The Burrow

I've actually kept a few of my resolutions.  Consider the concept of patience  comes up every time I'm standing in line; just remembering it forces me to stop fidgeting and start smiling.  I may not have achieved patience (that would be a stretch) but I'm certainly considering it. Compliment that which pleases you - and do it often  is also a smile maker. Particularly conscientious workers deserve to be noticed and thanked and made to feel special.  I'm the one who fills out the How Was Your Experience  surveys on the back of the grocery receipts.... but only when something goes well.   That one also helps me focus on the positive.  It's been very useful over the last two years. (TWO YEARS?!?!?! Have I mentioned that I am so over COVID???). In 2010 my yogi wished us all Radiant Health .  I decided to take it to heart; I did not get sick the entire year.  Coincidence?  Maybe.  I prefer to think of it as being perfectly alig...

I know.  I know.  The plan was to open an account at a credit union (or, to be more precise, to become a member of a credit union).  But life got in the way - the holidays, visitors, Omicron - and here I sit, with bills to pay and still tied to PNC. So I opened Bill Pay and used CTR+F to find the payees and I filled in the amounts and the dates and clicked on SUBMIT. We're sorry.  We are unable to process your payment at this time.   If this problem persists, please call us at....... That message appeared in red, italicized, bold face, in teeny tiny type, over and over again.  Silly me, thinking I could actually use this account to pay my bills.  But, ever hopeful, and with holiday spirit in my heart, I dialed the phone. They were grateful for my call, and for my business, and there were lots of options all of which boiled down to a waiting time of approximately 20 minutes .  I hung up. I moved on to the next item on the To Do List - calling Barcl...

It's been a while since I wrote about sports.  I promise that I won't be insulted if you stop reading now.  But this a post about ridiculous college football bowl games; stick around and you might find it amusing. There are many man hours spent watching sports in my home right now.  For the most part, Queen T and I amuse ourselves otherwise.  But father and son share both the couch and the passion - it's our bonding time  - and I am free to consider things other than grown men running into one another for fun and profit. But the kids are playing in Bowl Games - like The Orange Bowl and The Rose Bowl - right now, and I mean a lot of kids.  Winning six games put you into a Bowl Game, a sponsored, nationally televised event.  There are 41 Bowl Games this season. The sponsors are mentioned every time there's a commercial break (at both ends) and during station identification, and on the chyrons.  There's the Frisco Bowl and the Florida Bowl and the Ar...

Queen T offered to help with the garage. Obviously, there was a need.   The holidays exploded out of the closet and never returned.   It was a sad, sorry state of affairs, one that I would gladly have tackled alone if my body had allowed me to bend and lift and hoist.  My un-perforated self would have enjoyed the challenge.  Today's achy tendons and ligaments and joints and muscles were extremely glad to have someone else do the heavy lifting.... actually, all the lifting.     I pulled out a sitting-on-the-sidelines folding chair, from which I wrapped and boxed Fall and Halloween and Thanksgiving and Hanukkah and some Christmas stuff.  We weren't ready to take down the nutcrackers and the soft toys and pillows, but we emptied the boxes which will take them.   We gave away winter clothes and baby clothes and threw out everything with a stain or a tear.  She was ruthless.  I was aghast but glad.....

There was a new bike and horseback riding lessons and a hoverboard. There were matching polo shirts.... more than once. There were crossword puzzles and jigsaw puzzles and math games via a shared screen (thanks, Mom). All COVID tests came back negative; medicine was prescribed as needed. There were appropriate t-shirts in all sizes and colors.  Most of them fit perfectly.   There were socks.  Many, many, many socks. The weather enticed everyone outdoors, once it stopped raining. There were some disagreements and some fussing but mostly there was fun and food and smiling. I hope your weekend was as nice as the one I shared, in person and over the internet, with the ones I love the most.

  Here, once again, is my all-time favorite Xmas carol, courtesy of Walt Kelly and Pogo. Sing loudly and lustily to the tune of  Deck the Halls..... Deck us all with Boston Charlie, Walla Walla, Wash., an' Kalamazoo! Nora's  freezin' on the trolley, Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo! Don't we know archaic barrel Lullaby Lilla Boy, Louisville Lou? Trolley Molly don't love Harold, Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo! Bark us all bow-wows of folly,   Polly wolly cracker 'n' too-da-loo!   Donkey Bonny brays a carol,   Antelope Cantaloupe, 'lope with you! Hunky Dory's pop is lolly gaggin' on the wagon, Willy, folly go through! Chollie's collie barks at Barrow, Harum scarum five alarm bung-a-loo! Dunk us all in bowls of barley,   Hinky dinky dink an' polly voo!   Chilly Filly's name is Chollie,   Chollie Filly's jolly chilly view halloo! Bark us all bow-wows of folly,   Double-bubble, toyland trouble! Woof, woof, woof!   Tizzy seas o...

