New Years Eve 12 Years Ago

First posted December 31, 2012.  I'm scheduling this on December 19th, and the fact that the second section could have been written today is just very sad.

It's finally cold enough to wear my bright yellow polar fleece vest.  The days may be getting longer, but it's still dark much earlier than I'd like.  The full moon woke us up, shining through the shades, and neither one of us was enthusiastic about leaving the warm covers to change the angle of the blinds.  

There's no snow, Elizibeth wore flip-flops on our hike today, and I walked comfortably and barefoot out to soak in the spa and consider the advisablility of planting gerberer daisies in the containers out back.  It's not the end of December as I knew it, but it's what I've got, so I'm going with the flow.

There is no traffic on the roads.  The parking lot at the trailhead had plenty of spots when we arrived at 10:15am.  Lines are non-existent in the grocery store and the mall lot is full only near the entrances to the movies.  I'm not sure where everyone has gone.  

It's winter in Tucson.

*****

There are hours to go before we fall off the fiscal cliff.  This is less imaginary than the Mayan-end-of-the-world-scenarios and yet only the talking heads seem to notice that it's going on. 

I take the temperature of the populace at the manicure palace and on line in the market.  The Mayans were the topic of conversation before during and after the end of the world; nobody's talking about how they'll manage when their take-home pay is drastically reduced.  

That, in and of itself, feels like the end of the world to me.

*****

The good news is that I hiked part of the Sweetwater Trail this morning.

The bad news is that I hiked part of the Sweetwater Trail this morning.

Every piece of connective tissue with even the most remote association to ambulation is announcing its presence with authority throughout my nervous system. I walked consciously, using my toes and ankles, holding myself up and out of my hip joint, taking big, bold steps and lifting my knees over uncertain terrain. My arms were swinging, my neck was long, my shoulders were secure.  I am paying for that precision now.  

It's a good kind of ache, a muscular, well-used exhaustion.  I'm trying to ignore the fact that it took a little over a mile and 100' of elevation change to do me in.

*****

All the laundry is done.  The groceries and wine are laid in.  Dessert fixings are waiting to surprise TBG as we spend New Year's Eve just the way we like it - at home, alone, with backgammon and gin rummy and a movie or two on the telly.  

Tomorrow is about resolutions and the future.  Tonight, I'm leading into the new year with the Beatles, the last lyric on their last album:

And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make..

Happy New Year's Eve, denizens!

Random Thoughts in December, 2013

 first posted December 17, 2013  

December should be cold and cloudy and snowy. It should make my nose freeze and fingers tingle and my toes go numb.  Driving should be hazardous and dressing should take a long, long time. Layers and gloves and scarves and hats and coats buttoned up to the neck and beyond are de rigeur.... if you live someplace other than the desert Southwest.

Here, we wear jeans and long sleeve shirts in the morning, rolling up the sleeves by mid-day, rolling down our windows and smiling at the cars in the next lane as we enjoy the wintry temperatures... in the 50's and 60's.... clement any place else but fairly frigid here.

Holding onto the holiday spirit when I'm wearing shorts takes effort.  I'm just sayin'...
*****
Chanukah decor is not on sale yet.  Tonight's the last night and I have high hopes that Bed Bath and Beyond will be marking down their candles and dreidles after sunrise tomorrow.  There aren't many places to find Jewish decorations here in Tucson; BB&B and Target are the only entities which recognize the presence of Chanukah shoppers in the community.

It's times like these that I truly miss Marin.  Meadowlark Gallery was my go-to, one-stop-shop for all things Judaica.  Menorahs and artistic dreidles and letterpress printed cards were available in many incarnations.

Here, we are reduced to flannel backed plastic tablecloths and paper Happy Hannukah banners.  It's something, but not enough to soothe my shopping soul.  Without FAMBB's now annual gifting, I'd be truly bereft.
*****
My local grocery store, Albertsons, has a new promotion.  I've been collecting stamps and trading them in for free Rachael Ray dinner ware. I have six plates and bowls in my trunk, and stamps for four more on the collection card in the car.  When the promotion ends, I'll take my goodies to Youth on Their Own, a local organization supporting high school graduation for teens living on their own.

