The Burrow

Thanks for a lovely visit, FlapJilly. Grandpa and I will miss you more than you can imagine. 

FlapJilly went to the playground today. It was her first experience with outdoor equipment. By the time she was able to sit up on her own, the snows had descended on her home turf. Grandma was happy to show her the ropes. That's an accessible swing for movement impaired children, but it fit FJ and G'mu just fine. SIR and Little Cuter were excited to put her in the bucket swing, but she kept sliding down. Her little hand had the bar in a death grip. With the addition of Mommy's purse as a backstop, the entire adventure took on a much happier cast. Daddy held her back and she sailed to Mommy   and if she could have formed the words she'd have been yelling " HIGHER!!!!"   The slides were less successful. SIR barely fit on the smallest one, and FlapJilly wasn't that thrilled with the tube, but standing in Daddy's arms is pretty wonderful no matter where you are. We paid a visit to Christina-Taylor's angel ...

Grandma gave FlapJilly a baby carrot.... excuse me.... an organic baby carrot... and the reaction was mixed. My finger seemed just as tasty.   More tomorrow; we're going to the playground!

Dkzody gave me permission in yesterday's comments to let the world stop.   So, instead of typing to you we did this: I will try to type for you tomorrow... but I make no promises. This is so much fun. 

I planned to write. That was my intention.  Then this happened  And this happened. There was this  and this and this. I am happy in GrandmaLand. Blogging might just have to wait.  

I wrote you all a lovely post.  It had pictures and laughter and love.  FlapJilly is bringing her family to visit us tomorrow and I was awash in the wonder of it all. And then, the laptop ate it. I clicked Save because I wanted a better picture of the high chair and the fire engine and the swim clothes I bought her.  I took those photos on my phone, cropped them on my phone, and tried to upload them from my phone. Blogger was having none of it.  The new photos were no where to be found, then or now.  I know they are on the phone; I can see them.  But the synchronization feature is apparently too much bother for Lenore the Loser Laptop.  I could send them to Evernote or email them to myself or upload them to Blogger and write the verbiage around them, but I'm too peeved for any of those options to work right now.  I have no more love in my heart; I'm just pissed at the loss of that lovely post. So, I want my rotary phone back.  I ne...

I always liked the fact that our birthdays were a week apart.  You and I were the only ones who truly appreciated the month of February.  Everyone else was looking forward to Lincoln's Birthday and Washington's Birthday but you and I knew that the more important dates were our birthdays. We were right, of course. You did not look forward to turning 50.  Your standard line had always been, "Just take me out back and shoot me."   When Daddooooo procured a cake with that picture decorating the top, you were not amused.  He never tried to be an ass... and yet, he was. Still, you smiled and ate it and thanked him.  Valentines Day was yet another reason for gifts in February, and his heart shaped pizza the following year made up for the 50 faux pas.  You were good about concentrating on the better side of his weirdness... and he never did forget a birthday. When I turned 40 you forgot to call... or send a card... or remember that it was my natal da...

Robert B. Parker is dead, but Spencer and Jesse Stone live on.  Ace Atkins has kept the short sentences and chapters, though he's added a bit more description, in his role as Spencer's caretaker. Jesse Stone is now encased in more verbiage than Robert Parker wrote if you took all his books together.  Reed Farrel Coleman twirls the language on the page; he's a poet from the dark side, for sure.  If only he'd use a proper name now and then to remind the reader which character is speaking. ***** My Humanities Seminar  requires no reading; there are articles which augment the lectures, and which are to be read after class.  It's odd to attend a class without preparation, but the absence of required reading has left me with plenty of time to indulge in novels and biographies and history. This move to non-fiction is a surprising turn of events. Is it possible that my brain is expanding its capacity as I age? ***** Alex Rodriguez apologized for his bad behavior w...

We were in Barnes and Noble, Mr. 9 and I.  We hadn't had an adventure together for quite a while; the bookstore was his destination of choice.  He knows it makes me happy, and that fit right in with his plan to purchase a new Wimpy Kid book (for his big brother) and his own copy of the book he's reading in his school's Book Club.  There are enough of them, if everyone shares and reads just what is required for the next meeting.  I couldn't deny him the chance to hold a personal copy. He chattered about basketball.  The Wildcats played the night before, and we parsed their performance and their footwear.  His mom signed him up for a team at the JCC; she'd pick him up at his dad's on Sunday afternoon for the next round of tryouts.  " I think he just wants Mom to drive me," is all he knows about his father's puerile temper tantrum about Mom signing the kid up for an activity on  Dad's custody week.  At a certain point, it can be h...

We proved that one is never too old for arts and crafts.  There were stickers   and scissors and fancy papers and even more stickers. There were grown-ups like JannyLou offering assistance, in front and behind the tables. The boys and girls were capable of choosing their own materials, but cutting out a heart sometimes required an adult.  The paper's blank back side left lots of room for love notes.  Many of the valentines were collaborative efforts,  with backpacks crashing into one another   as room at the table was at a premium.    Peeling the backs off the puffy foam stickers required concentration. So many middle schoolers wanted to participate that we had to put out another set of double tables.  Of course, some artists made themselves comfortable, oblivious to the chaos. And, as always, in the end it was all about the love. We started ...

TBG told me that it is possible for hackers to penetrate any computerized system in any automobile.  Although it hasn't been reported as the cause of an accident... so far... it is conceivable that someone could hijack your brakes and apply them, full force, while you are tooling down I-95 at 85 miles an hour.  I could die if that happened was my immediate thought.  And then I went back to watching Zorro.   A beat or two later the whole thing hit me.  I thought of dying with absolutely no affect.  It was a fact without emotion attached.  I considered it and moved on.  I type that without judgment, because not judging is the single most important lesson I've learned since being perforated.  I believe that as the amplitude of a situation increases so do the individuality of responses.  At the risk of sounding like R. D. Laing , my experience of you during a period of intensity is not your experience of you nor is it y...

 Throwback Thursday... This was first published in 2011.  It's one of my favorite rants. *****  Mary Ball Washington gave birth to a boy child on February 22, 1732. Unlike many of the stories surrounding this man (think cherry trees and coins across the Potomac and standing up in an open boat as it crossed the Delaware) this is an indisputable fact. Mary was not in labor on the third Monday of February.  She produced her child on a specific day - the 22nd day of February.  His birthday didn't move around with the vagaries of the federal holiday calendar. Nancy Hanks Lincoln met her second son, Abraham, 207 years ago today.  Like Mrs. Washington before her, she was not in labor on an indeterminate day sometime in the middle of the month.  It occurred on a certain day, a day formerly commemorated by school children and mail carriers alike. Alas and alack, these fine gentlemen have been conflated into Presidents and their birthdays combined into a ...

  THAT is the only photo I took the day I injured my thumb with stickers, and it was taken the next morning, after a visit to Walgreens.  Perhaps if I'd stopped to take a picture or two, my thumb would have survived in better shape.  Since I was a slacker on Friday, on Monday I went back to Prince and asked the kids if they'd pose for my blog.  I asked them to decorate one another; once burned, twice shy was my motto.  The joy is the same.... it's just a different day. Enjoy the smiles! Some were restrained, choosing carefully.  Others couldn't get enough of a good thing.  Three across the nose... a butterfly in the middle.... the friends took great care to create masterpieces.  MORE! MORE! MORE! he cried.  There was some initial skepticism....  but the gang was as enthusiastic as elementary school kids can be when they are doing something wacky, with a grown-up's permission.  Pals... silly together. ...