The Burrow

One of the kids at the Halloween party said something inappropriate.  It wasn't awful, but it was shocking enough in its own right.  The grown-ups were momentarily appalled, which was, I imagine, the extent to which the act had been thought through beforehand, but they didn't give it more than the cursory attention it deserved. I, on the other hand, made it a teachable moment. Those who knew me in their youth are groaning right now.  I rarely let an opportunity pass me by.  Amster's kids learned about opening doors and Ladies First and the value of a firm handshake coupled with eye contact at a first meeting with a bewildered stupor often covering their faces. Why was I, the fun grown-up, the one who always said yes-as-long-as-it's-not-dangerous, the one giving lectures on behavior?  What was the fun in that? The answer was simple, and bears repeating in every generation. Manners make the world go 'round . I said it to my children and I'll say it to m...

Vexed Voter (By Little Cuter, with a special appearance by FlapJilly) Ordinarily, I’d love to spend a chilly Thursday afternoon strolling around our three-story mall, smiling at the kids in costume on parade and window shopping and perchance happening upon a mid-season sale at Baby GAP. However, this afternoon I was incensed, and in the midst of my healthy rage I called the one person I knew who would commiserate: “Hi Mama! Oh boy do I have a blog post for YOU!”  You see, it was all planned perfectly. I had done my research on the dates and times early voting was available,(taken directly from this website :)   and timed our departure perfectly to coincide with the end of FlapJilly’s morning nap so that we could arrive right when the polls opened at 10am. Heck, I’d even picked out a specially crocheted hat from G’mu for her to wear for the occasion. With my little bean strapped to me in a wrap, we made our way to the Aurora Public Library, taking the ...

Hospice sent me a flyer last week, suggesting that I examine my heart for An Anniversary Reaction as the day G'ma died draws near. I had no idea that this was on the agenda. I'm not feeling particularly nostalgic for the last months and weeks of my mother's life. I miss her all day every day, but I'm trying to put the end of her life out of my mind as I concentrate on the long ago memories, the ones which are less painful, which are more Mommy to me. Hospice has no such agenda. Apparently,their involvement with G'ma's demise did not stop when she did. I have been invited to groups, to seminars, to conversations, to individual sessions, in all too numerous to remember. I've attended none of them.   I don't think I'm denying my sorrow. I don't think I am avoiding the issue. I don't think I need help managing my feelings. All of that might have been useful while G'ma was still alive and demanding my attention. The ambivalence ...

They.... you know who they are... they are the ones who disagree with you.  Doesn't matter what that topic is, they are on the other side.  You try to get along with them, but it's hard because they are so obviously, fundamentally, incontrovertibly wrong.  For this post, they are men who want to control women's bodies.  I'm reading Classic Tragi-Comedies for my Humanities Seminar this semester.  We started with Plautus's Amphytrion .  Jupiter impersonates the husband, impregnates the unknowing, already-pregnant-by-her-husband wife, convinces the returned-from-the-war husband that it is a great honor to have his offspring share the womb with the child of a god, and the fact that he didn't trust his wife when she swore she had been true is never dealt with to my satisfaction. The husband's honor was restored.  The god had the sex he desired.  The woman, carrying her rapist's child, is merely a foil to the men's wants and desires.  S...

It's one of those posts, again, denizens.  One of those whiny, why-can't-I-do-better, my life is a mess posts.  Blame it on Ernie.  I am.  My desk is, once again, an untenable place for creative thought.  My mind, barely linear in the best of times, is distracted by coupons for 17 bonus prints per month and a half finished Merle Reagle Thursday crossword and the notice of Meg Wolitzer's appearance at the Literary & Prologue Society of the Southwest which reminds me that I have to pick up the book which reminds me that it is one of the very few novels I put down and never picked up again and there I am at the end of a languid conversation with myself but nowhere near where I wanted to be, post-wise. Every time I clean it p I vow that it will never be this messy again.  I am at an inflection point right now; I can still see the desktop peeking through the detritus.  A quick glance reveals paper itineraries for trips already take, paper bills whi...

I received the invitation verbally, 18 hours before the hearing.  Would I write an email in support of the January 8th Memorial Foundation's request for a bond to support the project?  Would I ask my Tucson-email-list to do the same... as long as they could do it before 8am the next day?  Would I be free tomorrow to attend the hearing, lending my physical as well as written presence to the process?  Sure, sure and sure... as long as I could leave in time for Pilates at 10. I typed an email from my account and one from TBG's account and thanked Amster for the work she'd done in a similar vein for The Fire Chief, and herself.  I encouraged Elizibeth to write one, too; it's her history as much as it is mine or her parents'.  My email list was polled early Friday morning; some were actually awake and able to send a sentence or two themselves.  I put on my Fall-in-the-desert-go-to-meeting dress (cotton, sleeveless, dark brown in deference to the se...

A group of women, sitting seaside, dining on shellfish and salads. Shared experiences long ago have brought them together, with another, visiting for the weekend. Out of a comfortable silence, one asks of all of them and none of them and of herself as well: Is anyone else friends with SoAndSo on Facebook?  The silence was suddenly less amiable.  Eyes were raised, shoulders shrugged, heads nodded. Then, she asked the question that stumped us all. Does anyone know who she is?