The Burrow

Written on November 13, 2013, long before anyone could imagine Donald Trump being a serious candidate for anything, the title caught my eye while I was looking for this week's post from the archives.  I wish I could make some connection between Mr. Trump and art and creativity and adoration, but I can't.   As to these Archival Editions in general, Big Cuter wondered if I was having trouble keeping up with the daily grind.  Little Cuter admitted to skipping them -  "I've read them already"  - except, she says, when they are about her grandfather.   "I LOVE the Daddooooo posts."   I am enjoying re-reading and editing and remembering, here with one that might satisfy my little girl. ***** JES  commented on my encounter with Mark Helprin, my  favorite living novelist , thusly: I loved  Winter's Tale , inordinately. Some years later, though, I came across something Mark Helprin had written.....  it was shockingly, hide...

Ted Cruz stood on a basketball court and referred to the ring, not the hoop. He's just so annoying, I enjoy sharing his errors. I wonder if all those lovely young white girls surrounding him have given any thought to how intrusive he wants be in their reproductive care decisions?   Hey, Ted.  If you want to pander, get your terms right. ***** Barbara Boxer, my former Congresswoman and Senator, has the best response to Sen. Cruz's choice of Carly Fiorina as his vice-presidential running mate.  She tweeted: I predict that the latest @CarlyFiorina merger will be as successful as her last one. Is she being positioned as the alter-Trump?  Is she being touted as a successful business woman?  I can hardly wait to listen to the comparisons:  four business bankruptcies vs running Hewlett-Packard into the ground after the disastrous merger with Compaq. It boggles the mind, watching the Republican party, the party of business, represented by these pe...

This post was published yesterday, in error.  If you are one of the 19 people who read it before I deleted it.... oops! ***** As long as it doesn't have to fit, I'm fine. Aprons, hats, mittens, blankets, as long as it's one-size-fits-all, whether on the sewing machine or with crochet hook or knitting needles, I'm a happy girl.  Like G'ma before me, I'm becoming more comfortable if the materials are not too dark, my eyes aging with the rest of me.  But I like to keep busy and the NBA playoffs are not holding my attention and I seem to have a lot of yarn just asking to be made into blankets.   The problem with blankets is that they require many skeins of yarn.  Sometimes I make up the stripes, sometimes the yarn itself creates them, but even the bulkiest of yarns requires more than one skein for even the smallest of baby blankets*.  This means that I must join the skeins together.   I don't have the patience to do a great job, I think....

The information in these two posts comes from the  K-12 Pubic Education and Proposition 123 ,  published by the League of Women Voters of Arizona on February 1, 2016; "Governor Could 'Pack' Supreme Court Under Bill," Tim Steller's  April 17th column in the Arizona Daily Star;   azednews.com ; and A Resolution of the Governing Board of Amphitheater Unified School District No 10 of Pima County, Arizona Opposing Legislation to Repeal Essential Desegregation Funding and accompanying fact sheet.. When they say it more clearly than I can, I've italicized my plagiarsm. The Arizona Daily Star, my local newspaper, reluctantly suggests that voters approve Prop 123 .  I understand their logic; this is the only way to put money into the schools immediately.  I disagree. There is no certainty that law suits and automatic economic triggers and the general recalcitrance of the Arizona Legislature will actually allow this to happen. And, there is more.  Oh, ye...

The post I had in mind for today will just have to wait.   You have to see this. Those four small ones will turn into a branch full like this one. Hard to believe those yellows and reds and pinks all start out like this. Happy Spring!

The information in these two posts comes from the  K-12 Pubic Education and Proposition 123 ,  published by the League of Women Voters of Arizona on February 1, 2016. and "Governor Could 'Pack' Supreme Court Under Bill," Tim Steller's Sunday, April 17th column in the Arizona Daily Star.   When they say it more clearly than I can, I've italicized my plagiarsm. Amidst the Trump-tantrums and delegate grabbing and voter suppression, Arizona's Governor Doug Ducey, former CEO of the failed Cold Stone Creamery franchise operation, has taken bad behavior to new heights.  If, at the end, you are wondering why I still live here, know that I ask myself the same question on a fairly regular basis.  It's embarrassing. Growing up, I believed that my education was important to everyone.  I knew no grown-ups who were against good schools.  Taxes were contested at every election, but the rhetoric was anti-tax rather than you're-using-the-money-incorrectly-a...

This was first posted on April 2, 2012. He's almost 11 now, and understands defense and protecting the ball and teamwork. He's just as lovable now as he was then. ***** It was  beautiful and sunny in The Old Pueblo on Saturday. Mr. 6 was playing in his first soccer game and I was there to cheer.... and to reflect... and to remember. I've watched a lot of soccer in March. This is the first time I wished I'd had an umbrella. Even at 11am, the smart parents took refuge under shade. In Chicago, in March, we were wrapped in parkas, scarves and sweaters. We washed mud out of uniforms and wondered if, perhaps, the chess club might be an alternative. That was not the case last weekend. It was the first game of the season, the first game of their lives for most of the players, so the coaches were actively involved. Mr. 6 and his teammate were ushered to their defensive positions and told to stay there and guard them. And that's what they did. ...

