The Burrow

The disposal was making a horrible noise.  It was grinding and complaining and I turned it off as quickly as I could. Making sure that the switch was off, instructing TBG to step back from the toggle and promise to touch nothing, I stuck my hand down the drain.  There are times when his big hands are a help; in this instance, they were a hindrance.  They didn't fit through the hole. There was nothing clogging the rotors, nothing wound around the chopping blades, nothing stuck against the sides. We're pretty careful about what falls down in there, having had a few too many holiday dinners ruined by overloading the system with potato peels. Between the starch and the amount of material I'd shoved down there, motors just gave up and died.  I learned how to use the Allen wrench to reset the machine.  I know how to disconnect the pipes below the sink and remove what might be causing a problem.  None of those tricks worked.  It was time to call for help. ...

Crystal mentioned it yesterday at PT; there's something going on behind my eyes. It's not anything to do with the residue of being in the path of 9mm bullets.  It's not anything to do with my aches and pains. G'ma is fine, or as fine as one can be with dementia and glaucoma and a set of clicking dentures.  TBG doesn't go to the dentist again until October.  The people I wanted to win won in the primary election yesterday and one of them even takes my phone calls.  Life is good. Yes, life is good..... and if it weren't for the fact that 100some people will be partying in my backyard in less than thirty days..... less than 30 days, denizens! It was decided so long ago, she was asked and said yes so long ago, it's been on our plate since so long ago that some part of what's behind the look in my eyes is the fact that the anticipation period is almost over.  I've always liked the part leading up to the event almost as much as the actual party.  Wat...

There was a time, not that long ago, when I perceived these as formidable obstacles. That was before I met  Becky Farley . I used to go to the gym and lift and press half my body weight. Now, walking on this balance beam,  mere inches off the floor, is a major accomplishment. For those of us with a compromised ability to put one foot directly in front of the other, not deviating as we compensate for our disabilities, that little height is a challenge. Becky just laughs and asks me to turn around and try it again, this time with gusto. The gym is furnished with gently used cast offs from Canyon Ranch and local gyms. The bikes may be last year's models, but they are newer than the ones at LA Fitness, my "real" gym. The BoSu (Bottom Side Up) is bouncy enough to repel my good leg and cosset my damaged one.  Becky has me bounding off it, using hiking poles for balance. It's a good thing the floor is rubbery and safe; I've never landed on it but i...

TBG and I were listening to the talking heads on CNN this afternoon, putting away laundry and making snarky replies to the voices when we stopped in our tracks, looked up at the screen... then each other... stunned.  80% of the victims of violent crime in Chicago refuse to cooperate with the police. Amidst an epidemic of deaths and mayhem, only 20% of the victims are helping the police to solve the crime.  As the CPD interviewee ruefully reminded us, it's hard to turn the tide when the victims are hostile witnesses. Hearing that, I had to stop and wonder, were they hostile or were they afraid?  Were they prepared to settle the score themselves, or were they frightened that further damage would be done should they choose to help? Did they feel so uncertain, so insecure, that laying low was their only option? What is it like, being unable to trust the police? Politics aside, I'm making a connection between the people in those neighborhoods caught up in gang violence a...

I used to laugh at the old people sitting in the cars outside the dry cleaner or the drug store.  On a hot or a cold day, the cars would be running so that the temperature inside was just right.  I wondered who the responsible parties could be.... who would leave a running car with a passenger sitting shotgun?  Now, the answer is clear - it is I. I arrived at the pod castle late in the morning, to find my mom up and watching The History Channel.  There was nary a remote-control-tv-component-device to be found; in two rooms there are not many hiding places. It was altogether possible that she brought the damn thing  it out to the dining room with her and left it there, unwittingly.  Last spring, I found her glasses atop her knee-high-hose in the closet; she forgot to put them back on after removing them to change into her nightgown. Since this has been an on-going issue in the pod-castle, I found sympathetic ears attached to the staff's clever minds.Most...

