Is There Anything Better Than This?

We're on our way to seeing a more grown up version of this

and feeling all the love like this:

 It's going to be a great looong weekend.

When Is A Deal A Deal?

Sir Keir Rodney Starmer couldn't get a word in edgewise as FFOTUS blathered on and around and about the wonderful new deal the EU had made with the USA.

Problem is, Europe is not altogether pleased with the proposal.  The European Commission President was left to defend the plan, saying it was the best she could do.

The deal requires the approval of the member states and the European Parliament (according to Google's AI which will not let me search any deeper) which will happen after the details are hammered out.  This is not a finish by the end of the trip process.  This will take months.

In the meantime, here at home the tariffs themselves are the subject of lawsuits whose outcomes may make the whole deal thing moot.  And who knows what the TACO president will come up with next?  Will someone leak incriminating photos of him doing who knows what?

So, for now, I'm going with No Deal.  We shall see.

An Idea

I am certain that all of you have been following my lead and my suggestions and have been calling your Senators and Representatives and local elected officials on a regular basis, sharing your thoughts and opinions in a polite but pointed manner.

Perhaps, like me, you have begun to sound like a broken record.  Don't defund NPR/USAID/Medicaid/National Parks/NOAA/etc.  It gets a little old, a little difficult, to find something fresh to say.  

The talking heads are stuck on Epstein, and he's always good for a poke.  But they've not given me anything else to chew upon, nor have 1440 or Politico or The New Republic.  

But I have come up with something to get us through the next 5 weeks.  During those 5 weeks your Congressperson will not be in DC, since the office is closed.  I propose that we each call everyday and ask this simple question: Now that the Congressperson is not in the office, can you tell me when he will be available to meet with his constituents in person in the District?  

Assume that there are scheduled events; 5 weeks is a long time to take off from a full time job, after all.  You have a right to speak to the person who represents you on all the important matters of our time.  That person works for you, and I bet you don't (or didn't) get five weeks off at the end of every summer.  (Teachers are back in school in August these days... for all you nitpickers out there.)

It's not an unreasonable request.  It is based on the premise that you have a right to discuss things directly with your representative.... because how can he represent you if he doesn't understand the reasoning behind your opinion?  

So pick up the phone (202) 224-3121 and make your voices heard.

Thank you for your kind attention to this matter. Democracy only works if we all participate.

Starting in the Middle

Most of the books James Patterson co-authors have recurring characters.  These characters have love interests, personal foibles, messy pasts, and complicated situations to resolve.  Those situations are usually resolved within the confines of one book.  The casual reader might miss some of the nuances in the back stories, but the plot can thicken quite nicely anyway. 

Mike Lupica's prose is sharp, pointed, not sentimental even when tears are involved. He creates people you might meet in the grocery store or in a line up or at a serious doctor's appointment.  The friendships he describes feel real, as so does the loathing.

That's all well and good, but Hard to Kill seems to have forgotten that time has passed since I read the first book in the series, and that I've read lots of other books in between.  I vaguely remembered the dastardly defendant, but the ins and outs of his comings and going and intersections with law enforcement and victims and siblings have left me floundering.

I googled the series.  The first book was published August 27, 2024.  Hard to Kill, the second book, was published May 10, 2025.  I began to forgive myself for forgetting the details of the crime in the first book which is inextricably entwined with the crime(s) in the second book.  Eleven months have passed.  

And then I began to laugh.  Apparently I'm not the only person who was flummoxed.  Perhaps the authors heard from them.  In any event and for whatever reason, the third installment was published July 21, 2025, a mere nine weeks after the second arrived.  

Now I'm going to find the first and third books on-line or in the library.  I'll close this one until then.  I want to enjoy it and starting in the middle is not the best way to do that.

An Encounter

Juan Ciscomani's phone answerer in DC cannot speak for the Congressman so she couldn't tell me if he was planning to meet with his constituents during his 5 weeks at home.  I rolled that around in my head as I pushed my cart through the grocery store this morning.  

I was looking for artichoke hearts.  I found the vegetable aisle where, I assumed, the jars and cans would be arranged alphabetically.  Foolish me, the marinated mushrooms were closest to the end cap, right above the peas.  As I continued to the shelves, I passed a woman of a certain age.  She had a red and white cane with four rubber feet in her cart,  a handheld, white, 5" in diameter magnifying glass in one hand and a can of green beans in the other.

I found the artichokes, stood on my toes to reach them, and turned to put them in my cart.  That left me staring straight at that woman, who was moving the can back and forth, side to side, obviously trying to read the label.