Despite the fact that Elizibeth refuses to believe that 13 year olds are living on the streets here in Tucson, it's a fact.  YOTO provides mentors, counseling, a food pantry, a household goods closet, and a small residential facility.  Rhonda, my favorite cashier, has a nephew living with her who is involved in their program.  We both smiled when the customer in line ahead of me this afternoon turned and asked me if I was collecting the stamps; she'd done her month's shopping and twenty little orange stickers were mine when she was done.

Somehow, it makes spending money on groceries a fun thing to do.
*****
It's early for us, but I'm hankering for the smell of pine in my living room.  I think tomorrow is the day to bring the live tree home.  There are so many choices - Buckelew Farms is everywhere, on every busy corner I traverse.  The Lutheran Church youth program sells them in the parking lot next to the sanctuary, but you have to figure out when the kids are around to help.  Wally World has them for the best price, but somehow shopping around for a deal on a Christmas tree seems vaguely churlish.

I'm not sure why.
*****
The chair in Little Cuter's room, a chair in the breakfast nook, a suitcase in the garage... they hold the gifts which must be wrapped.  Since Little Cuter and SIR are doing the holiday in Illinois and Indiana this year, shipping is in order.  Big Cuter and TBG and I will celebrate here in Tucson.  Since they went with me to Dick's Sporting Goods and chose their own presents, it seems somewhat ridiculous to invest time and effort in boxing and wrapping their choices.

Yet, I will do so, because anything else seems Scrooge-like.
*****
The thank you emails and calls and letters have been pouring in from the Chanukah round of brownie list boxes I sent last month.  Cheetah stationary from friends who took a dream trip to Africa, a funny phone call from my grew-up-next-door first cousin, a sorry your mom is failing and thanks for the sweets call from his sister, a Facebook message from MTF, an email from another first cousin, thanking me for remembering that her little boy, my youngest cousin, doesn't eat nuts.... every time I think that this list is just waaaayyyyy toooooo looooong I remember all the love that comes back to me.
*****
The party season is starting this weekend with the Cornell Club of Southern Arizona's annual bash at a local country club.  We'll eat fine food and sing carols and, this year, host a representative from the University.  I'll be going alone, because TBG feels that he's fulfilled his Cornell Club obligations for 2013 by attending the Fall Picnic in September.

That's okay, because I like hanging out with Natalie.  She and I have sat next to one another for the last four or five of these events, and I've watched her grow from a kid who needed crayons and paper to keep still to a bright eyed girl who is interested in the world around her.  I don't know if she loves me as much as I love her, but it really doesn't matter.  This kind of relationship works as a one-way street.
*****
I have been searching for reindeer antlers for The Schnozz. I have large, unbreakable, outdoor balls to hang from the trees outside (as soon as I can find someone who wants to go up on a ladder and hang them). Patty cleaned the Chanukah detritus from the corners of the living room and it's all ready to bring in the next holiday.

I do so love this time of year.

Her First Time

We agreed to forego adoring the mailing containers. With no ribbons or wrapping paper to collect,  there was plenty of room for Big Cuter to assemble bookshelves and climbing structures. 

After lunch, there was napping to football,  followed by more football and more napping.  

By the time Honey Bunny woke up from her early nap (this kid goes from 100 to 0 in a nanosecond) all of Bedford Falls was gathered in George Bailey's foyer. 

The little one has no screen time beyond video chats with us, per the current literature.  But Grandma made the call - the last scene of It's A Wonderful Life demanded an exception.  

So we listened to people sharing love and joy.  Honey Bunny was as ensorcelled as we were. 

Now she can say that she's been watching that movie her whole life. 

Happy Hanukkah 5785

 חַג שָׂמֵחַ

Chag Sameach

Happy Holiday!

