The Burrow

I've read all the snarky tweets, seen all the (very funny) memes and GIFs, listened to friends voices and read their texts and emails. There's a general sense of guilt mixed with I told you so floating in a soup of how should I feel about this. I have no problems.  I have a solution.  It's tried and true.  It has been used whenever our nation has suffered a shattering loss - mass shootings especially seem to bring it out.  It is meant to console and comfort and show empathy and compassion. At least that's what I assume those who use it want us to believe about them.  They are concerned.  They are paying attention with their heads and their hearts.  They are good people. And so, here's all you have to say, write, think: My thoughts and prayers are with you. That's it.   No need to take any action.  It's probably too soon, or too personal, or too intrusive, or too something.  You've said what you had to say.  You can be done wi...

Much has been lost since Donald Trump stole my country.   Among the losses are Perfect Patty and her delightful daughter, My Young Friend.  We lost Patty to ICE and the bus to Nogales.  We lost My Young Friend to Shelter in Place.  Though she'll run to Costco for me, or rake stones that hurt my hip to move, I won't let her in to help me clean. My house began to take notice. I acquired the proper tools and, with support from the other person who lives here, things began to sparkle once more.  Today was one of the days where the kitchen screamed Clean Me Now, and more than Method Daily Cleaner and Shine was called for. Off came the burners and out came Barkeepers Friend. Soapy water on the counters and everything up and out.  After vacuuming came mopping and then we collapsed on the bed, waiting for the floors in the rest of the house to dry. Normally, on a day like this, we'd opt to go out for dinner.  It was A Patty House and we didn't want to mes...

He's totally absorbed.  Starting with the Tour de France early in the morning, through the talking heads who finally have something to talk about, to basketball and football all evening and through most of the night.   I've read novels.  I've written Get Out The Vote postcards.  I've crocheted a gigantic round afghan, along with several dozen baby hats.  I've spent too much time playing Candy Crush Saga.  I've written letters instead of emails.   I'm next to him on Douglas, without my hearing aids.  My mind is elsewhere, except when his hand reaches out for mine, or his sharp inhale begs for my attention.   I'm with him and I'm without him.   Before Pandemica, I'd have spent the days with friends, doing the things TBG doesn't do.  During Pandemica,  my options are more limited. I'm really glad that TBG can go to his happy places with just a flick of the remote. Really, I am.  Any return to even a sembla...