The Burrow

All those shapes. All those colors. All those smiles. We made girls with green hair  or were they rays of sunshine?  We made letters while noticing that there were numbers there, too. (see the 36?)  Funny how one thing hides within another, or pretends to be something else entirely. Larry really liked the lower case b transforming itself, without much help, into a 6 We sat and studied it for a long time. The girls seemed able to do the task while seated. Those two blue shapes made a bow just like the one in her hair.  They were also wings, which flew around her head. And, there were smiles.  Just putting the dot on the J was cause for joy. And why not? We're getting smarter every day, and that is fun.

There, I said it.  I want to go back to paper and pencil.  NOW. Last week, I wanted to share photos of the scholars in the kindergarten classroom, cutting and coloring and concentrating.  They were, theoretically, uploaded to Dropbox, which meant that they should be accessible here, on Lenore the Lenovo.  They existed in New Folder in Dropbox on my phone. Yet, they were no where to be found in Lenore. I searched everywhere.  I screamed.  I stormed around the house.  I searched again.  I checked the phone and reassured myself that I had not totally lost my mind.  They were on the phone in Dropbox but not in Dropbox on the computer. It took days for them to be accessed on the laptop. Lenore has it in for me. I have a meeting tomorrow.  The information is in the GRIN inbox.  Lenore has decided that This webpage is not available.   Did all of Go Daddy! disappear over night?  I don't think so.  I found it on my pho...

It was a tough morning in kindergarten. After all the effort it took to cut out that ear, the glue stick wouldn't let go. Every station had a challenge.... like scissors. Some of the friends in the classroom had the skill down pat. They knew how to hold the paper  and turn the paper   although some had to stand to do so.  Make no mistake, this was serious business.  The story featured a mouse and cutting the M was the straight part of the task.  It was those pesky eyeballs and noses and ears, all those round shapes, that gave us the most trouble. I'd never considered the pedagogy behind this kind of exercise, but watching the scholars zip through some pieces and struggle with others gave me time to ponder. "Thumbs up" was the most frequent reminder needed. Some of the kids just didn't have the coordination yet. Neither did Big Cuter, who failed scissors in Senior Kindergarten,  and who, as I went on to tell...

He loves Sgt. Pepperoni's pizza.  Lately, they haven't been answering their phone with anything approaching regularity. This has caused much consternation. Sometimes they're there.  Sometimes they're not. Their reputation was suffering. (OK, that was fun!) But the pizza makes him smile, and I was feeling PTSDish and not at all peckish (I can't seem to make myself stop) so he decided to try them once again. " Thank you for calling Sgt. Pepperoni's.  We are closed for unfortunate circumstances." That about covers all the possibilities, don't you think?

Are you feeling it too, denizens?  Are you feeling the Papal Love Machine? True, it's driving around in an open sided Fiat, which offers protection from only the wind, and that makes it a somewhat anxiety ridden Love Machine, but I can't help myself - this Jewish girl has spent Yom Kippur crushing on Francis. He's opening his heart to those who've had abortions, to those who've divorced.  He understands the difficulties multiple pregnancies have, especially in the developing world, and he's talked about it. He congratulated the bishops on their work to heal the victims of the Church's sex abuse scandals.  He's given voice to issues his followers deal with every day. He's apologized for the damage done to indigenous peoples; then he sanctified Junipero Serra, focusing on his Hispanic background, rather than the conquering generals in whose wake he traveled. This is the same crazy logic which makes every 4th grader in California create a model of...

I told her she could ask, so I couldn't be angry with her. Of course, feel free to ask me a personal question. I just didn't expect her to ask the one question I ask myself to which I have no answer. "Did you fall on top of her body?" I wish I knew.  I wish someone knew.  There are no pictures, no memories extant from those who were there, and I have blocked those moments from my conscious brain.  I like to believe that I am not the kind of person who would leave a child behind in an effort to save myself, and the fact that I know we were holding hands as the bullets began flying lets me believe Little Cuter's interpretation of the pulling-my-arm-across-my-body action I repeated while recuperating - You know, Mama, that way you said Come On!  I answered.  They offered opinions on whether I should view the FBI's photographic evidence.... uniformly against it, if you wondered.... and they stared with open eyes and open mouths and, I hope, open hearts. ...

