The Burrow

Dr. Seuss and I were in Ms Bronson's room after recess today, talking about personal responsibility.  With appropriately Seuss-ian bombast, I channeled the Once-ler and the Lorax as a cornucopia of kindergarteners sat, rapt, at my feet. It's a long story and it's hard to sit still but Grandma Suzi has a certain stare, learned from her own mother, that can quiet even the most rambunctious squirmer. My eyes focus, the silence grows longer, the other students turn to glare as well, and before you know it we're all back, once again sitting criss-cross-applesauce with our butts on the green carpet, watching the deforestation of the Truffula Trees. "I am the Lorax!  I speak for the trees!" It was a powerful message, delivered with typical Grandma style.  Every you  in the story was directed to a particular listener, with a grin and a pointed arm and finger and a raised eyebrow or two.  They giggled, they cowered, they grimaced.  We were all there with ...

Was The White House tone deaf or deliberately defiant by timing the Executive Order restricting immigration to coincide with Holocaust Remembrance Day?  Steve Bannon has long ago proven his anti-Semitic bias to me; Alt Right includes neo-Nazi's, if you choose to argue over his actual use of anti-Semitic rhetoric vs his support of those who do.  His nihilism is creeping into all the corners of the Executive Branch, and I have no reason to doubt his influence in this, too. DJT's omission of Saudi Arabia from the ban on entry makes me wonder if he did extra homework over the weekend in one of his Alternative Fact Workbooks.  After all, Saudi Arabia's  proven history of supporting terrorism  includes those pesky 9/11 bombers, FDR turned back boatloads of refugees yearning to breathe free, or at least not be turned into smoke and ashes.  It was not his most shining hour.  Sixth graders read The Diary of Anne Frank  and wonder how many Anne Franks a...

Almost everyone I love was marching last Saturday.  I couldn't get off the bed to join them. I wasn't ill.  The weather was perfect.  I had the text for Mr 11 and 13 created and ready to be sent. I couldn't make myself do it.  There is something absolutely immobilizing that takes over my heart and my soul whenever I consider being publicly political. I held a sign on the street corner in front of my Representative's office , but went inside when the police protection drove away.  I was fine going up in the elevator and talking to her District Manager, but I went out the back door and avoided the protest on the way to my car. I was scared.  I'm not usually scared.... at least the before-I-was-perforated me was not usually scared.  I suppose I am often scared these days, now that I put fingers to keyboard and think about it. I sat in the middle of the row in the middle of the movie theatre watching Sing!  with Amster and Mr. 11.  I did...

"When your mom makes you a Pussy Hat , you kinda sorta hafta march."   That Big Cuter's reply to the assorted "Nice hat!"  comments my first effort at pussy hatting elicited.  San Francisco's event started at 3pm, in a downpour,  but the crowd stretched as far as his eye could see. He thinks he was the only straight, white, not-with-a-woman, man in the crowd, but, "You raised me right, Mom; of course I had to go.  Besides, you made that hat... that anatomically incorrect hat.... that PUSSY hat.... so how could I make excuses about the rain?" Have I mentioned that I love my boy? I also love my little cousin. who is quite mighty, indeed. A friend's husband walked like this and felt the love, for sure. You've seen the older women with "I can't believe I'm doing this shit again!"  signs. You've seen the haters and the punsters and the calls to Resistance, but this one is, I must a...

The plan was to shower you with photos taken by my family and friends at the various Women's Marches they attended. But, driving home from class this afternoon, I noted larger than usual droplets on my windshield. Those droplets resolved into white shapes... delicate and interesting white shapes... shapes I remembered from lives past.... they were snowflakes. No. I refuse to accept this, on top of everything else. I'll be back tomorrow when I'm less annoyed.

Little Cuter's acorn didn't fall far from her mama's tree. These are her words and pictures. ****** I made a promise to my daughter before she was born that I would do everything in my power to keep her safe and make her feel loved. That is why I marched. I marched to show solidarity to my fellow Americans that the current political climate is NOT ACCEPTABLE to me and that I will do whatever I can in my power to stand against it and protect the future I promised to my kid. I also marched for strength. I marched because I didn’t want to feel removed, hopeless, rudderless or unable to turn on the television or open a newspaper. I marched for power - to share it with those who needed it and to siphon it from others who had some to spare. I marched because I am not entitled to the cushy life that I’ve led so far. I’ve spent 31 years benefiting from the fight that those before me have waged, and I want to show respect, and allow the generations before me to k...

My brother and my cousins and my daughter and my son  - they all were there and they've all agreed that I can share their stories.   Brother sent this to me and his Chicago-based daughter.  He tells a great story. Some of the language is not suitable for children, but there are no Alternative Facts in the tale. ***** Tina (our German citizen neighbor across the street ) drove ...to the Metro at  8:00 am .  Curious how an International Monetary Fund employee, a non-citizen, is protesting for women’s rights in Washington DC.  Imagine you doing that in Tehran or Ramallah. Wife and Daughter and Crowd We got one of the last parking spots.  It took 10 minutes to walk down the usually empty stairs to the  Metro to fight the crowds to get on the train which left Shady Grove at the end of the line completely full. Never been a crowd like that.  We elbowed our way through the crowds ... (and  t here was a farecard kefuffle and Brother...