Bill Penzey  sends wonderful emails.  Today, he encouraged me to take a break.  He said I'd done enough, I had what I needed at hand, and he recommended that I sit back and enjoy it.   That's just what I'm going to do.   Christmas Cheer, in the form of Pogo's Christmas Carol, will, of course, reappear in this space tomorrow.   If anyone wants to join me in taking a break, I'll be reading the new Jack Reacher story in the backyard.  I've got lots of chairs.

She was healthy then she was sick and now she's dying.  She's peeved - there's more living to be done - but she's neither surprised nor angry.  She just wants Christmas to come, and then she'll be done. She's doing this on her own terms, in her own way, just as she's lived the nearly 9 decades of her life.  It aggravates some of those she loves, but that's not enough to get her to change her style.  Now, when there are options to prolong an already long life, she wondered Why bother? She's not hungry and she's not looking for supplements.  Her body is shutting down and she's just along for the ride.  Her mind, sharp and caustic as always, notices only that she's tired.  So very, very tired that sleep is what she does.... all day..... every day. I was lucky the first few times I stopped by - she was awake and ready for stories and snark.  Today, once again in the morning, before any therapists or hospice workers or caregivers had tired her...

I wore a sweatshirt this morning while I fussed outside.  My hands were delightfully cold when I finished my chores.  My legs, in shorts, were fine. I miss the snow, but not the shoveling.  I miss the crisp cold air, but not the breathing.   And now, for the next few weeks, I'll get to wear all my sweaters and sweatpants and wrap myself in the cozy blankets strewn around the house.   We can sleep with the windows open, listening to the trains, miles away but clear in the cooler air.  And the little birdies are back, on their way hither and yon, topping for a snack in the crepe myrtle.  If I open the door to take their picture, they'll fly away.  So, look at them as I do, from my desk chair, through the screen. Or, through the curved window up above. They remind me to stop and smell the flowers.  

This was Elf Central 5 days ago. Auntie M and I shared similar photos, along with similar musings about the impossibility of scaling back. Her mother set a dangerous trend - there was always more than enough, decorations on top of decorations next to the largest array of gifts I'd ever seen in my life.  It was she who taught me to wrap each pair of socks separately; it's been a tradition for 40 some years. But today, I am finished.  As in finished wrapping, finished mailing, finished shopping.  I'm sure I'll remember something (in fact, of course, I just did) but it's only the finishing touches that are missing.   I cleaned up and organized and half-heartedly decorated, and this is what it looks like for the rest of the wrapping people over the coming week.  My heart is full, even if my dining room is a wreck.  

I communicate with some people by phone - very few, but some. I communicate with lots of people via email - great for long, catching up conversations, not so good for making plans. I communicate using my phone to text for most things - wanna have lunch?  where is that store you told me about? thanks for a lovely (insert event here)! The messages are short and to the point.  There is no extra verbiage.  There are emojis to carry bigger feelings in a smaller number of pixels.  I love it. And then, this afternoon, texting with Formerly Fast Eddie for the first time in real time (vs finding a message asking me to call him) I hit a snag.  (My words and thoughts are in italics) When will you arrive? JannyLou is driving .   OK.  When will you arrive? She's pulling into the fast lane now.  Zooming up to 73. More relevant data would be where you are right now!  Though the timely updates are fascinating.  Frisky (the dog) is riveted on the r...

The house next door is empty - well, empty of inhabitants, at least.  There's no feeling coming from that direction, no noticing that one of the best neighbors ever is driving out or coming back.  we might have gone a week at a time without talking, but we saw a lot of each other anyway. There's a curious imbalance on the street.   There will be no garbage cans outside their driveway tomorrow morning.  No newspaper will be delivered; the free paper dropped off every Thursday will si there until I stroll over to retrieve it.  No sense advertising an empty building, after all. There was a beautiful sunset accompanying them to their new home in Tempe, on the corner of Arizona State University.  It rained last night to accompany my occasional tears. But the good news is that there is still stuff in the house that has to be gone by closing on Monday so they are coming back to be our house guests.  It will be good to get a big dose of them before they m...

