The Burrow

I've been feeling proud of myself, of late.  I lumber less and I am more limber (sorry, I couldn't resist).  I can park far away from my destination without needing a rest once I arrive.  I walk back if I've forgotten something, rather than ask TBG to travel for me. I'm using muscles in the ways they were meant to be used, rather than abusing certain ones while ignoring the others.  I can go to the gym and carry the weight plates without stumbling. I'm able to flex my feet and point my toes and keep my ankle bones together while on the guillotine or the reformer at Pilates. Rereading that sentence, I find that it is fairly gruesome.  The reality is much gentler:                                      Guillotine                                             ...

For the 17 people who read I Don't Want to Heal this morning... the title was a typo. The intended title was I Don't Want to Hear It. Sorry about that.  It  does change the meaning, doesn't it? As an apology, I'm adding the video of the Baltimore mom who probably shouldn't have been smacking her son around, but who did get up off the couch and brought him home. You've heard about it.... now you can see it. And here she is explaining herself on CBS News this morning.   If your kid is going to be naughty, he probably shouldn't wear recognizable sweat pants.

I was listening to Ben Markus on NPR reporting on the Aurora trial, driving slowly because I was paying more attention to his words than to the traffic around me. At least I wasn't texting. The trial of the young man accused of opening fire in a Colorado movie theater in 2012 is expected to take six months.  The lawyers are introducing an insanity defense, so there will be days of explication and elucidation before the details of the shooter's mental state are exposed. Will it make a difference?  He wielded the weaponry which took and damaged the lives of people whose only offense was watching a Batman movie.  Of that, there is no doubt.  Was he insane?  Does it matter?  Perhaps, as Ben Markus said, only in the penalty phase.  His lawyers are expected to use the details to of his mental illness to lay the groundwork for a prison sentence instead of a death sentence. I managed to tell you all of that without once mentioning the name of the perpe...

Apparently, there's American Mah Jongg, presided over by Jewish ladies in Florida (according to my teacher), and there's Chinese Mah Jongg, taught to me this afternoon by a more-than-an-acquaintance; she's a reporter who covered January 8th and beyond and she's married to the professor who taught the small class I took the semester before . We run into one another at lectures and plays and events; it's one of the wonderful, small town, advantages of our community. She's fairly reserved, as reporters go, but the same cannot be said for her as an instructor in this ancient tile game. "You CAN'T do that!"  "Write it down if you can't remember it but REMEMBER IT!"  "It's character,  not crack .  That's offensive... like someone's butt...." It was almost worse when she looked around our table of 4 newbies and, smiling wickedly, wondered " Who has the deal?"   I ran through the options - who won t...

Brenda Starr regaled me with her tale of woe over locally grown tomatoes and kale this morning. She'd done her part of the project.  She traveled and observed and inquired and then she stopped and thought and created analyses and opinions which she then turned into prose. Publishing that prose as a series or a section or a quick-let's-tell-that-story-before-someone-else-scoops-us happens after meetings.  And it's in the meetings that egos and power often trump reason and sense.  It's in those meetings that individual differences become magnified.  Decisions, direction, and actions fall by the wayside. I went to the inaugural meeting of an Advisory Board last week, and was able to share my own sad story.  We were to be an adjunct to the Board of Directors, but the distinctions were no where to be found.  The initial prospectus had requirements which those of us around the table would be unable to meet, but that (to me, seemingly insurmountable problem) w...

I remember conversations beginning in 5th or 6th grade, though it might have been in Junior High school. We were just starting to realize that we were sentient beings, with opinions that mattered to others as well as to ourselves.  We began to debate the issues affecting the world around us. First came Mets vs Yankees.  Would we stick with the old, established, winning team or would we shift our allegiances to the newly created Metropolitans?  Our teacher was absent, the principal stood in for her, and everyone was afraid.  Could we voice an opinion in front of the most important (and only) man on the faculty? There was the euthanasia debate held in French class (please don't ask me why... I do remember Miss Hanson wondering why we wanted to talk about Youth in Asia until we explained it to her) where our lack of facility with the language made emphasis more important than content.  After all, we could all say "Mon Dieu!" The automation debate resonates wi...

