The Burrow

G'ma used to say that the only way to grow zinnias without them getting moldy was not to plant zinnias at all.  They must be watered from the bottom, keeping the leaves dry. Even then, it's touch and go whether they survive. It's another story here in Tucson.  Our dry heat and the winds stirring up the monsoon seem to have made mine impervious to rot. Just take a look:                                                        The blooms are prolific.   They also change color as they age.  See for yourself:                                                                     The deeper color fades as the blos...

Trump endorsed candidates are falling like flies.  The Bulwark posited that Democrats are peeved that the most MAGA and thereby most vulnerable candidates lost in their primaries.   Natalie Harp's delusional attachment to FFOTUS - the press refer to her as his security blanket - is occupying a bigger piece of my brain than I usually allow FFOTUS to inhabit.  But this is just delicious, so I'm giving it space, for now.   Alexander Vindman, the party's choice and presumptive winner, lost to a Democratic Socialist, who's at odds with that party.  AOC is the front runner for 2028 according to polls taken way too far out to be credible.  Chuck Schumer's removal as leader is the cornerstone of campaigns across the nation.  Mamdani's insistence that second home owners pay a fair tax on their property infuriates the wealthy even as they acknowledge that it would solve a big part of the city's financial woes. If I were an establishment politician, on ...

I was glad that Big Cuter was coming to visit.  I needed reassurance and validation and a second opinion from someone familiar with the history.  I needed comfort and solace and support.   I got the comfort and solace and support.  I got hugs and kisses.  I didn't need a second opinion; things were changing rapidly.    The man who couldn't get out of bed was walking without assistance. The man who pointed instead of talking was using his words. The man who was never hungry was eating every 20 minutes. This is why: Berries all over her face Play Doh Cutlery is optional                                                                        Brother made the ferry and cars for Big Cuter 40 some years ago.  What goes around, comes aroun...

TBG has no energy.  I have no oomph. It's hard to get motivated to do anything at all.  Except when the grandkids arrive.  Suddenly, TBG's playing hide and seek from the couch. I hopped out of bed when I heard high pitched giggling... despite the fact that it was 6:15 and we'd stayed up past 11 to watch the first 3 episodes of Reacher. Oatmeal for the masses. Mandarin oranges for snacks.  Chasing a stuffed smile around the couch.  Searching for Cinderella's missing glass slipper. Jumping on Grandpa's bed.  Giving and getting hugs.       Suddenly,  neither of us is tired. 

For years, asking a clerk or a salesperson or a nurse or a friend for something got you No Problem for a response. It annoyed me, implying that I had asked for something difficult, that the listener would handle the situation, that it was not a problem at all.  But I usually didn't think that my request might be a bother.   May I have ice tea to drink?  Could you hold the door for me?  Can you reach that item on the top shelf? Those are requests.  If I thought they might create an issue I wouldn't have asked.  I didn't want to make a tumult, cause an issue, initiate a problem.  No problem  assumes an issue, one I didn't see, anticipate, or intend to bring to the situation. Spending most of last month sitting with TBG in the hospital, I began to notice a change.  Instead of No problem  people were saying Of course. That's so much nicer, isn't it?  Instead of assuming a problem needed to be swept away, there's an acknowledgement ...

Of late, TBG has not been hungry.  There's no telling from day to day what will work.  Today, cold milk (and sometimes the accompanying Cheerios) was what he craved.  Yesterday, it was flautas from our Mexican restaurant .  He keeps sending me to Dairy Queen for a small chocolate milkshake.  His taste buds never get the message from his brain that says I love this! Drink me!  Instead, two spoonsful in his nose wrinkles in disgust. It's too bad I don't like chocolate... or maybe that's a good thing.  I've been well fed by eating what tastes terrible after two bites.  It makes meal planning very simple. I'm thinking about this because, in bringing out the toys for HoneyBunny and The IVth's visit this week, I came across Junior Kindergarten Recipes For Your Holiday Entertainment.  Created by Little Cuter's class of 5 and 6 year olds in the late 1980's, it's full of gems.  As I ease back into the swing of things, I'm taking a shortcut and sh...