The Burrow

I'm on my way to Chicago for Little Cuter's bridal shower.  My-friends-who-love-her are putting it on; all we have to do is show up and smile.  I have a new dress.  It's one part of the wedding planning over which I don't have to stress.  Collecting the addresses for the invitations was onerous enough.   We are under the 100-days-til-it-happens mark, and there's a greater sense of urgency to the planning.  There are more vegetables to be tasted and desserts to be considered and I have a few tricks up my sleeve that require some attention.  It's hard to keep smiling when the bride is hundreds of miles away.   We are rectifying that situation this weekend.   I didn't even check the weather in Chicago.  I packed 4 sun dresses in addition to my fancy-schmancy outfit and a pair of shorts and a top or two. Somehow, what should have fit into a cloth bag which hung off my shoulder morphed into a roller bag.... albeit one without the e...

He has been a media sensation since junior high.  He went straight from high school to the NBA.  He's big and he's talented and he's a lightning rod for whatever you think about professional sports. Upset about college players who are "one and done"?  How about a kid who's barely old enough to vote knocking bodies with grown men twice his age?  On the cover of Sports Illustrated at 16, bigger and stronger than anyone anywhere with the talent to back it up, he stayed at home and played for his Cleveland Cavaliers, under the tutelage of Mike Brown, coach and mentor.  factsource.com LeBron's wingspan was on a giant mural gracing downtown Cleveland, visible from the highway as you drove to town from the airport.  Cleveland was in love with their home town hero and he seemed to return the favor.  The city was no longer the mistake by the lake.   It was the home of King James. He had trouble finishing what he started.  He was never the clu...

Big Cuter gave me a short course on the history of the world over lunch at a deli in San Francisco. David McCullough introduced me to the founding fathers and mothers and Jay Winik took me through April, 1865.   Anne Perry  brought me up to the brink and Dorothy Leigh Sayers  explained the period after the Great War, the war to end all wars, the war that brought globalization to a new extreme. I tried to read Gore Vidal's Burr on e summer when I was young; the adults were so brazen and their behavior so outlandish that I never got past the second chapter. I don't remember any of the history I was taught in high school. I never took a history course in college. It took me until my 30's before I read the ancients.  Herodotus invented history, they say, and it was presented to me as such - an invention.  Were the strange and wonderful animals he describes real or were they added to make the text more accessible?  Did the events he recounts happen ...

Aaron Sorkin is back and he's better than ever.  In fact, I think my new favorite four words might be written by Aaron Sorkin.   Did we like the first episode of his new HBO series, The Newsroom ?  We watched it twice last night. Aaron Sorkin is a true American patriot, and his rants on the topic are the stuff of legend, at least in this household.  Democracy isn't easy is the backdrop as I listen to opposing viewpoints.... or try to listen to opposing viewpoints even though all I am offered is screeching on the news and the talk shows.  In The Newsroom , Sam Waterston, outraged, but with a twinkle in his eye, plays the boss who shares my sentiments, exactly.  He creates a show that he would want to watch, a program that is tough and fair-minded and answers the questions he was asking himself, the questions TBG and I ask one another as, once again, the evening news devolves into fluff and nonsense.  Walking into the newsr...

Hate is a pretty strong word for me, but I have to admit that I agree with TBG's pronouncement the other night: "I just hate stupid.  It's bad for business.  It hurts you emotionally.  It makes everything more difficult.  I really hate stupid." I'm not talking about a lack of knowledge or a paucity of information.  I'm not talking about disabilities or unavoidable circumstances or situations where nothing you bring to the table equips you for the job at hand.  I'm talking about stupid. Stupid makes the recovery time twice as long, because first you have to get over the hurt.  You get to rant and rave and feel justified in your fury because all it would have taken was..... and stupid made it not be so.  I end up in the same place, eventually, it is true.  But the aggravation would be lessened if stupid weren't around. ***** I rode a chartered bus to Phoenix on Saturday night, wearing my Cubs shirt and accompanied by 20 members and aff...

My Congressman called me last night.  It was just before 9pm here in Tucson; it was approaching midnight in Washington, D.C. where he's taken up temporary residence while voting on the floor of the House of Representatives.    I know him as Ron, a fellow shootee .   There was awe in his voice as he described himself.  He's busy and he's motivated and he's still the same Ron I know from gatherings of all of us from that day, that ill-fated Congress on Your Corner sunny Saturday morning.  We chatted about the environment vs border security  and the nuance required when making such decisions and we marveled at the fact that we were having the conversation at all.  Strolling into Little Cuter's room, we laughed at how impressed I was with myself.... I must be pretty special if my Congressman calls me at home, right?  Or not, we said, in unison.   He's just Ron, after all.   In the back of my mind, I knew why he was ca...

