The Burrow

(This post should be less difficult for those of you with phobic reactions to slithery beings.) Our known-them-forever-friends came down from Phoenix last weekend. It always seems strange to say "down from" when referring to that trip; Tucson is 1000' higher in elevation than our low desert neighbor and, even though we are further south, saying "driving down to Tucson" just doesn't seem right to me. Even the highway has issues with the notion of direction; it's I-10 East that takes you here (and on to El Paso and Biloxi and Jacksonville). In any event, they arrived on Friday, and, after cracking open the champagne and snacking on treats from Costco (shrimp and cheese and tri-tip and mini-peppers and a yummy multi-grain loaf of just baked bread) we drove to The Rialto to see Pink Martini and marvel at the ease that is seeing music in Tucson. Park on the street. Stroll to the theatre. Feel comfortable in shorts and t-shirts surrounded by an eclectic mix of...

The Big Cuter is quite upset with my next post. In the interest of full disclosure - dedicated to my big boy and all the rest of you who don't like snakes - today's main post contains photographs of a real live actual living in my yard snake. You can't say you weren't warned.

There have been equity issues raised regarding the Burrow's coverage. It seems that some readers feel that flora have been receiving an unfair piece of the Burrow's pie, and that fauna have been sorely neglected. Herein, I begin to rectify the situation. In my own defense, I must say that it is much more convenient to take a photograph of a flower or a cactus than it is of a coyote. If I am outside and have my camera and one walks by, I have a chance. But opening the door sends them running for safety in the open space across the street. I know the critters are around even when I don't see them, but I'll spare you the scat pictures which would prove me right. Trust me when I tell you that some beasties are carnivores and some are herbivores and that I have the detritus (there's that word again!) to prove it. I've had two encounters with slitherers. The first was early in our tenure in the desert. I was still on Marin-gardening-time, and had thought nothing of go...

I went through my banker's box tonight. The recycling bin is brimming, the stack of bills was smaller than I'd imagined, and now I have several neat piles on my desk. The only casualty of my procrastination was Yo-Yo Ma's December 5th appearance here in Tucson. She who hesitates reads " Sold Out!" on the website. What self-respecting fan of West Wing could have missed this opportunity? Alas. Other than that, I am pretty pleased with tonight's efforts. G'ma's bills/alumni organizations communications/small but pretty calendars/incomprehensible medical statements, including one from a physician I've never heard of or met...... that's the one to tackle tomorrow morning. It's living on the extreme left corner of the desk; if I'm looking at the monitor I'm seeing the pile. Grrr...... who invented peripheral vision??? Yo-Yo Ma is staring at me (reproachfully, it seems to my disappointed eyes) from the far end of the middle series of piles...

(That could actually be the theme of this week's posts, don't you agree?) The Big Cuter kvetched* on the phone last Sunday that I was "the second person today who was talking about Halloween." It's not that he hates Halloween -- it's actually his favorite holiday. It's the fact that it is still September and we should still be in first month of school mode. Rushing from Back-to-School to Valentines Day was not always the norm. When I was a girl (!!), merchants took their time and displayed their seasonal wares during the appropriate season. Holidays were allowed to come and go before their merchandise was discounted. Then, again, it used to be possible to buy a bathing suit in July in New York - now, if you wait that long, you're looking at displays of corduroy car coats and woolen knit mittens. I used to shop at JoAnn Fabrics in Marin for all my holiday supplies. They had shelf after shelf of inexpensive but must have items - wooden scarecrows and h...

Tim Finchem, PGA Tour Commissioner, has to be the least media-savvy talking head I've heard this week. I just listened to him link his organization to the BCS on PTI .. .... " Everyone hates the BCS, but everyone's talkin' about 'em." Wonderful. So what if no one understands it? The rules are there and they're not changing and, hey, any publicity is better than no publicity at all. It was another one of those I can't believe he's saying that out loud moments. ***** The boys were commenting on Suzy Kolber's new hairstyle during one of their frequent "did you see that ????" phone calls last weekend. So much for their consistent response when I'm amazed that they've not noticed a change: "HAIR ??? No group of guys sees a beautiful girl and says 'Great Hair!!'" ******* Why in the world is Brent Musberger still on the air? We remember him from WBBM in Chicago back in the late 20th century (isn't ...

