The Burrow

PNC reached out to me in a personal, thoughtful, sincere email about an hour after I hit send tonight. Spend the weekend knowing that at least some part of PNC was listening to me - and wants to try to fix it, though she'll understand if I don't want to try. It's too late now to write it all up. I'm going to a credit union tomorrow morning, as everyone suggested.  I pay attention when given advice by those I love. I feel better, but ..........

(Please ready yesterday's post so that this one makes sense.) I'm not confident about giving this bank any more of my money.  But I do have bills to pay.  So,   I took the time I'd have used to type in something (my payees) that should have magically appeared (in my not-so-seamlessly transferred Bill Pay page) to type yesterday's post and then look for somebody at PNC to call. It was hopeless.  An endless round of being routed to the voice banking.   PNC is headquartered in Pittsburgh (anybody have a relative there who'd like to go knock on some doors?).  There is nary a phone number on the interwebs for any of the dozens of VP's nor the President nor the Board.  Scarlet suggested I look at their Annual Report; again, nothing.   There are a variety of sites - like bankchart.us -  that purport to lead you to emails and phone numbers for corporate executives; obviously, I'm not the first to have tried to find them.  The phone num...

Dear PNC Bank,  I love(d) my bank (which is now your  bank).   I found my bank after waiting for an hour with G'ma at the local BofA branch, only to find that our person had just left for lunch and our appointment would have to be postponed and no, there was no one else who could help us right now, which was really quite late to be honest with you and that was when G'ma said " These people don't want our business.  Let's go."  Even through her dementia, their message was clear.   I drove past the small building around the corner with Compass Bank in an attractive blue font every day.  One of those days soon after, I went inside and met the bankers and the tellers.  I moved my money from BofA into their competent hands, and I've enjoyed every encounter with everyone who works there for more than a decade.  How often do you get to type a sentence like that? Compass Bank was swallowed whole by BBVA;  that went off without a notice...

I haven't bought my Halloween candy yet; the neighborhood trick or treaters will be coming around on Saturday evening, rather than on the actual holiday on Sunday.  The parents made this decision because Monday is a school day and they wanted to minimize the sugar rush on a school night.  I think it's a cheap trick to extend the begging season another day, but then, again, my grandbabies have been trick or treating at school and in Downtown South Bend for the past two weekends.  Everything seems to be stretching out, but my trip to the store for burgers and chips yesterday was really beyond the pale. As I moved from the eggs to the yogurt, I looked to my right and saw this: That's right - STUFFING!!! More varieties of stuffing than I'd ever seen in one place - and Halloween isn't until Sunday. There were brining kits and turkey bags, although there was nary a turkey to be seen. TBG requested turkey breast and stuffing and mashed potatoes, but...

The local Cornell Club had an outing on Saturday.  Eighteen intrepid souls met early n the morning for conversation at the Visitor Center at Sabino Canyon Recreation Area. That sounds like a venue for ball fields and playground equipment.  It's not.  It's part of the Coronado National Forest; the activities are in those you can do in the great outdoors.  And this is The Great Outdoors.  The mountains loom overhead. The boulders and the cacti and the trees and the water are all the enticements you need.   There are two options - hiking or riding.   There's a shuttle to the top of the developed area.  For $12 you get your own brand new earbuds - just like the ones you buy at CVS when  you're on the way to the gym and realize you've left yours at home - and a seat on the open-air tram car.  The narration is in English and Spanish; it hits the right note between nerd and knowledge.   FDR is responsible for a lot of the co...

