The Burrow

How unusual - NOT!  You have droppings in your courtyard, just like everyone else in Tucson. That was the gist of my conversation with the lovely lady who answers the phone these days for Mr. Pack Rat.  After agreeing that the only way to fully protect my home would be to install a plexiglass dome over the entire property - and a lengthy and laugh filled discussion of our business model - she found an opening the very next day. Well, that's only perfect, said I. And so, this morning, hours earlier than promised, Eric came to inspect the scene of the crime. Yes, those are pack rat pellets adorning my threshold.  I considered taking a picture, but some of you are eating breakfast right now and I'd hate to put that in front of your oatmeal.  Small, oblong, dark black - I left them in place so that the technician would have evidence.   He says I can sweep them up, now. He combed through the rosemary bushes inside and outside the pony wall.  He found piles ...

Mama, next weekend I'll be 7.   It's true.  I was there when she was a backache the night before she was born.  It can't be labor, Mom; the baby's not due until next week - that was the first grandmotherly comment to be dismissed out of hand.   It's also a touchstone moment - babies don't often do what they're supposed to do when they are supposed to do it and good parents, like Little Cuter and SIR, learn to roll with it..... even when it includes projectile pooping.  It's amazing how well you can control your gag reflex when it's your own personal human creation looking up at you through her screams. And then the random screams become burbling sounds of discomfort and the solutions, though always changing, are, eventually found.  Smiles and laughs and recognition; food smashed all over your face and hers, adventures in the real world, and, always, WHY?? School friends and cousin friends and encountering the outside world on her own - and making ...

I watched the most manly men wipe tears from their eyes.  I listened as they retold their stories.  I was mesmerized by their bodies and their language. These were big guys, with ribbons on their chests and fidelity to their oaths. In their hearts, they were broken.   Name calling.  Eye gouging. Kill him with his own gun.    I found myself leaning forward, hands gripping one another.  I wasn't crying, I was watching and learning. I remember.....   I remember, too.   At least the deniers were few and far between back in 2011.  The most powerful moments this morning were those damning the elected officials who said it was all love and happiness.  Let them go over to Donald Trump's house, if they're so full of love. They are looking for the truth.  They called out the former president.  They gave the Committee their wish list - who and what needs to be brought to light.   And then it was finished.  I ...

I didn't realize that last month would be filled with stories of exile, and yet, it was.  I didn't plan it that way.  The universe provided the material and I drank it up.  I'm a little les anchored in my personal space, but in a good way.  Thinking makes it so.   My rolfing therapist handed me this, and told me I would love it. She was right.  I looked at the world with heightened sensibilities after seeing it through the eyes of a young girl growing up.  Why she and her father are alone in the world seems less important than the lessons he's teaching her, until the outside world intervenes and changes everything.  Modern conveniences take on extra dimensions, the simplest tasks are revealed as bewilderingly complex, and through it all there is a serenity and a hopefulness baked into the protagonist's DNA.   Read it, then breathe deeply.  You'll feel the difference. I reread Nora Ephron's Heartburn   as a palate cleanser;...

The Olympic Games began, and no one seems to care... except, perhaps, for the Japanese people who are protesting outside the venues.  Their country is hosting an international super-spreader event and they are peeved.  Akio  Toyoda refused to attend the opening ceremonies even though he's CEO of Toyota, the major investor in the games.  That was probably a smart move, given that masking was sporadic and vaccination uncertain.  I'm not sure about Japanese politics, but Toyoda's absence made a statement that even I could understand. The Opening Ceremonies were in stark contrast to the Chinese games'.  Instead of masses of humanity beating drums in sync, there were shapes and lines and solitary dancers exercising in white bloomers while colored lights played on the arena.  It was artful and somewhat interesting but we turned it off when the camera focused on a person on a treadmill.... for a very long time..... until s/he fell off and lay in a hump. It wa...

