The Burrow

I know some pretty fabulous women.  Really, I do. Roomie started her new job today, a job she pursued over many long months of unemployment.  She was resolute and resourceful and always up-beat.  If she was worried she didn't show it.  If she was frightened we never knew it.  She was the party planner, gift organizer, grandma-extraordinaire she'd always been, and we were lucky to be the beneficiaries of her love. Mei-Mei deals with brain surgery and a job she hates and her face is wreathed in the glow of those who are loved.  The man in her life stepped up to the plate in a big time way and the joy is contagious.  She, like me, battles demons of her own, beasties lurking just beneath the surface, ready to pounce without a moment's notice.  We both do our best to pretend they aren't there.  Most of the time we're successful. When I fail, it's nice to know she's at the other end of the ether. My still-blond-new-old-friend sent an email th...

I had to write it.  I couldn't put it off any longer.  My guy at the DOJ has been respectfully reminding me that the US Attorney and the Attorney General were waiting to see if I wanted to weigh in on the death penalty. In reality, I didn't want to.  I wanted to ignore the whole situation.  I wanted not to care. But, as I've said before, when the People of the United States prosecutes your offender I believe that there is an obligation to show up.  So, I went to the arraignment.  One purpose was to desensitize myself to his presence.  The more important reason was the fact that it was happening at all.  There was no lynching, no mob violence at the scene.  We are an orderly people, governed by the rule of law, and, as a (n unwilling) participant I had to go. I knew then that I'd have to write something about his fate.  Did seeing him in person make a difference?  I didn't consider that fact before choosing to attend the arra...

Next Monday afternoon I hope to be able to report that Dr. Boaz has released me from my non-weight-bearing status.  My speculation is that physical therapy will be ordered; pilates and yoga... probably not. These last 7 days are going to be special.  The temptation to rush the healing, to lean on my right side just a little, to wonder if the bone cells really do need the last few hours to heal themselves properly - it's like smelling fresh out of the fryer donuts dangling just out of reach.  I am so tired of being dependent. Dr. Boaz isn't concerned about my redder than the other foot as long as it doesn't hurt and the temperature doesn't vary.  Apparently, I still have vascularity issues.  Who knew?  His nurse asked me if it was less colorful first thing in the morning, but I never remember to look at my foot first thing in the morning so, once again, who knew?  I am not used to my body playing tricks on me.  Then again, I've never been sho...

We weren't friends in high school; I'm not sure she knew who I was back then.  I certainly knew who she was.  She commanded the hallways as she passed through them, her long straight blond hair swishing perfectly behind her.  We weren't in any classes together, but she was always in my consciousness.  She was, as they say, a presence. I hadn't given her a thought until we sat across from one another at a reunion dinner a few years back.  The conversation was random and wine fueled.  Stories were shared, most all of them flattering to the teller.  Hers was one of confusion and consequences and love, lots and lots of love.  It was personal and revelatory and I was hearing it.  At the other table sat the girls I remembered, the ones I sat next to in class, the ones who thought they knew my story as I thought I knew theirs.  Here at this table, no one knew me.  I was as foreign to them as they were to me.  So I listened....

I couldn't say it better myself.  Turn the sound down low if you are at work, and spend 3 minutes and 11 seconds with these men, these ordinary yet triumphant men.    And now that you have the general idea, watch it again.  Feel your smile broaden. And don't worry, it's okay to be teary.  It's just a little bit dusty at your desk today. When people ask me to explain my sunny attitude, I stumble and fumble and I'm never quite sure that I am conveying what I really want to say.  I'm living a reality without the luxury of observing it from afar.  I am in the center of a maelstrom of good wishes and court proceedings and out of town visitors.   I am the calm in the eye of the storm.  Everyone is watching, wondering, worrying, hovering over and about me.   I am alive.  That's about as far as I get in terms of deep thought on this issue .  That alone is enough to keep me occupied, it seems.  The citizen heroes, ...