The Cuters often tell me to mind my own business.  I rarely pay attention to their discomfort. 

Would you like some help with that?  

She was surprised, asked if I was sure I had the time, and then gratefully handed the can over to me.  We quickly identified that what she was holding was close but no cigar to what she wanted.  I found the whole beans, handed her the two cans she requested, then asked what was next on the list.

Oh, really, you've done enough already.

I laughed and said that the thought of her trying to find the rest of her list while peering through that itty bitty glass would haunt me to the end of my days if she didn't let me finish.  And so we went down the aisle, finding the beans and the corn and the tomatoes in just the right iterations.  

At the end of the aisle she assured me that she had everything she needed.  She didn't overdo the thank you's and I didn't reassure her that I didn't mind at all.  Instead, she gave me a gracious smile, I wondered if I could come over for the dish she was preparing, we laughed and move on.

There were five varieties of diced tomatoes in the 4oz cans; don't get me started on the 8oz and 16oz and jumbo sizes with or without a lot or a little salt, seasoning, or Italian names.  I spent the rest of my time in the store thinking about G'ma and hoping that someone, sometime, had gone just a little bit out of her way to help.  

She got all her cans and jars without too much trouble.  I got a warm feeling all around my heart for doing basically nothing at all.  I think it was a win win situation.

My Summer Buffet

It's too hot to be outside much past 8am.  The soil is too warm to nurture most seeds.  Our big rain helped the thought-to-be-dead trees, but couldn't bring the sunflowers to life again.  I removed the dangling dead leaves so the garden doesn't look too raggedy, but I'm leaving the sunflowers to feed the birds before I cut them off and bring them to the school garden.

The green leaves are being nibbled around the edges.  If you don't like pictures of bugs, stop scrolling after the zinnias with the arrow below.

I walked past with my snips, looked down, and jumped.  What the f*** is that pink thing??

By the time I got the camera the sun had shifted so he looks pale if not white, but rest assured this beastie was light pink and hungry.

Need a closer view?  You can see him eating away at those juicy leaves.

AI failed to enlighten me.  It may be an albino grasshopper.  I'm pretty sure it's not an exoskeleton since the thing was chewing away,  a pretty obvious indication that he's still using his exoskeleton to get around the veins.  Zinnias must have very delicious xylem and phloem;  he's chewed near the stem and at the meristematic tissue at the edges of the leaves.  

I'm a little creeped out after looking at all those bugs that might be mine.  Come back tomorrow for, perhaps, something more pithy.  

My Friend Wrote a Book

We met in junior high, where we each had a crush on the boy who's been her husband forever.  We've gone from bar mitzvahs to grandparenting, keeping in touch enough to maintain a 62 year friendship..... which is both a terrifying and a gratifying number. 

She's published lots of books which have garnered lots of praise, all of which I have thoroughly enjoyed.  She writes about everyday people living everyday complicated lives.  I recognize characters from our childhood in cameo roles; I do enjoy a wicked laugh every now and then.  

She's taught writing at prestigious places and talked about writing in interviews.  I remember (I'm pretty sure) a conversation we had many years ago, where she said that she listens to conversations on the subway and while waiting in line for coffee or a movie and (more important to me) she carried a notebook in which she wrote them down.  

Reading her books is like stepping into real life.  There's nothing clear cut or easy.  Teens sound like teens, old married couples talk like old married couples.  But there's nothing stale or predictable in her storytelling, which is tight and lean and deep.

I Don't Know How To Tell You This is a quick read that will make you think and laugh and cry about the same sentence. It happens over and over again; she's a very good writer who tells a very good story.  You won't be sorry you took the time.

The Summer Blahs

It's hot and muggy and cloudy and the outdoors is not at all inviting.

The talking heads have said all that can possibly be said about the latest kerfuffle surrounding FFOTUS and they keep on saying those things over and over again.

We've watched some remarkable television (Nobody Wants This) and lighthearted movies (The Intern).  I've read lots of library books.

None of this is providing fodder for my fingertips.  I'll try to do better tomorrow.  

Good Trouble

It's hard to muster much of a crowd in Tucson in July, especially if the venue is outside, even if it starts at 7am.  It's that to which I am attributing the sparse turnout for today's John Lewis tribute protests.  I refuse to believe that people have stopped caring; I don't think there are a lot of tourists or residents sticking it out here in what the interweb is now calling high summer.  