Has our nation gone batty?  Have the Republican candidates so overwhelmed the voting populace that someone normal, someone who might appeal to a less strident audience, someone who doesn't spout catch phrases might be an acceptable choice? Where is John Hunstman when I need him?  I don't agree with him on everything, but I could sleep at night were he our President.  He was too reasonable, I guess, to succeed last time.  This time he didn't even show up. John Kasich gave a reasoned, nuanced answer to the issue of gay marriage at the first debate, and received no publicity for it at all.  He spoke from the heart, and from civic pride; he seemed to understand the situation in a way that his fellow candidates did not. He responded like a man who has lived a full life.  He wasn't looking for the Supreme Court to validate his lifestyle.  He seemed able to accept the reality that many kinds of humans make up America. That's a concept the other candidat...

I had plans to write today.  I've never written down all the thoughts I had about the Republican candidates debate.  I was ripe and ready for a rant. Then the boys showed up with the new baby and my plans flew out the window as they lugged supplies and their exhausted selves into our house.  They're driving from San Francisco to Miami because their little one is still too fragile to fly.  A grandpa joined them to share the driving and the shlepping and the love.  Our house is conveniently located off the southern cross country route, the I-10, the road trip Little Cuter and I have yet to take. I have to admit, denizens, the thought of packing a small bag and joining them on the journey has crossed my mind more than once.  Instead, I shopped for essentials - a boppy pillow, plastic grass and a flower, yogurt and fruit and salad and steaks and chicken and coffee - and I allowed the thought to drift away.  I'll be the hostess with the mostest and send...

Mark Kelly sent me an email this morning.  He recounted his story of Gabby's shooting, and then asked me to share mine. As Gabby and I travel the country, one of the things that amazes me most is just how many people know someone who has been shot. Our stories are very powerful tools in the effort to change our gun laws. So, I clicked over to the form and I wrote about watching Gabby slide down the flags and about three bullets piercing my body and about holding the hand of a dying child on a sunny Saturday morning in front of a neighborhood grocery store.  I wrote about still learning to walk, nigh on to 5 years later.  I wrote about being afraid of public spaces, about being unable to enter a first run movie theater, about how the world is now, for me,  a scary place most of the time. I read the rest of my emails, checked in on Facebook, and called Comcast.  The details are uninteresting; I knew we needed a new cable box and I wanted to schedule an appoin...

It hasn't rained since yesterday afternoon.  The clouds are cumulonimbus, very large and very dense and very grey and flat on the bottom.  The sky is Carolina Blue.  There's enough humidity to keep my cuticles from shrinking, but not so much that I can't take a deep breath. It's one of those days when everything is perfect. The desk on which I type to you is neat and as tidy as it's ever going to get.  I have come to terms with my need for a decent amount of clutter; I've decided that it's okay.  My piles are contained rather than sprawling, and that seems to make all the difference. It's one of those days when my workspace invites me to join the party. I spent a productive hour in the gym this morning, and another equally productive one at Pilates this afternoon.  I'm not where I want to be, but I'm much closer than I've ever been.  I'm doing the work and now I can see results.  It helps when the nerve endings are reconnected and...

Apologies to the 9 people who read this yesterday. It was supposed to be in the queue for Wednesday. Alas.... I am not paying attention to anything  it seems! Dear Little Cuter, I'm not going to write a book. THERE.  I said it.  I don't want to do it.  Not one little bit of me, actually wants to do it.  I've been searching for that piece that has always thougth she wanted to do it, but when I pulled her in for closer examination, I found tht she was woefully lacking in enthusiasm for the day to day grind. The writer in me, the Jo March in the attic, does not have the staying power for the long form.  I'm happy with the essay.  I have the attention span of a fruit fly; the idea of revisiting the same work, over and over and over again, was giving me agita. And then there's the whole subject matter.  I forget, as my life goes on its merry way, that my path was skewed in an awkward direction on January 8, 2011.  It's not only revi...