My sister forwarded me the information : Norman F. Lent, 11 term Congressman from G'ma's Long Island district, died at the age of 81.  He considered himself a moderate conservative , an extinct species as far as I can determine.  He opposed integration in a local school district, co-sponsored the Superfund legislation, worked to liberalize New York's abortion laws, and was prone to such utterances as these: “We continue to play a game of chemical roulette with man’s biological future. We’ve got to stop this.” My memory of his terms in office reflect none of the nuance that was obviously part and parcel of the man.  Instead, I remember sitting at G'ma's kitchen table, red pencil in one hand, Congressman Lent's quarterly newsletter in the other.  G'ma saved them for me.  Together, she at the sink, cutting veggies for the salad she created every single night, I reading aloud and groaning over misspellings and poor punctuation and rhetorical inconsistencies....

I've spent the morning collecting things for a project MOTG and I are creating.  Truth be told, she's doing the creating and I'm doing the collecting, but we're in it together, that's for sure.  I'm in charge of technical details, she's in charge of beauty and artistry and design and composition.  We're playing to our individual strengths, almost without thinking about it.  It just kinda happened this way. I spent last night in the company of JannyLou and her daughters-in-law, celebrating a year of health and well-being.  The girls - mothers themselves but young enough for the appellation in my eyes - were supportive and protective and loving through JannyLou's surgeries and recoveries and re-surgeries and re-recoveries but they never failed to acknowledge the fact that I was there, right next door, as back up.  They were glad to have me close at hand, nearer to a woman they hold dear than their lives would allow.  Their concern, their conscient...

Bunionella and Honch visited for a couple of days in the middle of their road trip.  They've had the top down on the convertible and avoided the interstate highways as much as possible.  They arrived after the rain stopped on Saturday and left this morning after TBG went to spin class. No matter how long they stay, it's never enough. There are some people who know how to maintain long-distance relationships.  I'm pretty good at it, most of the time, but I have sympathy for those who don't invest the time or the effort.  It's hard to stay close when there's distance between you.  Miss Nancy and I hiked every Saturday and Sunday when I lived in Marin.  Sometimes, when I could convince her to cut out early from work, we'd sneak in a Friday afternoon close-to-home adventure.  We talked about everything and nothing.  We shared the contents of our cupboards and our calendars and the love and aggravation provided by our children.  We walked an...

My e-cation was a blessed relief from the superpac ads which bombarded our airwaves in the days leading up to our special election on the 12th.  I had hoped for substance; what I got were slogans.  I absented myself from the television except for bits and pieces of the occasional basketball game.  Commercials were muted, but the visuals were still there..... like these two items, following one after the other...with big bold letters linking Ron Barber to Barack Obama and then... with nary a pause... came Cannibal's Girlftriend Speaks/Live at 10. I went back to my novel. ***** I understand why Little Cuter refused to leave the womb, necessitating knives and surgery and many interesting drugs that morning in May.  Watsu , an acquatic massage experience which takes place, at Canyon Ranch, in a domed and decorated space created to provide as relaxing an experience as I have ever known. At first, it was a little up-close-and-personal for me.  My inner-New-Yorke...

When did my legs start to look like my grandmother's legs? There I was, catching a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror in our suite at Canyon Ranch, asking that question out loud.  " Did you ask me something?" TBG called from the bed down the hall. I suppose I did... but it was more of a question to the gods in the ether, the ones at whom I direct my rage when the ground squirrels nibble up all my portulaca.  I know why it happens... I'm not looking for facts.... it's my younger self exclaiming that it's not fair. It's not that I didn't like my grandmother's legs. They were just as wrinkly as her chest is in this photo of me rejecting ginger ale from a straw in the summer of 1952.  She was in her 60's then, but to me she was just old .   I thought her wrinkles were the prettiest wrinkles anyone ever had.  They were everywhere, as I recall, on her arms and her legs and her bosom. Looking at this picture, I see that she was ...

Chicago Gal, Too  walked over during lunch to laugh at the pseudonym I'd ascribed to our club.  She couldn't keep the giggle out of her voice.  In her inimitable midwestern twang, she told me that she couldn't stop herself, the smiles just kept coming.  That was pretty much the rule this afternoon, as The Happy Ladies Club gathered at Union Public House for a summer luncheon.  The space was formerly occupied by an upscale foodie heaven; Acacia  is now at the other end of Campbell.  We'll be lunching there in July.  Union is more pub than elegance, the food less precious and the floors rough hewn.  We were in the party room in the back, which was bright and cheery and about as noisy as a space could be. The only soft surfaces to absorb the sounds were those we carried with us on our persons.... our tanned and exposed flesh, trying our best to get through 100 degree days with dignity and an absence of sweat stains.  There was a lot of...

I've been remiss, denizens.  Those of you who count on my input to create the illusion of sports patter competence have been left in the lurch this playoff season.  I'm not into hockey, though I agree that the players are fabulous athletes who can do what I cannot.  The NBA has not held my attention since Michael Jordan retired (the second time).  We tried to be Phoenix Suns fans, but they're not a Tucson team, nor are they very good at what they do these days.  We've been fair-weather rooters, latching onto whatever band wagon looks like the most fun. For the NBA championship series, we've become fans of the Oklahoma City Thunder. I've had a soft spot in my heart for OKC ever since Timothy McVeigh tried to rip out its heart and leave a hole in its place.  The town resisted being defined by a tragedy while creating a memorial that left even Charles Barkley speechless.  Sitting at the commentators' table, he could get no further than powerful before ...

