The Burrow

It seems as though I should have something profound to say. It seems as though my thoughts should have coalesced into something meaningful. It seems as though, having had 357 days to contemplate my fate, my brain should have come up with something. It seems that way.  Unfortunately, the truth is somewhat different. I am no closer to understanding why or how or what if. I have no answers. I cannot predict my mood from day to day, or, often, minute to minute. I have no certainty. Instead of relaxing in retirement I am busier than I've ever been. Instead of anonymity I am a public figure. Instead of a baby blog I have a robust readership and, perhaps, the germ of a book. Instead of wallowing in self pity I have picked up my big girl pants and made lemonade out of lemons. Instead of being a part of someone else's project, I have created my own. I have met the President and the Sheriff and the Attorney General and the Director of the FBI.  I have met T...

Big Cuter left this morning. I was up early for some snuggling and knee rubbing through the grey cashmere throw Carol's Girls sent last winter; I needed as much of my boy as I could get.  Went back to bed as the boys drove off to the airport and rolled over at almost 10.  Facing a kid-less house was not enticing..... nope, not at all. I mailed the 15 pounds of holiday goodies which didn't fit in his suitcase, marveling at the heft of those new t-shirts and gym clothes.  I laughed as I noticed that, for the first time in a long time, I was not wearing an article of clothing I'd inherited from him..... in the 5th grade.... when we were the same size.  He didn't feel so far away  any more. Not remembering that she was taking an extended holiday weekend from work, I wondered why Little Cuter wasn't answering my messages. When her reminder email arrived this afternoon, I could hear her laughing at my forgetfulness." Oh, Mama.... you are so silly... I love you ....

Television programmers channel my wishes during the period of time between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day.  I can turn to any of the many movie stations fiber optically sent to my cable box and find something that I really want to watch.  For example: http://tinyurl.com/755f6r7 Witness for the Prosecution was on this afternoon as Big Cuter and I returned from a fruitless attempt to secure running shoes (for him).  Una O'Connor never liked him anyway , but JES enjoyed the show as I found out when I checked Facebook and found this as his status: " Witness for the Prosecution: great, great film." I love it when those I love are doing the same thing that I am doing albeit thousands of miles away. iolakeatoncelebration.org My Man Godfrey taught William Powell how to be humble and gave Carol Lombard a chance to give full flight to ditzy behaviors.  The notion of The Forgotten Man, living in the city dump in the 1930's, now foreclosed out of his too-big...

Amster let me use her house and her guest list.  All I had to bring were the supplies.  It's a shame that Little Cuter and Elizibeth aren't in town, but we somehow managed to soldier on without them.  It's Hanukkah in the Old Pueblo, and I am the mistress of ceremonies. It started innocently enough, with Amster asking if I was making latkes this year.  Like most of my projects since January 8th, this party grew from family only to half the western hemisphere.  I'm not complaining.  I'm just sayin'.... as Big Cuter has opined from time to time this week. Costco made dinner and provided the potatoes and the vegetable oil and I brought the cuisinart and the plastic bowl and every Hanukah decoration in my possession. It filled the back of the Schnozz. Chanukah-themed Go-Fish, thanks to a timely gift from FAMBB, was a big hit. G'ma and the Littlest Little One kept one another amused while I peeled and sliced and shredded and Amster pret...

We were happy to share Little Cuter and SIR with his family, though we missed her reading The Night Before Christmas last night. Using pre-printed holiday boxes leaves a much neater living room on Christmas morning, although they present fewer opportunities for ridiculous wrapping by the boys of the family and thus fewer opportunities for giggles by the girl(s). Holiday breakfasts of multi-grain french toast and crispy bacon are things of the past.  My guys heated up a frozen pizza and were quite pleased with themselves.  G'ma enjoys gifting more than anyone I have ever known.  The 25 decorated candy canes for the caregivers at the pod castle were dispensed with such glee, such joy, such love and connection that I had a hard time not tearing up. Asking for something you'd like to see me wear results in a full day of "Doesn't she look great?!"   This is a prompt I will remember for next year and anon. Hoarding empty boxes for the might-someday-be-purchas...

Shining lights reflecting the love in someone's eyes. Twinkling lights illuminating ornaments hung with care. Fragrant smells that evoke G'ma's kitchen. Sweet treats made with you in mind. Smiles and laughter and love. Peace on earth and in your heart. Kind words and warm thoughts directed your way. Whatever you are celebrating, I wish you love and joy and gladness . F o n d l y, A s h l e i g h

It must be the holiday spirit.  I cannot seem to find an unpleasant employee or an unresponsive business today.  The lower rack of our dishwasher has the most inefficient set of wheels in existence today.  Held on by puny plastic clips, they tilt and swivel and collapse and fall off with alarming regularity.  They are found in the cavity of the machine as often as they are found sitting upright on their posts on the rack.  TBG is not amused.  Since he has taken over the chore of filling the machine and emptying the machine he has daily interactions with this damn rack .  It has begun to annoy. Finding myself with a spare moment and needing to be at home to meet the window washer and the HVAC guy, I called GE.  Voicemail hell sent me to Monica.  Monica did not ask me to repeat anything I had already punched into the keypad.  Monica did not read from a prepared script.  Monica was there to help me.  She really was.  Un...