Wishing you dreidle rolls of Gimel and sufganiot galore,

jelly filled donut holes aka baby sufganiot

and eight days of light

and latkes

and love

and joy

HAPPY HANUKKAH !

Merry Christmas

From our house to yours, Merry Christmas  💕

And here is a gift, as there is every year.

My all-time favorite Xmas carol,  courtesy of Walt Kelly and Pogo.   First, what I saw when Daddooooo sang it to me almost 70 years ago right now.

And now, in a font you can read, here are the lyrics.  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 on melon collie!
Dibble-dabble, scribble-scrabble! Goof, goof, goof

You don't have to celebrate Christmas to love this version.  My very Jewish father introduced it to me.  Coming from his favorite subversive comic strip made it palatable to his trying-not-to-assimilate-too-much soul.  

If you sing it, I'm sure he'll hear.

Christmas Eve Musings

Written for December 24, 2009.  

We were sitting on the steps in the main hallway of Annie's Washington abode, watching the 2 little girls play in their fantasy land, when he asked the question.

Not "How does the seed get into the egg, Mom?" Nope, that one was just before the Fullerton exit on Lake Shore Drive in a raging snowstorm on barely plowed roads when we were already 15 minutes late and traffic wasn't moving.

Peacefully watching the girls, the sunshine through the magnificent beveled windows making the prism rainbows we were, I thought, busily counting, out of his 7 year old mouth came "Santa's not really real, is he, Mom?"

He noted my pause, and, ever the Big Cuter, his face took a serious cast as he reassured me: "Don't worry. I won't tell her. She really believes he's real."

What followed was a precise analysis, continent by continent, time zone by time zone, of the why-nots of Santa's voyage. He was quietly demolishing every possible rational explanation for his existence, yet he was still insistent that we not destroy his sister's illusion. "She loves Santa, Mom. I mean really loves him."

I remember the intensity with which he informed me of that fact. It moves me, still. I knew right then that he'd always be there for her, no matter how silly she might be.

She was 10 or 11 when the subject of "when you stopped believing in Santa" became acceptable on-the-way-to-tennis-lessons-car-pool conversation. The Little Cuter said "Of course there's a Santa Claus!" and the case was closed. I never heard anyone mention it again in her presence. No mothers called to ask me if it were true. She never said that anyone teased her about it. She knew it as a fact, and, somehow, within her 4th or 5th grade universe, that made it inviolable.

Was she that powerful amongst her friends that no one dared to defy her? Perhaps. Were they surprised that one of them was still stuck in child-like wonder and struck dumb at the concept? Unlikely. I like to think that Santa himself had something to do with it.

Because what I said to the Big Cuter, after his rationalizations had come to an end, was that his reasoning valid but meaningless. The reality is that Santa is joy and love and family and caring and friends and warmth and giving and thanking and everyone ought to believe in that.  

Christmas is about welcoming a new baby into the world, and, as I told Brenda Starr (and she quoted me in the paper) what's not to like about that?

He bought it then, Little Cuter's teaching it to her kids now, and Honey Bunny will hear about it soon enough.  

from Robert Sabuda's The Night Before Christmas Pop-Up Book

The Nativity is illustrated by Julie Vivas, published by Gulliver Books/Harcourt Brace Jovanovich with text from the King James Bible

The Home Stretch

first posted December 17, 2018

Although Little Cuter and I shared a moment of Oh, dear, I haven't bought enough for them pre-Christmas panic, we were able to report that we'd resisted the temptation to shop.  She was waiting for one cousin to replace his not available in your size request; I was finished.  Or so I declared.

As always, there are more brownies to bake. 

There are thank you notes to write.  The dining room table still resembles Santa's Workshop on Dec. 26th, although it is hidden behind the 60% off plastic floral stems from Michael's.   I've given up on poinsettias, without much of a struggle.

