Robert Mueller and Me

Five days after bullets perforated me and killed my little friend, the Director of the FBI visited me in the hospital.  He was surrounded by many minions, who he introduced as colleagues: the US Attorneys and the FBI agents and the support people who would be in our lives for a while.  

He leaned over and asked if he could take my hand.  His was long and large and gentle and comforting.  His gaze was unwavering as he apologized for this terrible thing happening on my watch.  He promised that he and the minions were at our service.  

Then he bent over even closer and squeezed my hand and said I am so very sorry this happened to you.

*****

Months later, he met the survivors and families of the dead inside the US Attorney's Office, to update us on the legal matters, and to take our temperature on sentencing.  

It all became very real to me, the whole death penalty thing, and it must have shown on my face.  The people next to me reached out with their hands and their sympatheic smiles and the Director of the FBI looked me right in the eyes and acknowledged my grief.  

He just nodded his head until I could breathe again.

*****

After the verdict and the sentencing we gathered together one last time, less formally.  There was cake.  Director Mueller came in with a smudge of something white on his suit jacket, that jacket hanging open and not trying to impress anyone with its couturier.  

He rememberd my name, he held my hand, he guided me to the seat next to his, and throughout the meeting he'd give that hand a reassuring pat.  

When he left, he hugged me.

*****

What touched me and mine the most was this:

Not long after I was released from the hospital, my mail included a heavy, vellum, note card size envelope, with a mysterious return address.  My friends were opening my mail (nasty notes were not what I needed at the time; I had no snark with which to respond) but this envelope demanded my personal attention.

Inside, below the seal of the Department of Justice (embossed in deep blue and gold), was a handwritten note from the Director of the FBI.  He was pleased to hear that I was out of the hospital and he hoped that my recovery was going well.  He signed it Best regards, Bob.

Bob.  You know, my friend, Robert S Mueller, the Director of the FBI.  Bob. 

I cried.

******

That is who he was, behind the curtain, in person, with no cameras or reporters, just the head law enforcement guy looking out for those who were hurt.  Taking it personally and following through on his promise to take care of it.  

His death has sent me back to that January, revealing the layers I've managed to put between the sorrow and my everyday life.  It was never any one thing.  It was everything and nothing and things I couldn't explain (I know that CTG sometimes showed up in the niche across from the couch on which I lay for 14 weeks).

Through it all, I knew that Director Mueller was doing what needed to be done, the way it needed to be done.  I hope he knew how much that meant to us.

He was a true public servant.  The world is a lesser place without him.  May his memory be a blessing.

Painting Pots

It was approaching 100 degrees.  There wasn't a cloud in the sky.  There wasn't a breeze to be found.  

The Assistant Principal addressed each group of scholars as they left the cafeteria and were lined up along the garden wall. Don't stay out in the sun too long.  Play under the solar panels or in the shade near the K-1 building.  

I put up the umbrella in the garden.  We still have no water to keep our plants alive, so we didn't stress the spinach and celery by picking off leaves and sharing them with friends.  Instead, I got out the paper plates and the acrylic paints and the tiny paint brushes and the dozens of ceramic pots Rillito Nursery donated last month.  

The gardeners did the rest.

They wanted to take them home, for their brothers and mothers and grandmas.  But, we are saving them as gifts for the teachers and staff as an end of year gift from Grandma's Gardeners.  It's a secret.  Don't tell anybody.

By the time the final whistle blew for the 5th grade to line up, we had nearly 50 painted pots drying along the edges of the old garden bed.

Once we finish painting the rest of them we will fill them with soil and seeds and create a living thank you note for everyone who gets paid to make Prince Elementary as wonderful as it is.

Grandma's Gardeners can hardly wait.
 

And, Once Again

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, here in the circus we're calling American Governance right now, our leader is dancing on the grave of one of the most honorable, kind, sincere, sensitive, smart people I've ever had the joy and honor to meet, more than once.

In a terrible moment, he was a north star.

I have a proper tribute coming (tomorrow?) but this asinine, hurtful, mean, petty man must be called out.  This cannot be normalized, sanitized, dismissed.  It is out there and it's awful and I just had to say it.

