Remembering Life Lessons

The irrigation in Grandma's Garden at Prince Elementary School was on the fritz.  The scholar gardeners had never heard that expression, one that I heard in my house anytime anything went awry.

I pulled up the tubing so that the gardeners could till the soil.  Without the need to be careful of the irrigation!! they could trowel and dig and mix with impunity.  They did a wonderful job.  The soil in the first bed was almost loamy; if love were a nutrient the seeds would have sprouted already.

We re-laid the lines, burying them beneath the reconstituted soil.  I went to the control box to manually activate the system.  I had explained it to the kids; I wanted them to see the water in action.  

Unfortunately, the system did not cooperate.  Nothing happened.  Thankfully, the whistle blew and they were off to class, leaving me alone with the dysfunction. 

I checked all the connections.  I made sure the water was running from the main line to the garden, remembering when I had a similar experience that was attributed to a groundskeeping error.  I loosened and tightened the connectors one more time.

Everything looked fine.  Some of the tubing holes were ridged with lime, but all of them had enough of an opening to allow the water to flow.  And yet, it would not.  

I reset the timer on the control box, wondering if Manual might be the only setting that didn't work.  But Automatic was just as recalcitrant.  There was nothing.  I made a mental note to call Jessie The Irrigation Guru, and locked the playground gate behind me.

That was last Wednesday.  I went back to the garden on Tuesday to start work on the second raised bed, and took another look at the timer.  The front, the top, the sides, the bottom - I wiped away some lime deposits but saw no structural imperfections.  

I turned to the back of the box and had to laugh.  There is a compartment for 2 AA batteries.  The system has been in operation since before Pandemica (though turned off for 18 months in the middle of lockdown).  I have never replaced the batteries.... actually, I never knew they were there so I couldn't possibly have replaced them.  

Getting the cover off to remove them was impossible for my arthritic fingers.  I'll bring a pair of needle nose pliers tomorrow, along with another set of Duracell AA's.  I'll also bring this famous family story:

The neighbor knocks on our door.  "Is your Dad home, Brother?  My refrigerator is broken and I'd like to see if he can help."

"He's not home.  But I'll come with you."  

He was 5.  She was a nice neighbor.  She said, "Sure."  They walked 2 doors to her house.

He opened the refrigerator door; the interior light did not go on.  He lay down on the linoleum and reached his hand behind the machine, grabbed the cord, and pushed it firmly back into the socket, firmly.

"There you go!  All fixed." 

Is it plugged in was, from then on, the first question we asked when something went on the fritz.  I can't believe I forgot it.

 

Once Again, It's Gone

The next time Comcast/Xfinity decides that our monthly bill isn't high enough,  I'll remind them of their failure to perform. 

It's like the being football's extra point kicker. You have only one job.  It's the same job every time.  It's what you are supposed to be good at doing. 

Screwing it up shouldn't be an option.  In this case,  losing service twice in 8 days definitely counts as screwing up.  Especially when it means I have to use my phone as a mobile hot spot to post this. 

 I'm happy that the phone can connect to the internet (although now that Arizona's elections are decided it's not really necessary). I'm proud that I figured out how to create my mobile hot spot.  I wish I didn't have to be so clever. 

More tomorrow when (if????) the problem is resolved. 

Football Blues

DeShaun Watson, a talented quarterback, is ready to begin practicing with his new team, the Cleveland Browns.  

He's also been accused of sexual assault by 24 women, massage therapists for his former team.  He's not been convicted, and the old team settled lawsuits with most of the women, facts which some use to cast doubt upon his culpability.  And I get that athletes are prey to these kinds of accusations.  

But two dozen times?  Even the NFL couldn't look past it. They decided that missing 11 games and getting therapy was punishment enough.    

Oh, yes, there was a financial penalty as well, a $5,000,000 fine and $690,000 in lost salary. 

Of course, he has already received a $44,965 million signing bonus, and he has a fully guaranteed, five-year, $230 million contract.  Is there that much difference in living on 275 or 270 million dollars for the next five years?  I'll never know.

What I do know is that I wouldn't want my husband or son or brother to share a locker room with him. 