My landscape looks more like Bethlehem, anyhow.  Trying to turn the desert into a Bavarian forest has not worked out for me.  I now eschew the too-tall-for-me-to-decorate-without-a-ladder fir tree entirely, choosing smaller,

 craftier,

kitschier,

table-top models 

Somewhere in the garage is a box of more ornaments.  Right now, I'm satisfied with these.  I can conjure up an image of Nannie's Santa dirigible, of our Hawaiian sand filled globe, of the silver bells I never polish before I put them away...... and the images are enough.  Decorating is much easier since I accepted the fact that whatever I put out I also had to put away.  I'm down to two big boxes of stuff, and that works fine for us.

The us is important.  It's my holiday by adoption, it's TBG's by birth.  I want to be certain that I touch all his tender spots; Grandpaw's sleigh bells hang from the back door.  Abadee and Abadooo,

 our first ever ornaments, one for each of our cars, live on the fireplace surround.

There are pillows and stuffed, musical, Santas on the furniture, and some trinkets on the mantle and the end table, but mostly, this year, I'm decorating in my mind rather than in my house.

I'm in the home stretch; I'm trying to enjoy every moment.

In Honor of This Same Event This Year

first posted  December 11, 2017                                       

Bring 48 and take home 48 cookies/brownies/clusters.

Chat with Amster's friends and associates.

Admire the growing children.

It was a perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Amster was prepared with the take home containers she found in her Xmas Storage Bin.

The array was varied.

Some were gluten free.

Some were "no nuts."

Many of them had sprinkles or peppermint bark.

The girls who made these gingerbread men were reluctant to part with them.

I shared their pain, until Mom told me that there were lots more of them at home.

Watching the young'uns pick through the frosted shapes, looking for the most.... sprinkles or icing or size.

There were grown up hands

reaching and walking in an orderly fashion around the table,

delicately placing goodies in containers.

And there were small faces filled with sweets.

It was two hours of laughter and conversation and calories.

I wondered how many cookies were considered too many cookies to eat at one time..

The moms said 2 or 3 or 4.

Mr. 14 said 25.

Mr. 12 said 50.

Is it any wonder that I love those boys?

Tomorrow, offices and schools and freezers will be filled with the goodies we didn't eat with our soda and prosecco today.  Tonight, we're all feeling grateful and full.

I love this time of year.

Wrapping It Up

Except for the three dozen brownies I will bake next Sunday for Amster's cookie exchange, this batch marks the last I need for Brownie List 2024.  

I'm waiting for two or three updated addresses, but the shipping is basically done.  Now I get to hand carry brownies to people I love.  

I have some shopping bags in the pre-packing stage.  I'm used to a carry on I can watch for the whole flight, but there was an upcharge for that and our checked baggage is free.  We can fill two suitcases with presents and clothes to leave behind so that future trips can be made with a bag that fits under the seat in front of you.  

The Prince Scholars start their vacation after school today.  Grandma's Garden is as well prepared as it can be with no one around to monitor the irrigation for the next two weeks.  

I'm going to go on vacation, too, reposting some of my favorite oldies and goodies.  

I've been at this since 2009; I'm sure there are some you've missed so I'm not feeling too guilty.  I'm considering it a holiday gift to myself.

Just another step in preparing for the future.

Nope, I Just Can't Do It

David Hogg wants a position of power within the DNC.   

Neither Joni Ernst nor ABC are showing much backbone lately.

The Detroit Lions are injured.  

Inauguration Day 2025 is also MLK Day.

That's a short list of the things I'm just not going to think about until 2025.  

Instead, I'm going to think about holidays past and enjoy holidays present and imagine holidays future.  

I'm going to smile at my wrapping supplies which are strewn over the dining room table and a kitchen counter.  

I will stockpile my ideas, and share them when I'm able.  But I'm going to concentrate on sweetness and light, on friends and relatives calling for long and lovely chats, on the text thank you from a phone number but no name (I'm glad you liked the brownies, whoever you are). 

All too soon things will be getting ugly.  There will come a time when I'll be able to engage.  That time is not now.