It's 6:43 post meridian as I type this and I am sad. It's getting dark already. Our sun is omnipresent here in the desert southwest, and we come to expect her to warm the driveway as we pad out in our slippers to get the morning paper and to bake G'mas's thin skin in the middle of the afternoon and to reflect off the gas grill as I make a late dinner. I'd gotten used to having her around until 8 or 8:00 every night and now she's not and I'm sad. Summer is really over. The days are getting shorter. And there's way more dark than I'd like. The Big Cuter is in San Francisco now, so we share a time zone in the summer. But we're at the eastern end and he's at the western end and last night he called to tell us that the sunset was gorgeous on a fog-less evening. I was amused that he'd called to comment about the view (remembering his "Do we have to stop and look again " wails from the back seat on car trips) but I was also terminally...

You just never know. In high school he was smart and funny and kind but never really stood out in a crowd. Now, you'd instantly recognize his name. Our parents were better friends than we were; he didn't sign my yearbook. He played basketball and he was good and tall (my favorite basketball coach's quote: "You can't teach height." ) and recruited to play D-I ball, but, after all, it was Marin basketball we'd seen him play. Not exactly The Bronx. Now he's playing right field in the Majors. She was literary editor of the yearbook, and as she inscribed in mine, .." there's always a certain person who we like to talk about." Now she's married to that certain person and her books are in Barnes and Noble next to Tolstoy and Twain. Some I expected to do well - the valedictorian who went on to be an editor of the Harvard Law Review, the hotel magnate's sons who run companies and produce movies. There's comfort in the knowledge that ...

I used to like opening the mail. A letter, a postcard, a sale announcement and the local weekly newspaper accompanying a bill or two, all placed in the mailbox just to the left of the front door, underneath the house numbers. The mailman was a friendly and familiar face. He shared lemonade and iced tea and once I even got to have ginger ale before lunch because he would share it with me. Now, sometimes I get my mail and sometimes I don't because it's mixed up with my neighbors' deliveries. And when it does arrive, it's advertisements for stores I've never heard of and solicitations and bills. And it's the bills I want to talk about. Actually, it's one bill in particular. Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Arizona has raised our premium 9.2%. I just had TBG show me how to figure it out on the calculator (my miserable math skills will make for a very interesting post someday) and it's true. We were healthier last year than we'd been the year before. In fact, th...

The Chief Dispenser of Care at G'ma's pod-castle asked if we had plans for tonight. There were 2 other Jewish ladies in the Community and, if I had no objections, the pod-castle would like to invite the 3 of them to a special Rosh Ha'Shana dinner in a neighboring pod-castle. All on their own, in a decidedly un-religious-though-leaning-towards-Christian environment, they are going out of their way to give G'ma the kind of experience she had when she managed her own living space. They thought it would make her happy. Any doubts I had about the wisdom of this move have vanished. L'shana tova tikatevu - May you have a GREAT new year, filled with sweetness and joy.

I have issues with technology, as I've written about before. The Cuters tell me it's because I don't have patience and I just start pushing buttons...... and don't get me started on TBG's take on the subject. I had the temerity to try to watch a movie on the system in the living room without asking him to set it up for me, and when the sound wouldn't come on we had a few tense moments surrounding my answer to "Did you push any buttons?!?!?!?!????" . Suffice it to say that it's not my long suit. Setting up my fax machine this afternoon was an exciting experience. The packaging was easily removed, and the sticker on the handset came off in one piece, leaving no residue behind . I can't remember the last time I avoided using Goo-Gone on something new. I didn't need any tools to open any of the parts. There was a tear here instruction that was really meant to be torn. There was none of that annoyingly tough plastic that requires a pointy pair o...

I'm getting a little bit tired ...ok, a lot tired..... of the process stories surrounding health care. There are serious issues being discussed behind closed doors, and while I know that we only hear what they want us to hear, and that the media is manipulated by planted leaks and back stories, I'm looking for the investigative journalists who will present a reasoned, well thought out analysis of what's being proposed and who's against it and why. Instead, we are overwhelmed with Rep. Joe Wilson and "You lie!" Parsing the phrase has become a national sport; he didn't actually call the President of the United States a liar, he was only referencing the statement. Sure. Any kid on the playground knows there's really not much of a difference. Of course, that child also knows that you don't call out in the middle of an assembly. It's just not done. And that's where I start and finish with Representative Wilson's behavior. It was " dow...

