The Burrow

My hand found it while I was Zoom-ing with the 5th grade gardeners . Our calendula seeds were to be planted 1/4" to 1/2" deep.  Some of the scholars knew which knuckle on which digit was 1", some had no idea what those kids were talking about.  I was at my desk, in front of Lenore the Lenovo, and I couldn't get up.  My left arm reached over to the top desk drawer and felt around for something useful. I found my sister's ruler.   She was probably 10 years old when this wooden marvel came into her possession.  We probably bought it at Smiles, the 5-and-Dime store situated right our town square, when we joined the throngs of First Day of School shoppers.   Smiles is now a funeral home. My sister is edging closer to Medicare. The ruler abides.

I spent the first part of the morning with a big smile on my face - Mrs. E's 5th graders had planted their calendula seeds and were eager to share their progress.   We admired the growth that some had seen and commiserated with those who were still waiting for something to sprout.  The seed packet gives a range of 5 to 15 days for seedlings to emerge; there is still a big window of opportunity. Calendula seeds look like tiny horseshoes; they're about 1/16th of an inch.  The scholars took them out of the box with a pair of tweezers.  The seeds were supposed to stay under the soil and sprout individually.   One of the scholars had a seed with a different point of view.   Why is my seed on the outside of this plant?  he wondered. Upon closer examination, Zoom style, it was obvious that this was not a pellet of water retention material nor timed release fertilizer, both of which were in the fancy potting soil I provided.  Nope, this was...

There was just a little bit of extra stress in LIttle Cuter's life yesterday.  She called on her drive home, knowing that TBG does not approve of phone use while operating a motor vehicle.  Recognizing this as a sign that we were needed, I listened and he managed to keep his angst below the level of explosion as we absorbed the information, applauded the plan, and agreed that America's response to Covid 19 sucks. All she wanted was someone to tell her what to do.  Between doctors and clinics and the CDC and the FDA and POTUS there were just too many notions and not many facts floating in the ether.  She's right, the answers shouldn't be this hard to find, especially 7 plus months into this. Giblet squealed as they turned the corner into his neighborhood, and we left our girl with a rueful smile on her beautiful face.   I felt the distance between us opening, chasm-like, yawning ever wider.  I wanted to do something.  There was nothing to do. ...

My phone greets me with the news that it's 68 degrees outside. I look at my outfit and I start to shiver.  Possibly it's time to retire my sleeveless tank tops. There was a little red exclamation point sitting beside the temperature notification, just begging me to click it.  I'm delighted even further - there's a freeze warning tonight. It's a damn good thing we turned off the pool heater.  Today's temperatures look to be heading downward, with an overnight low hovering in the low 40's.   I need to have a talk with the weather gods..... this is not Indiana, this is Tucson.  We don't do freeze warnings until after Thanksgiving, thank you very much. I found a smile in the fact that I'd uncovered the shade cloth and other coverings this weekend; my still to be planted rock roses will need comfort and succor for the next few nights.   Tomorrow's high is 59. I know that if you are sitting inside watching snowflakes cover your patio, this seems like a...

We have six wonderful weeks when the temperatures are in the 70's and 80's and the breeze is cool and the sun is shining but not burning through your skin.  I can be outside without a hat shielding my face and my neck.  My long sleeve shirt and gloves (necessary and essential for these spiky garden tasks) are not impossibly hot.  There's no sweat rolling into my eyeballs, requiring glove removal and finding a clean spot on my shirt to wipe the drips. I turned on Pod Save America and got to work.  The aloe vera along the side wall gave new meaning to overgrown.  The brown, dead leaves crunched off with a gentle tug of my fingers.   Once they were clear of what was no longer viable, I pruned the burnt tips and the chewed upon outer leaves of the main plants, and began to remove the newbies which grew from the roots.   The pups spent some time in buckets of water while I admired my progress I ended up with 31 pups which I potted in containers wh...

I watched the first one, where, as one focus group member said, our President acted like a deranged crackhead .   I flipped my eyes over to TBG watching Joe answer questions on the big screen while I watched Savannah Guthrie scold our President on my phone as I made dinner.  Every giggle from me led to an explanation for my sweetie on the couch.  All the best moments were replayed later for his amusement, but it was fun to share. And so tonight we have a debate with a mute button and a strong, female moderator.  Our President is in full melt down mode as he's holding superspreader events all over the country. Joe Biden sent his best surrogate to a parking lot in Philadelphia while he holed up for debate prep. Our President doesn't need to prepare. His aides, looking for post-debacle employment, are heard cautioning him to be measured and stick to the script.  That, of course, would take some preparation, if not a character transplant.  It's unnecessary...

