The Burrow

There have been adventures.  There have been hugs.  There have been delicious meals.  All of this has photographic evidence residing in my phone.  Unfortunately,  Blogger turns my photos sideways.  We are not really that weird.  It's the app, I promise.  While I could list the places we've gone and the foods we've eaten,  without the photos it's too boring for even the most devoted of denizens to read.  So,  I will borrow a laptop tomorrow morning and begin, once again, to type.  For now,  though,  let's revel in the absurdity that is running our country. FFOTUS says Russia wants Ukraine to succeed. The fact that Zelensky kept a straight face as this nonsense was a tribute to his acting chops.  The Epstein files were redacted with see-through black marker. Apparently,  you can save them as a document and the redactions disappear.  They aren't just corrupt,  they are incompetent, too. Ev...

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 dem...

Honey Bunny needed to watch football. Not just wanted to watch football, but needed to watch football, with the intensity that an almost 3 year old needs anything.  "Where's Brock Purdy?" she asked, over and over and over again, in the highest little voice imaginable, unable to process the fact that the game wouldn't start for a while. The 9ers are her team, in their red uniforms.  The Colts are in blue.  She groaned with every tackle and cheered at every touchdown. What we couldn't do was find her cousins.  They were in the end zone,  with seats SIR was gifted from work. But Little Cuter took care of that problem.  Do you think he's excited to be there?

I'm writing this introduction after I finished downloading my disgust with FFOTUS.   Random Thoughts because that's all I can muster.  I can't put them together into flowing paragraphs.  I'm letting my pre-travel have I packed the right things  anxiety allow other bad thoughts to intrude.  If you're in a happy mood and don't want to be disturbed, I totally get it. But my cup spew-eth over and this is my space to vent.  I'm going to leave the venom and dismay sadness and hopelessness right here and go on to enjoy my family and friends.  I really really really hope the world allows that to happen and that all of us have joyous and peaceful times before us.  A girl can dream, can't she? If you're ready, read on. ***** Why am I surprised?  I had high hopes that were (ridiculously) dashed.  For some reason, not based on anything past or present, I did believe that the pedophile's files would be open for perusal by America and the world b...

My nails are a shimmery, shiny red. My menorah is fully embracing Chrismukkah. I had to freeze The Cornellians' annual kringle; I ate one third of it before reason set in. We are spending the holidays with our kids and their kids and that's about the most wonderful sentence I can think of typing right now.  It's a gift we don't have to wrap or ship or worry about.  It's a one size fits all (maybe a little squished but still.....) joy fest and Giblet made his class newspaper by announcing the news.   Right now, though, I'm too pooped to pop, and certainly unwilling and (even more) unable to let any 22 minute rant derail my happy train.   Self care is vastly under-rated.   Happy Happy Joy Joy  

Today was Crazy Sweater Day, tomorrow is Pajama Day, Friday is the first day of Winter Break.   From the looks on the teachers' faces it can't come soon enough. $92 million ..... $57 million .... guaranteed for nine years or four years .... with health benefits and state of the art workout facilities ... and is it enough for the talented young man who can throw a ball?   I know 60 educators who might take any one of those deals.   As the vacation nears, the kids start losing their minds and the staff bears the brunt of it.  There are no free breakfasts and lunches during Winter Break.  Everyone is at home and there's barely room when they're just sleeping and one third grader fell asleep today at her desk because it's very noisy at my home.      Many of the kids will be moving to new homes, new families, new schools.  One Garden Leader is getting four more brothers and I already have five. Another is moving so far away ...

An occasional reader of The Burrow commented unfavorably about that big picture that takes up the whole screen .  That was the motivation I needed to take the time and correct the situation.  The interface is uncomfortable.  Not much is where I intuited it would be.  I found a theme that made me happy - plain, simple, a white background, and a way to make the font bigger.  Unfortunately, it did not have a way to reply to comments.  I couldn't find a work around.   Organizing that failed theme took more than enough time.  I moved on.  I moved further on.  I went back and forth between several bold and bright ideas.  Time passed.  The options began to blur into one another.   Did that one have a way to remove the picture?  It did, but finding the drop down menu where that was lurking was no mean feat.   There was the matter of The Burrow ... the words in the header, not the content below.  Did I...