On the flip side, I have now given myself permission to use his words , with a small grammatical change, when he is at death's door.  I'm not waiting for him to be completely gone.  I want him to know how I feel.

Good, I'm glad he's dead. He (Donald J Trump) can no longer hurt innocent people!  

Sorry

It started when Siena ran Duke ragged. It ended when VCU sent North Carolina packing and St. Louis sent Georgia home. 

In the middle, there were moments of bliss and moments of frustration and, once again, I was reminded that reputation takes you only so far in March Madness. 

The mid-majors want to play with the big boys.  Charles Barkley still loves our Arizona Wildcats (there are lots of Wildcats in the brackets; one must be precise).

So a day full of basketball preempted my blogging.  I'm sure I'm find some time this weekend to type some more.... although,  be warned,  it will probably be about basketball. 

I love this time of year!

Did You Ever Just Want To Be Bad?

This afternoon TBG and I watched Barbara Stanwyck sleep her way to the top in Baby Face.  I've never wanted to be a brazen hussy more than I do right now.

She started out poor and abused, found a drunken mentor who encouraged her to broaden her horizons, and took off with her maid for the big city.  She flirts with a policeman, seduces an office boy, and as the camera shows us from the outside of the bank building, she works her way higher and higher.

Her clothes and jewelry get better and better.  Her apartments get bigger and bigger.  Her maid wears furs and is really more a companion than a servant.  She breaks hearts and lives and careers along the way, but none of it stays with her.  

It's the little things that make Ms Stanwyck and the movie so special.  How her hand lingers in his before she sweeps it away.  How she perches on his desk.  How she turns down fabulous offers with a smile and a smirk.  

Men become obsessed with her, can't live without her, wine and dine and dance with her, and she's above it all.  Her mentor sent her a Nietzsche quote reminding her to follow her own path without sentimentality, and she abandons the man who truly loves her to keep her jewels and bonds and cash.

She struggles while wearing ermine and diamonds and silks, drinking champagne and smoking French cigarettes.  She lounges on love seats with a sensuousness that is tangible all the way here on the couch.  Her hair is a marvel of mousse and curling irons.

The plot moves on to the obvious, pre-code redemption, but it's only marginally believable.  The greedy, selfish, social climbing, heartless girl shines through until the end.

Having spent 50 years happily married to one man, I had a great time spending 2 hours inhabiting the world of a wanton slut who did what she had to in order to find a better life.  And Better just kept getting Better.  I looked like a lot of fun, with very little emotional consequences.  

Every once in a while, I like to toy with the idea of talking a different path through life.  This afternoon, naughty looks very attractive.

I Really Do Love My Husband's Girlfriends

For the backstory, click through to this post.

I was the guest of honor at lunch today, and I've been smiling about it ever since.  There were gifts.

TBG and I chose the venue, not knowing that our favorite Mexican restaurant would be hosting what appeared to be the entire population of Northwest Tucson.  We gathered on and around the chairs on the edge of the small lobby, chatting up a storm.  

TBG sat quietly, as is his wont.  He wasn't uncomfortable with the silence or the conversations swirling around him.  He was, as I knew and he admitted through gritted teeth, practising the virtue of patience. 

He's never been good at waiting; it's the part of travel that annoys him the most.  As for waiting in a restaurant?  Not gonna happen.  But this was organized by The Girls, so he sat and stewed.  No one noticed. 

After about half an hour, I decided to evaluate our chances of being seated in a reasonable amount of time.  The manager said that he couldn't guarantee it.  I reported back and we all agreed that we needed a new plan.

The closest esablishment with food was quickly agreed upon.  Transportation was arranged and executed in a timely and organized fashion.  We arrived within a minute of one another, settling into a corner booth by the window around a five sided circle.  Everyone could see and hear everyone else; the conversations began, seemingly uninterrupted.

While we waited for seven glasses of water to appear, I opened my gifts.  This was a lengthy and delightful process.  It did nothing to speed the appearance of our waters, and by this time we were parched.  The restaurant wasn't crowded. There were two servers and at least two cooks in the open kitchen window.  It was, as so much of life is these days, inexplicable.  

