The Burrow

I was excited to go.  Unlike my first two excursions, there was no anxiety.  I had a smile on my face when I announced my intentions and I was grinning all the way there.  Making all the green lights was just an added bonus.  I should have remembered to worry. Of all the awful parking lots in Tucson, this is the worst.  Even emptier than I'd ever seen it on a Tuesday afternoon it was terrible.  I took a spot to avoid on-coming traffic and hailed the young woman with Whole Foods credentials who was walking by.  Yes, if I bagged my own groceries I could use my own bag. I masked up, grabbed the big blue soft sided igloo, and stepped onto the walkway..... where I was immediately confronted by two young white guys who were buff and unmasked, walking my way, chatting up a storm.  I hung back, but then I woman behind me was on my tail.  I sighed (mentally) and plowed ahead. The sanitized carts were where the carts usually sat.  I waited as the ...

Today I went into Michaels, searching for a perfect match to an unnamed skein from my stash.  My search was fruitless.  My visit was instructive. Once again, I left the thing I needed the most at home and had to return.  Once again, the parking situation flummoxed me.  I ended up in  Curbside Pick Up #1.  I left the UV there and went inside.  I couldn't see around the two giant trucks bracketing my little space; backing out would have been perilous.  That, at any rate, was my excuse to myself. The truth is that I was anxious to get it over with. There were no bins of discounted items outside the store.  Everything else looked just like it did a year ago.  Uninspiring kid crafts were 50% off, mildly more interesting ones were 40% off.  There were neon Crayola crayons and signs announcing KITCHEN and FAMILY, signs whose obviousness have always disturbed me.  I was tempted by the colored pens and the crafting paper, but I restrain...

For the first time in 54 weeks, I went grocery shopping.  The last time we were in the store was March 12, 2020.  We were stocking up for two weeks at home, filling a cart with milk and eggs and bacon and ice cream.  We didn't think about toilet paper.  We certainly didn't think it would be more than a year before one of us ventured back inside. This trip involved preparation, where our last one was a giggle-fest of what can't we do without for a fortnight?  We made a quick list for dinner.  I found an N95 mask to add below my NaomiNomi mask and ventured out. I've been in the parking lot over the past year, visiting the dry cleaner and the UPS store.  But they appear before Albertsons.  Today, I had to contend with the main piece of that lot.  For a moment, I forgot which aisle I liked.  Parking, turning off the car, donning my face coverings - everything took on monumental significance. I was almost to the store when I realized that th...

We listened while we were in the car, getting TBG vaccinated and then getting drive through lunch.  It was an excellent use of our time. The vaccination volunteers were friendly and conscientious.  We arrived early and nobody cared.  The waiting area nurse was as excited as we were, especially when it came to talking about seeing the grandkids. Fifteen minutes passed and we were on our way. All the while, Joe Biden was answering questions at his Presidency's first press conference. He called on the AP first, and the reporter said Thank you, Mr. President.   He didn't insult anyone, although he resisted being pushed around.  There was genuine substance to his answers.  He managed to stop himself before veering off into uncharted territory. He laid blame on his predecessor where it was appropriate, and dismissed him the rest of the time.   We put him on the television when we got home, but turned him off after a while.  It was boring....

Today usually starts my favorite sports weekend of the year - March Madness's Sweet 16.  Winnowed down from 68 teams, the top four from each of four brackets face off for the right to go to the Final Four.    This year I'm hard pressed to tell you the names of more than one or two teams competing.  I'm not even sure if they are playing on Thursday or not.  For some reason, there were games last Monday, something which was brand new this year.  It must be COVID protocols.   Whatever the reason, it's confusing.  TBG refused to believe me when I insisted that the announcer said Monday, only to return, abashed, a few hours later with the admission that I was right.  I couldn't take much credit for it, though.  It really shouldn't have been the right answer at all. Duke and North Carolina are no where to be found.  Once mighty Indiana didn't make the cut, and equally fabulous-in-the-past Georgetown was seeded way at the bottom....

I was fine this morning when the sun was out.  I did a little gardening, read on a chaise n the back yard surrounded by my handiwork, looking for the happy and finding it elusive. It grew colder and I went inside and read and made a fancy lunch for us and read some more.  I was fine while I was distracted. And then the clouds rolled in and the gloom settled into my soul. Picking up a prescription shouldn't put anyone at risk, nor should managing a grocery store, or running a cash register.... and, once again, it all comes back to guns. Republican fundraising after the fact just added to the roiling in my gut. I don't know whether to scream or cry.  I'd rant and rave if there were anyone besides TBG to hear me; he's having a harder time than I am.  Jamie Guttenberg's father has been voicing my feelings since she died in Parkland.  He's angry as he wipes away his tears. This seems like another young guy with an untreated mental illness and access to weaponry desig...

(This post will make a lot more sense if you read yesterday's post and the exchange between Allison and Little Cuter first) I hadn't made the connection to the Atlanta sheriff's comment until Allison referenced it in a comment.    Even knowing that it was in large measure self-protective and ultra-protective of FlapJilly all those years ago when Little Cuter used it as a protective shield against the more-than-a-little-scary people sharing the ER Waiting Room for 5 hours on a Saturday night, it's always felt kind. My girl is nothing if not thoughtful of others.  She takes very good care of herself and her people, but she's always aware of the effect she has on others.  TBG always said she could sell ice in Alaska; they'd buy it just to be around her for a little while longer.  She makes you feel good about yourself. I love the fact that she recognizes the good in everyone, and that she's raising her children to look for it, too.  Rayshard Brooks was certai...