I was trying to get through December without totally losing my shit.  I made steady progress on the Brownie List, finishing all but 3 deliveries and cleaning up the wreckage before the cleaning ladies came today.  There's something wonderful about the moments before you rearrange the pillows for comfort rather than show, especially when someone else has created the pretty setting just for you. That's the vibe I was carrying into the evening.  There's not much left to do.  My house is neat and clean.  We are as healthy as our 150+ years on the planet will allow.  I lit the Hanukkah candles and sat back to do the Wordle. I opened my phone and there he was, the human wrecking ball of our Constitution, talking about Rob Reiner.  Rob Reiner for crying out loud.  Princess Bride (the perfect movie according to FlapJilly) Rob Reiner.  When Harry Met Sally, Spinal Tap, Stand By Me Rob Reiner.  The man who is being lauded as having re-invented the...

I dropped off brownies to my nursery this morning.  The owner was there to greet me.  She and her husband, and now her daughter and son-in-law, have been my friends and GRIN supporters since before there was GRIN.  They caution me if the plant I'm admiring will require more care than I'm willing to provide.  They do the heavy lifting and I do the pretty planting.   Our politics could not be more different.  Staunch conservatives, small business owners, and devoutly religious - just think of the opposites and there I'll be.  Abortion has been the lightning rod for our (friendly and respectful) disagreements over the years, until FFOTUS came to town.  They were fans. They weren't thrilled with his verbiage but were willing to overlook it because he was espousing the up by your bootstraps mentality that lay behind their growing business.  Things didn't go quite as well as they hoped, but Pandemica was nothing but great for their business....

While waiting in line for a prescription, I was visited by my (dead) mother.  She stood right next to me, pointing at the shelf, upon which sat this remnant from my past: I had neither seen nor heard nor spoken about Albolene for approximately half a century, yet suddenly I was transported to a bathroom in my ancestral manse (a split level in 1950's suburbia).  While I'm certain that my mother never considered paying this much money for it: I am also confident that she wouldn't refuse a tub if I were to buy it for her.   That got me thinking about what other blast from the past might be lurking on the shelves. Would I find Prell shampoo, neon green and smelling luscious its tube? The thought sends me straight to the showers at Girl Scout camp, my first sleep away experience.   click Americana TBG had a law school professor with an unusually white and bright smile; they called her Ipana.  Does anyone born in the last 50 years know why? created by AI via...

In every Joy to the World and Merry Christmas and Season's Greetings and Happy Holidays embellished box I fill with red or green tissue paper (a little bit, just to be festive) and silver squares of Reynolds Wrapped brownies, there's also a little conversation.   Granted, I'm the only one participating in the exchange, so it's really a soliloquy.  But I'm addressing the recipients, by name or nickname or relationship, and the dialogue is peculiar to the recipient.  I really am looking for answers to the questions I'm positing as I pack and address and ship.  How old, how long, how serious, how happy..... these are things I wish to know. Not-Kathy, aghast at the cost of shipping all this love, suggested that I get everyone who lives near others to meet at a central point and pick up their gifts.  I laughed and replied that she was the only one who would think of that (true) and the only one who would do that (not true). That was another reminder of the beaut...

 These are the comments left on last week's post about The Brownie List. dkzody December 4, 2025 at 8:56 AM Yours is the second wonderful "best story of the day" this morning. Thank you for sharing happiness and kindness. I know it's an effort, and I know it is much appreciated by those who receive those packages. Reply Delete Linda Reeder December 4, 2025 at 6:04 PM Are these the fabled brownies?! Bless you for still caring They arrived just in time.  Here's why: I love to bake and package and ship and receive the love which comes with The Brownie List.  I don't like chocolate.  I don't eat them (possibly weird but that's never bothered me). Thus, I never know if they taste good (grammatically doubtful).  Acting as my Official Taste Tester is a major reason TBG is in my life. Today, I decided to get ahead of my usual three pans per day.  By the time I was done, there were nine 8x8 baking pans of all descriptions littering (purposefully chosen verb) m...

