The Burrow

It's very hard to ignore the kakistocracy these days, but I'm trying.  I listened to MSNBC as I paid bills and cleaned out my inbox (my desk is still clear!) and as I was wrapping brownies, until I realized that I wasn't paying that much attention to the scandal du jour.  I was telling myself stories about my nieces, my friends-since-middle-school, my Chicago girlfriends. I turned off the tv. There were spatial relations problems to be solved when fitting bubble wrapped goodies into flat rate envelopes.  If it fits, it ships  is the only instruction given by the Postal Service, and neatness does not count.  More than one recipient has commented that the holidays start when the misshapen package from you arrives.  I prodded and folded and used more tape than might have been necessary, it's true, but the damn things get where they are going and that's all that matters. The giant blue IKEA bag I've used in the past to schlep the packages to the Post Offi...

The Tucson Audubon Society had a table full of Lucy's warbler houses outside Whole Foods yesterday.  They were giving them away for free. This is not a usual occurrence. In fact, I'd never heard of a Lucy's warbler or known that they were homeless creatures in need of nurturing.  But I listened and I learned and I came out with my groceries to find a box filled with bird nesting spaces and a kind gentleman to carry them to my trunk. They were delighted to spread the wealth, and I was thrilled to have an activity for Garden Club today. Apparently, a dearth of mature mesquite trees has created problems for the Lucy's warbler as it migrates.  The birds nest in shady spaces on the north and east sides of the trees.  As mesquite groves are bladed for sub-divisions, new trees are planted.  But these babies don't have mature foliage nor the trunk width to support even a tiny warbler nest. In stepped the Tucson Audubon Society and their research based, absolu...

(No, not the beginning of the end of the Trump kakistocracy.) ***** Big Cuter did the heavy lifting as I sorted and discarded and packed and repacked until I had one box for Fall, one for Halloween, and one for Thanksgiving neatly aligned on the proper shelf.  Hanukkah and the two Minimal Christmas boxes are on the floor of the garage, open and ready to be unpacked as the spirit or the need requires.  Finding myself soap-less at the sink this afternoon, I found a Christmas tree patterned bar on top of the first Minimal box.  It must have been the last thing I put away, unless I was brilliant and realized it would be the first thing I'd need when I closed the box last January.  Stranger things have happened. I did organize the wrapping supplies last year.  I tossed anything that wasn't pristine, gave away the religiously themed items I'd never use, contained the tags and the embellishments and the Hanukkah glitz separately, and set them on easily transporta...

Him and I's relationship is solid.   That was a contestant on an I'm-too-embarrassed-to-admit-that-I-was-in-the-room-at-the-time reality tv show.  It was a show entirely about relationships.  I would have thought that the producers would have introduced a little bit of grammar training along with the hair and make up. Admittedly, that's a hard one.  Brenda Starr, my newspaper editor friend, advises writing around situations like that - We have a solid relationship - rather than tackling the complexities.  And, these weren't people chosen for their facility with the spoken word.  Looks won out more often than brains. But the sports announcers?  Their job is to put together coherent sentences in the English language.  It amazes me how difficult they find that task. If information can be conveyed as well, that's a step up from the norm.  My brain is exploding . Big Cuter and his father, showing an appalling lack of moral certitude and a de...

I was wrong .  There are memories to be made while waiting in line at Kohl's . The boys were napping or watching football or some combination of the two when I went to Whole Foods and Kohl's on Friday afternoon.  I needed groceries, so the market was a given. I had a coupon, they had sales, and finding a selection of flannel shirts in Tucson is a challenge anywhere else but Kohl's.  So, I went. The line wound around the eye-catching front of the store displays, through the women's section, nearly touching the housewares at the end of the aisle when I arrived.  It wasn't much shorter when I joined it a while later, my mesh basket filled with gifts, my heart filled with smiles.  It's fun to imagine them opening the bags; I like the lead up much more than the actual event, I think.  Behind me was the world's most well behaved two year old.  Not once did she whine or whimper or demand attention.  She hid behind the long pants and matching jacket...

