The Burrow

I was wrong.  I didn't pay attention to the paperwork.  I made a mistake.  I'm happy to admit it.  I just wish someone had brought it to my attention in a less distasteful fashion. BlueCross/BlueShield/Arizona raised our premiums by about 11%.  I received a letter notifying me of the change last Fall. I was stunned by the amount and the rate and I never got further down the page. The date at which the change became effective eluded me.  I assumed they were telling me in October to give me a chance to examine my other options under the ACA before the price went up in my birthday month, February.  I would turn 62 then; I assumed that was a magic number for my insurer. Nothing else could justify such an egregious increase in monthly premiums. I groused and I investigated but it seems that this is what it costs to insure two relatively healthy older adults in Tucson these days.  In February, I edited the automatic payment function at C...

Miss Goldman, P.E. instructor extraordinaire, had the whole school out on the playground this morning......    including the principal.  It was the Annual Jump Rope for Heart Field Day. As Prince's Official Adopted Grandmother, I was an honored guest.   There were non-competitive games on the grass, but this year I stayed on the cement, watching, along with those astonished boys,  as a teacher showed her stuff.   She wasn't the only one having a good time. Some held one end of the rope for those in line   watching as amazing things happened The kid really had hops Yes, he's on his fingertips.   And this one is inches off the ground while flipping the rope and jumping. Other girls were jumping, too, even if their clothing was often less than hospitable to the activity She didn't let tradition get in the way of fun. She jump-walked all around the concrete.   ...

I realized the futility of the situation over the weekend.  No matter how hard I try, there will always be piles of stuff in my house. They may be contained on the newly-cleared-and-almost-all-put-away desktop.... the real life desk top, not the one on my computer.  Actually, I probably shouldn't have brought that up, since the icons on my desktop include wedding planning (the event was in 2012) and several shortcuts to the same empty New Folder. They occupy the corners of my garage, and the theoretically-open-spaces where the garbage and recycling bins reside.  Some of them are items meant for those cans; they must have arrived when the cans were full or out on the street.  It's not trash, for that would smell.  This morning, though, I noticed a pile of papers which are of no further use to us.  I suppose I should have bent down and put them in the bin. That's what happens.  I see a mess and I recognize the mess and I shrug my shoulders.  A...

I went to Miss Levine's kindergarten class today.  Can you feel the smile on my face?  It's about to break my cheekbones. I've known four of her classes. They have all been filled with love and joy and wonder. Some were more well-behaved than others.  Some were quieter and some noisier and some just couldn't settle down.  The current crop is simply amazing. I was there for Writing Centers.  Divided into groups of four, the students spend fifteen minutes on the computer, on the iPads, with their journals, or reading aloud with the teacher or the reading specialist.  The timer dings, and they move seamlessly between clusters of desks.  There's no pushing or carousing; there is work to be done and they are there to do it. These are five and six year olds, many of who have English as a second language, and some, barely that.  Few have English speaking home lives.  Some began the year with no English at all.  Yet, today, I they read me ...

I wish I understood the physiology behind mindful meditation.  I can feel that its effects are real.  I just don't understand how it happens. I was delayed at Michael's, caught up in the multiplicity of choices for FlapJilly's crocheted layettes.  If anyone is looking for a project, creating an attractive pink yarn might be right at the top of your list.  The skeins in the bins this afternoon were harsh, or rough or paler-than-pale; nothing jumped out and said buy me .  So, I wandered up and down the aisles, fondling and cogitating and then it was seventeen minutes until I had to be in the Kewitt Auditorium, prepared to commune with myself.  I checked out with what was in my cart.  I'll figure out what to make with it later on. Leaving my car with the free valet parking service at the UAMC main entrance, hugging the woman who took my family's cars while I was an in-patient and who took mine when I was able to drive to my own appointments and who ...