We are not wondering why the Arab nations are not stepping up to the plate.  We are not wondering why Hungarian prisoners (or maybe the wardens, the reportage was unclear) are stringing barbed wire between war and peace.  My husband likes simple, elegant solutions.  He hates waste.  He has a plan. Move a bunch of families to the Caribbean..... the weather is great, the sea will be fun for the kids to romp in, and we have a lot of security already in place.   Move them into Gitmo. I understand that the vetting process to enter the USofA takes 12-18 months.  That's fine.  We don't want to open our borders to bad guys.  But, all five branches of the United States military are stationed at Guantanamo.  It's probably a safe place to harbor suspected terrorists.... since that's what it's there for.   Let's set up tents on the beaches. Let's fully stock the PX and let the refugees shop there.  It's 90 miles from Key West; a...

She gave up everything to take care of her failing, aging parents. Her life will be there when she returns, but a one way ticket brought her to her parents' sides. There's a big family. Need I say more?   The more I hear, the more grateful I am for my siblings' willingness to let me take the lead when G'ma was here in Tucson.  We never argued over decisions or choices.  Everyone was clear about what made a livable life for our mother, and they were happy to leave the day to day decisions... and the major decisions.... to me.   They included G'ma and my brother and my sister.  We were all on the same page. Unfortunately, my friend is not as lucky. She had to stage an intervention. I offered Big Cuter's sage advice, shared from the couch one Mom's Xmas Tree Decorating Day: Dad, I think there are two options here: Help or Compliments. I don't see viable alternatives.  And I offered this: Life is too short to spen...

First Posted for 9/11/11 Christina-Taylor Green's 10th birthday. 9 months and 3 days after she died, holding my hand. So much loss. So much love. ***** I am at a loss.  I have no words.  I've tried all day.  TBG has offered suggestions, Little Cuter told me to stop apologizing for crying for no reason.... or maybe there was a reason.... I'm not entirely sure.  I do know that I was surrounded by love and concern and that I was able to offer the same to friends who were in need. The words to write to you are absent from my brain.  Did Little Cheese know that when she sent me this poem?  Good friends do seem to have your pulse, even from thousands of miles away, don't they? It needs no more introduction that that which Little Cheese had as the subject of the email: Read by Billy Collins at Ground Zero, 9/11/11 The Names Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night. A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze, And when I saw th...

Mike Huckabee was brought to tears by a woman who ran for an office whose duties she cannot fulfill... and then said that God told her she was right. The man is running for President, Chief Executive Officer of the United States of America, and he supports an elected official who does not believe that the laws of this land apply to her. ***** Ben Carson questions the depth of Donald Trump's religious fervor, and CNN reports it... as if voters need to know that information in order to form a reasoned opinion. ***** Jeb Bush has a tax plan, but all the news shows were reporting his appearance on Colbert's Tonight Show. ***** Donald Trump and Ben Carson have 48% of the likely Republican primary voters convinced that they are Presidential, according to CNN according to a Monmouth University poll.  I'm so disgusted I can't make myself take the time to investigate it and give you a link. ***** I must have missed the memo - when did the side show move to the main ten...

When I was President of the Board of Trustees of our local school district, keeping class sizes small was the bait we used to pass tax increases.  No one wanted her child to be one of 26 first timers; 15 was a big enough class for one teacher to handle. And, we had aides for several of the hours the kids were with the teachers. And, we had students who had been to pre-school.  They were socialized to stand quietly in a straight line, to sit still at their desks with their hands folded and their heads upright, instead of lying on the desks. They understood 3 Fingers in the Air  was the signal for silence. And, we had families who understood the need for a good night's sleep before sending a 5 year old to a full day of learning. And, we had families who understood the importance of returning the homework envelope every Monday morning. And, we had parents who were able and willing to volunteer as helpers.  In fact, most classrooms had waiting lists for those j...