Elfing I have no classes this week. Rome has fallen and Consciousness has been explored and the next month is filled with free time and the reading of novels. Ah, would that that were true. I arose this morning with the sun, checked emails and spoke to Little Cuter to ask about her comment on Tuesday's post. By 9 I was going full steam ahead, damning the torpedoes of aches and stiffness to power through the last of my elfing tasks. The tree is decorated and the detritus of that job is stowed in the third bay of the garage, awaiting the refilling and shelf stacking which will come all too soon. The Hanukah box is located and has been evaluated and the menorahs will be atop the counters come sunset. I have just enough candles to get the three of us through tonight's blessings, each with our own Hanukiah (the real name for the candelabra Jews light for the eponymous holiday). There were dozens of brownies in snack bags awaiting their packaging and ad...

Back in 1981,  TBG and I received our evaluations and raises on the same day.  He, working at Goldman Sachs (when it was an admirable place of employment), earned 10 times what I did at the hospital as a social worker.  We explained it thusly - HE was greed; I was social conscience.  It made for a perfectly lovely lifestyle.  We had enough to live on and extra to give away.  Good causes and dear friends and family were the beneficiaries of our munificence, and we smiled and expected nothing except the same in return.  It worked for us. I always expected to live modestly.  Growing up, I knew no one who had more than anyone else.  My town was solidly middle-class, and while some had less no one had lots.  My dad owned his own business, so I never heard discussions of evaluations or compensation reviews or bonuses denied or delivered.  As long as people were buying his wedding dresses we had food on the table.  When they st...

Brownies cannot be created without unsweetened chocolate squares so it was off to Wally-World for me today.  The drizzle hadn't started, I was finished in the gym, and it was too early for lunch.  The parking lot was empty; I parked right in front of the door. I found milk for $1.57 a gallon and I smiled in the baking aisle as a mom showed her son how to comparison shop.  Someone recognized me and complimented me on my gait. We commiserated about cold and rainy weather's effect on old and achy bodies as I handed out cards for the Stroll and Roll  and promised them pictures if they came over and said " Hi!"   The tree fit nicely in my trunk and Big Cuter attached the stand, carried it in, and straightened it up before snuggling back down into the corner of the couch, sharing football and brownies with his father. It's a lovely lovely day. When I'm asked for a status update I'm going to put this memory out there like this I am back to having a normal...

I know, I know, I know.  I'm supposed to think of the good they do for the economy.  I'm supposed to focus on the fabulous restaurants which have developed to entertain them.  I'm supposed to smile at the tax revenues and civic good will and I'm trying, denizens, I'm really trying, but it's getting harder with each and every year. We moved to Tucson in July.  No one is in Tucson in July.  There's a family member requiring a visit or a business trip which must be taken or a road trip that conveniently falls in the middle of the summer.  The roads are empty.  I wrote a post card that summer to a friend commenting on the fact that the infrastructure is there though the people are not.  I was often the only car on a four-lanes-in-one-direction through street.  There was no need to speed; the road was my own personal property and I could tool along, enjoying the scenery, trying to figure out where I was.  No one cut me off.  No one d...

My phone does not stop ringing.  My inbox is filled with requests and thank you's and more requests.  Everyone, it seems, is interested in me all over again.... that is, if the media is to be believed.  Jewish tradition delays the unveiling of a headstone for a year... or 11 months... or after 30 days of mourning.... the point is that there is some precedent for commemorating anniversaries within my heritage.  Our family tradition was 11 months later, it seems to me.  The ceremonies were more private than the funerals; most of the mourners had moved on. I, however, am in the center of a maelstrom of media madness because these people have not moved on.  That is to say, they are convinced that the rest of you are as fascinated with this story as they are, because at this point the beginning of January is shaping up to be a pretty boring news period and the Tragedy in Tucson headline draws viewers like moths to a flame. I will say that the only ones who ...

Apparently, one of the side-effects of being shot is the ability to judge children's photographs.  At least that's what Linda Solomon tried to sell me when we spoke last February.  It's as odd to me now as it was then.  Yet, somehow, without my quite knowing exactly what was happening as it was happening, I found myself agreeing to meet her at an elementary school the following Tuesday afternoon.  This is a woman to whom it is impossible to say "No." Getting there was no mean feat.  It required a driver on each end, prophyllactic pain control, dressing comfortably yet tv-apropriately, and finding footwear that would support but not burden me.  It required rearranging my nap schedule (do not laugh - naps are very healing) and insuring that someone would be home to accept our daily dinner donation.  I had to gather strength to hop with my walker all the way from the parking lot through through the front lobby and into the first conference room on the...