I set my alarm for 6:15, was in the car by 6:35, and standing on the sidewalk with our American flag before 7.  I wasn't the first one there.  Once again, I was surrounded by my generation and a smattering of younger, LGBTQ supporting folks.  I found my friend (I live across the street; it wouldn't be right not to come.) and his chair and we spent a companionable hour or so waving flags and signs and greeting people we knew.

I left and drove across town to the concert stage at the same big park whose environs hosted past sidewalk protests.  Parking was easy, close by, right there in the parking lot, an assortment of spots foreshadowing the smaller than I'd expected crowd on the hillside and under the shade of trees on the side.  

Two event organizers spoke and then handed the microphone off to community leaders who spoke about immigrants and labor and American history until I got bored and wandered back to the sidewalk where I stood in my Good Trouble t-shirt, holding my Save the Soul of America sign, waving at passing cars, hoping to make a difference.

It's hard to get passionate about anything when it's 97 degrees at 8:15 in the morning.

It Rained

This was not a sprinkle, inviting you outside.  This was not a short lived micro-burst, intense but fleeting. This was thunder and lightning and water water everywhere.

It started in the late afternoon with darkening skies and ionizing air.  It whipped itself into a frenzy after the sun set.  The lightning was so bright it woke me up in the middle of the night.  The rain on the roof was soothing in the early morning; TBG slept in for the first time in a long time.  

The rain thwarted my plan to swim before breakfast.  I'm not sorry about the blueberry pancake at The Crying Onion, though.  It was clearing up as we splashed through puddles to get to the car, and the sun was out by the time we got home.  

Everything growing outside is suddenly happy.  The drooping zinnias are now upright.  The two iron wood trees I'd given up for dead have sprouted leaves all over themselves.  The sago palms' fronds are no longer touching the ground.

Most of you are not surprised by hours and hours of rain.  We denizens of the desert greet it with open pores and giant smiles.

Thanks, But No Thanks

I've managed to winnow my political emails and texts down to a few, local groups.  I unsubscribe to all the Democratic candidates from Idaho and Nebraska asking for my money.  The DNC has many ways to infiltrate my inbox; very few slip by once I've unsubscribed from their lists.  Surprisingly, my Legislative District's Democratic Committee is a useful source of information; I can always count on them for a bottle of water and a suggestion for signage at their regular protests outside Rep. Ciscomani's office.  

I follow specific events, like No Kings! and Hands Off! Those give me information about where to go and when to be there, always ending with some version of Thank you and keep the faith.  There is no annoying bloviating, no preaching to the choir, no wasting my time with nonsense.

But I learned today that I have to read these event announcements carefully.

The word arrest was in the header, but I paid no attention.  The where and when were nearby and early in the morning.  I read the verbiage about the largest donor to Ciscomani's last campaign, the owner of many car dealerships all over town.  The plan was to protest outside one of those sites.  

I was thinking of what my sign would say as I read further and found out that the plan was to block the driveways and deny access to customers.  I should prepare to be arrested, although I probably wouldn't feel much more pain than a ticket.

And, thanks but no thanks, I'm going to sit this one out.  I don't want to be arrested.  

Besides, the man is a major philanthropist.  His wealth does a lot of good around here.  He is a Republican who sent money to a Republican running for office.  That means I won't buy a car from him.  

I'm not going to jail over it.

Finally Asking The Question

I'm not sure why the Epstein brouhaha is the straw that broke MAGA's heart and created a noticeable rift within the cult.  I'm not unhappy that some people are waking up to the fact that their Dear Leader has feet of clay, even though I find the substance behind the anger somewhat ridiculous.  

The world is falling apart and these people need to know who was screwing under age girls.  I'm happy to assume until proven otherwise that anyone associated with the man is tainted.  The truth will remain elusive, punishment rare, and reputations tarnished but ultimately redeemed in true American fashion.

I'm happy to assume that MAGA hats can agree with this entire paragraph.

So, if not the substance, then what?  It's the broken vow.

There's a page of answers to a search for FFOTUS/vow/broke.  Whatever the reason, I'm glad that some who'd been following the evil have come to ask the same question I've been asking forever:  Is he constitutionally incapable of telling the truth, of distinguishing between fact and fiction? 

Does the man have the mens rea  to make a vow, a solemn promise, a personal commitment, perhaps a pledge to God?   Is it possible that he really doesn't know what he's said or what he's saying?  

I don't care how they're getting there.  I'm happy to say Welcome to the Resistance.

Giggleson

Honey Bunny's little brother now has a blogonym, thanks to his big cousin,  Giblet.

The baby's the 4th in a long line of men whose name ended in son. His cousin watched the video Queen T took of the little one's first giggles, prompted by Grandma's dancing fingers and gentle belly tickles,  and came up with the nickname on the spot. 

