The Burrow

I'm starting them young. Pulling my luggage cart filled with those Smart Water bottles across the courtyard this morning, I stopped to chat with a teacher.  After agreeing that Charlotte's Web  is appropriate for everyone at every age, she moved on and I was left with four girls eager to know if the Garden was open for business. "I need help, it will take all recess, are you ladies free?" I heard the " Yessssss"- es as they ran ahead, leaving me in their wake.  Approaching the Garden gate, I was joined by a boy who wondered what we were doing and if he could help. Help. Yes, sir, you can help. But no one else.  This is a job best done by a small crew, and that opinion was seconded by the girls once they heard the plan.  We had those water bottles, a hose, hanging baskets (some shaded, some in full sun), rising temperatures, and a weekend coming up. Grandma Suzi does not come to Prince on Friday.  The plants require hydration. The 6 of us we...

When seeds are spread with profligate glee, this is what happens. A plethora of plants.  An overwhelming, flowering, gone to seed invasion of parsley.  Something had to be done.  Thinning: We find the place where the plant meets the soil, grab firmly, and pull straight up. We admire the root we have successfully extracted, and then, since we aren't composting (yet), the plants that no one wants to take home are carted to the trash can in our trusty green barrow. This is a project with an unlimited life span; there were a lot of seeds spread with glee. . And then, nestled deep within her hanging basket, a treasure was discovered. A radish.  A small, perfectly formed, red and white radish. It was properly admired while Grandma Suzi found the plastic knife. We shared tiny bits of our own garden grown produce. Very tiny bits, but they were ours.

Do you make lists?  We make lists in our family.  Best Pizza (deep dish only because the New York pizza at Vincent's in Baldwin  is indisputably the best pizza of any kind, thus obviating the need for the list at all.) Best Mom-Being-Mom Story (falling/bouncing on the driveway during Family Basketball; still not  remembering which Cuter uses a slotted spoon to serve his/her tacos; No bag, there's enough packaging in the world come immediately to mind. Best Dad-Being-Dad Story (Definitely starts with throwing lawn furniture onto the roof.... don't ask.) Movies with No Bad Scenes - Inherit the Wind  was just on TMC, which is what brought it to mind.  The Big Sleep and To Have and Have Not  (yes, I even like the Mr. Johnson scenes) lead off my noir category, sharing First Place with The Thin Man.   Favorite Movies includes Love, Actually , (which isn't in No Bad Scenes because I don't like the Laura Linney character). Best Movies inc...

Once I enrolled in the Faulkner seminar, I eschewed reading for pleasure .  I knew that feeding my brain with anything other than the required books would open me up to the temptation, release the floodgates, and damn-the-torpedoes-full-speed-ahead I'd be gorging on mystery series instead of plowing through early 20th century stream of consciousness blather.  (Yes, I had a hard time with Faulkner.) But the class ended with one book still unread.  The professor was correct - I enjoyed the lecture without having read the text.  Her comments were generally Faulknerian, rather than specific to one volume.  Since the characters fold over one another across the entire oeuvre, my lapse wasn't that big a deal. And there's still that one book, un-returned to Little Cuter with his companions, waiting for a long lazy stretch of time.  I missed the public library.  I'm glad to have it back in my life. I've finished one and am ready to start the second Lisa...

At one point, the owner of the winning brackets in our family pool was Giblet, whose parents chose his teams based on the sounds he is currently making.  Bffffff  gave him Buffalo and Wofford, both of whom went further than almost everyone in the family thought they would. There's something terrifically humbling about being bested by an 8 month old. ******* Ten days ago, TBG told me something he's been telling me for years: lift your right knee .  This time, he said it in a way that I could finally hear: Y ou are strong enough.  You won't limp if you lift your knee. A compliment wrapped in the promise of my ultimate goal:  A Fluid Gait.  That was all it took for me to reacquaint myself with the inner workings involved in raising my knee.  He is right - I am strong enough.  What's missing is endurance.  It's hard work. But today, when Scarlet nearly cried watching me not limping across the patio, I felt rewarded for all those hours in...