Mrs. E invited me into her 5th grade's Wednesday Zoom meeting.  I had more than a week to prepare.  I have come to a conclusion:  Teaching is not for the faint of heart. Grandma got into her coat of many colors, organized her notes and her demonstration items, and then I realized that my computer was on an endless loop of rebooting itself and Grandma was gone and I was in a panic.  With two minutes to spare, I connected via the iPad mini perched atop a box (that was happily out of place) and leaning against my water bottle (I was thirsty but thwarted). I found the gallery view (with a little bit of encouragement) and then there they were, bigger but still the same.  Their faces filled my heart.  I could feel it expanding in my chest. But there was no time to dwell on the wonderfulness of it all, because suddenly the introductions and instructions and reminders were over and it was time to talk about xylem and phloem. They are two of the strangest words to s...

I noticed that my hip doesn't hurt.   Brother said, halfway through this adventure in perforation, You never get a break, do you?  It's always there.   He was right.  It was always there, until suddenly, it wasn't. Sure, I can make it hurt, but the dull ache of chronic pain centered in my hip is a thing of the past. ***** Of course, right now, after Pilates and swimming a quarter mile's worth of laps, my newly discovered adductors are announcing their presence with authority. As always, so long as the pain  sensation keeps moving around, everything's good.  ***** It's not pain.  It's a sensation.   A wise physical therapist counseled  me to assess the threat value of the sensation  before I decided it was pain and not discomfort related to getting better.  It was very good advice.   I feel the sensation and I re-adjust my posture so that all my muscles are working together and, while it takes effort to hold mysel...

We drove to the public library to vote today. Not the one around the corner, the one where we've voted in the past, where I've met my friends serving as poll watchers, where I signed my name just below TBG's and walked to the booth with my ballot in hand. I'd smile as I deposited the paper into the slot, nodding thanks to the worker who handed me my I VOTED IN PIMA COUNTY sticker. Nope, not that one at all. Instead, we put on our shoes and drove 5 miles north, turned right onto Naranja..... and TBG came to a quick and unexpected stop.  There was a line.  A car line, moving slowly, steadily down the hill then turning into the driveway and going up the hill, through the parking lot, and around to the front door.   There were smiles.  There were thumbs up .  There were masks and thank yous and a paper reminder of how and where to track my ballot.  TBG pulled into a space so that I could return my library books (any deposit box in the system is fine) an...

FlapJilly created that word, a portmanteau that captures how I felt when I saw the garden on Sunday morning. I was there in March, and then I was not. I stopped by to collect the tools and take down the hanging baskets, but today I brought gloves and pruning shears and loppers (giant clippers).  I should have brought a saw. Hint for gardening in a small space - avoid borage.  I spent a lot more time than I wanted bent over the most stubborn, prickly, juicy branches of this weed.  Remember the definition of a weed?  It's a plant in the wrong place that you don't want to transplant anywhere else.  These hardy survivors of the wildflower seed packet my garden helpers sowed before everything ground to a halt have escaped their enclosures and are now weeds.      When Kamala asks what I'd have done had I known that a deadly pandemic was approaching, I go straight to Grandma's Garden.  I'd have been sure that the irrigation was flowing to the a...

Did you know where I was going with this just from the title?   I'm so angry at MSNBC and NBC and whatever other outlets they have.  There are never any consequences for this man; he bails on a debate and get an hour of free air time.  Watching Rachel Maddow and Kamala Harris try not to say aloud what was in their hearts last night was worth watching again this morning on-line.   But I'm not laughing.  The airways are the property of the United States.  They are given in exchange for news coverage... theoretically.... back when tv was a novelty and there were but three, lonely, 18-hours-per-day channels.  I don't like to see them abused. Would I be able to stand Trump for an hour?   Would I be able to stay awake for Joe for ninety minutes?   We're looking for a screwball comedy, or maybe a British detective series.  I'll let the Twitter-verse alert me to the highlights.   I've already made up my mind.