Friday's post was swallowed up in the frenzy.  Little Cuter called and I asked if my gift package had arrived as scheduled on Saturday and she laughed and said "It's Friday, retired person!" and it really made no difference because there were 64 teams competing from Buffalo to San Diego and I was obsessed. It began on Thursday morning and followed me through my dreams into pilates on Friday.  I crocheted and I stomped my feet and I encouraged and I wallowed and it was wonderful.  I love having my heartstrings pulled, and this time of year sees an abundance of plucking.  There's a sense of history, not only from the pulled-from-the-archives films of 1970's era players, those slim, short-shorts wearing, now grey haired talking heads, but from seeing former players, like Rod Strickland, on the sidelines, coaching.  I watched him on those old, heartbreaking DePaul teams, the ones Dr K and TBG and I were talking about over dinner, the ones that led you on th...

I'm remembering a phone call with my mom, a few months after Bubba, her mother, died.  I'd been regaling G'ma with stories of her wonderful, beautiful, magnificently talented and brilliant grandson when I heard her sigh. G'ma was not one for deep sighs.  She wasn't the kind of mother who shared her sorrows with her children.  She was there for us; it never occurred to her that we should be there for her.  So, when I heard that aching exhale, I stopped chattering. The silence was powerful.  In a moment, one I am sure was shorter than it felt at the time, she collected herself and, with a rueful laugh, explained that, while my stories were wonderful, they also opened a hole in her heart.  "There is no one with whom I can share this," my mom told me.  "It will sound like bragging to anyone else."   Bragging.... the antithesis of her socialist upbringing... she couldn't make herself tell my aunt or a neighbor about her marvelous ...

The saddest part of this whole saga is this:  when I went to Picasa to save the photos for this post, I created a folder, Messy Library .  When I opened Picasa, I found Mess in the Library and Suz Books Mess nestled right up against their newest sibling.  February 2012, March 2011, today.... there must be something in the air at this time of year which forces me to look my sinful ways in the eye and begin to dig out from under. It's particularly egregious this time around. GRIN needs an office assistant, My schoolwork needs a contained space, and I really should unpack some of those bags.  In addition to volunteerism and educational pursuits and household management tasks, there's the joyful addition of crocheting for all the new babies on their way into my life.  I probably should have gotten organized before I began a new passion, but the urge was overwhelming; I could not resist.   And then there is the problem of all these books. The...

The Tucson Festival of Books has much more than books.  Early in the morning, it looked like this. But by mid-day this was more usual.  Everything is so well thought out at the Festival. The recycling is next to the garbage and both are recyclable containers.  There was no trash on the ground.   This vertical garden was an interesting idea, but the droopy leaf up there at the top made me question its efficacy in the desert.   When questioned, the grower couldn't disagree.  I moved on to the books. passing Authors Helping Authors and this friendly fellow who happily smiled for a picture in The Burrow. I gave him my card; I wonder if he'll comment and let us know that he's out there?   Of course, there were authors, too, Robert Dugoni, John Lescroart, Mike Lawson and I was able to sit up close to some old favorites and some new discoveries.  Mike Lawson and I shared a brick ledge on Saturday aftern...

It was sunny and crowded and wonderful.  The lines were long but if you planned for them they created no problems.  Some of the chairs were small and uncomfortable, but most were cushioned and cozy.  The authors were, as always, brilliant and funny and open and honest. It's the best weekend of the year in Tucson. I was there from 9 - 5 on Saturday and Sunday. I am exhausted in body and in mind as I am uplifted in heart and soul.  My brain is capable of an overview; in depth analysis will have to wait for a long bath and a good night's sleep.  So, I offer you these quotes.  I hope they resonate with you as they did with me. We live intertwined on this planet. (Lois Lowry) People in movies don't go to the bathroom. (Lois Lowry). I can write a book as bad as that one! (Mike Lawson) The world is a better place when you're reading a good book. (Valerie Plame) Scotty, what kind of life is this?  Locked up all day in a room with a pencil. (Scott...