When Big Cuter was 4 months old we signed up for a Mommy and Me class.  It was self-preservation on my part; the class was held from 3:30-5pm.  Appropriately, it was named  The Witching Hour Class.   Unless I'm on a beach surrounded by those I love, late afternoons are my sorriest time of day.  I can rev up again around dinner time, but you really don't want to be around me as the day is winding down.  It's winter-time here in the desert southwest, which means I have 6 weeks to wear all my woolens and all my jackets and all my sweaters before teh temperatures wend their way back up to the 70's by February.  It was in the 50's this afternoon; I wore pants, fleece lined boots, a flannel long sleeved shirt and a polar fleece jacket.  I seriously considered bringing my gloves and my hat. The rain filled the garbage can as it stood, lid flapping helplessly, banging against the container, as the storm went on and on.  The recycling can had be...

I do better when I have a plan.  I like to know where I'm going and how I'm going to get there.  Change my plan and watch the steam come out of my ears..... unless I'm crying and my tears distract you.  I love the anticipation, living the plan,  almost more than I love the actual event - no matter what the event might be. I've spent the past 11 months expecting to be limp-less on January 8.  Really, it was more of a firm belief than an actual plan.  I just knew that after a year I'd be recovered..... fine..... moving on...... unstuck. Alas, the best laid plans of mice and men ...... I'm definitely the mouse in that equation. After 11 months of physical therapy, weight training, stationary cycling, acupuncture, massage and pilates, the only thing I know for certain is that my right leg is shorter than my left leg.  It took me 10 months to accept that fact, 10 months to decide to have the cobbler put lifts in my cowboy boots because velcro-and-th...

In the aftermath of January 8th, I created a non-profit.  Of course, since it takes up to 9 months to process the paperwork to become a 501c-3, right now all I really have is a group of wonderful volunteers, a name, and a website Kathleen,  Wonderful Volunteer We were helping out at a Winter Festival, and we were properly attired.... blinking necklaces included. Martha & Sherry, Wonderful Volunteers We were staffing the craft table, making peppermint candy bows with painted hand prints. Roseanne & Larry & Sherry (again), more W.V.'s A/B agreeing to be photographed. Some of us were more enthusiastic than others.  Notice the little dance step. We were having a really good time. The third graders were exactly the right age for this project . Younger ones needed more assistance. Let us help Do I really have to do this? Sometimes they needed Larry and Mom and Dad and Dad. Some didn't want any help at all. ...

With 5 different family caregivers unavailable, my presence was required after school today.  There's nothing that could have pleased me more. I've been grumpy and limping and not sleeping well at all.  Friends and professionals and professionals who are friends have all been reminding me that anniversaries are hard. They reassure me that the feelings are natural and that I shouldn't be surprised by their intensity.  I suppose that should help.  It doesn't. As the months passed, getting shot felt further and further away.  Suddenly, it feels like yesterday.  I don't know why. Is it that the last time I put out the holiday decorations I was lifting heavy boxes from the top shelf of the cabinet in the garage? Is it that there's snow on the mountain and last year at this time my 6am alarm would have sent me to the Pima Canyon trailhead to see how close to the flakes I could get?  Is it driving past the Reid Park Zoo this morning, thinking back to th...

Mark Kelly is in town tonight.  He'll be talking about his book, and selling the book, and signing the book. He's being interviewed by Ted Robbins, my friend from NPR, the one who put me on All Things Considered.  It's being held at Centennial Hall, on the UofA campus, and the tickets are free.  I'm staying home. Several friends invited me to join them, and were gracious when I declined.  Tickets were held for me and I turned them back.  Home delivery was offered and still I said "No."   I'm taking care of myself tonight. As TBG reminded me, I'd asked him to record Diane Sawyer's interview with the Kelly's last month. They were inspiring at a time when I needed a bit of a push.  Now, weeks later, I still haven't seen it.  . Yet I'm carrying the image of Gabby's smile in my heart each and every day. When I resist getting up from the  couch, preferring to moan and ask for help, I think of Mark encouraging Gabby and I get up an...

I went with the big white poinsettias from Costco this year.   They were at the top of the rolling shelf and I got them down myself. That alone makes them gorgeous in my eyes. I took your advice and repurposed the ice bucket with the smashed lid into a plant holder. This amaryllis is from last year.  It has been living on the edge of the bathtub since the bloom faded last February. Just a little bit of water perked it right up.   The Santas are at the table, wondering where the food is. This see-saw Santa's left most of his reindeer behind.... just ask any 4 year old. I seem to be developing a small but significant collection of ugly reindeer I'm noticing a Santa theme this year. I'm feeling smug about buying a dozen red tapers at the grocery store when they were on sale for $1 each. It was lovely to have brand-new-just-what-I-needed-when-I-needed-it. As Santa's hangin' out above the big screen, I wish you ...