I'm up before the sun comes over the Pusch Ridge, startled by the sudden brightness as the first light hits the window in the library. I'm thinking of you, denizens, and wondering how your day has started, wondering what I can tell you about mine. Billy Collins says it better than I ever could so please, enjoy the words of my favorite poet describing exactly how I feel about you all right now: A Portrait of the Reader with a Bowl of Cereal Every morning I sit across from you at the same small table, the sun all over the breakfast things— curve of a blue-and-white pitcher, a dish of berries— me in a sweatshirt or robe, you invisible. Most days, we are suspended over a deep pool of silence. I stare straight through you or look out the window at the garden, the powerful sky, a cloud passing behind a tree. There is no need to pass the toast, the pot of jam, or pour you a cup of tea, and I can hide behind the paper, rotate in its drum of calamitous news. Bu...

Bloggers are a solitary bunch.  We sit at computers and type to friends we've never seen nor can ever hope to see.  We read one another's work and admire and comment and wonder - what is she really like in person? Yesterday, Chicago Gal and I found out.   Becca invited me to a Mom It Forward meet-up.  That sentence can be parsed into an entire post of its own : she left the initial invitation in a long comment available to the eyes of anyone who took the time to read it; she's a young mom with a great camera and she lives here in Tucson but our lives don't intersect anyplace except in the blogosphere; Ashleigh Burroughs captivated her but she invited Suzi to the event; Mom It Forward is a great name but what is it?; a meet up??? How cool have I become?  First Alice Cooper, now a 21st century be-in .... younger readers can click over to Wikipedia for insight into the 60's version ... I am on the cutting edge here, denizens. After milk shakes and fries a...

The Cornell Alumni Magazine , after reporting that Gabby and I are recovering apace (seriously..... I'm a news article in my alumni magazine... this just keeps getting stranger and stranger....) went on to profile two other alumna, Michelle Rhee (former head of the DC public school system) and Randi Weingarten (president of the American Federation of Teachers).  Two smart women, two very different ideas about what's right and what's wrong.  ***** Arizona's legislature is on a rampage, reducing its contribution to public education and cost-shifting much of the rest to the counties.  My school district's latest budget update* includes these delightful tidbits: General Fund revenues have declined by one‐third in the last 3 years FY ’11 shortfall estimated at up to $(825) M followed by $(1.4) B in FY ’12 – excludes more than $1 B in suspended funding formulas Did you notice that last phrase?  That's more than $1,000,000,000,000 of unfunded mandates, $1 Billion...

To Those of You Who Hate the Sports Posts:  Just read the highlighted portions below.  That should be enough to make you sound well-informed if you are asked to participate in a conversation about the college basketball tournament.  If even that is too much for you, come on back tomorrow for a non-sports experience.  ***** Once again, perforations notwithstanding, I offer my services as Sportscaster for the Uninterested.   I promise that this post will allow you to participate in any conversation which touches on the start of the NCAA (National Collegiate Athletic Association) men's basketball tournament, usually referred to as March Madness. After the first night, I was leading the family pool by 25 percentage points.  Big Cuter is in London instead of on the phone with us his Hoyas play a lackluster first half in their first game..... taking place in the second round.  Were he available, I am certain that I could tell you where I stand on thi...

How to locate a fabulous, indoor, airy, high ceilinged venue for the kids' wedding.... said venue to cost less than a semester's tuition. How to reorganize our files, which have been duplicated and lost-then-found and are currently over-flowing.   How to thank my high school classmates who have made a 70+person donation to Christina-Taylor's Fund .  Handwritten thank you's are a given; there ought to be something more that I can do. How to get around my yard next week when Ernie and his guys come to spruce it up.  How Reggie spent a week with us and never heard that Little Cuter and SIR were getting married. Whether or not I think the Attorney General should seek the death penalty in US v Loughner. Is it any wonder that I cannot start to think about writing a post today?   Everything else seems trivial in comparison to the last item on my list. Everything on that list is worthy of consideration.  I can't get started on any of them, either. ...