A Great Read

The books that made The Cuters laugh four decades ago are the backbone of the books I choose to read to today's Prince kindergarten kids.  Possibly my favorite picture book is this one:

Marvin is bemused and amused.  We are never told where he is or why he must go now!

There is only this finger, this emphatic, insistent finger, which no kid can resist imitating.

The finger is not unreasonable.  It offers Seussian alternatives, from the ridiculous cow

to the sublime Krunk Car.

My favorite is stamp yourself and go by mail.

The transfer of a pretend stamp from your palm to your forehead makes it seem just a bit more real, for a moment or two, before more suggestions and more bemusement and then the time had come, so Marvin went.

Why am I telling you a children's story?  I'll tell you.

This book was published in 1972, when Richard M Nixon was President.  He was not well loved, for those of you too young to remember.  Dr. Seuss was asked to write on the subject and instead of penning something new he used his pen and replaced Marvin K Mooney with Richard M Nixon.

I've always liked that story.  It feels delightfully subversive.  For years I would tell it to the teachers as the kids settled into their places on the rug.   Ruefully, once again I include the observation that one can use any President, as long as the rhythm works.  

I have an idea for a post about the past and the future and maybe a why, but I don't want to dwell in that space tonight.  

That's why I told the story.

all the graphics are from https://seuss.fandom.com/wiki/Marvin_K._Mooney

The Faces of America

 The Winter Concert in the cafeteria.  

It's Been A Busy Week

Having given up on the irrigation system, we took matters into our own hands in the Garden this week.

We filled all those green containers (and more) with garden soil, then planted radish seeds and basil seeds and a pot or two of yellow marigolds.  In a break from tradition, this year we used a permanent marker to label what's what.

While this Garden Leader managed to label without assistance, that was not always the case.

Short arms and an eager heart made for some interesting connections as the littlest one just needed what she needed right now.  No one was particularly concerned about her body inserting itself in their work space; they just backed away and let her reach.

The boy in the front is counting just how many seeds I poured into his palm.  There were two of them.  He pondered this for quite some time.

Until his jeans were soaked through, this one was making a river and a dam in the digging garden.`

My Swahili speaking friends at the hose bib were less than careful as they aimed the hose.  Their friend was wet, but he wasn't angry.  After all, those two giggle like no one else and it's hard to feel anything but joy when it starts.  

I asked them to teach me how to say good job in their language.  They laughed about my request for a long, long time.  They were laughing so hard they couldn't say the words.

There is a lot of joy in the garden.  Sometimes it's more obvious than others.

Oops

TBG just asked if this has ever happened before.

I don't think so.

Sorry I missed writing last night.  The Golden Gopher and The Beader came for a visit and I got distracted.  

There will be prose tomorrow.

Airline Tickets

I'm quivering.  I've spent a month deliberating and two weeks debating and finally today both Little Cuter and I finalized our plans for a family get together in Marin.... for Chanukkah and Christmas and New Year's and TBG's 75th birthday.  

My usual self would have purchased these tickets around Halloween.  My current self preferred to obsess and ignore and generally refuse to deal with the situation.  I'm not sure it would have made any difference.  The bargain price is the bargain price, it seems, and there are no discounts around our dates.

Figuring all that out, however, was anxiety provoking.  

United Airlines' website is user friendly up until it comes to figuring out how much you want to spend on choosing your seats and carrying on a bag.  After much perusal and an occasional swear word, I assured myself that while a bag in the overhead is forbidden, TBG and I each may check a suitcase.

It's been so long since I checked a bag that I'm not sure we still own bigger than carryon  suitcases.  This does solve the problem of getting the gifts where they need to go, though.  

Little Cuter had to manage a variety of competing interests before settling on their trip.  It turns out that it's just as expensive to fly from Chicago to SFO as it is to fly from Tucson.  I'm not sure how that manages to be true, but it is.  

I am also uncertain why United wants me to donate to their climate change initiative.  I cannot imagine they really need my $3.50 to effect change.  I declined their offer to participate in saving the planet.  I am sure I'll be able to live with myself.