The fourth or seventh or something largest book festival in the USofA is coming to Tucson this weekend.  The tents have been up for ten days.  Volunteers have been publicizing and strategizing and organizing and the authors are arriving as you read this.  There's a dinner tonight and then session after session after session of writers, creators, designers, thinkers..... and tens of thousands of people. Brenda Starr doesn't like crowds; she won't be joining me.  Elizibeth has plans, as 16 year olds will, so I won't be picking her up on my way downtown.  JannyLou is nursing an ailing daughter-in-law in Phoenix; she's not returning until Sunday.  I'm on my own, and that's just fine. There's something quite wonderful about wandering around a space where wandering is not considered bizarre. I can stop and visit my friends at the Humanities Seminars booth without worrying that I am boring a companion.  I can choose to sit in on what interests me, and onl...

I was on the phone with the Secretary of Health and Human Services this morning.  I'm enjoying that sentence.  Really, really enjoying that sentence.  I'm a 60-something blogger with a once-famous backstory. I am a member of the BlogHer community. I completed the Survey Monkey last week and today I had the privilege of being on a conference call with a member of the President's cabinet.  BlogHer lists empowerment as one of its goals.  I am definitely feeling the strength right now. There were twenty of us on the line.  Secretary Sebelius spoke first, then listened as two bloggers shared their stories of life before and after the Affordable Care Act.  There was time for three or four questions and then our thirty minutes close to fame came to an end. Throughout the conversation, women were tweeting and retweeting and letting the world know that we were involved and passionate about an issue that affects everyone. One of my tweets was pick...

Mr. 10 is nearly as tall as I am.  This has happened with alarming rapidity.  Last month I looked down at his shoulders; now they are bumping me in the chin. There's a charming quasi-adultness in his demeanor.  The little boy giggles have turned into a tween's chortle.  There's kid-like joy combined with teen angst all mixed up in his heart before the sound bursts from his lips. Is it okay to laugh? Is anyone watching? Will I be judged? The carefree child is now wondering about the world around him.  Always conscious of following the rules, his ten year old self is noticing that it's not only the grown-ups who are creating the constraints around his life. Suddenly, his peers are making an equally strong impression. There's a new swagger in his step. He decorated and coordinated his family's Halloween extravaganza, dressed as Flo, the insurance saleswoman. The gender bending didn't upset him, not one bit.  The costume met my three rules ...

It's not just because he still carries that aging hippie vibe so well.  It's not because he still looks as though he forgot to take the hanger out of his jacket before he put it on. It's more the ironic smile, the look in his eyes when the question is too dumb for words, the recognition that it's really just a game. Phil's who he is and the rest of the world can get on board or get out of the way.  He'll be happy to show you the path, to leave books in your locker, to encourage you to find your better self, because he knows that his life will be as enriched as yours by the transformation. Phil's a big fan of The Peaceful Warrior Way.   Dan Millman , the author, is a self-help guru with none of the creepiness that might have just sent shivering up your spine.  We met at the Cuters' high school, parenting students in the same grade. He had the look that Phil sports, the one that makes you feel as if he knows the secret.... and that he'll share if y...

It was too cold to do much besides go from one warm space to another, so the kids and I went pre-shopping for the baby while TBG snuggled with Thomas-the-Wonder-Dog on Cozy Rosie, in front of the game.  What game?  Who knows.  He was happy and so were we.  We started at the No Returns All Sales Final Open the Package and BE SURE IT'S RIGHT outlet for Land of Nod, and moved on to Buy Buy Baby, which turns out to be Bed Bath and Beyond for kids. There were some pretty cool ideas and some fairly awful ones. As you can tell from Little Cuter's grimace, we agreed that this would put you off Thanksgiving forever.   Someone in marketing had serious attitude issues, as evidenced by   and this  Demand all you want, kiddo. Cry to your heart's content. As I told your mother, long long ago, I'm not the one embarrassed by your antics; I'm not the one wailing at the top of my lungs.   Someone with an ironic sense o...