The waters came, we ordered, we waited, we saw the food come up on the kitchen ledge, we waited, and then our food arrived, around the table in exactly the order we'd placed them.  Someone asked for an ice tea and that derailed the project for a bit, but otherwise it was a surprisingly efficient process.  

The food was good.  

And then we were done.  While waiting at the first place, TBG suggested that we do the talking part at the beginning instead of the end of the party. We were sitting and talking while we waited anyway, and not everyone might have an unlimited amount of time.  So when we were done we were done. We paid our separate checks, handed out like the food, around the table and in order, hugged and left.

It was the casualness of the whole afternoon that entranced me.  These are smart, accomplished, interesting women I would never have met on my own.  They have welcomed me into the fold.  At a time when my own social circle is an ever diminishing group of souls, it's a special pleasure to have a table full of new and wonderful girlfriends.... especially because they were my husband's girlfriends first.  

I Had An Idea

I was excited to type about it.

My computer was fully charged.

And then, there was this:

Updates underway.  You are (insert scrolling %'s)) there.

           Please keep your computer on. 

Well, of course I am keeping my computer on. I have something to say and this is the place to do it.

And so I watch the dots go round and round as the %'s get bigger and bigger and then, finally

You're 100% there.

Please keep your computer on.

As Inigo Montoya says, I do not think that word means what you think it does.  To me, 100% is everything.  If I am at 100% then I'm through.  I shouldn't have to wait for anything else, right?

Apparently, my operating system operates within a different framework. It probably means that the updates are downloaded, which is confusing in and of itself.... up and down have such screwy meanings in the interwebs.  To me, it means that I still have to wait.

And wait I did.  The screen went blank then told me, again and again and again,

You're 100% there.

Please keep your computer on.

I didn't feel like I was 100% anywhere, but I was obedient and didn't close the laptop or shut off the power.  I waited.  And, as I waited, I was distracted by MS NOW regaling me with FFOTUS's bragging about his beautiful ballroom.  I went down a rabbit hole of soldiers dying because he chose to send them to war as he's decorating something no one wanted or needed.... kinda just like his war.

And now that the screen is returned to my control, I have totally forgotten my great idea.

Alas.  Another dream FFOTUS smashed. 

 

 

 

 

 

Random Thoughts From TFOB

The annual Tucson Festival of Books happened this weekend.  There are stuctural issues (getting tickets,  parking, old people walking long distances) but it's still my favorite weekend of the year.  The lineup of authors was skimpier than in years past, but I managed to find sessions that appealed to me.  Here are some snippets.

*****

John Scalzi had the crowd eating out of his hand before he sat down, showing off his new UofA chapeau and complimenting the Wildcats on their victory the night before.  It was a room filled with rapt fans; their eyes never left his face.

"Loyalty and ruthlessness is my life."

*****

The difference between science fiction and fantasy?  According to three writers in the genres, it's Sandals vs Robots.

*****

Tochi Onyebuchi, who's written Captain America and Black Panther movies, said he turned to fantasy/sci fi because everything he was writing aboout turned out to be about race and he wondered if he could turn those ideas into more than a movie.

How does he find the heroism?  "When everything is awful, what do you do in the cave of that?  That's where you find the heroism.  Make the phone call even though it won't make a difference."

I suddenly felt a lot better about my Congressional phone calls.

*****

The panel with Aaron Davis, Jacob Soboroff, and Miranda Spivack on Investigative Reporting was almost as depressing as the one with Mr. Davis and his colleague and co-author Carol Leonnig.  Both talked about the shitshow that is American government these days and in the last few years.  

The second panel included one of the most articulate and disheartening speakers at the Fesitval.  Lisa Graves served as Chief Counsel for Nominations on the United States Senate Judiciary Committee under Senator Patrick Leahy.  She knows where the bodies are buried.  Here are some of her pearls of wisdom:

"John Roberts is not a centrist.  He is and has been a man promoting a right wing agenda. The Supreme Court is an appendage of FFOTUS's political agenda."