And so we are all set for a family group hug..... even if it did take some wrangling to get it all accomplished.

I'm Following Your Advice

I'm spent.  

I baked and wrapped and wrote and printed and bubble wrapped and packing taped before I finally took both the giant IKEA bag and an equally humongous Crate and Barrel plastic bag to the Post Office where the Drop It In Here box was too full to open.

TBG ordered in and shared enough so that my I'm not really that hungry self was able to fuel the hangry person I become when unfed.

I need a bath and my pj's.  I'm going to believe you when you say that I should also take care of myself.

It's that or rant about the pumpkin brain's plan to revisit the Constitution.  

There will be lavender and peppermint along with the epsom salts to rid myself of thoughts like that.  

 

What I'm Listening to Now

I paid attention and did some exploring and I figured out how to create a playlist on Amazon Music, which may be a benefit of my Prime subscription or maybe not but it doesn't matter because I know how to use it and I'm well along in teaching my algorithm what floats my boat.

I can hear the music in my hearing aids.  I can't hear anything else, which is a problem for TBG when he carries on his half of a conversation and I ignore him completely.  It's not an issue for me, though.  I love the sense of isolation, surrounded by sounds of my choosing.  

It's helpful while I'm cooking.  It sets my mood when I'm working on The Brownie List this month.  I'm working my way through the Amazon curated Greatest Christmas Hits lists, choosing the ones I want on my personal playlist.  I am certain that my children (and probably most of you) have been doing this since the technology became available, but it's all a shiny new thing to me.

I'll move on to Chanukkah and Seasonal tunes and will rely on my children to amplify it as background for our holiday in Marin.

I've been listening to the game shows on NPR.  I've been listening to YoYo Ma on Instagram and YouTube.  

What I have not been listening to is the news.

I haven't watched the local news nor the national nightly news nor tuned in to NPR on the car radio.  I've deleted my New Republic and Politico and WaPo and NYT apps.  My Substack no longer includes Neal Katyal; I'm spending time with Sherman Alexie's poetry and JES's fiction rather than getting myself all worked up.

I have unsubscribed to all my political messaging bots.  I don't want any more political stickers adorning my car's sunshield. 

Like JannyLou, I can't abide the thought that four of my remaining years on this planet will be sullied by that bloviating buffoon.  I have to do what I can to control his access to my headspace.

Will I miss breaking news?  Sure.  I was surprised to learn that Assad fled to Russia this afternoon.  I spent a few minutes smiling about Sleepy Joe doing everything he can to destabilize Putin before January 20th.  That was enough.  Somehow the world is managing to turn on its axis without my incessant monitoring.  

I'm going to move on to podcasts about history after the holidays are over.  I don't see returning to the mainstream news media circus in my future.  I'm exploring BlueSky and MeidasTouch News  and 1440  to see if it's worth staying current.  

So far all it's doing is making me upset.  

I don't want to be upset.  I want to make good choices, just like Prince Scholars and my grandkids.  I think my immediate future is pretty clear.

If something really important happens I'm sure someone will tell me.  

And So It Begins

No, not my search for a way to log onto BlueSky from my phone.  No, nothing political.  For once, something good is starting.  I've begun The Brownie List.

TBG has crowned me Best Xmas Elf Ever;  ever has real meaning for me this year.  I started gifting brownies in fancy containers in 1981, before we were parents, when my list was small ,and, for the most part, local.  43 years later, the containers are less fancy, I'm sending them to my children's friends and their offspring, and my list is no longer small nor local.  It makes me very happy.

It's a fun kind of stress.  Do I have the requisite number of containers suitable for all the celebrations, with packing materials ready to hand?  I spent this morning realizing that I had no mailers and no bubble wrap; I added two post offices and Office Depot to my day.  

I hooked up the new printer so I can create the mailing labels  It was delivered overnight several weeks ago.... what was the rush?  I found the stash of note cards and gift tags and string.  Somewhere there is a sparkly red shoe box with embellishments; for the moment, it remains elusive.