JaVanka using a personal server to send emails. She using her personal email and not forwarding the messages to her government account. He communicating with foreign officials using his AOL account, taking screen shots to memorialize the occasions. He talking to foreign leaders using What's App. It was just more background noise from the swamp until they got to What's App. Big Cuter was in Athens last week for work (sigh.....).  Before he left, he made sure I had installed, and then messaged me to be certain it worked, What's App.  Apparently, that's how one messages a distant land.  It is also the first piece of the whole email scandal/private server scandal with which I have a personal relationship.  I know about the existence of the screen shot, though I have no idea how to take one.  I have a general notion about the role of the server, but I'd be hard pressed to go more than a sentence or two into it. Auntie M alone among my correspondents...

(TBG spoke.  I typed and lightly edited.) Dear Cuters, The conversation as we warmed up before spin class this morning came around to Mayor Pete. Some of my fellow Medicare recipients, while admiring his intellect, were concerned about his age.  Could they trust someone that much younger?  Had he lived enough to be relied upon? And I sat there, on my bike, feeling enabled, enabled to reach the right decision about an impressive guy.  He does have good experience; the only thing slowing me down would have been his age. But that is so easily overcome-able when I have the example of my own children, who, in their mid-30's, consistently exercise great judgment, fine intellects, and unquestioned integrity.  Thank you. Dad

Once I got the right Universal Key, we could turn on the second hose bib.  That meant we could use the hose to water the hanging garden.  That meant we had to move the hose. It meant untangling it, unkinking it, unwinding it.  It meant cooperation.  It meant getting dirty. There were temptations aplenty, once things got straightened out.  It was cold enough (notice the gloves on the left) that no one wanted to take an outdoor shower.... but it was tempting. That was then, when school was in session.  Today, the school is closed for Spring Break.  Grandma's Garden is behind a locked gate and a very high fence.  The raised beds and the mandarin orange tree are on the automatic irrigation system.  The hanging garden attached to that fence requires human attention.  It does not know that the Garden Club is on vacation.  It only knows that the sun is out, the breeze is blowing, and watering would be very nice, thank you so m...

GRIN has been getting a lot of attention lately, for some reasons I know and for some reasons I don't.  Normally, that news would make me smile.  People are thinking about my little 501(c)3.  I must be having some kind of an impact.  That is good. But, the website was not good.  In fact, it was childish, puerile, kindergarten-like.... to perseverate a bit.  Go Daddy's website builder wasn't user friendly, at least as far as a semi-computer-literate 60-something year old found it. I tried to update it, and made it worse.  I couldn't retrieve the original iteration.  I thought about calling the help line.  I thought about it a lot, often, whenever I thought of the website at all.  I did nothing about it.  The thought of dealing with the website gave me a stomach ache.  I created a Facebook page, with just a little effort, and focused on that for making GRIN's presence known to the world. Then, people started noticing GRI...

Anand Giridharadas, Time Magazine Editor at Large, tweeted this yesterday: Verified    "Instantaneously........ like a magic trick" ---- that's how I want to write! Thanks to Allison, a long-time denizen of The Burrow, for forwarding this to me, knowing that it would make my heart sing.  Six trenchant paragraphs leaving a lasting impression of both the author and the hero.   The tweet strikes to the core of what is most attractive about Mayor Pete - his brilliant, curious brain, wired to dig deep and do the work, in search of a workable solution - and gives you an easy story to tell when people wonder about his qualifications.  "He learned an entire language to read more books." Yes, I think he's ready to step into the Oval Office and do the job. He already knows the language.

