The Burrow

I thought the Mohs doctor was going to compliment me on how well I was healing.  Instead,  he sewed up the remaining own wound and put a potato on my face to bandage it up. I'm to expect more swelling, bloodshot eyes, and, maybe, itching under the packing. No exercise (even walking), no sleeping on my side, ice packs and ibuprofen and acetaminophen and I can't promised to post anything for the next few days.   It's an hour after I got home and my eye is almost swollen shut.... this should be fun. 

The usually responsible Garden Leader took it upon herself to douse her colleagues with the hose. The 3rd grade girls were using the full size shovels to move mud from one end of the Digging Bed to the other; they were no longer very clean.     The 2nd grade girls filled the plastic wheelbarrow with potting soil, with no particular use in mind.   The Dollar Store's plastic wrap was a total failure.  The box collapsed, the cutting edge began to curl, and finding a section that was not over-wrapped by another section became, by the middle of recess, an exercise in futility. Spinach seeds are round balls, easily held in a palm opened to those with soil filled pots.  It was hot.  Her palm was sticky.  She had fun turning it upside down as we tried to put them back into the packet. 4th grade boys were engaged in serious negotiations beneath the mandarin orange tree, over what I do not know. And, as usual, the 5th grade girls began to hover around ...

Your hair is getting lighter  she said, referring to the black stripe going back from the top of my forehead, my skunk line, my last excuse to say  mostly grey  instead of  white , or, as TBG just suggested,  salt and light salt.... salt and pepper but not much pepper left. It's been a tough summer. Obviously.  Tell me. And for an hour, as she snipped , we traded stories .   Her daughter is now a Staff Sergeant. FFOTUS is a fool.  Penzeys makes great spice blends.  And so on and so on as I felt my shoulders relaxing and my face smiling and then we were both laughing at I can't remember what and, for a moment, all was right in the world.  

Living in Marin, I got used to seeing famous people in the grocery store.     For a while, Andre Agassi and Steffi Graff lived next door; we'd drive down our road behind his shiny convertible with the top down, watching him smile at passersby.  Dana Carvey and Peter Coyote and I worked out every morning at the same small gym; we and the other gym rats shared post workout beverages on the benches outside.     When The Cuters were in high school,  I gave Phil Lesh and George Lucas the parent tours for 8th grade applicants.  Jerry Garcia and I shared a lovely conversation one holiday season, waiting in line at the art supply store.     Grace Slick liked the pet accessories store in our small downtown; she'd sit in the comfy chair with cats in her lap and a floppy hat on her head. Carlos Santana was a mainstay, appearing everywhere and charming everyone.  Halle Berry rented my friends' home one year.   It was commonplace ...

I sat and looked at the screen and searched my mind and I came up empty. Do you care that I spent 15 minutes unsubscribing from political emails I never signed up to receive? Do you care that writing colorful postcards for candidates in far off districts makes me happy? Do you care that nothing very exciting happened in the garden today - either at home or at school? I know you care about politics, but it's just the same old same old with lots more money attempting to change the narrative.  I'm having trouble coming up with a new angle to explore. I know you could care less about Kash Patel's engagement or my take on Taylor Swift's Cleveland . I am hopeful that tomorrow will offer more possibilities. Right now, this is all I have.

There's talk about prestige, sexual citizenship, and personal responsibility.  The poor girl was lured.... except Annie Savoy would dispute that. I did not get lured. I accept full responsibility for my actions. YARNmemes Mothers of boys are freaking out.  Lawyers are warning that there is no basis for a criminal suit, despite Letitia James's investigatory powers.   And I am deciding to ignore the controversy and immerse myself in the memories, some of which I share below. There was once a pumpkin atop this spire on the undergraduate library in the middle of campus. No one knows how it got there. Walking down these stairs takes you to the Suspension Bridge. The top of Libe Slope, with a viewing platform atop the underground piece of the library. Dorms and a student center at the bottom of Libe Slope. Really old dorms next door. And mostly, there's this. There are chimes in the tower, and they ease you into evening. This is what I'll be remembering, regardless of what...