It's so nice when your children have skill sets.  It's especially wonderful when those skill sets complement your own.  The very best is when they offer those skill sets to the task at hand. Right now, I am a very happy person. GRIN , my hassle-free-volunteering-not-for-profit, is joining with No Excuses University 's Tucson campuses to fill their classrooms with collegiate decor.  Bulletin boards are covered with powerful imagery that makes a statement: college is in your future.  Kindergarteners play going to college with the blocks; many of their first generation parents knew little if any schooling at all.  It's a remarkable concept, one which the students embrace with enthusiasm.  "You brought us that Penn State garbage can," was my host's introduction as he escorted me to my destination on the middle school's campus last May.  We talked about engineering and the weather in Pennsylvania and it was like any other middle class conversation wo...

One month from today my daughter and future son-in-law and his parents will be in my house.  One month from Saturday, there will be a wedding at my house.  These facts are incontrovertible.  They make me happy.  They are the reason for the rest of my angst. The kids are getting married and we could not be happier and if I could invent a Make It Not Rain machine I'd be out in the garage attending to the task right now.  I can get the tableware and the flowers and my necklace and have a good time through it all.  I cannot control the skies. If the National Weather Service had not decided to tamper with things, I might be less concerned. Let me insert something I wrote on June 18, The National Weather Service has decided to take charge of our monsoon season. Up until 2008, the monsoon season began after 3 consecutive days with the dew point over 54 . In 2008, the National Weather Service decided that that was too much to deal with, and they set June 1...

Like my rehabilitation regime, the legal piece of this drama goes on and on and on and on. It requires more than I can give with comfort and yet it cannot be avoided, nor ignored. There aren't many situations like this in my life;  TBG and I have worked very hard to get to a place where we owe no one anything we don't want to give. When the law reaches into my living room and asks me a question, though, my reality shifts... just a little, but just enough to remind me that it never ends. And so, as I do with my exercises which annoy me and take me away from less onerous but less necessary pursuits, when the big manila envelope from the U.S. Department of Justice United States Attorney District of Arizona arrived this afternoon, I opened it before I could figure out a way to put it off. If I don't go to the gym first thing in the morning I never get there at all. It's the same thing here. There's a cover letter or two from the Victim Witness Coordinator and ...

Mamacita's rant  over on her blog, Scheiss Weekly, covers the essentials.  I'm choosing to take a more nostalgic approach to this very serious problem... the problem of community supplies in the classroom. We're not talking about the box of tissues or bottle of hand sanitizer or chalk for the blackboard (markers for the white board?) that are logical for a classroom to share. We're talking about pencils and notebooks and folders.  The thought of buying it and having to give it away and receive something lesser in return makes my stomach ache.  But, I am getting ahead of the story I want to tell. Come back with me to 1959, as I enter third grade.  Mrs. Josephs was our teacher, and she was elegant, polished, sophisticated to my younger-than-everyone-else's eyes.  I was delighted to receive the list of "recommended supplies" and to thrust it into G'ma's hands the moment I got off the school bus. A return trip to the store was required.  I was in...

For 18 months, or so it seemed, the wedding was out there in the future.  The future is now and my to-do-list is burgeoning with tasks I cannot avoid and hope they will disappear... my usual modus operandi and one which has stood me in good stead lo these sixty years. On the other hand, without cutlery and napkins this could be a messy affair. ***** We've had a wet monsoon this year and the ground is no longer rejecting the water; it's soft enough to allow absorption instead of creating run-off.  If I could wield a shovel and a rake and bend down to scoop with my trowel and a pail I'd be redirecting the streams to the white lantana in the front and the citrus trees in the back. But I can't so I won't and there will be no pictures of my activity to enliven this post. There are times when the residue of getting shot really sucks. ***** On the other hand, GRIN's Pilates at Amphi Middle School starts on September 5th with the girls' sports conditioning ...

Necessary Roughness is one of my summertime guilty pleasures.  I went to high school with girls like Dani; the sets are as much fun for me as the stories.  It's often puerile but just as often it's profound.  Sometimes, like last night, it hits me right where I live. A bit of backstory is required.  I won a Kindle Fire several months ago.  I have some books on it, but screen time is not the same as holding a book on my lap so I rarely use it as a literary aide.  Instead, I have downloaded games... many games... far too many games.... and it has turned into a monumental time suck.... worse than Facebook. I tried to play Words With Friends, but I don't always use the device in a wifi zone so that was a short-lived experience.  Solitaire and Free Cell are stalwart standbys, always ready in a pinch.  But the real problem, the headache, the just one more game and then I'll start to make dinner, is contained in Word Drop. It's simple, really....