I do have the most amazing grandbabies. 

I'll be back tomorrow with something of substance.  Tonight,  I'm flying home.  

Have a wonderful Bastille Day. Remember, it was a group of outraged women who stormed Versailles and started the French Revolution.  There is power in numbers,  even small numbers. 

Where is Ruben?

The New Republic sent me a newsletter.  It details all the horrible messes coming from the White House - FFOTUS didn't know that Liberia's national language is English as he complimented their President's vocabulary; any contract to aid Texas flood victims over $100,00 must be personally approved by the Sectetary; Tom Tiilis is surprised that RFK Jr lied about vaccines. 

Then it shares a short piece on my junior Senator, Ruben Gallego, and his trip to the Iowa State Fair. Testing the waters for a presidential run is not unusual. Doing so when you've been in office for seven months and ten days seems like jumping the gun. 

When I was working,  it seemed that six months passed before new hires were fully functional. I suppose that once he figured out where the bathrooms were located and how to get a quick lunch and what reports were needed when and by whom he has turned his sights to bigger and better things. 

I'd like to see him act more like a Senator and less like a power seeking 40 year old maneuvering through the I Wanna Be The Nominee parade. 

Vacation Mode

Apologies for my spotty attendance here.   There are small people requiring attention and their needs are a priority. 

So is sleep.  HoneyBunny isn't thrilled to take her nap; she'll understand the wonderfulness of a mid day siesta when she's old.... like Grandma.

Queen T and I started watching Missing You, Netfix's version of Harlan Coben's novel. Unfortunately,  we started this binge at 9pm.  The show is great, but 2 episodes, much deep conversation, and a phone call from TBG pushed the start time of the third episode to 11:30pm. 

Since I promised Big Cuter that his lovely bride would be in bed by 12:30, we put off the last 3 episodes until tonight. But the show lived on in my head and falling asleep was a challenge. 

A small face atop a small body stood in my doorway at 7. My body cried NO but my heart got me up and out of bed. 

Brushing teeth with a toddler involves sucking off the miniscule amount of toothpaste Grandma applied, then following Grandma's toothbrush as it crossed up and down and front and back. The giggles just add to the fun 

Then there are eggs to whisk for breakfast,  blueberries to sneak from her lunchbox into her mouth,  and the one exit away drive to Montessori.  

It's 9:07 and I'm ready for a nap.

Vacation

 I'm in Marin, with the littlest grandkids.  As always, it's wonderful and exhausting.  

I took the weekend off from politics.  It feels great.  Family is much better for the soul.

(Un) Happy 4th of July

This is how I feel about America right now - droopy.  But there was a time when I felt hopeful, even enthusiastic about our standing in the world.  That's when I originally wrote the post I'm reprinting below the sad flag.  I'm going to let those memories take me back in time for the 4th of July.

The sky is pure blue,  painted that way as G'ma said every time she looked up.  The occasional fluffy white cloud drifts by, and I'm hearing G'ma remark on that, too.  The flag in front of the house is swaying, the pole wedged between the base and the capital of one of the front columns, secured with thin, silver, crafting wire.  

It's an elegant solution to TBG's reluctance to put holes in his house;  I feel like Daddooooo every time I wrap another ring around the post.

Daddooooo was big on ingenious remedies to intractable problems.  He was also big on flags and the 4th of July.  We always went to the beach.  We always stopped at Custom Bakers on the way home, where the owners always let us go back and stick our fingers in the vats of frosting.

We always went to the Boardwalk in Long Beach, arriving as the sun was setting.  Skeeball and mechanical fortune tellers and the smell of the ocean, too black to be seen but too noisy to go unnoticed, occupied us as we waited for night to fall.  We practiced our ooohs and aahhhs; we were in fine form by the time the booms and the bangs began.

Through it all, the flags were flying.

There was a big one in the bracket beside the garage door, until the house was painted and further holes were frowned upon (is this some kind of male thing I just don't get?). A pole-holding-tube was sunk into the flower box, and while it was neither sturdy nor attractive, it did the job and as far as Daddooooo was concerned that was that.

There was always a plastic flag attached to the car's antenna, and all our bicycles had flags on the handlebars.   

I'm not letting the tradition fade away. 

I'll be wearing my red white and blue tie dye - the dress, the tank top, the even bigger tank top - as I go through my day. 

I can't find a title for this.   

I'm embarrassed for my country.  I'm appalled that there are human beings in the Senate who cheered for the passage of a bill that will kill people.  