This Week at Canyon Ranch said it best.  Last Wednesday, I learned how to coax a hot coal from hand-hewn sticks with this most exciting of outdoors skills.  It really is a true Aha! moment as you connect with the primal thrill of creating fire. No, one of the sticks was not a match. Yes, it would have been just as easy to carry a lighter. But neither a match nor a lighter would have been as much fun.  My face was in a permanent state of grin for the rest of the day.... and the class began at 7am. Yes, I set the alarm on my e-cation.  I set the alarm for 6am, to be precise.  Our room, a fantasy suite with room for a family of 6, was at the top of the property and the lobby meeting place was decidedly downhill.  I was fine, navigating the paths with my hiking poles, as long as I paid attention.  I wanted to be sure that I was fully alert before I ventured forth.  I was the only participant.  I have no idea why anyone w...

TBG and I are back from a week of bliss.  Mel and Enid Zuckerman, founders of Canyon Ranch, treated us to a week of healthy living here in Tucson.  The offer was extended to all of us who were there on January 8th and, eighteen months later, I felt as if I were up to the challenge.  It's a beautiful property - a very big and hilly beautiful property, if the truth be told.  I took my hiking poles and a positive attitude as well as every bit of exercise clothing I owned.  We didn't need anything dressy.  According to Kendal, the lovely lady with the lilting laugh, there were three dining areas; guests are asked not to wear their bathrobes in the main dining room.  Beyond that, it's very relaxed . Relaxed is an understatement.  You have to love a place where the gate keeper tells you to turn right at the shadow... not the stop sign to its right, but the shadow.  From the beginning, we were using a different frame of reference.  It fel...

Ecation Edition.  First Published 3/19/10) Who knew that Antonio Banderas was producing animation? Not I, that's for sure. But he is. In the tradition of Up (if something produced last year can be said to have a tradition) an obviously old person remembers love and lives with loss and makes a decision but someone knows better and then all hell breaks loose. And it's not really their fault. Either time. They had plans and those plans were good and somebody else decided to help. The Lady and The Reaper was nominated for Best Animated Short Film at the 2010 Academy Awards. If you've not seen what we used to call cartoons in a while, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. Watch it..... it's a fast 7 minutes or so... and be sure to stay til the credits have rolled. You'll feel incomplete if you don't. That was fun, wasn't it? Did you see the reaper's last scene to get the incomplete mini-joke up above? Are yo...

cation Edition. first published 6/30/09 Houses with steps are lots more fun than houses without steps. This was pointed out to me by the Big Cuter as we were moving from a multi-level home where his window opened out onto one of the rooftops. How, exactly, did I propose to provide him with a similar opportunity in our new digs? Granted, the chance to scare your parents half to death while you know you are perfectly safe is one of the true pleasures of childhood. Still, I can't say I was all that sad to remove the temptation. Houses with steps can have closets hidden underneath the staircases. Not front-hall closets or linen closets or clothes closets, but closets that hold treasures. Nannie and Grandpaw's was stuffed with carefully folded wrapping paper from celebrations held before the Cuters were born. But in and around those stacks of paper were board games we'd never seen before in boxes which had been repaired with glue and tape and string by Nannie's mother. T...

Ecation Edition : I NEED A HOME TEAM first published 11/5/09 A relative has begun signing her emails "Go Yankees". Conversation at the Happy Ladies Club luncheon today dwelled on Oregon's resurgent football team. Gardeners were meeting for an early dinner and a UofA volleyball game last week. I am bereft. I have no team for which to cheer. I need a home team. I love Peyton Manning, and the Little Cuter has outfitted me with a commemorative shirt but I've never lived in Indianapolis so the Colts can't possibly be my home team. The Cowboys may have been America's Team, but now, I think, the New Orleans Saints have earned that moniker. They are marvelously undefeated and totally fun to watch and it feels good to be able to share successful vibes with The Big Easy, but, again, they're not my home team. Orb Kcrob never wears anything but Michigan t-shirts. It's where he went and he's damn proud of it. I find myself in collegiate ge...

Evacation edition.. see Monday's post for details VOTING WITH G'MA first published 11/3/10 I rode my bike for the first time in a long time today. I had books to return to the library and then I planned to head over to the pod-castle and visit with G'ma. I was prepared - had my helmet and backpack and garage door clicker and cell phone and water bottle - and my new bicycle pump was easy and pouffed those tires up to a nice firm roundness. I set off in the early afternoon sunshine, a slight breeze at my back, coasting down the hill and smiling. Crossed at the green, not in-between, and it was only when the road began its ascent that the fact that the only 2 gears available to me out of the 21 promised by the chains and the cogs on the derailleur and those clickers on the handlebars were impossible and who do you think you're kidding? I heard Jillian Michaels screaming at me to finish the hill finish the hill finish the hill and I did. It took me a while t...