The last time we flew home from South Bend, we were the only people in the waiting area.  It was early June, we were vaccinated, we were sitting alone and far from the few other travelers who were leaving Indiana at 11pm, so we took down our masks and breathed free.   We weren't worried.  If we believed the science and stayed home for 14 months, we have to believe the science when it tells us we are safe was our mantra.  All that has changed in the past few weeks. Of course, we masked up whenever we went anywhere with FlapJilly and Giblet.  If the least among us could not be protected we would take all the precautions we could - to protect them and to show solidarity with their predicament. As soon as you get your vaccine, my love  was the all too frequent answer to horseback riding and eating inside a restaurant and traveling to Arizona... and it shouldn't be.  If everyone who could get vaccinated did get vaccinated I could have taken the kids to...

All the planes were on time. We only had to walk fast through two terminals at DFW, and climb up the stairs to the SkyLink tram because the escalator was broken to make our connection. We had no third person in the row on either leg. The time change has us very confused, as does lack of sleep, breathing recycled air, and not eating very much at all. In short, denizens, I'm too exhausted to have anything meaningful to say, although I read several fascinating books that I am anxious to share with you.  Tomorrow will be better, I'm sure.  For now, excuse me but I'm going to take a nap.

FlapJilly stayed home from camp to play with her grandparents today.  Her mama didn't have to work, either.  TBG and I were surrounded by love. We were on our way to Einsteins for bagels when the littlest member of our party decided that McDonalds would make her happier - so that's where we went through the drive through.  I know that their orange juice is delicious; TBG brings me one after he spins.  I didn't know that the blueberry muffin would be as good as it was.  I'm not a sausage and egg girl; the muffin kept my tummy happy. FlapJilly's favorite place in the world is her mother's work place - the University of Notre Dame.  We parked by the lake, hoping to enjoy our breakfasts on its shores.  Unfortunately, the entire space was fenced in.  There was to be no picnic this morning.   Instead, we headed to the grotto.  It's a spiritual gathering place, with candles to light and a kneeling bench for prayers.  There were lots of pra...

Getting shot outside a grocery store was unusual.  We weren't prepared for the bullets; we were waiting to shake the hand of our Congresswoman.   I imagine the people who brought their children to the Washington Nationals' game last night would also say that bullets and the stadium were an unusual combination.  Once again, a special treat for special kids turned into a nightmare. In Tucson, bullets flew for no reason and left an EMT in critical condition and the neighborhood in tumult. Was it the heat?  Was it a personal vendetta?  Was it random chaos?  Does it matter? It seems to me that one ought to be able to enjoy the world without considering whether bullets will fly. It seems to me that children should be able to cheer their team on to victory without having to dive into the dugout to escape mayhem. The toll this takes on grownups is something I can talk about with conviction.  A balloon popped as we were leaving Party City on Saturday morning. ...

Many different religious groups visited me after I was shot.  Only the Jews came with food - a Shabbat dinner worthy of King Solomon.  The conversation was lively and felt comfortable; though none of us had met before, the cultural connection was strong enough that it didn't matter that we were strangers.   Among the visitors was a writer with a purple streak in her hair.  Her charge was to write about the short Jewish girl from New York who'd been perforated while participating in American Democracy.  What happened was a friendship. Her car was covered with stickers supporting choice and voting and equal rights and all the other things that Jewish liberals believe are good.  Those decorations kept her from replacing it long after its expiration date - they were hard to part with.   We'd have breakfast or brunch all around town, chatting up a storm about our children and their children and her writing and my blogging and politics and growing older. ...

There are reasons women don't give birth in their 60's. Giblet took us to the fire station and pulled the string for the siren, honked the horn, turned on the lights, and got a sticker and a trading card for his troubles. He took us to the park and went on the swings - super high and super fast, in his estimation.  The big slide was too scary (thank you, god of grandmas) but the little slide and the bouncing horse were almost as much fun as the bouncing fire engine..... even if the wheel in the park was very small, not like the wheel on the real fire engine which was super big. He ate lunch and took me through his pre-nap routine, and fell fast asleep. So did Grampa and Gramma. It was five hours of nonstop chatter and entertainment and motion.  Five hours of managing the rapidly shifting emotions of a three year old.  Five hours of love and hugs and tantrums and running and Look At Me! There's a reason young women are fertile.  If raising young ones were left to old ...