This is posting late because I forgot to write it last night. I also forgot to do several other things that usually come up on a Tuesday. I don't know why.   Formerly Fast Eddie (his new preferred moniker) and JannyLou had the movers all day, and we had their two little terriers.  The rascals escaped as I opened the door to get a package.  We must have been a sight galumphing down the street, calling Bella! Frisky!  and trying not to collapse.  They are feisty little beasts, staring at you until you get just close enough to grab the collar and they're off! Stopping to pee was Frisky's mistake; picking him up was simple.  Then, carrying him under one arm, looking for TBG in his car, I followed Bella's tracks, softly cooing and silently cursing. It's amazing how fast I can move when I have to.  This is reassuring - in case of fire I know my adrenaline will kick in and I will  be able to move fast enough to avoid the flames. TBG found us behind ...

I can feel the blood flowing, strong, warm, and with alacrity.  Sometimes it gets stuck around a joint that's been bent too long which requires scratching and pressing and helping to get the circulation get going again.  It feels so good, once it's moving properly. Apparently, it wasn't my right hip so much as my left hip and the concomitant pelvic realignment that was to blame for my increasing inability to walk.  This evening, I'm gliding around the house, volunteering to get things from the garage, taking no more than a second or two to get organized before I start walking.   That's fine, slowing down is fine, not hurting is much more than fine.  As my gait worsened and those who love me worried aloud to me, the more despondent I became.... and the stiffer and more painful my gait became.  I started talking about seeing the orthopedic surgeon who reconstructed my hip.   I'm so much more than fine now that I remember that supervised therape...

While I wait for the brisket to become fork tender ,  I remember my mother. I remember her blue kosher cookbook, with the stained pages and the random index cards, and her printed in pencil notes.  I'm sure there's a brisket recipe in there.  I just don't know where the cookbook lives these days.   My recipe called for dry red wine, some of which is now fueling this post.  I don't remember G'ma cooking with wine, and I certainly don't remember her having a casual glass of wine - while she cooked or any other time.  Vermouth before dinner, wine with dinner, a champagne toast - those made her smile.  I know she's not judging me as I tipple; it just wasn't her thing.   She didn't like to cook, and she made no bones about it.  It wasn't until I came home from college that her food went from bland to interesting and tasty.  She said then, as I said to my kids later, that it was no fun to cook for people who wouldn't even try somethi...

James Lee Burke is deep.  You may think you're about to read about another Jack Reacher  - a wanderer who saves lost souls, some of whom don't even know that they are lost - but then you find yourself musing along with the main character about the nature of death. Another Kind of Eden  is a tricky read.  Is the author hiding behind multiple personalities and blackouts as an explanation for the inexplicable.  I'm usually put off by that.  Somehow, in this book, it just adds to the mystery. There are inexplicable appearances.  There are unexplained flying things.  There is heroism and bullying and the strangest assortment of characters ever brought together in 241 pages.  And there is love - for a lost grandchild, for a lost friend, and between two lost souls thrown together in a southern border ranching town. There are unsolved mysteries, leaving the reader to speculate - were we introduced to the killer or are the crimes just that : unrelated...

Not the strict rolfing that true practitioners practice, but a combination of body work techniques designed to lengthen and realign and thereby strengthen all the pieces that work together to hold me upright. It's not for the faint of heart, either physically or emotionally.   She reset the ball in the socket of my hip joint; the residue is unpleasant though necessary.  After all, stuff moved in when the ball moved over.  That stuff is now making its way out of the hip area  - and it's not leaving quietly.  It doesn't feel like inflammation.  It feels like sludge. Several people asked if I needed help at Costco.  TBG carried the meat out to the bbq. I want more decorations inside and out, but the thought of moving off this couch and carrying them back leaves me cold. I'll feel better tomorrow.  Tonight, I'm going to indulge in some serious self care.  My hip is kind of insisting on it.