She's got almost 20 years on me, and her joints are just as old.  I've been watching her locomote with pain since we met.  After today, a lot of that should change. She's been through physical therapy and massage therapy and cortisone shots.  She bought a zero gravity recliner in which she found relief, sometimes.  Sleeping through the night was not an option; the pain woke her, reminded her that she was here, left her suffering. It was time for surgery. She's had more serious procedures in the past.  She's traveled to the best doctor for this, that, and the other thing.  But this knee replacement is happening across town, at the brand new Tucson Orthopedic Institute at Tucson Medical Center, with a doctor she's known for decades.  She loves him.  He explains everything clearly.  He is optimistic.  He is realistic.  He's hers and she's confident and so, when I arrived just before they wheeled her into the surgical suite, she w...

She sent me a text, apologizing for missing my call.  She'd get back to me as soon as she unloaded the groceries.  I was reading a book, drinking ice tea, enjoying the fresh air.  I was available whenever she was. Had I called her?  I didn't remember.  It didn't matter.  By the time she was settled down for a long chat I had dozens of questions at the ready. We've been in each other's lives since I was 19 and she just a bit older.  TBG's the youngest of his first cousins; most of them had children when I met them. Her kids were around whenever we were in Cleveland, and they had very cool outdoor toys.  My city-bred kids were enthralled with the trikes and the scooters and the cars of all varieties of locomotion, and TBG and I enjoyed the grown-ups every bit as much. But, as with so much of life, I keep up with her through the postings of her children on Facebook.  Holidays and the occasional She's the person who needs this  card or...

Women in the workplace. A group of old white men assessing the honesty of two younger black professionals. A black man accusing a black woman of lynching. The Exorcist and Othello and pubic hair. Unflattering portraits of every Senator on the Committee, some truly terrifying. "We feel shock, discomfort, anger, depression, and shame." (Tom Brokaw) "They don't care.  They only want to win." (Anita Hill) ***** I remember listening to the hearings on my Sony Walkman, standing on the sidelines at that cold field near Irving Park, while Big Cuter played a team sport of some kind. The sun was shining, the wind was blowing, and I was enthralled.  Anita Hill was so calm, so disciplined, so obviously wanting to be anywhere but there, talking about anything but that. I could feel the national conversation shifting. Demeaning, inappropriate remarks were being called what they were - sexual harassment.   Twenty five years later, the issues feel almost qu...

I could write about a Sanders supporter calling Hillary a whore.  I could write about the Chibok girls, missing in Nigeria for two long years.  I could write about the Trump kids feeling really really bad about not registering to vote for their dad in the primary. I could, I suppose, but what is there to say that hasn't been said?  I can't come up with an original thought.  I'm furious, I'm impotent, it's systemic, and no one seems surprised any more.   We know what to expect. It was depressing, so I went outside.  And I was surprised. Who knew that roses grew in the desert?  Certainly, I did not.    These blooms are on the same plant, another surprise. They appear here in sequence, growing older as you scroll down. From orange to through red to pink.... more surprises. This new one beside the first one gives me hope. If only the world were as delightfully surprising... Hillary and John Kasich would...

First published August 30, 2010 They were out in full force, today, the good daughters (and a few sons). G'ma's pod-castle is one of several on a piece of former scrub land which is now labeled a Village . It's always seemed as if that were over-stating the case; there wasn't as much activity as the word village conjures up for me. But today, for some reason, the inter-connected parking lots and the walkways around the individual pod-castles were humming with activity. There was actually traffic in the round-about - a first in the 13 months I've been visiting G'ma there. A woman my age was holding hands with an older woman as they made their way from a parked car to the front courtyard of G'ma's building. There was an equal measure of physical and emotional support in their grip. The emotions were going both ways. I imagined the same scene 60 years earlier. The balance of power and cognition and responsibility, though radically different, he...

Today I got to smile about Miss Sullivan. That's not her name anymore, except in our family where she ranks among the teachers we will never forget. It's a perfect blogonym for her. She and Big Cuter arrived at The Fancy Private High School the same fall semester. For the next four years, he took the Latin she taught. Since the texts were tales of battles and philosophy and crude poetry, he might have loved it anyway. But the fact that Miss Sullivan was at the front of the room made that love a certainty.  She came from Harvard, and expected her students to learn the language.  The class had been an easy-A  before her arrival; it was culture and readings in translation with some Latin grammar thrown in for good measure. Once Miss Sullivan arrived, though things began to change. The Latin 3 students were suddenly back in Latin 1, and those juniors and seniors were none too happy about it. We, the five or six freshman parents sitting around the table at Back ...