Scarlet's dog needs surgery.  I'll spare you the details, but the best surgeon for her is in Scottsdale.  Scarlet made an appointment and immediately texted me. Until she moved to Florida to help her ailing, aging mother, Scarlet had lived in a Manhattan apartment for 40 years.  She (like most denizens of The City) walked to most destinations, taking a cab home if it was dark or she was tired.  A car in Manhattan is a luxury reserved for the very rich (or those with elderly parents just outside the reach of public transportation).   She drove when visiting her parents in Florida, but being behind the wheel is not her favorite place to be.  Scottsdale is 120 miles away; 99% of her trip would be on the highway.  It's mostly 2, recently paved, lanes separated by a wide, grassy ditch.  The speed limit is 75, but that's more of a suggestion than an imperative.   Hence, her text - was I free for a road trip on Thursday?   She ha...

My phone says it is 88 o .   My laptop tells me it's only 80. The clocks on the microwave and the oven are right above one another.  They are 30 seconds apart, and resetting them has only led to frustration. They are also a few minutes slower than the clock on the cable box in the living room.  Moving between the kitchen and the couch while cooking is an interesting experience, especially when you're timing something you've just put in the oven.  5:37 in one place is not the same as 5:37 in the other.  It's confusing. The clock in the Uv used to be perfectly aligned with my phone.  That is no longer the case.  I don't know why the phone is faster than the car, but it is.  I think I'm early but I'm really just on time.  Sometimes I'm even late - and I'm never late. When TBG was able to handle the noise of the pendulum swinging and the chimes chiming, his grandfather's grandfather's clock kept us on our toes.  The Early American mante...

She grew up in Arkansas in the 1950's and '60's.  When they integrated her high school, there were two proms - one Black, one White.  The White families migrated to a Whiter neighborhood with Whiter schools.  She wasn't paying much attention to what the Black families were doing. She spent no time with people who didn't look like her.  No one did.  There were passing acquaintances and superficial relationships, but nothing that anyone would call friendship.  It just wasn't done.   Fast forward several decades, and find her sitting next to me at the Marin Speakers' Series in the Frank Lloyd Wright designed Civic Center.  We were comfortably ensconced in the middle, several rows from the back.  High enough to see everything, center stage so we didn't get stiff necks, surrounded by a mostly White and wealthy audience - it was Marin in the early 1990's, and that was who we were. The Speakers' Series was a long running program bringing world ...

I needed gas and milk and other basic supplies, so I headed to Costco.  I haven't been in the store very often, preferring to pay someone else to lift flats of sparkling water and giant jugs of laundry detergent into a cart then a vehicle then my garage.  That used to be a good workout.  Post-perforation, it's my least favorite activity.  But today, I felt the urge. The lines for gas stretched into the entry lane.  I found a close spot and decided to shop first and feed the Uv after.  I cruise the perimeter of the store, rarely venturing down any of the aisles.  All my needs are met on the most trafficked spaces, which makes managing the huge store a manageable activity. Queen T went to Costco before Saturday's Pumpkin Carving Party and Big Cuter was quite taken with the rain proof jacket and comfy long sleeve pullover she bought for him - and which I saw today on the tables as I walked toward the back of the store.  I picked up some holiday gifts...

JannyLou saw the review in her inbox.  A New York transplant's search for a real bagel  in Tucson led to the creation of a new shop - Bubbe's Bagels.  It's on the other side of town, but, as she said, Sunday morning is a good time for a drive - so off we went. Bubbe is Yiddish for Grandma; it's what Taos Bubbe's grandkids call her and what I adapted for her blogonym.  The shop definitely channels a Bubbe like mine.  On a shelf in the storefront was a red and white plaid Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook, a paperback Hadassah recipe collection, silver Shabbat candles and a wine cup for Elijah, as well as small coffee cups labeled shuguh  and cawfee ..... just like we said it in New York.  There are no personal touches in the chain bagel emporia.  This felt special. The line was out the door at 8:45 this morning, but it was moving fast.  There were pretty yellow cafe tables and chairs in the small courtyard just outside the bagels.  JannyL...