Amster and I took the boys to see Jaws this weekend. The show was supposed to be outside, but the weather people frightened the movie people into moving everything into The Loft 's main theater. With The Wonderfuls in tow, we dined al fresco over pizza and beer (okay, I was the only one with a beer....) on the patio, then made our way past the concession stand and settled in on the aisle. I still need to sit on the aisle; burying myself in the middle of the middle hasn't been an option since public spaces became scary places.  But cuddled next to Mr. 10, a willing recipient of my hugs and rubs and squeezes and other forms of love and terror, eased the bitch  back into her corner. Anyway, I convinced myself, a little bit of fear was an appropriate accompaniment to Jaws. " Listen to the music,"  was my answer each time Mr. 10 worried that something was going to happen. I'd forgotten how long it took before Bruce, the mechanical shark, ...

PTSD said hello this morning.  She crept out of my psyche, catching me unawares.  I was walking through the living room, catching a glimpse of the television, when she found something to set her off.  She's been dormant for a while, but I've felt her revving her engines all week long. There have been too many shootings recently, I moaned to Little Cuter over the phone.  I don't like to interrupt her work day, but TBG was at the gym and Big Cuter doesn't get the whole PTSD thing the way those of us who were there at the beginning seem to find it.  There are some good things that came out of this whole experience, and shielding my son fro the horror is one of them. But today, I needed someone who would listen and understand.  Little Cuter wins the award for that.  She was the only one I could think of who would understand that Tom Brady getting off on all counts of deception and impropriety could be a trigger for me. "We hold ourselves to high standar...

Scarlet and i have eaten there before.  The food is tasty, the seating is comfortable, the room is bright and cheery, the parking is plentiful and free (of course, it's Tucson, so the parking is almost always free.) We met at 1 and waited for our table by the window to be free  We sat.  We chatted.  We looked around.  We chatted and looked some more.  At a certain point, we began to wonder if we had become invisible. The tables around us had water and drinks.  We, arriving earlier, had nothing. The water arrived, eventually.  Scarlet's bottled water took two more trips past our table before the waiter could be flagged down and queried. He didn't seem to understand our order, although we weren't substituting anything for what the chef had prepared.  Scarlet didn't want croutons.  It was a long and anxious experience.... made more onerous by the fact that I was starving. We ate. We grew old waiting for our check, and even older w...

There's too much horror in the world these days. The NRA thinks that Alison Parker's parents were too emotional to be rational. I'm not sure rationality is called for right now.  I think outrage is a more appropriate reaction to the evening news. When the evening news is all about your family, as it was for us in 2011, being thoughtful is nearly impossible. Being close to gun violence once means that we are close it it forever.  The Parkers' pain is our pain.   What kind of world do we live in?  There is no answer, no simple slogan that will wipe away the images of what we'd all like to do to our assailants... in the quiet of the nighttime, with no one listening, with no one to judge, our basest instincts run rampant. Dreams of visiting pain and suffering on that thing , as one of the Aurora moms calls their shooter, intrude, waking us up, sweating, shaking, horrified that those thoughts exist within us.  There's a terrifying moment when you realize...

He got home before I did, so he answered the phone.  I was not sure why he picked up an unknown-to-us number.  His explanation was simple - by the time he got to the phone, the message machine was recording An URGENT message from the IRS. He doesn't like urgent messages from governmental agencies, so he picked up the receiver and the berating began. Was he trying to defraud the government?  Was he purposely misrepresenting his income?  He had broken several laws and violated the code.  A law suit has been filed.  His accounts were to be frozen. A lien was being placed on his car. The sheriff and an IRS agent were on their way to our front door, with the intention of taking my husband to jail. Apparently, he owed $3,946. Our taxes are done by the accountant we've known and loved since 1980.  He's scrupulous.  He's honest.  He's thoughtful.  He doesn't make mistakes.  When we were audited in the late 1980's he was furious; he ...