The Alumni Admissions Ambassadors Network recommended that Accepted Students be received. Therefore, the banner was hung on Saturday. I would show you a picture of the red and white balloons against the bluest of blue skies,  but the prickers on the palo verde trees destroyed them before I returned with my camera. One of the students thought they were the remnants of a party the night before, but they were part of the decor for her Reception. She Who Must Be Obeyed thought that something at home would be nicer than meeting in a restaurant.  Since the restaurant I wanted to use couldn't accommodate us on a Saturday, I agreed with her and turned to Breugger's and my pantry for bagels and lox.  Happily, I have a lot of red and white serving pieces and doilies and such. Leftovers have been keeping me happy ever since. It was a lovely party, with an edge just beneath the surface. These kids did not know what to do. They were the lucky ones, in th...

Every year, TBG tells me the same thing: " I love watching the Masters.  I've been watching it since I was 10 years old, sitting on the couch with Dad.  I fell in love with Arnie just when the rest of America did.  It's just so beautiful, so manicured, so pristine." I like watching him watch it, a peaceful smile on his face. He's communing with his decades-gone father, calling out to me when the camera pans the flora, and, this year, hooting and hollering when a player makes a hole in one. ***** I always thought that those shots were rare.  Today, there have been three of them. It must be wonderful to have your shot-of-a-lifetime recorded forever on television.  The question is, does the player have to buy a drink for everyone who saw it? ***** The weather is beautiful in Augusta, but here in Tucson  it's been raining on and off all day. I pulled on my flannel shirt to go to the grocery store; 75 degrees demands it. I'm not complaining, mind yo...

"The door is closing on a Social Security strategy for boomers" read the headline.  I'm not fond of scare tactics, but Social Security is on my near-term horizon and I am woefully ignorant of the procedures.   Gail MarksJarvis's opening sentence just reinforced my angst. If you are married (yes) , and you or your spouse will soon be 66 years old (yes) , you might be able to increase your Social Security by thousands of dollars (YES!!) , but there's a catch (of course) Reading that my best options may be lying on the other side of that closed door led me to read the two columns of dense prose which followed.  Newspapers may be aimed at a 6th grade reading level, but neither my college degree, nor TBG's, not my Masters' nor his, not his law degree nor my years contending with bureaucracy as a hospital social worker and an advocate for the developmentally disabled were of any help.  The article was unfathomable. I should have realized that a woman who...

Throwback Thursdays, the Facebook meme which has my friends posting their school pictures from 1958, never caught on with me.  I'm more interested in sharing the here and now than in reliving the past.   But some of the past may be worth revisiting.  This, the first in a weekly series of Archival Edition posts, will explore The Burrow to see if that's true. ***** First published on  April 28, 2010 , this lightly edited post could have been written today.   I am, as Pantagruel suggested, tending my own garden.   Here are the results of a lovely early morning and late afternoon walking around my yard and admiring the work that the creator (need a capital C?  whatever floats your boat... today, I'm not arguing with anyone about anything) and I have achieved.  The commentary is minimal.... I hope your joy is exponential. ***** Yellow is the predominant color right now. These damianitas have finally shown their true beauty. ...

SIR took a vacation day on Tuesday.  It was his birthday present to himself.  Little Cuter was at work, but that was okay.  His plan was to spend the day with his daughter.  He took her to swim class. I don't remember my father ever taking a day off work to spend with me.  I went into The City to his work when I had vacation days, but the notion of turning that on its head and having him follow me around on my daily rounds was never considered. TBG never missed a game or a performance (for the most part), but he never took a whole day and spent it hanging with the kids.  I was there.  The babysitter was there.  Work beckoned... and it was a workplace that took pride in the fact that the employees retired with years of vacation days in the bank.  He never took a vacation without feeling guilty. The thought of being home and available when his colleagues were at their desks was filled with angst. When Little Cuter spent a weekend in Texas...

It's a snippet, because I can't stand having Mr. Trump in my living room for more than fifteen minutes or so.  But this time, I have to invite him to join us because he managed to alter my outlook.  He startled me, then left me feeling bemused. Why?  Because the talking heads articulated a problem I had never considered, despite the thoughtful consideration I've given to the issue.  My views have softened over time, but Mr. Trump's confusion and final declaration as Chris Matthews pressed him on abortion stopped me in my tracks. (start at 0:19) "Yes, there has to be punishment." "For the woman?" "Yes, for the woman" In pre-Roe America, my college years, everyone knew someone who knew someone who would drive you to Syracuse to the doctor who did abortions.  That was all the information you needed; anything else was too dangerous to share.... not for the woman in distress, but for the person performing the procedure.  The ...