"Merrick Garland didn't respond to the facts that were available to him.  He was too deliverate and slow; people who knew im though he was a poor choice for AG.  He had noble intentions, but he was scared, worried about his reputation. "

"He was commanded to faithfully execute the law.  That shows up twice in the Constitution.  The framers did not give the president immunity; no one is above the law.  John Roberts orchestrated that decision and broke the rule of law in America."

*****

All three of them agreed that DOJ officials, in hindsight, recognized that they made a mistake by going from the bottom up in the January 6th prosecutions.  They began with the rioters instead of the former President.  By the time they realized it, it was too late. 

*****

The final session I attended was with Erik Larson.  He began as a journalist but moved on to books that "animate the historical period."  

"The more I learn about a person the less I like them.  I couldn't be a biographer."

"Rabbit holes are my life."

"You can't bring contemporary judgements to things that happened in the past."

"The Civil War was about slavery.  If anyone tries to tell you it was for states' rights, smack 'em."

*****

The Festival is free.  There's something for everyone.  If your travels bring you to Tucson in mid-March next year, you ought to check it out.

Ciscomani's War

I called the Tucson office this morning, in the ten minutes I had before Pilates.  The usual young man answered the phone.  I stated my name and asked how his day was going.  That was the last pleasant moment of the conversation.

I told him how deeply disappointed I was in my Congressman's nay vote on the War Powers Resolution.  You can imagine all the points I made - the cost in human lives, the lack of proper intelligence, the money spent on weapons instead of food here at home - and you can imagine my surprise when he offered to read my the Congressman's statement on the war.  

I'm reprinting it so you can snort along with me.

Today’s action by President Trump sends a clear message: the Iranian regime’s aggression and destabilizing threats will not go unanswered. For decades, the Iranian regime has funded terror, attacked our allies, and threatened American servicemembers. President Trump and his administration have continually been seeking peace, but Iran chose escalation. Protecting American lives and interest must always come first. I stand with our troops and remain committed to holding this dangerous regime accountable. May God protect our servicemembers and bless the United States of America.

First of all, he posted it on X.  Just clicking through to it made me nauseous.  I haven't been there since Musk took it over.  The propriety of using social media to make his opinions known is a battle I know I've lost but I will continued to fight.  The fact that there is no link to it, no reposting of it, no mention at all of it on his official website, even when I searched for Iran, tells me that I'm either too old for this world or he isn't interested in officially posting his thoughts.

I listened to his staffer until the end.  He added his own opinon - that it was time to take these awful people out, that we were in imminent danger, and no, Israel did not make us do it.  

I asked him if he'd seen Wag the Dog.  I wondered if this was just another distraction from the news that FFOTUS punched a 13 year old girl in the head when she bit his penis.  He said he hadn't heard that (does he live under a rock?) and he isn't sure that it is true.  

I thanked him for his time and wished him, once again, a good day.

He didn't change my mind and I didn't change his.  But he had to listen to me and write down my concerns and for me, this morning, that was enough.

An Arrogant Ask

This showed up among my texts today

Susan, I'm AZ State House Leader Oscar De Los Santos, and I just stood up to DHS Secretary Kristi Noem. Here's what happened.

Kristi Noem just visited Arizona to push for the SAVE Act, Trump’s voter suppression law that blocks married women who changed their names from voting unless they get a new birth certificate.

She called our elections an “absolute disaster,” repeating false claims about widespread voter fraud by undocumented immigrants. 

But when reporters and I asked for examples, she couldn’t name a single one. 

This is embarrassing and disgraceful, but it's also dangerous. Arizona is a swing state, and the 2026 and 2028 elections could come down to just a few votes here.

Susan, that's why we need to elect leaders in our legislature who will fight to protect our election laws and our democracy. Will you chip in today to help us elect a Democratic majority in Arizona? odls4az.us/0311a?t=qeGoWs
Text STOP to quit

This is what I replied.

Typical DCC verbiage.  Noem is a nothing now. What did you do to stand up to Arizona sending our ballots to DC for investigation??? Nothing.  No money for useless people doing nothing to save our democracy.  

