoon. The National Weather Service kept warning us about Excessive Heat. The party was to be held outside.  We worried.  SIR placed fans strategically around the deck.  Big Bob brought his canopy to cover the picnic table area.  There were coolers with Prince and Princess Approved drinks and a large quantity of SIR's patented sangria. Last year, I drank it and spent the afternoon on the couch, lazily and drunkenly holding my two week old grandson.  This year, it was so hot that I sweated it out before my liver could process it.  I was able to chat with the company and help with the cake, but I kinda sorta missed the ...

Along with books and games and making a sign for the arrival of her Funcle, Big Cuter, there was another trip for frozen yogurt. This time, Gramma missed the turn.  FlapJilly said that I ought to have listened to her when she told me to turn.  The kid has an uncanny sense of direction.  She notices when Daddy takes a shortcut and the landmarks she's used to are different, and she was certainly aware when I drove past the corner for  Urban Swirl .  Luckily, there was a large, unused, paved soon-to-be driveway in which I could make a U-turn.  She was glad that the end result was chocolate fudge with a variety of Gummy Worms and peach loops and orange and green frogs.  In case you were wondering, she's still Wonder Woman's biggest fan. With multi-colored nails ready for her birthday party the next day,  she tried to go to sleep at the regular bedtime. Mommy caught her before she could meander down the stairs to ask for a back rub. ...

First, there was Little Passports with Daddy. It's a monthly subscription service Little Cuter suggested as a gift a few years ago.  The kid and her father love it.  He reads and guides, she listens and plays.  This month we learned about natural wonders.  There were matching activities and coloring pages and lots of fascinating facts.  Even the grown ups learned something new.   It was somewhat challenging with little brother cruising around the table, but somehow the Passports and the big kid survived. She stayed home from pre-K the next day, a steamy hot weekday we all agreed was too hot to play outside.  So, with the very very very ripe and soft bananas, Gramma and FlapJilly created banana bread.  She knew exactly where Mommy stores the whisk, and set to work combining the ingredients. I thought I could show her something fun to do with a stick of butter and the baking pan, but the kid was way ahead of me.   You do t...

That's what FlapJilly said about yesterday.  Who am I to disagree? There's a big difference between a kid going to pre-school and a kid ready for kindergarten.  The former is delightful, ready to be influenced, charmingly naive.  The latter knows what she wants to do, when she wants to do it, and is willing to explain her reasoning.  She can be convinced to change her plan, but the reasons had better be compelling. Plans.  My girls love plans.  With a plan there is certainty and the absence of surprise.  You can ask questions and receive answers that calm the anxiety that comes with spending a day in a new way.  Though she knew she was in charge of the activities - Whatever you want to do, sweetie, we're on it - she required reassurance.  It's easy to love being with Gramma and Grampa when you know what's going on. So we had breakfast around the corner at our favorite eggs and bacon place then came home to play in the yard.  I was ...

I waited to post the July 18th post until I could upload pictures.  Then, I went to sleep. Going to the computer to write Friday's post, I found Thursday's sitting on the dashboard. It will be live at midnight Friday.  For now, here's a photo of why I got distracted: That's a pretty good reason right there!

The plane had a problem.  It required a visit from Maintenance.  We sat on the tarmac, with the door open, the temperature outside hovering around 110.  Hot doesn't begin to describe it. More visitors from Maintenance arrived.  The Pilot left the cabin.  Another worker brought a new computer, at which point the flight crew thought to make an announcement.  Information is a crucial component of calmness while trapped in a steamy silver tube.  Spending an hour sweating in ignorance left 150 people on the verge of mutiny.  There was no water.  There was just angst. It should be just a few more minutes, folks  was what they told us 10 minutes before they allowed us to deplane and cool off in the terminal.  I washed my face alongside a dozen other women who were in various stages of distress.  But, the air conditioning worked inside, there was free water or soda at the desk, and an hour or so later we were back on the plane. T...

I had a fabulous time at my 40th high school reunion.  You can read about it here and here and here. Roomie and others organized a 50th Reunion, opting to hold it on Long Island.  There will be visits to the school, a trip to the beach, a night time soiree, and, I'm sure, much much more.  I won't be there to partake. I'll be watching Giblet walk and FlapJilly jump off the slide into her kiddie pool.  I'll be harvesting veggies from their over-planted garden and driving to pre-school and dance class.  I'll do laundry and vacuum and cook dinners, all the chores that impinge on my girl's free time.  We'll pick her up from work and bring her home where she'll have nothing to do but play with us. It will be much more relaxing than a reunion. I won't have to judge or be judged.  There will be no stressful moments staring at the clothes I've packed, wondering what will be "just right/"  I won't be stared at by people trying to reme...