There's no two ways about it - getting a tooth drilled is creepy. Sure, the hygienist can laugh and say that she and the dentist hear it as "opera... or a cantata" but it's shrill and metallic and loud and in my mouth. It sounds like many things, but music just ain't one of 'em. As a kid on Long Island, we had a family dentist. His office was a short bike ride away; going to appointments on my own was my first really grown-up experience. Down Benjamin Road, then cut through Ellen Terry Drive, which was named for the actress, not some builder's daughter. I liked knowing that. Ride under the giant poplars hiding the too-big-for0-the neighborhood, gated, wonder-who-lives-there house and then cross Brower Avenue. Carefully, very very carefully, looking left then right then right again because there was a triangle one block down that way and cars came from both sides of it and merged in front of the office. For a while, there was a little farm on that triangle...

I thought I'd be bouncing up and down with silly yellow plastic floaty dumb bells. I thought there'd be ladies in bathing caps and lots of good natured sharing of aches and pains. I thought I'd be able to keep up. Wrong. Totally wrong. Not even close. I was humiliated. I had to have someone teach me how to stay underwater and glide. By the fourth of 8 25 yard laps I was pulling myself along the lane divider, trying not to swallow any more pool water. Breathing was a dimly remembered skill, albeit one quite useful when trying not to drown. I knew how to do it - I just didn't have the energy. Breakfast was oatmeal and brown sugar and skim milk and vitamins and bee pollen. It seemed like healthy fuel for a work-out, especially after I'd carbo-loaded on semolina toast with strawberry jam last night. Maybe I should've had some protein - like half a cow? I didn't realize that it was possible for your entire body to be covered in sweat while you were swimming. Mi...

I was reading dooce this morning, following the Little Cuter's advice. If you like my style you might like hers, too. She's younger and cooler and has fewer boundaries between herself and the world than I, but the Cuters got me into blogging by insisting that "you are waaaay hipper than you think you are, Mom" so I'm just going to continue to believe that you are out there and are enjoying the ride. I'm pouting just a little; dooce has lots of comments....... But I can't pretend that I don't understand. Following a blog is not a behavior typically found in my age cohort. Cell phones and texts and emails have maintained friendships over distance and time; my friends and I love the electronic age. It's the intersection of the private with the public that seems to be a stumbling block for us. Updating one's Facebook status is, for most of my friends-of-a-certain-age, a remarkable event. It's not that we're boring or don't have deep t...

I had no specific plans this afternoon except to go through my bills/reminders/fliers... all the detritus now overflowing the banker's box where, having been moved from the desk after accumulating in various piles on a variety of counters in more rooms than you would think possible, they now reside. The box has been yelling at me for a while; looking at it makes me yawn. They called it neurasthenia in Professor Maas's Psych 101 class. The body's uncanny ability to become exhausted when faced with an unwanted task isn't something I've out-grown, unfortunately. Once I get started, I'm The White Tornado (anyone out there remember Mr. Clean ? ). It's the getting started part that gives me trouble. The problem is compounded by a lesson I learned on the job. There were some projects which had taken up permanent residence at the bottom of my Ignore Me At Your Peril box. Over time, I began to notice that if I waited long enough most of the problems seemed to ...

There are flowers all over this city. They adorn tree lawns and entrances to condominiums, sure. But they also line the median strips, nestle next to bus stops, drape over random containers, and hang from baskets on the overpasses. Urbs in Horto....... City in a Garden .... it's nice to find a municipality which is taking its motto seriously. ***************** ****************** ************ Striding out on the lakefront with the Little Cuter and SIR and thousands of others e njoying the sunshine and the breeze, we spent a perfect Saturday afternoon. Found a bench at Fullerton Beach and watched the world go by. The Theatre on the Lake was closed for the season, but a cafe has sprung up on its northeasterly flank. On the patio (which we'd only remembered as a storage area for the theatre's extra folding chairs) was a sound system and a jazz band surrounded by be-bopping fans. Our bench was a perfect perch, not too close, not too far, just comfy enough to rest our weary selv...