It was a quiet Thanksgiving, with just my boys and me at the table.  Big Cuter knocked his wine while reaching for his father's hand but that was the only blip in the evening.  My mashed potatoes came close to matching Little Cuter's creations, my turkey only took 35 minutes longer to cook than I'd planned, and Whole Foods' pre-made gravy ensured that everything arrived at the table at the same time, warm and tender as it could be. We were thankful.  They were complimentary.  There were left-overs.  There were ghosts. Christina-Taylor appeared first, hovering over my shoulder as I decided which serving pieces to use.  She and G'ma had that chore in 2010, just six weeks before the bullets began to fly.  Which ones should I use?  she wondered.  Ask G'ma , said I.  And so the youngest and the oldest guests talked about the history of this silver spoon and that slotted spoon and I listened as they made wise choices.  My mother sitti...

On dinner in Cleveland Heights at Nannie's house: ..... of my first niece, a veg even as a toddler, eating cucumbers for dinner and feeling just fine.... ..... sitting in the dining room, using it, for once, as more than an inconvenient space between the kitchen and the tv room, sideboards groaning, waiting for Nannie's yearly screech,   just as the first fork was lifted:  "Oh, shit... I burned the rolls!" ..... of walks around the neighborhood, wrapped in scarves and hats culled from the front hall closet, surrounded by all ages and temperaments, mellowed by tryptophan More Recent, but similar: Thursday Afternoon: "What time are you getting your mom?" "Oh, shit, I forgot about G'ma!" Warming the cockles of my heart (and making me glad I recorded it in The Burrow) I, math challenged, asked G'ma how many ounces were in a cup.  And my mother, my dear, demented, forgetful mother, without missing a beat, told me that there we...

The scholars in a certain kindergarten thought that a scarecrow would be a great addition to the garden.  Grandma brought the supplies. The scholars provided the labor. It was a very busy, very productive, morning on the floor. The pants were easier to photograph  than the shirts, which kept losing their underpinnings as we tried to hold them up,  Tonight, the tops are resting on the bottoms in a quiet corner of the room, waiting to be named.   Tomorrow I'll secure the two halves and move them out to the garden where they can frighten the burrowing animal leaving tunnels through one of our beds.   The scholars may have named them by then.  On the other hand, we may have to take a vote. Among the many many many things for which I am thankful are moments like these.

I had a post in my head.  I was ready to write about an epiphany.  I was going to share my moment among the vegetables in Whole Foods.  You'll read it tomorrow.  TBG came out of the bedroom, into the kitchen, to share the news.  Another mass shooting, this time at Mercy Hospital in Chicago.  A spurned lover.  A critically injured police officer. At a hospital.  I can't even type.  The place I felt safest, the place I didn't want to leave, the place that put me back together with spit and baling wire, the place where the kindest, gentlest, most thoughtful humans perform their magic...... At a hospital. I'll be able to type more tomorrow.  Right now, I just want to hold my heart in my hands and not think about anything at all..

The Rogue surprised us on Saturday afternoon. We left laughing, smiling, feeling good about the world in general, after watching Hunter Hnat inhabit the role of Christopher in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. To call it triumphant is to understate the sorrow nestled inside.the story.  Christopher can't bear to be touched.  Loud noises send him into a tizzy.... I've been thinking about describing it and that's the best I can do.  He's uncontrollable and inconsolable and angry and hurt and scared and furious all at the same time.... and you watch his Mom and his Dad hold their breaking hearts together... barely. He undertakes pragmatic projects, like passing his maths A levels three years earlier than most, and personal projects, involving trust and distance and doing what he doesn't think he wants to do at all.  There's never a moment of pity.  There's frustration and aggravation and terror and annoyance riding right alongside the love a...