Does it seem like we were gone for a long time or for no time at all?  he asked me after we returned from our overnight at The Boulders .  We were gone for 24 hours.  Our minds tracked it as a very long time away from home. Everything was different.  The bed was higher. The pillows were bigger.  The view out the window displayed big boulders and spiky trees, not Safford Peak and the sweet acacia.  There were people to carry our bags (not really necessary) and to answer our questions (very necessary) and to serve us food we didn't have to cook ourselves. Vacation .... aside from visiting children and grandchildren we have done none of it for a very long time.  Our friends' invitation to join them for a night on their week long sojourn in Scottsdale was just the impetus we needed to get out of the house.  TBG is not big on travel, but a 2 hour car ride didn't bother him at all.   The fact that there were good friends at the end of the driv...

You weren't easy, but you were mine. You knew more about so many things than anyone I knew.  Not all of it was true, but all of it was interesting.  You knew the details about the cobblestones on certain Manhattan streets, about who lived in which apartment in The Dakota, about who built which building where. You took classes until you couldn't drive to Queens College any more.  You took copious notes and left them on scraps of paper in The Collected Works of Shakepeare, in Gilbert and Sullivan's Collected Works, in letters you sent my way.  I treasure them all. You listed all the words you did not know, and put their definitions beside them.   You were an ice skater and a skier until your body said No More.   You pulled our sleds up hills and ran behind us as we learned to ride a two wheeler.  There was always a kite and a swim suit in the trunk of your car. You talked to everyone.... whether they wanted to talk to you or not. You made an impress...

Taos Bubbe and I went to the Tucson Botanical Garden  last Friday.  She's new to town and I've made it my business to show her the sights.  These gardens are just the right size for the two hours allotted to our tickets purchased in advance, wear a mask inside visit.  We were greeted by painted horses, commemorating Tucson.  We are definitely house proud. We admired the plant on the way to breakfast at Edna's Cafe, where our serverbrought the garden and citrus salad in a plastic martini shaker.  It was a delightful and semi-ridiculous presentation. After breakfast, it was time for the Butterfly Exhibit.   They hide in plain sight. Did you notice these below in the photo above?   How about this one: The glasswork is as beautiful as the butterflies munching on oranges and bananas with their front feelers. We admired them for as long as we could stand the humidity beneath our masks, then walked to the exit (a 2 stage process - through one d...

We traveled everywhere with them - Puerto Vallarta and Palm Springs and Marin and Los Angeles and Laguna and La Jolla among others.  First with our 2 and then all 4 of our children, spaced bracketing each other so everyone got along, we ate and swam and laughed. Mostly, we laughed. They're world travelers hemmed in by Covid.  In an all too familiar story, they are flying only to visit their children and grandchildren.  Next week, though, they are venturing to Scottsdale, Arizona for a week of golf and sunshine and having someone else make the bed.   We're driving up today and coming back tomorrow.  It's because of this trip that TBG and I got our booster shots.  We'll do a rapid test before we leave the house, and be sure our friends are disease free (at least as far as can be detected this way) too.   After that, we're going to pretend that it's The Before Times.    I'll take pictures and have stories to tell, I'm sure.  I'm t...

Mr. 3 is now Mr. 16.  His big brother is a freshman living in the dorms just down the road at UofA .  Their latest teenage houseguest (one in a long line of waifs Amster has housed over the years), is doing the same thing at ASU.   Mr. 16 is, for the first time, an only child. He's really enjoying it. He inherited the oldest of the cars Amster owns; he no longer needs my services as a chauffeur.  He's confident in the weight room; he no longer needs his mom and me to demonstrate the proper form.  I no longer know his schedule of appointments; he's taking himself. He has a serious girlfriend.  Everyone likes her.  They spend most of their down time at Amster's house; at least she knows where they are.  I haven't met her, but there is a plan. When they were young, and Amster was semi-parenting Miss Texas, we referred to the youngest ones as The Littles.  I was often in charge of their after school lives, and Ben's Bells was one of our favo...

