The Burrow

There was the world's tallest air slide. There was a big, beveled hill to run down. There were climbing ropes and climbing plates and characters to high five with. Kids could toss real baseballs with their moms. OH, there was also a baseball game. Sometimes, the peripheral activities are more enticing than the actual event. At least that's true when you are three..... or when you're watching Single-A ball.

Comcast brought the paint and the t-shirts. Prince provided the labor. Kids and parents and grandparents worked together with Dads sometimes carrying an extra burden or two. The ground beneath the swings was given Bobcats full of sand. Then there was the need to rake. Little ones and bigger ones painted the climbing gym. Others posed for Grandma. One of the teachers told me that this was the first time her windows had been washed in all the years she'd been teaching at Prince.   The deep cleaning of the tiles required wearing a backpack and pulling the machine. She was totally into it. Grandkids were part of the package, too. There was something for everyone to do. Weeding the walkway, cleaning the desks, staying out of the way. This is their playground  and they were committed to making it beautiful. Next time someone tells you that teachers are over-paid and underworked, ask them if the...

You've heard it over and over again. They have all that vacation time!   Summers and Christmas and Thanksgiving and Spring Break and Rodeo Week ..... it's not a full-time job, really..... I'd love to be done at 3 every day.... Well, the next time that comes up in conversation (if it does, you really need new friends!), show them these pictures. Ask if they were bent in half, painting Alaska early on a sunny Saturday morning. Maybe they were on the ground, making Hawaii purple,  in the sun. They probably weren't taping boxes  or painting playground equipment  or sanitizing their workspaces.  But they  were.  So were they. The teachers at Prince Elementary School were washing windows...... do you wash the windows in your place of employment?   They were painting the hallways. . Do you think that was part of the Masters in Education curriculum? These professionals pay for their own continuing d...

Say what you will about Comcast as a service provider, but don’t disrespect the charitable work the company supports.  Last Saturday, they came to Prince. They brought t-shirts for everyone. They brought paint and brushes and cups to hold all the colors.   Some of us worked inside. Comcast brought a videographer to record our work for posterity. The teachers brought their families and friends. Outside, Comcast used the rollers-on-a-stick to paint the high up spaces. The playground was glistening under the sun as the paint dried. With industrial cleaners and mops and wipes, the classrooms were gleaming. It was hard work, and resting was part of the event. Not everyone spends a free Saturday on their knees, in the sand, on someone else's playground. Comcast did.

We flew. We hugged. We ate. We hugged. We played. We hugged. This is her house, with her family. The concept of extended family is being explored. Little Cuter calls me Mama and confusion ensues. Our relationships are dissected. Maga and Papa might be closer in distance but they aren’t her family, either. Unless they are. Three year olds are nothing if not capricious. She’s into “all the princesses” and Wonder Woman. Nick Junior and Disney have entered her consciousness.  Books are still her favorites, though watching videos on the iPad runs a very close second. We built jails out of cardboard blocks and staged escapes. Her fingers are more delicate on the piano keys as she sings to her dolls, playing  tunes for them to dance to.  She doesn’t need any help. My heart is full. Our days together are just beginning. Life is good, even if this post is late.

The Burrow is 9 years and 1 week old today.  Born on April 14, 2009, it's a creation of Big Cuter's encouragement ( Mom, you are way hipper than you think you are) and Little Cuter's unlocking the door ( If Suzi can't write, maybe Ashleigh Burroughs can).  This is the 8th post I ever wrote.  I like it just as much today as I did then. I hope you were able to be out and about, planting or enjoying one of my favorite holidays.  And apologies to the 7 of you who read this when it was inadvertently published on Sunday afternoon. ***** Earth Day 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 ...

Mother-In-Law: I don’t want her there, with that new wheelchair. Daughter-In-Law: You have known her since you were 5 years old. And, anyway, you can’t uninvite someone from your 100th Birthday Party just because she’s getting old.