Little Cuter in Indiana and The Bride in Alabama wonder what it's like to live in a state that's trending purple. When we moved to Arizona in 2006, we had Janet Napolitano as our Governor, Gabby Giffords as our US Representative, and Senator John McCain (before Sarah Palin).  Then Obama was elected and he took Janet and we got The Hairdresser.  Gabby was shot and we got McSally.  John McCain became a hack, then a hero, then he died. It's been up and down and all around but here we are.  The State Legislature's Republican majority has shrunk.  My Congressional district flipped back to the Democrats.  And this is how my new Senator showed up for work today: getty photo To answer the girls' question: It Feels Great!

Our Dwarf Mandarin Orange tree looks sad. I'll take this photo to the Master Gardeners tomorrow, along with a leaf.  I was the only one who was concerned with the tree.  Everyone else in Garden Club wanted to use the tools.  You broke all the tools , I told them.  We're not using the tools today.   Half the kids left after that announcement.  The rest of them enjoyed bite size pieces of freshly cut scallions,  while examining the remains of the roots we'd worked on last week.   I thought about it once the bigger kids arrived.  I brought out the Felco Pruner. I didn't let them carry the tool.  I didn't let them decide what to cut.  I showed them the advantages of a diagonal slice.  I demonstrated the locking mechanism.  By the time I was finished impressing them with the seriousness of our undertaking, the participants had been whittled down to a hearty few. And so we began. Accepting help with grace...

Dr.  Ramani Durvasula  was the first speaker at TedX/Sedona this year.  A therapist, a professor, an author, an all around interesting human wrapped in a delightful exterior, Dr. Durvasula accomplished a miracle - she spoke about DJT for 18 minutes, and she never mentioned his name. Her talk was about narcissism.  It was terrifying and uplifting at the same time.  Her book,  Should I Stay or Should I Go , posits a question TBG and I have been asking ourselves lately.  How bad does America have to get before we seriously consider relocating to British Columbia?  Last Tuesday's election results have eased the pressure somewhat, but Dr. Durvasula told us that second chances only give permission . It's as hard to think about as a country as it is in a personal relationship.  The stakes are just as high. The more she talked, the more she drew us in.  Here's some of what she said, and what it meant to me. Narcissism is characterized by c...

World War I ended on November 11, which, this year, fell on Sunday. Grumpy's Grill offered free dessert to all veterans, in honor of their day. So, on Sunday, I treated Amster to breakfast after the gym. She took the free brownie and ice cream home to her boys; she kept the server's heartfelt Thank you for your service! for herself. Today, Monday, we ate breakfast burritos, my treat once again, in honor of her day, once again.  She told me I didn't have to keep on buying her foodstuffs.  I just smiled.  She served.  I didn't.  Breakfast was on me. Once again. It was explained to me that Jewish holidays are, for the most part, celebrated for two days, because they were calendar-less.  They relied on the shofar, a notoriously difficult to blow but once blown emitting a piercing shriek ram's horn. A guy on top of a mountain shrieked the news ( Today's the day!)  to another guy on the top of another mountain and so on and so on throughout the land....

Now there's a catchy title.  Designed to draw you right in.  But I'm in the middle of one right now and I thought I'd share.  It's that, or finish the last 150 or so pages and prove to myself that I guessed the back story and the final scene after the crimes were established. Actually, I predicted the last chapter when finished the first one. Lisa Scottoline used to write mysteries with a hard edge. Her characters had grit, wisdom, and humor.  Their relationships were unusual.  With Feared , she's slipping closer and closer to the chick lit/romance side of pulp fiction.  How many times does she need to use her best friend  before she'll believe that I understand the relationship.  I was on page 235 when I stopped to write to you; she's still not sure. I rarely put a book down in the middle, so I plowed through Bill Clinton and James Patterson's co-authored opus.  Policy screeds are not what I'm looking for when I take one of JP's books ...

