The Burrow

Take a little bit of clay.  Shape a tiny bowl that fits inside your palm.     Put a little bit of soil into the bowl and then add some wildflower seeds.   Close it all up into a ball.  Roll the ball in the soil to coat it all over.   Put it in the plastic bag until you get home. If you need help, just ask. Do not throw the seed balls at other humans.  Throw them onto the ground in a place where you think wildflowers ought to grow.   Maybe they will.  Maybe they won't.  But we certainly had fun creating them.

Sister was obsessed with the Knicks of the late '60's and early '70's, but she was the only girl I knew who really followed a sports team. The boys, however, were fanatics. My Firefighter Cousin lived and died with the Yankees and the Rangers.  As the decades passed, his ardor cooled, but he still knows the stats and the players.  Zaydeh stopped watching baseball when the Dodgers moved from Brooklyn, but my memories of watching black and white games with him are as vivid as any childhood images I can conjure.   Daddooooo didn't play team sports, and since it wasn't all about him he never got caught up in the drama of televised games.  But he'd watch anything, as long as he could kibbitz. SIR is just back from Talladega.  NASCAR doesn't attract his wife nor the rest of her side of the family, but he and his parents bond over loud cars making left turns for hours  (Little Cuter's description of the one race she attended).   SIR is a multi-sport...

 Yes, you can grow roses in the desert.

I turned 70 in February.  It's taking me a while to get used to that.  I'm still not there.  I don't feel very old, but it seems that every year from now on is a life well lived.  I got my second chance on January 8, 2011, so complaining is churlish.  I'm not angry at the passage of time.  I'm annoyed at how heavy the number 70 feels. But TBG asked me something yesterday that made 70 feel pretty wonderful all of a sudden.  Have you applied for your Social Security?  You're 70 now...... I've been receiving spouse benefits (finally getting paid for being mom and a homemaker - someday I'll tell you about our friend who told his wife that he'd calculated how much she was worth to him .... they divorced not long after).  But now, entering this new decade, I can get back what I put in. And, if I live long enough, I'll get back more than that.  I stopped working for pay a long time ago, and I didn't make that much even then.  Still, the e...

I brought Caps for Sale to Grandma's Garden this morning, just as kindergarten was finishing their recess.  She of the Many Names brought her class to the gate, where I welcomed new friends, explained the rules (no talking when I'm talking; no walking on the beds; be nice), and invited them in to the most special place at Prince Elementary School.   They sat quietly and listened to the story, until it was time to imitate the monkeys' actions and noises.  They were very good at that.  We looked up into the sweet acacia tree and imagined all those monkeys and all those caps and then it was time to collect their stickers and get back to the indoor business of kindergarten. All the while, outside the pony wall separating the garden from the playground, a row of bigger kids stood quietly, smiling, nodding, shaking their pretend-monkey fists right along with the little ones..  Just as they did when I read the story to them when they were in kindergarten, they lau...

( This is the 8th post I ever wrote, back in 2009.  I like it just as much today as I did then.  That must be true, since I have now posted it 13 times.) I like Earth Day. I was there at the start, after all. Created in large part by U.S. Senator Gaylord Nelson, in the world of 1970 it was a touchy-feely alternative to the harsher realities of the anti-Vietnam War protests. War was such an uncomfortable subject and arguing against it made your parents wonder why they were spending tuition dollars while you were telling the lawfully elected President of the United States of America that you knew more than he did. With your picture in the crowd on the front page of the NY Times. At 18 years of age, no less.  But planting trees? Recycling newspaper? Not littering? And all this in service to Mother Earth. Who could be aggravated about supporting Mother Earth? Earth Day had teach-in's. They were more fun than sit-in's, which invariably involved police and disciplinary action. ...

Our friend  died last month.  His sister-in-law told me how sick he was, and then he was gone.  I brought brownies to his widow (of 66 years) and their children in her new apartment, a move she had planned to make with her husband.  Planning ahead is always a good thing.  As JannyLou said, better 5 years too early than 5 minutes too late. Today, TBG and I joined a couple of hundred others in celebrating his life.  Most of us were masked.  Most of us were old.  The life we were celebrating would not have wanted this to be a morose occasion, and it certainly was not. There were aviator stories (he flew for 3 branches of the armed services, retiring as a Major General in the Air National Guard).  There were business stories (he was a mentor and a friend and developed relationships that lasted a lifetime).  There were family stories (independence and opportunities without judgment).   Everyone touched on his kindness, on his inabil...