I've known her for all but 6 weeks of her 26 years on this earth, and I've loved her for every one of them. Just 4 weeks to the day older than the Big Cuter, she was a girly-girl in love with Ariel who didn't mind getting dirty. Seret taught her to swim, and she was a dolphin. She played tennis in the cul-de-sac and had a stroke to die for. She was brave and thoughtful and curious and the only girl in Play Group. Everybody aways wanted to sit next to her; little boys were bitten over the right to do just that. Her smile lit up a room and a McDonald's commercial and the Jumbotron at Kaufman Stadium*. Through it all, she remained the same wide-eyed kid I'd pushed in a stroller. The Twins thought that they were pretty good baseball players until they caught for her at Stinson Beach. Her dad tried to give them the catcher's mitt, but, hey... we're 13 and totally cool and she's a girl throwing a softball and that lasted exactly one pitch. By the end of her w...

It's raining. The lightning is 2 or 3 bolts at a time, some vertical, some horizontal, some seeming to cross one another. The irrigation system and I both watered this morning, so the ground was ready to send this new moisture deep down to where the root systems live. I wonder where the lizards and the bunnies are hiding. I'm typing during their usual dinner hour and I miss their antics. The ground squirrels have been increasing the size and number of their burrows in the front yard; I'm not worried that they'll get wet down there. I'm watching the places where the water's collecting, and deciding how to berm it once the weather cools off. If I make little aqueducts I can funnel the rainfall to the trees which lie outside the irrigation system's reach. That's xeriscape gardening -taking full advantage of nature's bounty when she deigns to share it with us. In most of the rest of the country, gardeners are making plans to put their beds to rest for th...

I jumped the gun today, and was gently taken to task for it. The whole episode unfolded, quietly and without real consequence, over email. At the end, my correspondent offered an apology for "staying with the process" and that was the first time I felt some urgency to respond. Because staying with the process keeps the wheels running. I love people who follow a process. I don't want to hear about Mussolini and trains. I am not talking about "just following orders" . It's about respect and order and yes, I suppose, about control. But control with the goal of accomplishing an agenda - an agenda that is mutually agreed upon by those involved. One of my earliest memories of G'ma is watching her leave the house for a PTA Meeting with Roberts' Rules of Order, in a red binding with gold letters, tucked securely under her arm as she bent to kiss me good-night. I loved the notion that there was actually a book with rules that told you what to do. I really wo...

There are clouds in the sky over Marana, storm clouds hovering over Safford Peak.... on one side anyway, as you can see. My little piece of the desert is sunny. Blue skies. A slight breeze. And very thirsty plant material gasping for nourishment. I'm doing the best I can with soaker hoses and long deep waterings in the mulch covered wells surrounding the newest acquisitions, but I just can't keep up. The poor crepe myrtle volunteer, usually so perky in the middle of the lantana, is a wilted, wasted remnant of its former vibrant self: I have my portable rain-harvesting system all ready to go. All I need is the rain. ********** The house next door has been all-but-empty for a year, waiting patiently for someone to buy it. So, when I drove by and saw the garage door standing open, and a young man carrying boxes out and into his truck, I called the Sheriff. I was just being a cautious neighbor. The dispatcher was friendly and reassured me that my call was totally appropriate. The o...

I haven't indulged in a good old fashioned rant here in The Burrow for quite some time. Are you ready???????? Once again, Comcast pixilated and froze and fast-forwarded itself through the last 2 minutes of a show. We were just sitting there on Douglas, minding our own business, not tou ching the remote, not un-screwing the cables from the back of the box , just watching the movie when suddenly we had a Mondrian on our wall instead of a flat screen tv. Now, G'ma and I really enjoyed seeing Broadway Boogie Woogie at MOMA back in 2008, but Comcast's lame attempt at replicating it was really lacking.... in style, grace, color clarity and most important of all it was mis-hung - that's supposed to be our TV !!!! Not blobs of color representing reality (sorry Piet) but a real black and white movie on our big, flat screen television set. Naughty words were spoken, I will admit. Groans and frustrated foot stomping behaviors were seen in the area. Angry looks were exchanged, wit...