Allegiant changed the time that the plane to South Bend leaves Mesa.  Instead of getting up at 3am to make a 6:35am departure (it's a two hour drive/park/walk from Tucson) we can now sleep in, go to the gym, have a leisurely breakfast, and leave the house mid-morning for a daylight trip to the airport. That makes TBG, the self-appointed designated driver, very happy. Of course, since that plane lands in South Bend, unloads and reloads and returns to Mesa, coming home means driving in the dark.  There are no children at the end of that segment of the journey, which will take place after a day of fun and laughter with the grandkids and 3 hours breathing recycled airplane air.  TBG was not amused. Enter Marriott Reward to the rescue.  We've collected points on our credit card and through the time share we never use and can't seem to get rid of.  There's a Courtyard by Marriott around the corner from the airport.  For $10, plus one night's stay, we can le...

We grew up 20 miles from one another, though we met in 1970.  We lived together in 1971, across the street in 1972, across the country in the '80's and across the county in the '90's.  Now, I live across town from her grandchild and she drives across a state or two to visit us all. No, it wasn't too hot for here granddaughters to swim in the morning, so her girls became pruney, playing with 30 year old water cannons I've lovingly toted from Chicago to Marin to Tucson, while their Bubbe and I talked about people I haven't thought about in decades. We reorganized the lives of those we know and love.  We solved the problems of the world. We agreed that if everyone in the 5 boroughs of New York and the neighboring counties in Connecticut and New Jersey would call 5 people outside The Metropolitan Area (because, as all New Yorkers know, there is only one, real, Metropolitan Area) and tell them what we all know - Donald Trump is a Buffoon.  Has always been ...

Are you overwhelmed by the whole Jeffrey Epstein mess?  Do you wonder who did what - not in terms of his awful behavior, but relating to the conflicting stories the lawyers are spewing?  I can simplify it for you - They Never Told The Victims. TBG and I have been stewing ever since the news came out.  Can you imagine if they hadn't involved us?  came out of one of our mouths every hour or so, whether we had the news on or not.  The Federal Prosecutors all the way up to Eric Holder, the County Attorney, the FBI Victim Services advocates and their Pima County counterparts all kept in touch.  Over the course of the case, they called, they emailed, they forwarded documents.  They always began the same way :  How are you two doing? They cared.  They had our best interests at heart.  They represented us.  We never doubted any of them for a moment.  I find it impossible to put myself in Epstein's victims' shoes.  I tried,...

SIR makes the best pancakes.  Just ask FlapJilly.   In addition to a liberal dose of Daddy Love, Little Cuter says the secret is Kodiak is inside this box: It's on the shelf at Costco.  It came home with me on Monday; I opened it tonight It looks beautiful, doesn't it?  It's light and richly textured, between fine and ultra-fine, and has a lovely, tawny tint.   I had all the ingredients required for Kodiak French Toast. I also had bacon and eggs, just in case. I covered the strawberries with flour  and made pancakes which I cut into cubes and put into an egg and milk and cinnamon bath.   I baked it for half an hour, then made my back up dinner. It didn't look terrible when I served it.  Upon reflection, we were glad there was a Just In Case back up. I think I can tweak the recipe.  I have high hopes for the basic concept. The texture was fine; the crunchy parts were delightful.  Perhaps i...

There was an issue with the registration process.  The details are less important than the wonderful way in which it was resolved. The issue raised many questions.  Should I show up?  Will anyone else show up? Do I need to bring supplies?  Those were the logistical issues.  But there was more.  We were peeved.  Who is responsible for this mess?  Which Board is active in the summer? Who is in charge? As usual, I took the bull by the horns.  I sent an email to the people I deemed most likely, stating the problem in short, declarative sentences.  This happened.  Then this happened.  It's a problem.  Can you fix it. I had no expectations.  It's summertime.  It's 4th of July weekend.  I checked my email before turning things off for the night and found a delightful apology .... not for the problem, but for taking so long to respond.  She was working on the problem, she was glad I'd pointed it out, she'...