Loving my Chicago Cubs  has been difficult recently.  The owner is a Trump guy, which would be enough, but this summer they really hit me where it hurts. They won the World Series five years less one month ago.   It was one of the best evenings of my life, shared with TBG and Little Cuter and SIR, who sabered the top off a  bottle of champagne his family had saved for just that moment.   Watching Rizzo catch the ball for the final out is a memory to recall when I need a smile. Unfortunately, Cubs management traded away all that talent, talent which is now playing quite well for teams in contention to play in this year's World Series.  They are hitting home runs.  They are making great plays in the outfield.   It just makes me sad. Sarah Spain and Michael Wilbon, Chicago born talking heads on a variety of sports platforms,  said it separately and repeatedly - I don't want to hear about it. Like them, I am not interested in how w...

I've been denying it even as I spoke about it.  I know it's the right thing to do - I just don't like it very much. Fast Eddie and JannyLou, the world's best neighbors ever , are preparing to leave their beautifully restored home right next door.  They are moving to a complex with more services and more conveniences and less need to drive and more activities and closer to their kids and there are a lot of reasons why this is the right move for them........ I just don't have to like it, do I? I'm being totally selfish and I recognize that.  TBG feels the same way.  But the kids had a meeting and then the whole family had a meeting (Zoom helped) and it was decided.  The parents are loved and valued and respected and the kids want to keep them around for a long time to come - that was the message and there was no turning away from the conclusion.   They're leaving us and we are feeling bereft.  No more of Fast Eddie's bbq prowess, no more I'm bringin...

Once Daddooooo put away the sleds in the crawl space behind the laundry room, it was sure to snow in the next day or two. Once, he waited until May.  It made no difference.  The whole family laughed about it.  The whole family knows what I type is true. Along those same lines, if I get my car washed a microburst is sure to leave raindrops on my formerly pristine and shiny surface. I ordered a new hose, a fabric, extends to a zillions times its unfilled length, comes with two separate nozzles replacement for the too short though otherwise similar version I purchased last week.  It arrived today.  I was going out to use it for the first time when I looked up and saw gathering clouds. Didn't I post about the clouds no longer appearing in the Autumn sky.... like, yesterday?  My joints are achy and it's getting darker as I type.  It will rain, for sure. Of course, if I depend on it raining and don't water the sweet acacia, then no drops will fall from the h...

Every time I feel the change, my brain goes to Nat King Cole.  I find myself humming along to a strange mental mix of the smoothest voice ever and the Halloween and Thanksgiving songs The Cuters learned in pre-school. My brain is a strange place to be, most times. ***** We all noticed it on the same day, those of us who've lived here for a while.  The Pilates Diva felt it on her early morning dog walk.  Amster came into the restaurant's patio smiling about it.  TBG and I felt it, separately, when we went out to swim. No one can tell me that there aren't distinct seasons in the desert.  The changes are subtle, but they are real.  The air is no longer incinerator hot.  The monsoon clouds no longer lower in the afternoon.  The air is easier to breathe. It's Fall.... or do you say Autumn? ***** The pink silk flowers on the dining room table feel out of place.  It's time to get the orange and yellow and brown out.   It's hard to do that...

TBG asked me if I wanted to go on a Mini-Date this afternoon - run an errand and pick up some lunch. It was the nicest offer I'd had all week.  I didn't have to change from my work out clothes; I wasn't getting out of the car.  We would be dining in the parking lot, under our usual tree, after collecting our lunches from the girl at the drive through window. We ordered at the speaker box.  The total was $12.09 TBG opened his fanny pack - the black leather one I bought him at the Marin County Farmers' Market in 1992 - with a purposeful air.  We were fourth in line; we had plenty of time. He kept searching.  I began to feel around in the bottom of my purse for some coins.  I came up empty, but my husband announced, with more than a little satisfaction, that he had, indeed, found none cents.   By now, we were one car away from the pick up window and the cheery girl (I am sure she is 50 years younger than I am ..... she's a girl) who wanted twelve mor...