Because what I really need is another cause, I spent the late afternoon at the administrative offices of the Amphi School District. My favorite Community Organizer invited me to join a small group of like minded volunteers, do-gooders of all ages who are committed to providing a quality education for all our children. I hate meetings. I vowed that I would never willingly attend a meeting once I moved to Tucson. I have refused Board positions which required meetings. But in 2011, after avoiding meetings for 5 wonderful years, I had to represent GRIN  at Beyond! planning events for the Stroll and Roll. It was there I met Mama Meeting. She was coordinating the 40 something groups involved in the event. Her meetings were special.  There were just enough of them, scheduled just when they were needed.  We began on time.  We ended on time.  We stuck to the agenda.  Everyone spoke; no one bloviated.  We accomplished what we set out to, and left wit...

Allegiant Airlines is the new corporate whipping boy. I bet Mark Zuckerberg is grateful to them, just as I was grateful for the Arab Spring, which drew the reporters and cameras and investigative journalists out of Tucson after I got shot. There's no such thing as bad publicity might have met its match when the publicity includes 87 million mistakes. I was bemused by reports that Zuckerberg wore a suit and didn't fidget.  Has the bar really sunk so low?  He said he was sorry a zillion times, but sorry doesn't cut it when my data is used against me.  I'm not deleting my account; I need to see FlapJilly's adventures and that is where they are displayed.  But I'm more thoughtful about clicking through to stories and I'm ignoring all the quizzes that come my way.  Not that I did them anyway...... after I was told that I was 100% Catholic I began to doubt their reliability.  I know.... I know..... it took me a while.  But I got there, eventually. Don...

I asked Not-Kathy how I was walking.  Didn't she see improvement?  After all, she hadn't been around for the last 6 months; the difference must have been striking. Right?  Actually, not much. She's honest. She loves me. She's a nurse.  Those three qualifications factored into her analysis.  That made it all the more upsetting. I've been noticing newly awakened musculature.  Nerve endings have connected with little explosions of  joy  making their presence known in my upper thigh.  I'm able to do more in the gym and in Pilates, and do it with less unpleasant accompanying sensations (aka pain).  These gains have, I suppose, led me to a false sense of accomplishment.  If Not-Kathy thinks I'm stuck, then I'm stuck. It's time for a reassessment. Once again, I have to assume a double role - patient and trainer.  I can't wimp out while looking at the weights; I have to put the 10 pound plates on the Smith Machine and do my squ...

Or, perhaps in your town it's 15 or 7.  We are the volunteers, the ones who do. We show up at the meetings, collect the signatures, make the phone calls, and chair the committees.  There's no fame or fortune attached; the work must be done so we show up and do it. We run into each other all over town.  Of course you are here, I think to myself.  I'm here. I was at a picnic with them this afternoon.  The event was open to the whole club; the Board outnumbered the members two-to-one.  It's a good thing I like them all.  We've been doing this together for a decade or so, creating outings and luncheons and doing good deeds.  Our leader is retiring next year and so far no one has jumped up to fill in the gap. We need a 13th person.

There's a member of the Happy Ladies Club who annoys everyone she meets. That's a real accomplishment.  There are upwards of 400 females in the group.  One would think that some of them would be her kind  of person.  One would think that there would be a few women who found her charming, interesting, enjoyable, worth knowing.  So far, I haven't encountered any of them. What I have found is members consciously avoiding the table she's chosen, looking askance when the only available seat is beside her, refusing to participate in events she's organizing. People roll their eyes as she approaches. She's antagonistic.  She's moved from snarky to nasty.  She's right, always, without exception, and she has no qualms about correcting those with whom she disagrees.  It's her way or the highway.... and her way is no fun at all.  She's not physically repulsive, but her persona is such that it feels like she smells. She was less unpleasant this af...

Do you know about them? They are porous, unglazed pots with lids.  You put them in the raised garden bed or container, fill the rest of the area with soil, and plant around the olla.  When you fill the olla with water and replace the lid on top, osmosis does the rest. It's capillary action bringing the water from inside outside ..... or, as the kids at Prince said, it's absorbing...... it's leaking..... it's changing color. Science is fun when you are in the garden with dirty hands. The playground aide has issues with lots of kids within the fence; I make a big show of counting the number of helpers I have.  Though they are tortured by the fact that they can't come over the fence, Prince scholars are well trained.  They stay outside, peering at their peers who were lucky enough to make the cut. Those inside stand aside so their friends can observe the action.  Though they are honored to be within the confines of the garden, there is still some ...