You'd think I'd have learned the lesson by now.  I've spent the past 6 weeks preparing for and celebrating and preparing for and celebrating family and friends and arrivals and departures and holidays out the wazooo.  What I haven't been doing is exercising. An occasional Pilates video, mostly to break up the monotony, when I didn't have a package to wrap or a book to read.  There haven't been that many monotonous moments recently. I rode TBG's spin bike exactly once, due to the arrival of the cute bike shorts I'd ordered when I momentarily agreed with TBG that regular cycling would strengthen all that needed to be strengthened.  He was right then and he is right now. Like I said, you'd think I'd have learned the lesson by now. Big Cuter's face was horrified as he watched me lurch around the kitchen.  MOM! Do something about your leg!  He's a grown man, who's guarded with his emotions.  This was my little boy worrying about me.  It go...

TBG had an epiphany last night.  He was happy. The reason for his happiness is my annoyance disturbance boring displeasure  quite different from that which would put a smile on my face.  He's finding joy in football. He explained that he spent 4+ years listening to, hearing about, anguishing over The Former Disgraced President.  He was obsessed, not missing a talking head or a breaking announcement of whatever new nonsense was spewing forth from the White House.  It was in his head, filling his head, rattling his brains, and making him miserable.   He spent hours fulminating.  He wondered how to fix things.  He wondered how things got this bad.  His mind was stuck in the muck, no matter how much he tried to rise above it.  To be honest, that wasn't very hard.  He felt that he needed to have his entire self ready to react to the latest outrage.  He was focused, which was a good thing.  The object of his focus was noxio...

My alumni club, of which I am the reluctant President, held our annual Holiday Luncheon outside, under the trees, with the sun shining and not too many bees buzzing on a secluded patio at Tohono Chul's Bistro.   It was a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I had not one conversation about football.  Beyond that, everything else was gravy. There were old friends, and people who are old friends and friends of our other far distant old friends.  There was an old friend who flew back for a short visit from Colorado on this weekend just so that she could attend this event.  There was much hugging involved in her return appearance. There was a poet , an old friend whose latest book took 2nd place in a prestigious poetry competition.  First place went to the winner of the Pulitzer Prize.  The pilot wasn't flying and was able to attend - finally.  The organizers did a great job, which meant that I had to do nothing at all except agree with their plans....

She was peeved that I thought I had COVID and didn't call her.  I love that she cares.  She's kept her young family safe throughout Pandemica.  Her workplace is vaccinated and offers free, walk-in testing in addition to the required random testing.  She's on top of the reading and the research - she's my Guru. Following up on our conversation this morning - the one where I tried to reassure her that I wanted to know something before I worried her and that I was not keeping information from her but was taking action instead of fretting (which, for me, is Progress with a capital P) - I tried to order rapid tests.   It was over-whelming. So I sent her a text.  She sent me a link.  I placed an order; 10 tests will be delivered on Tuesday.  I can't pick them up at the CVS down by the University; they can only be shipped.  I am now prepared,  and my daughter's anxiety is somewhat slaked.  I think we're all doomed to be a little more ...

Neither does Giblet, but that's another story... or maybe the end of this one.  In any event, I digress.... if one can digress before one begins.   I've had a hard time sleeping these last few nights, which is unusual for me.  I've been over-heated, twisted in the covers, and kept awake once my eyes opened by the annoying dry cough caused by my blood pressure medicine.  I attributed my weariness to that.   But this morning, on my way to take JannyLou to a doctor's appointment (can you call it a doctor's appointment when you see a PA?), my head hurt.  I took some Advil and a Bayer, and nothing got worse... for a while.  By the time I got home, though, my throat was scratchy and my body felt crappy and I needed to lie down..... immediately. I was very glad that I was wearing a mask while we were in the office; I just knew I had COVID.  After all, I hosted a party for 35 strangers on Sunday night  - who knows what viruses were floating...

We watched Ginger Rogers struggle with that question last night as Edward G. Robinson and Brian Keith tried to convince her to put her life in jeopardy for the common good.  Tight Spot , TCM's Noir Alley offering this week, asked us to consider how far you'd go to do the right thing. Ginger had to testify against a mob boss who'd killed everyone else trying to do the same thing.   Fast Eddie wants me to take over as President of the HOA. Neither of us have very good options.  My life is not at risk if I say yes to a temporary appointment to the worst job anyone ever held. I can't say the same for my psyche.  There's a certain amount of angst I'm willing to accept in service to the greater good.  I'm just not sure that HOA Presidency rises to that level. Prior Board Members with fancy - and fanciful - ideas, who've spent lots of money without asking for authorization, who've antagonized residents, who resigned en masse when they didn't get their w...