Yes, I'm judging him.  If the Texans weren't worried about it they wouldn't have settled 30 cases.  If he weren't a talented quarterback neither team would want him around.  There's not been a spirited defense of his character.  And there are two dozen women willing to talk about his penis in public.

The football world is all agog.  Will he be in sync with the rest of the team?  Will he be in shape?  I could  care less.  

I've put my money where my mouth is, so to speak.  In the weekly family pool, I pick teams based on where I've lived, where those I love live, and a random something - blue uniforms; mammals; predators - for the rest.  Some years I win, most years I lose.  My system requires no real involvement in the game itself.  There are always certainties, teams in New York and Northern California and Chicago and Indiana and Arizona..... and, until now, Cleveland, TBG's home town. 

Now my pick is Not The Browns.

It's all I can do.

I'm So Proud of Us

I really am.

Americans believed Joe Biden when he said that this was a battle for the soul of America.  

Americans stood up to a Supreme Court which obviously does not represent the will of the people.

Young people who grew up with Active Shooter Drills used their power to elect gun safety legislators.

And Mark Finchem, the insurrectionist election denying Trump acolyte, was the only clear cut loser among all the MAGA Republicans running for state wide executive offices.  It seems that most Arizona voters want their votes to be counted and certified the old fashioned way - honestly, reflecting the will of the voters and not that of the Secretary of State.

We still don't know who will be our Governor or our Representative; they're still counting.  And counting is what they should be doing.  They are verifying and curing and counting.... hundreds of thousands of mail in ballots which dropped off on Election Day.... and it's so much fun listening to the talking heads positing this that and the other about who those voters might be.

Mark Kelly won.  In his email after the announcement, he noted contributions from all 50 states.  

I'm so proud of Americans.  We're really seeing beyond the craziness.  We voted to save our democracy.

Michael Beschloss said, on MSNBC, that we were watching history being made.  He called this one of the 3 most consequential elections in our history.  

I'm kinda tired of being in the midst in that ancient proverb:  May you live in interesting times.  I'm ready for a little bit of boring right now.

I Was Misinformed

Apparently, Steve Kornacki was right and I was wrong.  I misunderstood the Secretary of State's website and went to sleep with a false sense of optimism.  This morning I woke up to find that there are 200,000ish votes left to count in Maricopa County alone, and that while Mark Kelly's 85,000ish vote lead is good, it's not great.

Katie Hobbs is holding on to the Governor's race by the tippy tip tips of her fingers.  My Congressperson has yet to be determined; as of 4:59pm today(Thursday) with 69%  reporting.  I highlight that to make the point that there is no indication of what whole 69% is part of.  I'm a careful reader; this lack of precision is just adding to the craziness.

I slept well last night, and I've been content all day. Democracy survived.  There are still many too many people who don't believe the nose on their face, even when looking in the mirror.  But there are also those who recognize real threats, and who are willing to go to the polls to defend against them.

Look at Kansas.  Look at Kentucky.  Not exactly places that jump to mind when I think about protecting abortion, and yet both states' constitutional amendments banning abortion went down to defeat.  

Look at Maxwell Frost, 25 years old and a member of the House of Representatives.  When asked how it happened, he talked about guns and choice and health care and a living wage.  If you talk about these things, you'll find that most people believe, too.  

Look at John Fetterman and Josh Shapiro in Pennsylvania.  Fetterman won while recovering from a stroke.  Shapiro, whose opponent is apparently in more legal trouble than Trump, ran an impressive campaign; the talking heads are considering him a national player.

Look at the entire state of Michigan, now run by a Democratic tri-fecta.  Someone said Buttigieg/Whitmer in 2024.

Though we were teetering on the brink, I'm breathing easier.  The center held.

It's good to know that the country which our veterans protected is still worthy of their service.  

Election, 2022

I want it to be over.  I do not like living on the edge.  

That's what I typed 20 minutes ago.  Since then, the Secretary of State's fantastic website has updated itself to 100% of precincts reporting.  It's still not officially declared, but this looks like the results.