I sat in the front row of the intimate (~200 people) town hall my Senator, Mark Kelly, held on Friday afternoon.   I secured that front row seat by claiming kinship with JT, who grew up near me on Long Island, whose nephew is someone I liked but who disillusioned me, and who was delighted to play along with my charade as I charmed the young lady trying to seat me in the corner by declaring that I had to sit by my uncle right there in the front row, 2 feet from where everyone's hero spoke.   JT and I waited next to each other in Line B, having arrived fifteen minutes before the doors opened.  We exchanged New York snark about politics and politicians and the hangers-on, on all of which he shared an insider's perspective.  The woman behind us ended up seated right next to us; it was the beginning of a beautiful (if brief) friendship. There are many links on the interwebs which will give you the highlights.  It's obviously his standard stump speech, but d...

I am honored and thrilled to be on The Brownie List! I am a cook and know there is a secret ingredient in them aside from the love. Would you consider a bribe for the recipe? ...... You can save the long newsy update this year, I think I know what's up, almost daily, lots of fun! With love to you, FAMBB    ( Comment on this post, originally published 12/9/2009.  Reprinted here, slightly amended.)     The Brownie List - A Jewish Girl Does Christmas   It started innocently enough. HDK & Zanner and TBG & I were celebrating our first holiday season as working adults and we gave them a pan of my brownies and they gave us fire place tools. You know what I'm talking about..... the big brass stand and the little broom and dust pan and the oversized tongs and the pokey thing that's the only piece you ever really use anyway so why are the rest of them there???? Well, dear reader, I was abashed. Obviously, there was a mysterious Christmas gift giving code...

I've gathered the ingredients on the countertop.  They'll live there until I'm done. The pans are washed and ready to go, on top of the towels I inherited from Nannie.  The pot with the melting chocolate and butter was part of my mother's trousseau in 1950.  That's 75 years of oatmeal and melted butter.   Just waiting for that chocolate. I baked and packaged and wrote short notes to ten different sets of people who are in my life but live far far far oh just much too far away.  Everyone will reach out to thank me, not only because it's protocol for remaining on The List, but because it's been too long since we last touched base. It's time consuming and messy and dealing with the USPS website is a nightmare and it's just about the best thing I do all year long.  Each box sparks a smile, a sigh, a wonderful warm hug around me heart.  I know so many wonderful people.  It's good to be reminded of that now and then.  

Dilatory means slow to act ..... and that's what happened this weekend.  I had every intention, really, of posting every day while we were in Indiana with the grandbabies.  But marathon UNO games; hide and seek in the basement; jumping at the trampoline park; and watching the snow fall... and fall... and fall, leaving more than ten inches to play with, and then hanging with the softest, snuggliest,  most loving puppy in the world,    there was barely time to open my phone or computer to type.   I'm assuming I'm forgiven. By Saturday afternoon we were stir crazy.  Leaving Grandpa home to watch football, the rest of us piled into SIR's massive Ford and plowed our way through icy roads and piles of unplowed snow to the mall.   FlapJilly loves the mall, even when there's nothng but pre-shopping to be done.  Her mom took photos of the things she liked while the boys wandered on their own .... until we came to this place. Who knew there w...

You know the food is delicious when there's barely room for the turkey on the plate.   After the feast,  we came home to this.  Wishing you a happy and peaceful Thanksgiving weekend,  filled with local shopping (using cash) and lots of love.

FlapJilly didn't need a jacket because it was only 44 degrees outside. Her Cubs sweatshirt would be fine, if only she could find an umbrella.  In Arizona, we'd be sending her to wait for the bus in not only a jacket but with a scarf, a hat, and mittens.  The humidity is 98%, according to one of the many electronic listening and informing machines in my daughter's home.  The air is thick and almost visible.  Back in Tucson,  it is also 44 degrees and 98% humidity. But it's warming up to the 70's and there's not a scintilla of rain in the forecast.  But there's no puppy in Tucson, no grandkids or adult kids, no swarm of hugs or pleas to play hide and seek or follow a treasure map, no tween discussing algebra or the Revolutionary War.  It seems like a fair trade. 