Our television died.  There was no doubt about it - the picture faded in from the edges and then vanished, replaced by a blue dot and then nothingness. We called the guy who helps us with things like these, and he came right over.  He and TBG discussed features and measured heights and widths and then measured again.  We went to Best Buy on-line and found the television he was recommending for $500 less than he was charging. We bought it, arranged for delivery, and today men and machine converged in my living room. One on a ladder, attaching and combining and reattaching cables to components of various capabilities, the other coiling discards and directing the cabling.  For a while, TBG and I sat on the couch, but we drifted away when it became clear that the language being spoken was unintellligible to us.  Random strings of letters were agreed to without question; we were clearly out of our league. Fifteen minutes after the delivery men departed, our n...

First published on April 21, 2009  Reprinted annually.... because I like this holiday... a lot! Come back tomorrow for a new post. I like Earth Day. I was there at its creation, after all. It was founded by U.S. Senator Gaylord Nelson in 1970. Initially, it was a touchy-feely alternative to the harsher realities of the anti-Vietnam War protests. You wanted to do something, but war was such an uncomfortable subject and arguing against it made your parents wonder why they were spending tuition dollars while you were telling the lawfully elected President of the United States of America that you knew more than he did. With your picture in the crowd on the front page of the NY Times. At 18 years of age, no less. But planting trees? Recycling newspaper? Not littering? And all this in service to Mother Earth. Who could be aggravated about supporting Mother Earth? Earth Day had teach-in's. They were more fun than sit-in's, which invariably involved police and disciplinary a...

A lot of the people in my life are starting anew these days.  Mostly by choice, some by chance, they all are embracing the novelty with smiles on their faces.   How rare is that? Jesse, he of the magic scissors, is no longer cutting hair only in Tucson.  Three weeks out of four, he's in San Diego, starting a new chapter in a new salon.  Nogales to Tucson to San Diego may not seem like a formidable journey, but leaving home is leaving home, no matter how old you are or how many miles your new car must travel.   A new car, a new living space, a new love of his life - he's not overwhelmed, he's reveling in it all. Amster has established a new firm with an old friend.  Their new offices are within the confines of offices owned by other old friends.  Her former receptionist has ended up there, too.  Her name is on the letterhead, her phone is ringing off the hook, she's flying to California and North Carolina on business - and she's spor...

In the gym this morning, earbuds out so I could talk to a friend, I heard this: "ATTENTION: There is a male staff in the women's locker room" Take a minute.... think synonymously.... okay, move on. Was my mind in the gutter , as I imagined G'ma would say? Would it be worth going back there just to see if it were true? Was I being too picky and looking for any excuse to stop exercising? I rejected them all .... decided to pat myself on the back for listening carefully..... and moved on to reverse leg curls.

 We had a visitor yesterday. It began by tapping on the glass panel of the back door last night. TBG heard it on his midnight saunter to the 'fridge. He ignored it.   "Who wants to see what's out in the desert in the middle of the night?  It's dark and creepy." I heard it the next afternoon.  It was not a gentle sound.   No, denizens, it was quite imperious. TBG laughed, told me he'd heard the same thing the night before, and wondered what I thought it might be.  I looked up and saw a tail running across the deck. A ROAD RUNNER!!!  We share their habitat, but rarely encounter them. I've seen two or three in the nine years I've been sitting at this desk, watching the fauna go by. This afternoon made up for all my yearning.  This one was here for a serious visit. I followed it to the kitchen windows, where I thought to take this video: no sound - safe to play at work It's 57 seconds of progressively les...

TBG and I laughed when the AARP spam began arriving in our mailboxes.  We were in our 40's; AARP membership seemed like a cruel joke played on us by rapacious lobbyists, seeking greater numbers and financial backing. Then, he came closer to turning 65.  He began to examine his insurance options.  He was beyond confused.  I refused to help him; I am younger and didn't want to be bothered.  Yes, my social work background might have prepared me to analyze the situation, but what it mostly prepared me for was being on hold.  Large bureaucracies are not user friendly.  Their policies change mercurially and with no apparent rhyme or reason.  When my turn comes, I'll pay attention.  This time, it was on him. The information he received gave him a 3 month window.  He applied before his birthday.  His Medicare card came 45 days after his birthday.  Finding a human at the other end of the Medicare Hot Line was a challenge, but it was...