They were waiting for us at the airport.  TBG was walking faster than I - he got the first hugs. They were jumping up and down as he walked through the security gate.  They raced down the corridor screaming Grampa! Grampa! Grampa!  I stopped walking and watched.  He knelt down and they were in his arms and he was in theirs and Little Cuter and I were teary as we watched. I got in on the fun, too, creaky and achy but with a heart full of love. I squeezed myself into the space between the two car seats and hugged arms and legs.   We got home and hugged on the couch. They had dinner at the table, and I held onto whatever body part was available. After baths we hugged on the floor while we told jokes  We woke up smiling, racing upstairs to start hugging again. 

We always go to Indiana for the kids' birthdays in July.  Last year we couldn't go because of The Yukky-ness, as FlapJilly was calling the virus back then.  She was just 5 years old, coming off a shortened kindergarten year, staring at a summer without camp or friends or leaving the house.  SIR and Little Cuter made a backyard extravaganza for her and her little brother, Gramma and Grampa joined in via the interwebs, and she was delighted. But.......  Next year you'll come for sure, right? We couldn't wait until July.  As soon as everyone who could be vaccinated was vaccinated and the school year had ended, we flew to hug them in May.   And now, a month later, we're going back. Weren't you just there?  queried our son. Again! You lucky girl! said the Pilates Diva when I cancelled this week's session. It happened so fast.... I didn't get the sheets back on the bed   yet was Little Cuter's lament. Yes, it's soon.  A year ago, this was impo...

Yesterday's post had an asterisk.  If you searched for it and came up empty, I'm sorry.  This is what I meant to add, with a little more verbiage than originally planned. ***** College Bowl was one of my favorite shows growing up.  Three teams from three different colleges answered questions posed by a moderator.  There was a high school version, too; our school was a contestant one year.   I don't remember the questions falling to one side or the other of Too Hard/Too Easy.  I certainly don't remember them being this easy: Arrange these men in the order in which they served:   The 20 somethings were flummoxed.  I laughed.  Those were very familiar faces. When I asked him, he admitted to taking a moment to get Ike and Harry in the right order, but he agreed that this was not a difficult question for a college student to answer.   I pondered what they're not teaching you in school these days  for a while, and then I wondere...

Can I blame climate change?   A transformer overheated and there was a power outage and the cable went down.  The air conditioner worked and so did the lights.  Why were we unable to get a signal on the tv?  And where was my internet?  My phone connected but the computer and the iPad were unresponsive. Before I left the house, I asked TBG if he needed any information.  His flip phone has only text and phone and photo capabilities...... and I'm not sure he has ever taken a picture . Everything was fine by the time I got home, and life went on until this evening, when the cable box refused to let us watch the NBA Finals on our local ABC affiliate. How?  That was what we said.  The what was self-evident - we could tune in the stations above and below but not 211.  Instead of Yannis and DeAndre we saw Peyton Manning, hosting College Bowl*.   This led to exclamations of dismay, and many attempts, none of them successful.  We wa...

I hadn't heard from him in years, not since just after the divorce.  But there he was, on the phone. "Do you remember what we had for dinner the night we made our daughter?" That' s what you want to know?  I really don't remember.   Damn. Why so upset? She's visiting. I wanted to be sure that I never eat it again.

Bret-t.. our favorite waiter at our favorite pizzeria, regaled us with stories and videos of his trip to introduce his 7 year old daughter to his fiancee's extended family in Iowa.  Lady Jane and I were treated to videos of fireworks by the lake, of little girls' faces filled with wonder and awe.  We heard stories about jumping off the dock into that lake, of heat and humidity so thick that clothing was drenched within minutes of stepping out doors.   Mostly, though, there were stories of familial connections that were new but which felt old. She doesn't feel like my cousin, Dad.  She feels like my sister ***** SIR created his annual fireworks extravaganza again this year.  Little Cuter sent text invites to their neighbors with kids, and by nightfall there were children running through yards and hiding and chasing and laughing out loud while gasping and ooohing and aahhhing (from a very safe distance) at the sparkles and booms.   Little Cuter took...