We are flying from a small airport to a small airport, albeit that our pilots are protesting poor wages and benefits. We are leaving sunny and 65 for overcast and 31. The plane begins boarding 45 minutes before takeoff; considering the number of wheelchair passengers that usually travel this route that is a very brief window. I paid an extra $32 for extra leg room, an extravagance once upon a time but now more of a necessity as old body parts require space. We land mid-afternoon, late enough for Little Cuter to get us at the airport and early enough that the grandkids will be home from school and awake.  Given the bizarre flight schedules Allegiant Air creates, this is a highly unusual and thouroughly delightful situation. If I am dilatory about posting, please forgive me this week.  There are a lot of hugs to be gotten and given. 

Ken Burns is at it again.   His PBS series was ten years in the making.  It's voiced by Josh Brolin and Meryl Streep and Michael Keaton and Amanda Gordon etc etc etc. reading letters home and Pennsylvania's Constitution and military communiques.   Without photographs he relies on portraits and interpretations new and old; the project exists on many levels all at once - narration, background music, and the visuals.  It's hard to do anything but watch the screen; multi-tasking is not advised. He brings you real people with real flaws.  Enslavers wrote about freedom and independence and liberty.  Personal slights, giant egos, recalcitrance and inaction on the field and in the Congress - some of it is really hard to watch.   I found myself wishing for the story I learned in school.  I wanted ideals and courage and victories without any of the disturbing pieces shattering the illusion.  Too bad, that ship has sailed.  What I go...

It sprinkled and then it drizzled and then there was an outright downpour.  A gardener draped her jacket over my head because I don't want to see you be wet  but it was all to no avail.  I was soaked and I was going home. I checked to be sure it was possible, then met TBG at honme to share the plan.  Flu (extra strength) and COVID (Moderna) shots at Albertsons, then lunch. No appointment or prescription or co-pay needed,   just come on over.   So,, we did.   We filled out the paperwork so Medicare would accept it, waited for five minutes while it was processed and the vials were prepared, sat one after the other, and took our medicine like grown ups.... much to the amusement of the similarly aged couple on the two other chairs. We laughed about what a lunch date looked like these days.   Rememberinng the instructions from our first COVID vaccination. we kept our injected arms in motion as we drove and then ordered and ate....

There were so many similarities and so many contradictions to the images. There was friendship and solidarity and speechifying.  It was the same and it was different. Le Monde Gulf News The same but different. My head hurts.

Sixty or so years ago, TBG made this pump lamp at summer camp. Today, the squiggly light bulb (which replaced the regular kind of light bulb we'd been using our entire lives) burned out.   That's what we used to say when the filament in the regular kind became disengaged and discolored.  I don't know if the squiggly bulb has the same internal mechanism; its surface is opaque. I use burned out idiomatically these days,  I guess. I went to the light bulb drawer in the garage and found this: The pump lamp lives on TBG's nightstand so. a soft,  2700k output is perfect.  The Estimated Energy Cost of $0.96/ year made me smile.  So far, so good.   I unscrewed the squiggly one and inserted the new one and unfolded the box to recycle it. As Big Cuter often reminds the world, if there are words, we will read them.  And so,  walking to the kitchen,  I read the verbiage.  There were instructions.   This was not a "how many o...

Brother surprised me with a phone call today.  Was he interrupting football?  Yes, thankfully.   The first topic on his mind was Miss Stella, my precocious Garden Leader.   We laughed and loved about her and gardening and soil deliveries and nieces and daughters and fathers and mothers.  He's very good at connections. We moved on to planning a visit while we are all in and around Chicago for Thanksgiving, and then he told me a story about his upcoming Thursday Spectacular Feast. Turns out that his niece and her husband bought a beautiful four story brownstone right across the street from his daughter's coach house, without knowing that a cousin was right there already.  This is a happy coincidence. So far everyone involved is still talking to one another, ans so the extended families will be celebrating together, in the new brownstone. At the table there will be some Jews, a Muslim, and some of unknown affiliations.  There will be some who keep ko...