I love that. I love the simplicity and the complexity. I love the questions. I love laughing while I'm wondering. The fact that Feynman was in a math class at City College with Daddooooo  (or so the story goes...)  and scored 100% on an exam the rest of the class failed, thus ruining the curve,  only adds to the joy. That's kind of the point of The Exploratorium.   Artess is delighted that we enjoyed ourselves;  she's been involved with the place since our kids were teeny.   The fact that my boys were enjoying themselves even as adults was exactly what the creators of this new, wonderful, waterfront space had in mind. There's something for everyone inside the repurposed piers.   There's art from cutlery (yes, those are spoons)  on the walls as you wait to purchase tickets. Or, if you have a connected young adult in your midst, you can buy the tickets over your phone. It was funny watching his ex...

After the long weekend we spent in San Francisco, Tucson feels very small. ***** Doesn't this look like a bank? Our banks are in the corners of parking lots,  and there's no way to distinguish them from the drive-thru taco shops except for the signs. Those pillars are bank-like. ***** I met up with Miss Nancy at The Ferry Building. Sharon McCone always comes to mind when I'm walking in that neighborhood; Marcia Muller's detective always seems to be walking out of her office at the end of the pier. ***** Now, it's a much trendier space than that occupied by McCone Investigations, Inc.   I waited in front of this sign. Inside, there were Pig Parts and Slow Fast Food and Creamery Girl cheeses.   There were oysters and crabs, coffee roasteries and bakeries. Some of it was do it yourself. ***** There was more, much much more, denizens, but traveling has left me exhausted and in need of some time alone with my roses.  So, I wil...

It's official.  She's running. The campaign office is open, the bumper stickers are on sale, the promises and position papers and invitations to meet-and-greets and fundraisers will begin to flood the mailbox and the inbox and the airwaves. There will be a familiar female face on everything - and that certainly will be different. FlapJilly will never know that a woman cannot run for President, as I knew it when I was a child. When my grandpa told me that I would grow up to be President, I laughed at him.  "I'm poor, I'm Jewish, and I'm female," I said.  "Those are three permanent strikes against me." Not so much, any more, it seems.  At least as far as gender is concerned. Girls who grew up with all the accessibility Title IX provided have no frame of reference for the magnitude of this announcement.  They were never faced with the closed doors their mothers bumped into whenever a promotion or an opportunity arose. Little Cuter begged...

TBG and I flew to the Left Coast this morning. Our plans include his visit to the orthopedist who repaired his knee two decades ago, a visit during which I spent a lovely couple of hours talking with Bunionella.   The clinic is in The Marina, right on the shore of San Francisco Bay. It's also across the street from a Safeway. The combination of take away foodstuffs and a bench in the shade was irresistible; we grabbed lunch and ate by the sea.   I'm starved for water it seems. I couldn't stop watching it sloshing against the moored yachts. I wish I had taken a photograph. I was too busy being in the moment.   I did take these as we tried to find a garbage can for our lunch trash.   I noticed the punching bag first. With the breeze and the sea air and the sunshine it seems like a perfect location....except that it's right on the main drag. Privacy must not be important.   TBG waxed eloquent over this boxwood hedge.  He loves the cl...

Very Large Arraymreclipse.com Did you ever wonder how and where the extremely large mirrors used in telescopes, like these in the Very Large Array in New Mexico, are made?  How about the ones for the Giant Magellan Telescope, coming soon to the Chilean Andes?  How do they move them?  Aren't they worried about breakage? I had all those questions and more before I toured the UofA's Steward Observatory's Mirror Lab. Free thirty minute tours were offered to those lucky enough to secure tickets at the Festival of Books; I received the very last one available.... at 9:30 in the morning for a Festival which didn't open until 10. This was a hot commodity, and I was thrilled to be able to join the party. High in the sky so that ambient (man-made) light is not a factor, in an area with little to no rain or geologic disturbances.... or people, for that matter, the world's largest telescope will be created by linking seven ginormous mirrors which will collect images at...