There have been many celebrations and remembrances and convocations.   Concerts have been held.   T-shirts have been printed for races for ceremonies with the President and for those concerts The events have been large and well-attended and recorded for posterity on video and still cameras alike.  Attendees arrived early to secure seats.  Microphones were used.  Sometimes there was a JumboTron.  There were always some tears and there were always some smiles and some of the faces began to look familiar.   Today was something different. Without much publicity, without any fanfare, 2 film makers from Maui dropped by Northwest Community Park this morning.  They are driving across the southern part of America, planting native trees and wishes written on pieces of a brown paper grocery bag they thoughtfully provide.  The hope is that the tree and the wishes will both flourish and grow. They brought with them the velvet m...

There are many things I still cannot do.  I can't drive or sit on the ground or place the soles of my feet against one another.  I cannot reach the top shelves of my closet or pantry or refrigerator.  I cannot kiss TBG without grounding myself first - the shocks after pushing the wheelchair to his side are memorable, to say the least.  I cannot clean up the mess on the desk or the floor in the library because I can't reach and grab and cart and carry.  Take a look; it's becoming dangerous in here: I can't bring Christina back, nor repair Gabby's brain, nor mend the hole in Mavy's heart.  If I could, I would.  But I can't. It's all too easy to let my mind take me to the dark places.  Light reading is all that I am good for; anything that requires thought or which borders on the macabre lights up centers in my brain which are painful and scary.  Concentration is often spotty, and my ability to ward off hurtful notions is far from robust....

Not-Kathy signed on to SuziSit at the Tucson Festival of Books last Saturday.  Her mom, Ernie, came along, too.  The three of us, along with about 40,000 other Tucsonans, wandered through white tents and books in print and electronic books and jugglers and mariachis and The Berenstain Bears.   The sun was out, a breeze was blowing, and the UofA students were on Spring Break, leaving their beautiful campus for us to enjoy.   Just another wonderful reason to be in Tucson. Parking was more onerous than any of us had expected, but Not-Kathy took charge and thanks to Ernie's yellow Sam Hughes permit, we were on the Mall only 10 minutes later than we'd hoped to be.  Entering through the kids' area, a school chorus provided the soundtrack as we strolled/rolled past a hands-on physics experiment involving a giant yellow I-beam and a movable fulcrum.    It was full but not crowded until we got to the Arizona Star's tent.  They were three ...

I had a more lighthearted post scheduled for Monday, but I've been transfixed by the images coming out of Japan and I just can't be that carefree right now.  Heidi's Youngest Child is a working artist in China; he landed at the Tokyo Airport 10 minutes before the first quake hit. I do not like seeing "the ceiling that almost fell on me" pictures. Heeding his mother's urgings, he's trying to come home.  It's terrifying.  Once again, as Jerry calls it, The Horror. CNN ended a report with "come Hell or high water" ... and the video was of just that.  6 miles in from the shoreline, tsunami driven cars and boats and houses were lined up in a mishmash of recognizable shapes along the side of the road. For context,  I went to San Francisco - the street looked just like Geary where Little Cuter and some girlfriends and I had real Russian Jewish deli a decade or so ago. I can only imagine the misery and pain of those who are awaiting word from...

Alice Cooper posed for pictures.  Jackson Browne hugged me.  Graham Nash thanked me for being there. It was quite a night. Second row from the stage, on the end, my wheelchair and Concert Buddy and I grooved and rocked out and sniffled.  I did a little sobbing and lots of hugging; Concert Buddy was amazed at the number of people who felt the need to touch me.   The woman who saved my life by staunching my leg wound found me and embraced me and shared the love over Little Cuter and SIR's engagement.  Mavy introduced me to her grandson - her date for the evening since her husband died at the event which was the genesis for this concert.  Ozomatli on the stage; dead friends in our hearts. It was quite a night. I had my own personal security guard - a moonlighting US Marshal who had seen me the day before at the Federal Courthouse.  We agreed that this was much more fun.  He transported me safely back and forth from the arena to the Hospita...