The commercials made me drool.  The colors jumped off the screen and so did the performers.  They leaped and twirled and spun as their costumes flared around them.  We missed them last year.  I was determined to go this year.  When I saw that the performance was on my birthday, I bought two seats on the aisle. They were not inexpensive. Billed as a response to the Communist Chinese Government's position that this spiritual heritage ( was) an ideological threat,   a threat which they took so seriously that they,   for decades, tried to destroy these traditions, artistic director D.F. brings his company to venues all across the globe.  The advertising was sublime - people testified to seeing it 7 or 10 times, of having it change their outlook on the world, of being transported. For TBG and me, not so much.  There were two narrators - one speaking English, one Chinese (I suppose, since I speak no Chinese myself) - who introduc...

Don't do anything you don't want printed on the front page of the New York Times. (Daddooooo) Don't be sad in advance. You'll have plenty of time to be sad once you know. Why waste time before then? Right now, enjoy being happy.  (Bubba) Don't hold it inside. It only gets worse.  (Little Cuter) Don't let the delivery get in the way of the message.  (Big Cuter) Tell the truth. It's easier to remember than a lie. (G'ma) Breathe! (Carol Gaxiola of Homicide Survivors) And the very best advice, handed down by the women on both sides of my family to me and mine, advice that I am pleased to say that I have always followed: Never leave the house in holey underwear.  What if you end up in the hospital? 

I planted snapdragons.  I carried a 20 pound bag of soil to the bed at the back of the patio.  I knelt and I sat and I bent. The sun was out, the air was cool, and the breeze smelled of creosote from the rains the day before.  I was wearing gloves and long sleeves and tights; nothing was going to raise allergic bumps on my skin. I trotted back and forth between the garden garage and the containers, lifting the bag of potting soil up to the rims and pouring in fresh nutrients.  I carried everything back to storage.  I dragged and un-kinked the hose, stomping on the curls that wouldn't straighten out. I had no pain.  I didn't notice my hip.  I was strong and fleet of foot. At the end of the day, I had "regular people's tiredness" planting me on the couch.  It wasn't a perforated person's performance at all. I seem to be making progress without really noticing it at all.

Big Cuter wondered what I learned in class this morning.  I had to tell him that class ended last week, with a whimper, not a bang.  I read two of the three books, and enjoyed them as literature even thought figuring out the story was less important than going with the flow. Then again, to quote Alan Arkin , What flow?  There is no flow. I need flow.  I'm uncomfortable without it.  I don't like fighting my way through to what's going on.  I require some basics, or at least a codex.  When I was able to spend an hour or two with the text, letting it wash over me, I could imagine the stream of Faulkner's consciousness.  But it was hard to get to a place of comfort before boredom set in. The words were elegant.  The story was incomprehensible.  I couldn't keep the characters straight. And yet I persisted.  I read nothing else for six weeks.  I knew that if I turned to something more accessible I'd never have the strength to...

Little Cuter wanted to go outside and play, but it was too cold in Indiana for anything more than napping boys, girls doing artwork at the kitchen table, and Grandparental Units on Facetime.   I didn't have the heart to tell her about these: If you enlarge the purple petunias you see they are speckled. That was new to me. The succuents and the cacti are very very happy,  The cooler temperatures this winter didn't seem to bother them, sheltered as they are in the front courtyard and covered entryway. The plants in the back had a harder time of it.   They were in for some serious pruning.   Thanks to Maga, I had a beautiful butterfly feeder to hold up the more-than-top-heavy flowery remains.  The hanging basket had retreated into a shell of its former self.  Only the roots and the planting medium survived the temperature changes.  I removed the dead stuff, I separated the three plants as much as I could,...

And now we come to Trump.  Sunday was Michael Isikoff , David Corn , Craig Unge r, and  Michael McFaul  in the morning, talking about Russian Impulses.  Ambassador McFaul took a picture of us as we were taking pictures of us, before Jim Nintzel, the editor of Tucson's free weekly  and the session's moderator, began the panel to serious applause with this statement about the state of our union:  " It's like a Tom Clancy novel, only more terrifying." Here are some nuggets from all of them.  There were so many good ones I forgot to attribute some of the quotes to the speakers.  They didn't really disagree; I think they'll be okay with my mashup. (Unger) The Russian Mob is a state operator.  There was $1.3 Trillion in assets sent out of Russia when Putin came to power.  That needed to be laundered.... and Trump sold 1300 condos. A dozen guys in Russia hacked one guy in the US, and they changed the course of the election. Deep Fake ...