Playing in the garden is fun.  Reaping the rewards is reinforcing.  Losing the ability to breathe and to wear contact lenses falls in neither of those categories. My head weighs 100 pounds.  My eyeballs are swollen and the contacts rub uncomfortably.  I take them out and my left eyeball is displeased.  I'm typing with my glasses on, hoping that I recover sufficiently to be able to replace it before I go out to dinner with the girls. ***** I spent the morning with Taos Bubbe, hanging out in her new-to-them-but-definitely-lived-in-before house.  The neighborhood is beautiful, her view of the mountains is unobstructed, and the pool repair is covered by their homeowner's insurance.  The worker bees are energetic and trustworthy and only speak Spanish, which places the responsibility for monitoring the situation squarely in her bi-lingual husband's lap.   We were roommates in the sorority during our sophomore year in college.  We know the sam...

I checked my Mastercard bill this afternoon.  There were two charges of $18.04 attributed to the New York Times.  Once was for April's subscription and one was for May.   That's $216 a year.  I've been wondering why I subscribe at all; this financial realization prompted me to cancel the subxcription entirely. It's not that I have a problem with supporting journalism.  I have the local paper delivered to my driveway (for an exorbitant amount of money every month) because without local journalism how would I know that our county executive was double dipping his paycheck before his retirement .  Local journalism brings me the high school sports news, the skinny on the UofA basketball teams, and reminders to subscribe to the paper's Send A Kid To Camp Fund.  My friends write letters to the editor, and so do TBG and I.  I have no problem paying for the privilege of being clued in to what's going on in my town. But I'm not reading the NYTimes so m...

Did you have a lovely Easter Sunday?  Did you have more than one egg hunt, like FlapJilly and Giblet did?   Did you have a delicious dinner, like we did?  Were you surrounded by people who made you smile? When JannyLou and Fast Eddie moved away, we were bereft..... but not for long.  We have long talks on the phone and on-line and she's come to visit overnight.  And they sold their house to another wonderful couple, retirees who, like us, traveled around the country for two years until they found the house they wanted. How lucky that it was right next door to us. They are learning about pack rats and the perils of desert gardening and the mysteries of a new-to-them domicile.  We've shared our pool guy and our pack rat guy and I have to remember to give her the contact information for our handyman.  And this afternoon we went over for Easter Sunday dinner.   TBG looked for the recycling in their kitchen and I found myself saying second ca...

An Indicator Light was illuminated on The UV's dashboard.  The manual referenced the key, but I had changed the battery at Christmas-time and that seemed to be the only thing the manual thought might be a problem. I stopped by the dealership and was told to make an appointment since the something-or-other-with-the-something-else needed to be replaced.  I nodded along and made the appointment as soon as I got home and on the computer.   Why he didn't offer to make the appointment while I was there was and remains a mystery.... but not the only mystery. I dropped it off and picked it up and there was no charge.  The fix was covered by the warranty extension and Honda is picking up the tab.   I asked the Service Guy to repeat himself, and he did, and I signed the paper and left. I wasn't going to offer to pay for something that the manufacturer was willing to comp me, but I was confused.  I don't have an extended warranty on The UV, but that seems to be ...

We were holding life in our hands.   The scholars knew about the placenta and the umbilical cord and and how each one of their classmates, no matter how big or tall, started out as teeny tiny sperm and egg.  They just didn't relate it to the Shoestring Acacia (Acacia stenophylla) seed pods,  opened and slimy or dried and fascinating in their hands.   They were surprised by my explanation.  Once they realized that I was serious, they held the seed pods a bit more reverentially.  The protective outer coating, hard to crush and hard to pry open, but full of wonders once you got inside, was like growing a human in a womb.  That's a root and  the white seed and the xylem and phloem and all the material and  energy needed to grow a 30' tree - packed into the juicy green pod siting in your palm.   It's such a tiny little space, and you were once in a similar tiny little space and yes, you are holding life in your hand.  We w...

People were riding the subway to work, to school, to visit family, doing the ordinary things one does on a random Tuesday morning at 8:30.  Then there was smoke.  Then there were gunshots. Witnesses describe a short, round man wearing a hoodie, but no one seems to have video of him.  The security cameras in that station were not functional. Ten hours later, he's still on the loose.   After I got done shaking off the initial shock - a normal, sunny day turns into a nightmare - I wondered how many of those people would get back on the subway to go home. ***** Joe Biden used an Executive Order to ban the sale of unlicensed ghost gun kits, because sensible legislation on this issue is impossible on the Federal level.   All the while, Giffords.org  is having great success at the local and state level, and can take a lot of credit for the President's action this week.   ***** Last week,  TBG and I had pancakes at a hole in the wall diner ...

Not-Kathy recommended an irrigation specialist.  Not-Kathy is the handiest handyperson I've ever known; she made a bathroom, and a greenhouse, and did tiling and painting and woodworking and installed a solar heating system for the pool (which never really worked because it came from China and all the specs were Chinese-style, not American compatible).   She's tough on vendors.  She knows what goes into every project, and if she has to hire an outsider to help her she's certain that they do the  job well, don't cut corners, and don't charge more than their time and labor demands. Did I mention that Not-Kathy is also the most frugal person I've ever known?  What she can do with abused furniture is on beautiful display in their home.   So, when she told me that she had found the perfect person for her own home, I immediately asked for the contact information and booked an appointment with J for this morning.   J arrived right on time, gett...