It was very windy last week, so windy that a whole tree fell down. The wind broke it right off, exposing the fact that there was really nothing holding it together at all. On the way down, the palo verde severed a saguaro. Saguaros have personalities (yes, I am anthropomorphizing, but I am not alone   This one had babies at her very tip,  which means she was 75-100 years old, at least.  I shot this earlier this year to celebrate the newbie on the left side. Mother Nature is ruthless.  She doesn't care what her destruction looks like once the damage is done.  One of the tree's branches tore off this chunk of saguaro skin. Otherwise, it was a clean break,  Now there is an empty space where there was once a tree, a tree that lost a whole part of itself in the Spring  and, apparently, never recovered. The landscapers came and toted it all away, covering the stump with the pebbles that serve as ground cover out here, removing all traces of what was and is n...

It's my flag, too.   I can fly it with all its ambiguities and still feel moved.  Flying it is part of my pursuit of happiness.   On patriotic holidays and events, I wear all my red white and blue clothes - some of them tie dyed when Little Cuter was in elementary school.  I was just wearing that shirt! she said when she saw my tank top on FaceTime. (Yes, everything we made was very very big.  Oversized t-shirts as pajamas is still a thing.) My gym rat friend, Bill the Marine, gave me a pair of light cotton sweatpants emblazoned with stars and stripes.  My $3 Target t with a flag graphic alternates with the sundress that is also about 30 years old.  That means they've been worn 90 times at most - Memorial Day, July 4th, and Labor Day - and they show no wear at all..  At this rate there is no earthly reason to add to the collection; they will last forever. I'm not making a political statement.  I'm making an American statement. ...

Little Cuter went to work on Thursday and we were surprised.  She had the whole month of June off; what was she doing in the office during her vacation? Mom? Dad?  It's July. Oops.  Now we are missing months instead of just dates and days of the week.  We were abashed. Big Cuter and Queen T are going to a 5th of July BBQ today, an event which rankles in my son's brain.  He's never heard of a 5th of July celebration. Now that we are looking American history square in the face, reckoning with enslavers as Founding Fathers and the return of Jim Crow in our times, July 4th, which used to be unencumbered, is now conflicted.  We are no longer a colony, and that is a good thing.  We do not live up to the Pledge of Allegiance's promise of liberty and justice for all  yet, and that is a bad thing. Am I still allowed to be proud of America?  We are truly a young country - Great Britain was compounded in  935 or 1536 or 1706 or 1800 - and we have ...

  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 fortun...

(Months ago, Blogger decided not to use the service which forwarded The Burrow to inboxes.  It took me a while (see below) but  FollowIt  reached out, offered to help, and here I am, writing about it. It's an otherwise gloomy day here, and I'm stuck in neutral.  This Subscriber Alert seemed like a fine way to finish the week.) ***** There's a nifty little box to the right, bordered in green.  Put your email in the box and send it on. My inbox is currently overwhelmed with requests for financial support from every one with a (D) after their name.  (That is gender neutral not bad grammar..... hard to type/read/hear, but neater than he or she.) I apologize for suggesting that I clog yours with my musings.   There are a dozen or so, of  The Burrow's 1256 regular readers, who subscribe to this service, and if it's still working you don't have to sign up again. If it appeals to you, fill in that box on the right. If you click on  this link ...

The wind is blowing fiercely.  The trees are banging against the walls and the bougainvilla blossoms are filling the courtyard from the ground to the top of the crepe myrtle, about 15' up there.  Unfortunately, they settle under the lantana and the rosemary, looking forlorn.  Over time, they'll dessicate and turn brown and then I'll have a brown carpet under my bushes.   If I had two good legs I'd be out there pulling it away and dragging it away.  Now, all it does is aggravate me. We skimmed the pool after the pol gy was finished skimming the pool and it was spotless..... until the winds started up.  Now it is as messy as the courtyard. The clouds are massing over the Catalinas.  Despite the wind, they are not moving much.  They are often stuck on the higher peaks, bringing them rain while we have humidity and wind and nothing else. Every afternoon I wonder if I should shut off the 2nd round of irrigation.  Will it rain?  Will it r...