I watched the whole thing.  I didn't open a device or wield a crafting tool.  I watched and cheered and remembered Little Cuter's Daring Devils and Don't worry, Stephanie's back there at sweeper  and road trips to Ukiah.  Soccer's a game I can follow, and the triangle offense makes much more sense to me on the pitch than on the (American) football field. I love Sue Bird's  So the President F*cking Hates My Girlfriend  take on Megan Rapinoe's demeanor, prowess, and purple hair.  I loved my daughter's admiration of Mia Hamm, for her performance on and off the field.  My heart was bursting as I watched another generation of role models, American heroes in a difficult time, defeat an undefeated team to win the championship. As JES wrote,    I think I'd almost forgotten what "soul-stirring" meant. And then, because the day needed whipped cream, nuts, and a cherry on top, my girl posted this: As if today’s win could get any sweeter, I...

I'm still wearing red, white, and blue.  I seem to have a lot of flag related items lurking in my closet's random niches.  I'm still flying the flag; I might put it out all weekend long.   I'll deadhead the geraniums which are wilting in the heat.  I'll play mah jong with Scarlet.  I'll listen to the Boston Pops.  I probably won't watch Trump's Self Celebration. I know I'll be thinking of home. G'ma made salad and cut watermelon and shucked corn.  Daddooooo lit the charcoal and cooked chicken or burgers or London Broil.  We ate  outside,  at the picnic table, on paper plates.  We had soda at dinner.   The grown ups sat in folding chairs, wide, woven strips of yellow and white striped plastic sticking to bare legs even after the sun went down, as the kids  collected fireflies and toasted marshmallows, building a mini-bonfire atop the coals with tinder from Daddooooo's curated cache.   My aunt and...

reworked, revised, revisited...yes, you've read parts of this before The sky is pure blue,  "painted that way  as G'ma said every time she looked up.  The occasional fluffy white cloud drifts by, and I'm hearing G'ma remark on that, too.  The flag in front of the house is swaying, the pole wedged between the base and the capital of one of the front columns, secured with thin, silver, crafting wire.   It's an elegant solution to TBG's reluctance to put holes in his house;  I feel like Daddooooo every time I wrap another ring around the post. Daddooooo was big on ingenious remedies to intractable problems.  He was also big on flags and the 4th of July.  We always went to the beach.  We always stopped at Custom Bakers on the way home, where the owners always let us go back and stick our fingers in the vats of frosting. We always went to the Boardwalk in Long Beach, arriving as the sun was setting.  Skeeball and mechanical fortune tell...

I had an over-sized illustrated book of the Tales of Washington Irving. It scared me. If you Google that phrase, the first reference is to Kreepy Kids Corner. It's comforting to know that I am not alone. I was in elementary school, old enough to read chapter books, old enough to feel terror. And it was terror that I felt, every night, as I lay on my bed, reading The Headless Horseman. With my head to the foot of my bed, reading by the light from the hallway, I can still conjure the image of the black horse and the voluminous black cape and the head in the hand of the rider, galloping, black tree trunks and a purple and orange sunset feeling all together too real. I knew G'ma and Daddooooo were there, outside my half open door. I knew it was only a story. I knew I was safe. I was still really really scared. And, I kept reading that book. Most people think of the story of Rip Van Winkle's long long nap with a smile. I know it for the horrifying tale it is Take my word for it....

Little Cuter is taking a long weekend and she inspired me.  I'm taking the day off from posting. I will give you this close up of the agave stalk I wrote about in June . The flowers are just aching to come out.  I find it meditative.....in an  I can't believe how odd that is  kind of way. I'll be back tomorrow with words of wisdom, wit, or whimsy. Today, I'm going to enjoy the sunshine.

I couldn't watch the news.  Every channel had pictures of a drowned man and his toddler daughter.  I couldn't look at it.  I just kept saying to myself, over and over and over again, This is NOT my America. I know it is my America.  It's FDR's decision to turn away the St Louis  in 1939.  It's The Trail of Tears.  It's internment and red lining and SCOTUS sanctioned voter suppression.  But that image was just too much for me. I had to do something.   So, I shopped.  I took $100 and went to The Dollar Store and bought 50 pairs of flip flops and 10 boxes of crayons and 10 small pads of paper and 10 little toys.  I bought toothbrushes and small packs of tissues.  I filled my trunk with the clothes waiting to go to Goodwill, with the brand new sweatshirt that fits no one in my family, and with 4 bottles of Dove Body Wash, just because.   I drove to the former Benedictine Monastery, which owner Ross...