I'm sure no one will read it, but it made me feel good to write it.

 

His War

We've already won in many ways, but we haven't won enough.

Those ships should go through the Strait of Hormuz.  There's no danger.

We have enough oil.  No one should worry.

FFOTUS via MSNOW

I'm sorry to inflict that upon you.  I am.  

But this post was to be about his inability to calm even the calmest of Senators; the moving of the Overton Window to make saying the Department of  Defense War commonplace; and the general terrifying-ness of the whole situation being run by a man who used to (sic) drink his lunch supervised by a small man who punches little girls in the head when they bite him.  

(Until I see the FBI's handwritten notes disputing the girl's claims, yes, I'm believing her.)

One wants to dispense with silly rules of engagement.  The other .... the personification of evil, unable to see beyond himself.  Never having faced consequences, he bumbles on and on.

Cuba is next, unless he decides to cancel the mid-term elections first. 

I can't believe I'm typing this, but I am.  

Teaching Plant Science

Once again, I broke out my folder and organized my mind for a presentation to the 5th grade.  From pollination to photosynthesis, with a slight diversion into human biology around the whole seed/embryo/ovule situation, we covered the life cycle of the plant.  

There's a test on the basics coming up soon, and I was entrusted with the responsibility of preparing them for the plant part.  Teaching to the test isn't something I love, but it was a useful rubric for a rookie. I looked at the sample questions, reviewed the information I've collected over the years, and consulted with my handwritten suggestions to myself.  

I was ready.

Starting at 9am, I had 45 minutes with each of three groups of scholars displaying varying degrees of interest. Some were totally engaged, willing to try even if the answer wasn't at the tip of their tongues.  Some were delighted to be chosen for the starring role of Plant With Roots.  Some had very interesting questions and observations, some were just trying to stay awake. 

In the past, I've brought celery from home to show them xylem and phloem in action.  This year, we had celery growing right in Grandma's Garden.

We also had the dill that I let bolt.  The flowers were a perfect demonstration of pollination; the bees were busy.  The desert marigold offered anthers filled with pollen; I invited them to visit over the week to see how much has been transferred by those busy bees.  

We finished the lesson around the mandarin orange tree.  It is filled with flowers and buds and one very small green fruit which I've named Fred.  The stages from bud to flower to fruit were easy to see.  It was a lovely way to end the class.

Even with an hour between the second and third groups, and fueled by a DQ strawberry milkshake, I was physically exhausted.  Our teachers are vastly underpaid.

Random Thoughts

That's all I have these day, random thoughts. 

*****

I've gone a week or more without a good book to read; the library's Lucky Day shelf has been empty all month.  I found Bill Clinton's collaboration with James Patterson on the Large Print shelf at my last visit, though, and it's just perfect.  

The story is so light it practically floats which fits well with my inability to think deeply right now.

*****

Billions of dollars of ammunition are being rained on Iran instead of being shipped to Ukraine.  The start of this war was triggering for Queen T, whose brother has been living under constant bombardment for four years.

This is something that I cannot think about without spiraling down the rabbit hole.

*****

TBG and I have been watching old tv shows.  The sartorial choices of the 1970's - long pointy collars on men's jacket and overlapping shirt lapels on Columbo just now - are striking.  The writing - Have Gun Will Travel - is often very good.  

We definitely agree on one thing above all - Ward Cleaver is a terrible father.

*****

The International Fellowship of Christians and Jews (and no, I'm not linking to them) wants money to send supplies to those suffering in Israel.

They always forget to say that they need all those suffering souls to gather in Israel in order to facilitate the Rapture.  They also forget to say that those suffering souls - Jews - are not invited to their hereafter.

*****

Honey Bunny called us this morning, full of things to tell us as she ate pretzels and spinach quiche for breakfast.  Now that she's moved up to the big kids' room her language has exploded.  

Our plaintive Honey Bunny where are you going inquiries when she suddenly disappeared to retrieve a treasure to share are much more grown up right now.  Wait there.  I'll be right back.  

She knows we'll wait.... for a long long time.