The margins in some of the races are very slim - House (9,482); Governor (4,083);  Attorney General (3,732) - with 100% of the precincts reporting.  The numbers are constantly being updated, but the changes are small... 7,  10,  13.  MSNBC has Joy Reid reporting that only 77% of the precincts are in; I'm sorry if you were provided incorrect facts by the mainstream media.  I promise, you can trust me, at least.  

The MAGA candidate for Gabby's seat, Democratic since our arrival in 2006, and his counterpart for Attorney General are the probable winners over two very qualified women, and I'm disappointed.  

My little slice of the world is now going to be represented by someone whose values are antithetical to mine. I will have no voice in the House of Representatives.  A man who answered No one disputes that Joe Biden is living in the White House to repeated questions about the validity of the 2022 election will now have a seat in Congress, representing me, speaking for me, voting for me.

It occurs to me as I'm typing this that this has never been the case, ever, at any time in my life.  I've always had a Representative who shared most of my views on most things.  

I am really quite bereft right now.  I knew that looking at these results would bring me down.

We've had a Republican Attorney General and a Republican Superintendent of Public Instruction  in Arizona so I'm not expecting much change there.  It would have been nice to have a competent human, one who has worked as an actual lawyer in actual courtrooms, as Attorney General.  Alas.  The SPI has been there, done that, to no great acclaim.  If you thought Dobbs turned back the clock, you'll find no disagreement here.

That Katie Hobbs is ahead by just over 4,000 votes is at once gratifying and terrifying.  Kari Lake has been making denial noises for a week or so; I wish the margin were more like Mark Kelly's (83,251).  

The news is not all terrible.  Though barely squeaking by, a W is a W for Katie Hobbs.  

Our elections are safe, at least for the immediate future.  Insurrectionist and Election Denier Mark Finchem lost by 77,569 votes.  But 858,609 Arizonans thought he'd be a fine Secretary of State and that makes me shudder for our democracy.  

My friends, the Hernandez sisters, won elections to the State Legislature in their individual Districts; they will be joined by all those I supported from my District.  At least on the micro level, in Phoenix, I will be represented appropriately.

And Mark Kelly withstood the accusations of promoting nuclear war and causing inflation and poisoning our children with fentanyl by allowing child rapists to carry it across the border (yes, there was all of that and more).  

He will be my Senator for the next 6 years.  That makes me very happy.

This is the will of 44.41% of the eligible voters in my state.... all 1,840,493 of us who cast ballots.  I hope that the 2,303,436 people who could have voted but did not take the time to do so know that they are not allowed to complain about the people in power.  

They had their chance and they blew it.  My candidates may not have prevailed, but I participated. At the end of the day, I have to be satisfied with the result.  

That's how it's supposed to work.. just as Tim Ryan said last night:

Off Line

The Burrow was disconnected.  Cut off from the world.  No way out.  No way in unless you knew my phone number and could text me.

It was exhilarating, for a while.  There was nothing I could do.  It was not my problem to solve.  I never turn on the tv when I am at home, so I wasn't as unhappy as TBG, who missed his talking heads and Perry Mason.  

Anyway, the recorded voice told me that it would be fixed by 11:15.  I did some holiday shopping, sewed on a button for Amster, gardened with Prince scholars, and drove home to find that 11:15 had come and gone and that the recording now projected a 5pm fix.

Were I conspiracy minded, I'd go down a rabbit hole of losing-the-internet-and-tv-on-election-day, but I'm already on the edge of complete freak out so I closed off that door.

5 o'clock came and went.  Our internet stayed where it was, blocked in the ether, stuck in the fiber optic cable, magically vanishing without saying goodbye.  The recorded voice now said it would be fixed as soon as possible.  It also reassured me that their technicians were working very hard to solve the problem.  

That may well have been true, but you couldn't prove it by the state of the electronics in our home.  As the minutes turned into hours, TBG's need for aural stimulation led him to the dusty DVDs on the high shelf in the hall closet and soon we were flopped on the bed, happily watching Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland eat up the scenery in Robin Hood.

Then he got hungry.  I took myself out to the kitchen, relishing the silence.  Alone, I took out my hearing aids and let the quiet consume me.  It took me a while to start cooking; it was the most peaceful I'd been in a long time.