Little Cuter described herself as transportation. We volunteered at an after-school program for elementary school kids who found her to be a delightful way to cross the classroom. Their feet would have taken them, but riding on her back or her shoulders or grasping her leg as she dragged them was much more fun. Today, I'm sitting in Amster's dining room, waiting for her boys to get off the bus and into my car for the errands they must run. Amster's at work and I, retired and in love with her kids, get to be their transportation. Just as with Little Cuter and Bahia Vista's care program, it's a win-win situation. There's something very comforting to me about this time of day. I can't start a big project; the kids are on their way. I can't run a quick errand; there has to be a grown up to meet them here. The house seems to know that they are coming home; there's an expectant comfort in the air. G'ma was usually home when I ar...

I'm watching Game Change this morning as TBG recovers from his visit to the dentist. He's napping and I'm rubbing his forehead and Julianne Moore is morphing into an Alaskan governor. It's no wonder that my thoughts have turned to Paul Ryan. John Stewart was looking for substance last night. The Republicans touted their vice presidential nominee as the intellectual leader of their party. Given that, there ought to have been thoughtful, issues-based, questioning. All he could find were quotes about the Congressman's exercise routine, his father's early death, and how clever he was to sneak out of Janesville and into Boston without the media's knowledge. Where was the substance? Certainly, when dealing with the man who created a plan for the future of our country, a budget to reorganize our government's priorities, certainly there is more to discuss than his abs. Now, when people might just be paying attention because it's something ...

Remember those x-rays G'ma took last week?  The ones that they were "sure will be no problem but we'll call you if there is something of note," the ones I stopped worrying about because I was leaving for BlogHer'12 and I'd heard nary a word?  The ones that we thought were unnecessary, perhaps overly cautious, but that she had, anyway, because the Nurse Practitioner thought it would be a good idea. "Can I afford it?  Will Medicare pay?"   Assured that it wasn't going to be a financial burden, G'ma accepted the procedure with her usual, snarky attitude. "A little more radiation won't kill me, will it?" Since I've promised to keep her alive at least through the kids' wedding in late September, I paid a little bit more attention to the answer instead of rolling my eyes.  She's decided she wants a new dress for the affair; I want to be sure she's there to wear it.  "You'll be fine," was the answer...

Driving into The City (it's always going to be The City to me) on a $12.50 comfy shuttle bus to Grand Central and then a free van to the Hilton on 6th Avenue (which will never be Avenue of the Americas to me) fed my inner Scrooge as it afforded views like this which I never see in Tucson.  I didn't mind the signs and the narrow lanes and the grit. It felt like home. I closed my eyes and Daddooooo was driving and G'ma was grumbling and we kids were trying to see just how much mayhem we could accomplish before someone noticed. It was bumpy and noisy and grimy and I loved it. ***** http://tinyurl.com/8g4q3e2  I took myself to MOMA (Museum of Modern Art) after the conference ended on Saturday. It was only half way down 53rd Street, after all, and I have a membership.  My walking stick and I cruised right past the lovely ticket taker who smiled at my pretty membership card and clicked me through the turnstyle. There are certain places I like to be,...

It's been a tough week.  Just as I was finding a place in my soul for Aurora, Sikhs in Wisconsin were killed in an act of stupidity surpassing understanding. I spent a day in court and a piece of my heart was shredded, just a little bit more. The temperatures have been in triple digits and there's no end in sight. It's too hot to swim in the pool.  Deep thought is at the very edge of possibility when perspiration is running down every surface of my body.  Profundity gives way to whimpering.  Yes, everything is air conditioned, but you have to get there first.  Our schools are one story, stretching over lots and lots of land.  There were great distances between the places I wanted to go this morning. Today is the first day of school for the Amphitheater District.  Moms and Dads and aunties and day care providers held the hands of terrified tiny ones who stood in the lobby, staring, bemused, at the controlled chaos surrounding them. ...