What in the world does FFOTUS have on Lisa Murkowski?  She talks about her fear of retaliation from the Administration in this rather self-serving Politico article.  She cried when talking about her vote.  She's not up for re-election until 2028, and she beat a MAGA acolyte in 2022.

Yet, she accepted the carve outs that were offered to our 49th and 50th states, the carve outs that Hawaii's Senators rejected because that wouldn't be fair to the rest of us, and voted AYE. I suppose her constituents are happy.  

Paramount joined the ever lengthening list of companies that have caved to FFOTUS's power tripping.  I suppose their shareholders are happy.

There's a chill in the air, although the thermometer read 106 today.  Familiar faces are missing from small, local restaurants.  I now live in a 100 mile border zone, a military designation. 

And now he's talking about denaturalization.  That's how it started in Germany.

If you're not afraid, you're not paying attention.

Call Congress.  Praise those standing firm.  Ask the rest of them why they feel the need to adhere to a deadline that is important to only one human being when the other 340 million of us think the whole bill stinks?

After a little bit of research I find that Support for the legislation rises as high as 72% among MAGA supporters, a key constituency of President Trump. Yet, among Republicans and Republican-leaning independents who are not MAGA supporters, two-thirds (66%) have an unfavorable view of the bill.  

That's a lot of Americans.  Imagine if everyone of us made the effort and called to voice our opinion.

(202) 224-3121 

Time To Get On The Phone

The Big Ugly Bill seems to be stalled in the House over a procedural motion.  My sources (ooo-la-la, I have sources!) tell me that these Representatives are flippable.  

If you or someone you know lives in one of these districts, it behooves them to make a phone call asking What's The Rush?  Only one person wants it done by July 4th, and he's not the only one in charge.  Ask your Congresshuman to have a heart and reexamine this bill that benefits no one but billionaires and private prisons and hurts everyone else.

It's a republic, if we can keep it.  Do the work, reap the rewards.\

Thanks.

REP

AZ-06, Juan Ciscomani

CA-22, David Valadao

CA-40, Young Kim

CA-41, Ken Calvert

CO-08, Gabe Evans

FL-07, Cory Mills

FL-13, Anna Paulina Luna

FL-27, Maria Elvira Salazar

IA-01, Mariannette Miller-Meeks

IA-02, Ashley Hinson

IA-03, Zach Nunn

MI-07, Tom Barrett

MO-02, Ann Wagner

NJ-07, Tom Kean Jr.

NY-17, Mike Lawler

OH-07, Max Miller

OH-10, Mike Turner

OH-15, Mike Carey

PA-01, Brian Fitzpatrick

PA-07, Ryan Mackenzie

PA-08, Rob Bresnahan

PA-10, Scott Perry

TN-05, Andy Ogles

TX-15, Monica De La Cruz

VA-01, Rob Wittman

VA-02, Jen Kiggans

WI-01, Bryan Steil

WI-03, Derrick Van Orden

 

I Spoke to a Human

Rep. Ciscomani's Tucson office was open for business this morning.  A lovely woman answered the phone, basked in the wonderfulness of it all with me for a moment, and then asked what she could do for me.

I lit into my Vote No on the Big Ugly Bill rant, hoping that when it returns to the House my Congressman will remain true to his promises and protect Medicaid and SNAP.   

She responded with a real statement.  Let me tell you what the Congressman has written and asked us to share.  

Although it was the same nonsensical blather about waste and the worthy poor and scam artists and having the welfare of all his constituents in mind, I have to give them credit for reading the room.  They are now prepared for the onslaught of comments on the issue.  

He has to know that his MAGA voters are with him and the rest of us don't trust him.  He made no attempt in his statement to appeal to me, on any level.  He's firmly in FFOTUS's camp and has to count on those votes if he wants to be reelected.  At this point, there's nothing he could say that would sway me to his side.

July??? - A Snippet

Excuse me, but where did June go? 

Yesterday it was Memorial Day and now it's 4th of July. 

I thought I was paying attention, but apparently I was not.  That's weird, because there are so many family birthdays and events in June and I notice the arrival of those dates.  

And anyhow, why would a month start on a Tuesday in the middle of the summer?  Who at my age is paying that much attention to a calendar (unless there's a doctor visit on the horizon)?

I've written a more substantial post which I was ready to publish.  Then Blogger showed me the date and my head exploded.

I feel like my 4 year old self who was furious at my parents for letting Captain Kangaroo announce to me that it was 1956, rather than preparing me themselves by having me practice my 6's.  

I'm bemused.