Then It's Back!! rang out happily from the bedroom and there was noise and exultation and televisions on everywhere and I kept my hearing aids out for just a little bit longer.

I can't say that I am sorry to have missed the speculating on MSNBC and CNN or the sports trivia on all the ESPN's (yes, there are many, and we have them all).  All that noise that is balm to his soul and which mostly just irritates mine was back and he was so happy that I took a moment to be grateful that this was at the top of my Aggravating Factors List.  

But everything seemed very loud.  The tv's volume, set 5 steps lower than usual, felt like too much as he began flipping from college basketball to Dave (an inspired choice for Election Night) to the screaming heads and their garish graphics filled with no information at all.  

I was glad for Kevin Kline and for the internet and for the smile that everything-is-working-again put on TBG's face.  I was glad that my cell phone provider and my internet provider are distinct entities.  I'll be glad later on tonight when our local races are counted and I can access the results.  I'm glad that I can post this to you.

But it was kind of nice to be disconnected.

Prepping the Soil

After Guy, our Groundskeeping Guru, told me he'd salvaged bags of soil for the garden, it was simply a matter of toting them to the raised beds.  Between the two of us and a wheeled cart we brought enough soil and compost and mixtures of the two to refurbish our planting medium.  

It was a good thing that so many scholars were willing to get dirty.

First came removing the remaining plants, stunted vestiges of what they might once have been, had COVID not intervened.  

Not everyone was on board with killing what, to my eye, were weeds. Thankfully, the girl whose dad told her that what I thought was a small white carrot was, in fact, ginger, stepped right in to make it feel okay.   After collecting several small specimens and displaying them on the edge of the bed, she chose to pose like this:

The searching and the wondering - is this a gingerbread? - and the presentation of the treasure to our resident expert was a delightful distraction from thoughts of death and destruction.

Later in the day, a Gardener found this one, which was sending out many more roots than seemed appropriate to its discoverer.

After that, rocks, roots, twigs, bark, and feathers were excavated and transferred to the garbage bag. 

 Sometimes, a trowel worked well.

Sometimes you had to get in there with both hands.

And sometimes the temptation of two little boys, two plastic trowels, and a newly tilled and de-clodded pile of soil is just too much to resist.

The two fisted flinging only lasted a second or two, but the giggles went on for a while.  In general, it was a pretty wonderful day.

Rillito Farmers' Market

It was a sunny Fall Sunday in Tucson, where no one was confused about the time because we never change our clocks.  Not-Kathy and I walked on the multi-use path for 2 miles before we began to shop.  It might sound counter-intuitive to get hungry before looking at groceries, but these were such healthy groceries, and the walk was the second in my Early New Year's Revolution (sic FlapJilly) of walking at least a mile, outside, every single day, so the Market at the end of the road seemed like a lovely congratulations from the world.

Plus, there were lots of tables and chairs for resting and for eating, and the black clad young man on the left kept putting out more and more of them.

As at all Farmers' Markets, there were plants.

I won't dwell on the paucity of the vegetables available; this is the desert, after all.  But in addition to the few tables of onions and potatoes and squash, there was this display of mushrooms.

Not-Kathy couldn't believe her luck.  She and the vendors struck up a happy conversation about the Lion Mane mushroom

which apparently tastes like crab (or lobster).  I stood in awe, taking in nature's bounty, and wondering who was the first person brave enough to eat that tufted monster?

There was a lot of fish and beef and honey and eggs.  There were home made soaps and lotions, wooden salad bowls and leather jewelry. There were salsas and tamales and other delights.  Like the T-shirts said, this event is for locavores.

Even Jewish locovores.

shout out to the owner, a high school classmate who traded up from pizzas to bagels.

A Wicked Kind of Beauty

The cashier at lunch asked if we wanted to eat outside.

Inside!  Please!  We live here.  It's cccccold out there.  

She nodded in agreement : I need my winter coat.

But the cooler temperatures (low 60's with clouds and drizzle) perk up the greenery and release all kinds of enticing odors.  I'd been inside all morning; I took a stroll around my driveway when we got home.  