I have a lot of time on my hands these days.  It's giving me a lot of time to think.  Today, I was in a funk, and my thoughts were funky, too. How can a woman be a Constitutional Originalist when the framers didn't consider her worthy to enjoy the same rights as they gave themselves, chief among them the right to vote?  If there's an answer, I'd love to hear it.   How can a woman with two black children stand with a man who won't decry white supremacy?  I'm trying to imagine all the hugging and crying she talked about when the central issue is that No, honey, the President really does not care about you or your brother.... not one bit. How sad and lonely it must be to wake up every morning and see Lindsay Graham's face in the mirror.  I am having a very hard time understanding how a man who loved and was loved by John McCain could have come to this.   Where have Ivanka and Jared been?  I don't know why I miss her face so much, but I do....

My father has been present lately.  It's somewhat disconcerting, this feeling that he's hovering and judging.... always judging... and loving, always loving even if he didn't quite know how to show it without getting in his own way. My children loved him.  My grandchildren and he would have made the most marvelous group of creative if somewhat bossy and demanding humans.   He'd be celebrating his 104th birthday today, which took me a moment to get my head around.  He'd have been so angry at Donald Trump for his attitude, my father who put an American flag on his car during the Viet Nam war just to rile the hippies, who was a contratrian by nature, but who was, at heart, a good man. I miss him.   ***** This is the post I was going to schedule on its own.  But I read it and it got me thinking, about him pulling us on sleds across Bethpage Golf Course, of flying kites on the beach and the high school field, of Carvel in our pajamas and pizzas at Vinc...

The sign came from Penzey's.  It was up for several weeks before our ballots came the day after they were mailed.   I had done my research and formed my opinions.  We sat at the table with all the information we had gathered, our black pens, and a gazillions pages of instructions and notices which we read thoroughly. It felt very good to mark a ballot and feel part of a movement to right the ship of state.  I voted for local officials I know and love, a Senator I know and admire, and a US Representative who always remembers my name.  There was school funding and recreational marijuana and a paperwork change at the Community College that has to be ratified by we, the people. The only races left to decide are for the School Board. I'm embarrassed to say that I have never attended a meeting, so I have to rely on second hand data.  I was unable to find anything but an Introducing the Candidates article on-line, which basically told me nothing. Th...

I smiled when I realized that this week was coming up. I have a post for Columbus/Indigenous Peoples/ Second Monday in October Day. I have a post about voting. I have a post about Daddooooo. That gets me to Thursday and something will certainly happen between now and then.  Unfortunately, I read my Columbus Day post and I'm not reprinting it. It just doesn't seem relevant today. What strikes me about today is that the holiday - whatever you call it - falls when it is supposed to fall, on October 12th. The fact that I noticed this let's me know that October 14th is Daddooooo's 104th birthday.... I can never remember which is which.... my dad or Columbus.... the 12th or the 14th. And I think it matters what you call it. It used to be a school holiday, when it celebrated a noted Italian. Now that it is Indigenous Peoples Day, it's the starting date for on-campus, hybrid classes in my district.  I'm trying to feel like that doesn't matter. I'll let y...

I'm looking forward to the next debate for only one reason.  Not for the stimulating dialogue or relentless questioning by probing moderators, not for the drama and the excitement and the aha moments, no, not for any of that. What I'm anticipating is two hours texting with my far-flung family.   Trump/Biden was awful, but Little Cuter and I kept one another sane until Queen T started typing on the family chat.  Then we joined the others in decrying the collapse of American civilization.  We hung up when none of us needed any more comforting..... it took a while. Pence/Harris was a different kettle of fish, entirely.  Kamala introduced herself to America, and while some men seem to think that she was angry and a monster, the family agreed that she was Mom-ing him.   It didn't take Joy Reid to explain that every black child in America knew those faces.  I must have texted I'm speaking "  two dozen times.  The only thing I texted more ...

Though I've been looking forward to watching Kamala slice and dice the VP, I wish she had refused to participate, citing the CDC guidelines that say Mike ought to stay at home for 14 days. I'm worried for her. ***** Martha McSally's grin drove me away from the screen after 9 minutes.  She was full of invective and disingenuousness and calling out a Naval officer on his patriotism rang hollow.... and that was one and a half questions in.   I have a loud voice.  I'm passionate and sometimes I get carried away. But I like to think that  the sounds I'm emitting are worth hearing. Martha's were not. ***** Mark Kelly looked just fine next to her, spiffy in a jacket and tie, looking straight at the person whose question he was actually answering with facts and a calmness beside the chaos beside him.   I caught an unintended snippet in the car a while later.  Mark was asked to respond to something and he said,   "I don't know where she's getting...