Isn't that a lovely problem to have?  I overcame my anxiety about dealing with electronics and actually enjoyed playing with my printer's features.   It can even be a fax, which brings me back to the 1980's and just how long I've been doing this and how I have never fully organized the list nor established a routine.  Every year I find that the process has taken over and arranged itself appropriately, without much brain power on my part.

We'll be gone for the holidays so my decorating is minimal.  I opened an oversized storage bag and one layer of one box.  I brought in the containers I've accumulated over the year and set them up on the far counter in the kitchen, This area has become the center of operations without any planning at all.  It's convenient for filling the various containers, for wrapping the cooled confections, and for storing the giant IKEA bag that transports them to the post office.

Tomorrow I'll print out the Brownie List and the labels and get things going for real.  Tonight, I'm rewarding myself by playing with the packaging and thinking about the people who'll be opening their misshapen Priority Flat Mail envelopes, a feature that more than one recipient has mentioned in the mandatory thank you communication.  I've been hanging out with family and friends all night.

Did I mention that this makes me very happy?

Blog Spam

I'm always glad for another reader.  I'm always happy to see a comment.  I'm always glad that The Burrow flies under the radar, thus avoiding trolls.   

Blog Spam does appear from time to time.  Hawking sex drive enhancements or nutrition supplements, often even written in English, I delete them as soon as I notice them.  I try to keep our Burrow neat and tidy for you.

Yesterday, though, there was something new:

albertDecember 3, 2024 at 11:39 PM

comprare una pistola al mercato nero.
comprare una pistola
pistool kopen
comprar armas
glock 17
glock 19
glock 20
glock 21
glock 22
glock 23
glock 26

ReplyDelete

Not exactly what I wanted to see besmirching my Comments.  

I wondered for a while about the algorithm that linked albert's never posted upon blog to mine.  I'm having a hard time figuring out why Mercato Nero decided to pitch seven different versions of the weapon that killed CTG and perforated me.  I examined the addresses but I didn't click through the links to see the prodotto.  The words were enough.  

The interwebs are a dark and scary place.  I'm not happy that someone saw fit to interject violence into my emerging holiday spirit.  The kitchen is filled with brownies and brightly colored containers.  The Burrow has Permanently Deleted/ cannot be retrieved that missive.  

It's good to be able to remove something offensive, and to write about it with carols dancing around in my head.  If only real life were as powerful as Blogger.

Picture Fix

For the 15 of you who read today's post this morning before 8am Arizona time*, I fixed the picture so that you can see her in all her isolated glory.  

Apparently my phone does not like the way I added the picture when I wrote the post in the airport.

Alas.

*Don't ask me what time it is where you are.  I never can figure out the time zones once the clocks move back and forth at the solstices.

Even Kindergarteners Know This

Six year old Giblet had a 3 day fever this weekend,  replete with coughs.  He rarely had to be reminded to cover his mouth.  His sweatshirt was washed quite often, to kill the germs on his sleeve. 

We are sitting in DFW, waiting for our connecting flight home.  It's a friendly group in our little section of seats, all of us of a certain age, smiling at one another as an occasion warrants.  The little girl chasing her daddy gave us all grins. 

And then there's the slightly younger than we are,  nicely dressed,  page boy adorned woman who has not stopped coughing since she say down. 

No one is sitting near her. 

She has yet to cover her effusions. Those germs are sent floating into the air the rest of us are breathing,  and she doesn't seen to care.  She volunteered that it was allergies, but who cares?

 

Polite is polite. We are all in this together.  Looking out for one another is a basic tenet of a civilized society. 

When I moved my seat, the ladies in our pod began to laugh. When I said (not as lodly as I wanted) that even kinder kids know to cover their mouths,  everyone's head began to nod. 

She's still coughing.  She's still not covering her mouth.  And no one has stayed in any of the seats around her for very long. 

I'm trying to figure out a way to blame the Orange Menace for this.  It's that or throw my suitcase at her disrespectful head.  

I can't wait to get home.