The concept of the nurse tree is nicely illustrated here.

Shielding the saguaro's new growth, it allows for lots and lots of new arms.  The arrows just point out one side of the connection.  New things pop up in the most unexpected places, too.  I went to get a closer look at something and almost stepped

 on these guys.

Someone pooped out something that found a happy space and is propagating like the begats.  I usually attribute these to birds, but I may have to rethink that.  My walk included this remarkable series of small, symmetrical tunnel entrances

and one really big hole nearby.

There's a footprint to the left (see the toes?) but the tailings from the digging go off to the right.

The clouds were getting darker and I was getting colder and I didn't stick around to see if anything was going in or out.  

I'm not sure I want to know what's condominium-izing the ground beneath our front yard.

 

A Bonus Day

We returned before we were expected.  

A last minute hiccup in our plans combined with a no-change-fee-fare brought us to our own bed two days early.  I was looking forward to sleeping in and being quiet.  After all, it was a day without expectations or plans or friends waiting to have lunch.  It really was free, a bonus day.

I thought I'd be tired from traveling.  I thought I'd spend the day lounging on the couch or the patio, doing the Wordle and Spelling Bee and the Mini Crossword.  It sounded like heaven.

Apparently that lack of oomph only happens to my husband.  

After a restless night I was totally awake at 9am.... which should have felt like 6am because I should still be on Eastern Time.... but there I was, bright eyed and bushy tailed as G'ma would've said.  I wasn't tired or achy at all.  I was totally energized.

I cleaned the whole house, and I'm not just talking about dusting.  From the fronts of the stainless steel appliances (never again!) to the deepest recesses of the countertops, from the floors through the furniture, I touched and improved every surface.  

Does anyone else remember Mr. Clean?

I was a White Tornado.  

I pulled out the Fall Decor box and spent a lovely long time putting out old familiar pieces.  I changed the pillow covers from summer to autumn.  I watered the plants.  I did laundry.  I paid a few bills. I made banana bread muffins.  

And then I went out.

The library, the grocery store, the drug store, and the bagel store had everything I needed, including  smoked brisket with veggies and sauce and cheese on a bagel which TBG says is the best lunch he can remember eating.  

We had a companionable lunch over catch-up tv then read James Patterson novels outside until the sun went behind the clouds.  We have become weather wimps, and we don't care if you judge us.  Our bellies were still with Little Cuter in Indiana, so I made an early dinner and did the dishes while TBG dealt with the garbage and now I am typing to you.  

Soon it will be 7pm, and I can feel free to use electricity to run major appliances without disturbing the grid.  I have a dishwasher to turn on (soap's already in there, thank you very much for planning ahead) and another load of laundry to run.

Obviously, the next time things have to get done, I should go on vacation first.

Trains, Planes, and Automobiles

It's a travel day.  

Lyft to the train station.  Get off the train and take an excursion bus for 20 minutes to get back on the train.  Track repairs added that step. 

Up the steps to find a taxi, operated by possibly the slowest driver in the Northern Hemisphere. 

Spend several delightful hours with Dr. P, a playgroup mom,  reliving old times and trying not to despair over current events.  Add in a short walk for lunch (where she and TBG sat on wet cushions which led to wet tushes and a quick trip to the dryer for their pants and underwear) and then we were in her car on the way to the L.

Took an elevator down to the platform and the elevated train to the airport and the moving walkway through terminals until we collapsed at a restaurant. 

Now we wait for the plane to depart,  then Lyft home. 

Well,  the plan left on time and landed 30 minutes early.... but the Lyftc would take 35 minutes to arrive and there were no taxis at all.   We waited only 10 minutes for one to show up,  but it felt like a year.  By the time we got home it was 2am, Eastern Time.

 

As TBG pointed out,  9 segments is really too much for old bones. 

And yet,  we go on. 

Halloween Cookies

Decorating cookies is an integral part of Halloween. 

Little Cuter had every add on imaginable available for her independent cookie creators,  and they did a fine job. 

The sprinkles took a detour, to what may be my favorite Halloween picture of all time:

I hope you had a wonderful and spooky day!