(Yes, I am milking the experience for an entire week's posts.) Random Quotes from Random Authors on Saturday: Martin Walker :  "Macron is Trump with table manners" Jonathan Lethem : "Write the book you want to read." (He didn't claim authorship, but it was new to me so I'm giving him credit.) And Jonathan Lethem, again, on why we love stories:  "Human gossip - from Cain and Abel - who did what to whom and why." An author responding a lengthy question :  "I like the word sheriff ." To round off my day, I spent the 4 o'clock hour with H. W. Brands, one of TBG's favorite historical biographers.  It was a master class in democracy.  Here are some gems: The Constitution gave us a Republic.  Jefferson, with All men are created equal , gave us a democracy. (Quoting Benjamin Rush ) Without a King or a Central Church, how will we create a moral society  Rush is the tofu of the Founding Fathers.  Anyone on...

I secured a reserved ticket to hear Lorna Luft waxing eloquent on classic movies.  I was in my happy place. She's a slip of a thing, as Daddooooo would say, presenting as a friend you'd have over for wine and conversation.  She's quick on the uptake, eager to laugh (at herself and at others), and achingly sincere.  I sat 50' from Judy Garland's daughter on Saturday.  For me, it was a thing.  Here are some snippets: She's written  A Star Is Born , a timely title this Oscar year, and the conversation kept bouncing back to that movie.  Did you know that the studio really wanted Cary Grant opposite Judy Garland?  They wined him and dined him over many months but, ultimately he said "I can't play Norman Maine."   ***** There have been 5 versions of the film, " because it's a great story, isn't  it?"   There's only one line that's been in all of them: " I just want to take another look at you." If you'v...

Little Cuter sent me on a mission - find books for FlapJilly where the main character is not white.  The kid's life is more colorful than her literature, it seems, and that is a situation that required a remedy.  So, Gramma to the rescue.  Or so I thought. The Harper Collins kid lit tent was my first stop.  The tent was big, the selection was huge, but of all the picture books in all the Harper Collins land, there were no human characters of color. Sigh.  I was probably louder in my disappointment than I should have been, but I was terribly, sadly, horrifyingly sad.  I was smiling and quietly repeating "No, that's a bear/kitten/puppy" until I exhaled that much too loud yet much earned "SERIOUSLY?"  as we reached the end of the books on sale without a single one for me to buy. A local bookstore that I like, a lot, was similarly unsatisfying. There was a brown policeman in a career-centric I-Can-Read book, but the inquisitive kids in ...

It's my favorite weekend of the year.  Authors and sunshine and books everywhere. I walked miles and miles, saw old friends and made a few new ones. I'm exhausted, from my legs that carried me, ably and relatively smoothly, up and down the mall, to my fingertips at the end of the shoulders that carried a backpack filled with books I bought.  The Festival of Books, the 3rd largest book fair in the USofA, deserves more than I can give it right now.  I'll be back tomorrow with pithy analysis and photographs.  Right now, I need an epsom salts bath.

He's gone, now.  There's a hole in the world that cannot be filled. He's no longer striving to do that which had become impossible.  The Loathsome Disease that robbed him of his stamina and his thoughts released its hold on Tuesday morning.  I'm imagining him hovering over his house as his friends and family gather together to share memories - nodding and smiling and chiming in when a detail isn't just quite right. He's a good listener, and I intend to keep talking to him.  He saw the world through a pediatrician's eye and heart, and I'm not willing to let go of his wisdom right now.  His heart-attack-in-Peru-adventure coincided with my perforation.  The hug we shared afterwards, when we were both, finally, upright and ready to visit, stays with me to this day. We were feeble, where before we'd been strong.  We were unstable, where we'd previously been solidly planted.  We hugged and held onto one another, feeling our hearts beating, recogn...