My shooter is in prison for 20 years for interfering with my participation in a civic event, not for trying to kill me.  That has always felt right to me; there has been a chilling effect on my public participation in political gatherings ever since bullets and I intersected at Gabby Giffords's Congress on Your Corner.  My fears overwhelm my desire to participate. Friday morning, I'll be faced with a similar situation.  The fear is psychic not corporeal, unless throwing up counts as a physical threat.  I have to decide whether or not I will join TBG as he watches the inauguration of the 45th President of the United States of America. I don't know what I'll call him in The Burrow.  I have respect for the office, but I cried last week when I saw Barack Obama's portrait in the Federal Courthouse lobby... cried because his replacement has yet to demonstrate that he, himself, deserves my respect. He thinks it's okay to brag about grabbing and seducing and kissi...

Certainly, there are plants at the Botanical Gardens. Some make you smile, like these cacti Scarlett named Llamas I see snails with their necks elongated. We laughed at both descriptions. This was all on the way to the tropical environs and big bigger biggest leaves in the desert in The Butterfly Experience. These LBT's (Little Brown Things) were everywhere, fully exposed and camouflaged. One circled me, but decided not to land. I was kinda sorta glad about that. You are warned to avoid touching the butterflies if they land on you.   You are also warned to avoid stepping on them. Their life-cycle spans 2 to 3 weeks; no need to shorten it by human intervention. We stood for a while, watching the proboscis probe as the antennae and wings provided balance. A friend came to visit, skirting my elbow and sharing the nectar as his (her?) wings fluttered. They didn't seem to notice us, which was vaguely insulting. These orchids were mesmerizing, a ...

Frida Khalo and Diego  Rivera were artists and activists. They were gardeners, too. Who knew?  Not I, that's for sure.  Yet Scarlett and I spent a lovely Tuesday morning with Tucson's recreation of their Casa Azul.  The blue was a perfect match to our summer skies, a perfect reminder on a cooler winter day.  The orange is echoed in every other house here in The Old Pueblo.  It all felt very close to home, tempered with a bit of I-could-never-live-so-bright-a-life. They had a ziggurat, or is it a pyramid, or is it an artists rendering of the search for heaven? The Botanical Garden made one just for us, and adorned it with the plants that they (and we) could grow.  There was fauna to accompany the flora, with real frogs living above the ceramic toads in their pond. Though their walls probably didn't have explanatory posters I'm sure the windows were exquisitely placed, just as these were. The Botanical Garden engages ...

Little Cuter was right this morning, when she said that my generation was used to taking to the streets to fight for what's right.  Her generation never had to do that, until very recently.  It's not what they saw on television growing up; those battles weren't being fought that way in the 1980's and '90's.   In 1969 I left my Spring Formal dress in the closet in Ithaca as I rode to Washington, DC for the Mobilization Against the War. It was as close to being a Freedom Fighter, busing through the Deep South and registering voters, as my generation was able to get.  I'd seen it, I'd read it in the newspapers.  It was real and relevant and it inspired me to leave that fancy fraternity party behind in order to make a difference. I don't remember my parents registering dismay or apprehension about the trip, either.  The country was in an uproar and a statement needed to be made and why shouldn't I make it?  I was prepared to be tear gassed, but t...

I've been reading Dr. Seuss to the 7 kindergarten classrooms at Prince Elementary School helping with the transition from recess to classwork. I hang out with the kids on the playground before then; there are hugs and there are Hi, Grandma!! 's and there are untied shoelaces.  I believe that the Untying Fairy flies over the area and afflicts every other shoe in the vicinity. I used to bend over and tie one and move on.  Lately, now that the kindergarteners and I have bonded over Horton hatching that egg, I've had to sit on the ground.  There are too many to do in a crouch... even when I could crouch with comfort. And there I was on Friday, looking at untied and too long laces and knotted laces and soaking wet laces and muddy laces when I noticed a pair of grey shoes, laces loosely but securely tied. I watched from the corner of my eye as one shoe, slowly and stealthily, tugged on the longer end of the other shoe's lace, untying it. It took a while, but that lace...

He does it because he almost lost me.  He worries.  A lot. So his look of relief - when I announced that I didn't think I was physically up to walking in January in D.C. with thousands of other people for miles and miles even though were I able to go I would, for sure - wasn't unexpected. So tonight, when I said that if I could get on a bus and sleep all the way to Washington, arriving at just the right time and dropped off as close as possible to wherever we wanted to be and then picked up at a logical location and driven home, he surprised me. After 46 years together, surprises are few and far between. "Well, why don't you go on-line and see if there's a bus company that will do that?" The weather's going to be fine.  JannyLou's going and so is my gynecologist.  She doesn't have a pussy hat, but she has t-shirts in a similar vein. "Will I worry?  Of course I will.  And please don't ask me to go with you (TBG does not do crowd...

The Yarn Bomber came to Tucson last weekend. We took donated pieces of which there were many sent to the YarnBomber from Arkansas and Ontario and Thrift Shops around the country and embellished the larger ones with smaller ones before attaching them together in building-wrap sizes. We set up inside for small work and outside for the larger constructions. Denizens, I have to say that there's lying on the concrete, bleeding to death,  and there's lying on the concrete, sewing pieces of whimsy together, and my brand-new-Holiday-Celebration-Tour-sneaker (over there, on the right) and I are here to tell you that this way is much better.   The Brit Who Hugs made pretend snow angels on her section as she agreed with me.  I was having too much fun watching her, and being glad about the fact that I was there to watch her, to stop and take a picture.  You'll just have to imagine our giant, life affirming, in-the-moment, smiles. ...