(After an hour of frustration with Comcast, I'm finally able to post this.) Last week I posted about the lackluster performance of my roses. I feel that I must apologize to them. They are showing up everywhere.  They are outside our bedroom window. They are in the front courtyard and in the backyard And it's not only the roses that are strutting their stuff. The lemon tree is flowering  which is a hopeful sign that there will be Meyer lemons aplenty this summer,  and the yucca I rescued from the middle school's discard like many years ago is, for the first time, blooming.  The soap tree blooms are now sad and dessicated, though. I ought to remember : You can't fool with Mother Nature. She operates on her own timetable. 

I have problems with the internet putting the pictures in this picture post.   It will appear once I'm done wading through tech hell.

Last week the nighttime temperatures were low enough to warrant a sweatshirt for cocktails on the patio.  There was hail.  Today, we swam. The plants need me to up their watering schedule.  They are showing their displeasure by drooping, sadly,  their lack of perkiness silently remonstrating with me.    I need to up my own watering schedule as well. An Arizona mantra is drink before you get thirsty .  It's taking twice as many trips to the tap to fill my water bottles to keep up with that.   Other people's roses are in full bloom.  Mine are just starting to peek out.  It's peak planting time, as the ground is warm but not hot, perfect for nurturing tender new root shoots.  I'm going to consult with an Irrigation Specialist Not-Kathy found.... because it's summer and irrigation is what you think about in summer. I'm wondering where my sandals are, and looking askance at the sweaters that are crowding the most convenient cubbies ...

I was fine yesterday, except when I tried to raise my arm.  But sleep was elusive last night, and that is unusual for me.  Once my head hits the pillow, I rarely stir (beyond a bathroom visit).  Last night, though, I saw every hour as the digital clock marked the passage of time during which I was not asleep.   I kept falling back asleep, and waking up again.  I debated getting up and reading a boring book (Brother gifted me Nikolai Gogol short stories that are just deadly),  but moving seemed like more than I could handle.  I gave up in the 6's, and stumbled out to join TBG on the couch. I made had oatmeal and made phone calls and ran an errand or two and thought everything was just fine until it wasn't.   I barely made it home. I've spent the afternoon lying on the bed, reading Brian Broome's heartrending memoir of growing up black and gay.  I had planned to swim in the pool for the first time this season, but, again, moving seeme...

When I arrived at the empty Wallgreens, my mask was dangling from my wrist.  I made my way to the pharmacy in the far corner and put it right over my nose and mouth - there were masked people sitting in the chairs, waiting their turn while being socially distant.   There was no line at the window.  My paperwork (completed at home) was accepted without a problem.  I had to wait 15 minutes past my appointed time for the booster to end up in my arm, but everyone was pleasant and the chairs were comfortable. Everyone there was of a certain age.  We were filling up our vaccination cards like debutantes at a ball.  Personally, I would rather dance with a dashing young beau than be jabbed in the upper arm by a 50-something year old pharmacy tech. I wonder if there will be new cards when the next dose comes out.   As I waited the requested 15 minutes, others in our age cohort came over.  Everyone was masked.  Everyone stood a respectful dis...

That's what my doctor told me today, when I asked about getting the COVID booster.  She agreed that I was correct to be concerned, but she reminded me that most people aren't concerned, that we wouldn't be in this situation if people had vaccinated and masked way back then when being concerned might have made a difference, and that dynamic shows no signs of changing. So, since It's just going to be this way, and we want people to get out and live, you should protect yourself as best you can.   What she said made sense.  I changed my mind.  I decided to get the booster. The doctor's frustration that there is so much information floating around it's enough to confuse anyone and it's hard to know what to trust made me feel better about my uncertainty.  Do I trust Eric Topol, a high school friend of Brother who's now a scientific brain trust and frequently re-Tweeted expert , who has come around to accepting the 2nd booster?  Do I worry about the Israeli s...

It began this way.  It grew through this and this to this It startled us this morning; it was just so big.  How big? That big. 

The downside of the beauty of The Yellow Season  is the pollen.  I wanted to write about it, but I discovered that I'd done so already.... and that this post from March 2020 is much better than the one I was planning to write.  So, repeated from the beginning of Pandemica, here it is. Allergies We all know them - the people who don't have seasonal allergies, the people who smile smugly at those of us whose bodies are rejecting that which we are inhaling, wondering what all the fuss is about. TBG was one of them.  Food sensitivities are his specialty, and he has his favorites.  Little Cuter poisoned him with milk seasoned with Omega-3's, brain food for her lactating self but a gut churning disaster for her father's allergy to iodine.  We figured it out, but only after we'd checked into a hotel to spare her newborn from what we thought was a stomach bug. But breathing the air?  It never bothered him.  I'd be a sneezy and teary and scratchy throated ...