Things were going along quite smoothly this week.  The tools were not raised above the waist by those who were in need of supplies. Those who were comfortable with the tools their bodies provided were happily weeding the dirt surrounding our blooming beds.  The garden leaders saw me trip over the tip of a root. They heard me mutter that I have to do something about that.  Someone's going to get hurt. While cherubic cheeks brought me offerings of dead leaves and small stones, waiting for my approval before going off in search of more treasures to deposit in the trash barrow, I watched with barely concealed horror as the root was attacked from all angles, with all available supplies. This is hard packed, un-irrigated for decades, exposed to full sun/all day dirt they were digging through.  I listened to them warn the others when one began to poke at the root with enthusiasm, I heard them reassure me that It's all good .  I tried to identif...

The answer was no clearer this morning than it was when I collapsed into bed last night.  25% of the vote must still be counted before we know if the Democrats have managed to salvage at least one of the marquee races on the ballot this year.  Stacey Abrams isn't finished, either.  I'm getting a headache thinking about the fact that her opponent is monitoring the validity of the election in his role as Secretary of State.  He sees no conflict.  It's a measure of the distress in our democracy that no one else does, too. Jeff Sessions is out and replaced by someone who talked about starving the investigation to death .  I am certain that Robert Mueller has a plan in place for this eventuality, but I'm disgusted that, once again, an outrage is about to be perpetrated on our democracy and no one in power seems to care. The bond to Fix Our Roads was soundly defeated in our county.  Apparently, TBG and I are among the very few voters who care about mai...

There were a lot of cars in the library parking lot this morning.  It was an hour before the building would be open for business; we were all there to vote. I was second in line, much to my delight.  I've never had company when I voted before.  I greeted the Poll Worker with a smile; she and several of the others in the room have been election day fixtures since I've been voting in Tucson.  The Chief Inspector is an old friend.  We laughed about disagreeing on everything except how wonderful it is to vote. I had to wait for an open booth; there were citizens occupying the dozen or so plastic outposts of democracy.  I was glad to wait.  The woman handing me my ballot had another familiar face.  We were both delighted to see the steady stream of voters since we opened this morning.   I walked, I opened my pen, I filled in my circles.  I took a moment to breathe the air.  I deposited the long cardstock through the slot in the Bal...

G’ma worked the polls at every election.  She sat behind a long cafeteria table in the gymnasium, greeting voters as they came to cast their ballots.  School Board members, tax overrides, general elections and mid-terms, there she sat. Daddooooo and I would bring her dinner; the polls were open long past the time her stomach began growling.  I would look at the black curtains surrounding the voting booths and feel the power of the franchise.  Something secret and sacred and profound was going on behind those drapes. She took me inside their confines when it was time for her to cast her ballot.We pulled down on heavy metal levers, reminiscent of the keys on our old manual typewriter.  They made a decisive click.  Our choices were registered with authority. I could hardly wait to be on my own, to make my own voice heard. And so I grew up to vote for loser after loser.  I cast my ballot for those I wanted to win, not those who had a chance to succ...

At dinner, after a day-long conference, a friend wondered if I'd done anything political this year.  A stranger asked if I'd canvassed.  Everyone wanted to know if I'd voted. Sitting next to her father on the couch last week, Little Cuter suggested that he bind his anxiety about America's future by taking direct action. "You're so good at explaining things, Dad.  There has to be a place for you in this." Organizing an annual Holiday Party, asking for donations of new clothing for the homeless women she'll be fete-ing, a friend referred to the shopping as  "doing something sane in an insane time." Writing postcards in red and blue marker for Stacey Adams's gubernatorial campaign made me smile.  Hearing TBG tell our friend that I visited my Senator and my Congresswoman on a regular basis made me realize that not everyone does that sort of thing.  No, I told the stranger, I no longer stand on street corners waving signs and attractin...

TBG and I manned the homefront while the kids trick or treated.  Neighbors dropped in, new ones introducing themselves and creating instant friendships. Pebbles and BamBam, butterflies and ghosts, Merida and Rapunzel and Belle.....we doled out  candies and compliments with reckless abandon. The cousins ran from house to house then reconvened in front of the fire pit SIR set up in his driveway.  The other grandparents arrived, chili was eaten al fresco, candy was examined by firelight. Though I reek of woodsmoke my heart is full.