Advice for today - Do not get in the way of a football thrown by a 3rd grader.   Better advice - Do not try to catch it when you are holding something in your dominant hand. I share this advice from (p)ersonal ex(p)erience.  My (p)inkie took the brunt of the ball(')s im(p)act. There aren(')t a lot of keys that use the (p), but the exit key is there at the end of every sentence.  After the first (p)eriod I ty(p)ed I realized that something had to give.  Hence, the (p)'s;  the brackets reflect the fact that I had to find an alternative method of entering that key. And so, although there are emails and $500,000 rewards baked into the theoretically clean bill and so much more, I am going to give myself the night off.  Avoiding using my little finger is doable but no fun at all.    I am going to soak my joint in ice water.

Once again, there was no running water in Grandma's Garden.   This is some of the Bucket Brigade. After several years, our Dollar Store watering cans are on their last legs. This gardener figured out a way to save every drop . Yes, he was very proud of himself. Our produce is producing prodigiously this year, mostly because I didn't allow any tastes until the plants were settled and growing new leaves.  Now we have so much lettuce that there's a full leaf for anyone who wants a taste.  The butter lettuce was a big hit, but only one scholar wanted to eat the one big leaf on the who-knows-what lettuce hovering over the oregano.  There were great differences of opinion on the garlic chives - spicy, awful, garlic-y, mmmmm good, NO!  The chocolate mint is a big hit, with easy to pick individual leaves spreading out in a tire masquerading as a flower bed.   The onion bulbs are beginning to sprout scallions, both in the garden and in the cups the scholar...

Angus King said that the shutdown wasn't getting the job done. Tim Kaine said it hurt to sit next to his constiuents in church and hear them say they were unable to feed their families.   Bernie Sanders said that the Democrats gave in to a bully and accomplished exactly nothing about health care.   Adelita Grijalva said “A promise for a vote is no guarantee that relief will come, and means little coming from leaders who blocked my swearing in and continue to protect Trump at any cost.” TBG says the pain is not worth continuing the fight when there is no end in sight and no real hope that anything meaningful will pass both houses. I feel slighted and disrespected and cancelled.  Standing on street corners, writing postcards, blogging, sending (small) donations - all for what? I'm glad that furloughed federal workers will be reinstated and that they and the essential workers will receive their back pay.  I'm glad that (the smaller number of ) SNAP recipients ...

I never identified with the kind of person who would take up arms to defend a cause.  I never thought of myself as a person who would die for an idea.   I wondered what it took to create that kind of dedication to something other than a loved one. I never doubted that I'd throw myself in front of a tiger rushing at their faces.  I couldn't imagine that a concept could have that much power. I stood in awe of those who took an oath and swore to protect me and the Constitution, all at the same time.  I never worried about my safety; the world's mightiest military stood between me and any threat. Plus, who doesn't like looking at a dress uniform on a ramrod straight body?  I know I do. So I am now and always have been grateful to Kevin and Terry and Aaron and Amy and everyone else who is the kind of person who can care enough about an idea to put their life at risk.   But, as democratic norms crumble, I'm beginning to understand the urge. 

Watching the San Francisco 49ers embarrass themselves in their San Jose stadium,  we were struck by the sunlight. Attempts were made by four over-educated adults, none seemed just right. Comparisons to Tucson were inevitable; harsh and unrelenting were tossed into the mix until Not-Kathy came to her defense. I love our sun. It's always there, never gloomy grey for days in end,  and it.... it.... it makes no apologies for itself. It is what it is. As I cry/laugh/scream at the video of FFOTUS napping behind the Resolute Desk during a meeting on dementia and the preventive effects of healthy habits while promoting a weight loss product sold by his eponymous drug distribution organization it is lovely to contemplate descriptions of the sun