The guy who owns the land across the street from our home wasn't paying attention when the County reconfigured the roads.  He's now left with a landlocked 12 acres and no access roads. Our neighborhood won a lawsuit against him when he sued to use the allowed for one home existing on the premises  driveway opposite my front door for a mega-development... with a school bus stop right there that would replace this view from my desk. We won that battle, though it took our Neighborhood Association's entire bank balance to do so.   He came back again, this time with fewer houses.  We went back and forth and his planner listened and tried to accommodate us but that pesky driveway sending 600 cars a day through the streets that wind through our quiet, 80 home neighborhood was always a non-starter.   He built a driveway out to the street through an as yet un-developed commercial parcel.  That would have been fine, had the driveway not poured its contents ...

Brenda Starr was hosting again.  She let another survivor friend and me into the call before anyone else was admitted; she wanted to be sure that the two of us made the cut - the call was wildly over-subscribed. I don't recall that problem coming up when Sen. McSally spoke to us last week.  Is that a sign?  I hope so. The three of us unmuted and turned on our video and chatted.  It was wonderful to share how long our hair has grown, what colors the others had chosen, how the hairdresser was a scary place to be right now.  Then, in the 4th box on the screen, appeared the candidate.... tying his tie. He usually wears black, mostly a form fitting t-shirt.  The man isn't very tall, but he is very well proportioned to wear a tight tee.  I'm just sayin'........... Once the others started filtering in, I began to smile.  There were Patsy and Jerry Ru..... and Bridget's iPad and Philips ipad ... all titles I'd seen beneath their faces on the previous Star...

I've read all the snarky tweets, seen all the (very funny) memes and GIFs, listened to friends voices and read their texts and emails. There's a general sense of guilt mixed with I told you so floating in a soup of how should I feel about this. I have no problems.  I have a solution.  It's tried and true.  It has been used whenever our nation has suffered a shattering loss - mass shootings especially seem to bring it out.  It is meant to console and comfort and show empathy and compassion. At least that's what I assume those who use it want us to believe about them.  They are concerned.  They are paying attention with their heads and their hearts.  They are good people. And so, here's all you have to say, write, think: My thoughts and prayers are with you. That's it.   No need to take any action.  It's probably too soon, or too personal, or too intrusive, or too something.  You've said what you had to say.  You can be done wi...

Much has been lost since Donald Trump stole my country.   Among the losses are Perfect Patty and her delightful daughter, My Young Friend.  We lost Patty to ICE and the bus to Nogales.  We lost My Young Friend to Shelter in Place.  Though she'll run to Costco for me, or rake stones that hurt my hip to move, I won't let her in to help me clean. My house began to take notice. I acquired the proper tools and, with support from the other person who lives here, things began to sparkle once more.  Today was one of the days where the kitchen screamed Clean Me Now, and more than Method Daily Cleaner and Shine was called for. Off came the burners and out came Barkeepers Friend. Soapy water on the counters and everything up and out.  After vacuuming came mopping and then we collapsed on the bed, waiting for the floors in the rest of the house to dry. Normally, on a day like this, we'd opt to go out for dinner.  It was A Patty House and we didn't want to mes...

Queen T alerted us to Dana Bash's description on the family text last night.  Big Cuter was proud of us; when he finished teaching his class he returned to find his family had sent more than 50 texts in 20 minutes.   We were fired up. Little Cuter and I kept each other company through the first hour, suggesting a beheading in the public square for Chris Wallace and expressing a disbelief in the existence of civilized society.  There was something about doing away with cows that sent us over another edge, but when my kid began writing that it's the trees' fault that they are flammable  I knew we had reached a new low in American discourse. Joe Biden saying shut up  was not a good example to set for young children, but it certainly echoed what I was screaming on my couch.   I was screaming alone.  TBG was silent for the entire 90 minutes.  He did a lot of sit ups.  He held his head.  He frowned.  Not-Kathy lasted 3 minu...