SIR was painting the shed.  All the doors and gates on the property were open to facilitate the movement of ladders and such.   And then there were lots of sirens, which was unusual but not overly troubling, until the flashing lights left the main road (all two lanes of it) and entered their quiet piece of suburbia.   They were inside, eating lunch, when Little Cuter read the alert from the neighborhood's Facebook group, among whose members are several police officers.  After abandoning his car on the highway (several miles away), the driver had been tracked to their neighborhood.  The police were in pursuit. SIR went out to shut the doors and gates.  The sirens increased in volume and frequency.  The grown ups contemplated taking the family down to the basement. There were loud pops. The alert was over.  An ambulance was on the way to take the suspect to the hospital with a gunshot wound to the chest.  The neighborhood was quiet on...

Little Cuter sent this photo, captioned: I support this sleeping position. So do I.  

He was the opening night speaker at the (virtual)Tucson Festival of Books this year.  I cleaned the kitchen as he spoke.   I really wished that he could have been here in person.  His video was fuzzy and I couldn't watch his eyes crinkle as he laughed.   He laughed a lot.   He takes the mundane and madness it special.  His is not the poetry of inexplicable symbolism.  He's accessible on a first reading,  though more comes through the more times you posts the words.  This is the poem he read to me ten years ago,  at a Literary Society luncheon.  It is exactly how I feel today.  I couldn't say it better,  so I decided not to try.  Days Each one is a gift, no doubt, mysteriously placed in your waking hand or set upon your forehead moments before you open your eyes. Today begins cold and bright, the ground heavy with snow and the thick masonry of ice, the sun glinting off the turrets of clouds. Th...

Karina Bland  met us after I was perforated.  She felt like an old friend after 10 minutes.  Her writing hit no sour notes.  She wants TBG after I'm through with him.  Her weekly email of Things I Meant to Tell You  brightens my inbox and sends me, via links, on a deep dive through her family and friends and social issues presented with a human touch.  If I'd taken a different career path, I'd be her. So, when this morning's newsletter wondered  what will you feel safe doing once you’ve been fully vaccinated?   I started my list and sent it to her.  Here's an expanded version. I made all my appointments - eyes, hearing aids, haircut.  My super suit (what Karina called her vaccinated self) doesn't work without the nano technology embedded by others. As soon as their parents are (I almost wrote SHOT.....oy vey) vaccinated we are on our way to Indiana to hug the grandkids.  Alert Guinness; a record will be set. I may never let go ...

I'm starting to think about a post-vaccine reemergence.  It's terrifying and exhilarating and aggravating.  I'm not big on change.  I got used to doing nothing, seeing no one, going nowhere.  I was firmly ensconced in the go-nowhere-world, which had ceased to feel limiting and had become a comfortable norm. Sleep in?  Why not?  Stay in pajamas all day?  Why make more laundry by changing?   Now, though, I am on the way to being medically cleared to reenter the world.  Masked and distanced but out there, doing the things that need to be done, starting with check ups deferred. My eye doctor has retired.  She's a youngster and she's gone.  She left last April, with no forwarding address.  I can't even say goodbye, and after 15 years of seeing her, hearing about her son, sharing the Cuters and grandkids, she has vanished.  The store has no way to reach her - I tried her cell phone and it was disconnected  said the kin...

This Walgreens was 30 miles and 35 minutes further away than dose number 1.  Unlike last time, there was traffic, lots and lots of traffic.  A rent-a-truck going 60 in the left lane in a 75 mph marked zone backed up cars for miles and miles and miles.  The grey van next to him moved up and back, precluding anyone from passing safely.  We observed all this as we followed the cars that were moving with more alacrity,  awkwardly passing in the far right lane. That's not TBG's usual style of driving, but we were on a mission and he was determined to get me where I needed to be when I needed to be there.  As we drew closer to the orange U-Haul which was causing the disaster, we snarled at the driver who was holding his phone and merrily chatting away.  Our death stares didn't phase him, but they made us feel marginally better. (There ought to be a direct phone line to call the police when someone is holding the phone; it's illegal all the way from here to P...

Tomorrow's the day.  We'll drive up to Casa Grande, to a different Walgreens on the other side of town, so that I can get my second dose of the Moderna vaccine. Though I was delighted at the time to receive Moderna's entry into the vaccine marketplace, today I wish I didn't have to do it all over again.  A one shot, J&J miracle cure would suit me just fine.   But off we'll go, and I'll present my arm and wave it around once it's inoculated, and I'll stay hydrated. I have Advil and chicken soup and small cans of Coca Cola.  I've got the blankets the kids made for us through Shutterfly to cosset me.  I've made no plans for several days afterwards.... not that there were that many plans to be made before the shot, anyway.   And two weeks from now, I will be free. Or not. We can gather with our vaccinated friends, indoors, unmasked, sharing food and drink and hugs and sports on tv.  We can gather with unvaccinated families, one unit at a time...

There were eight of us, four fraternity brothers and their girlfriends.  We met when I was a sophomore at Cornell.  We've stayed in touch ever since.  Two couples are still married, five decades after we were together in Ithaca.  One marriage ended in divorce, despite the lime green tuxedos at their wedding which, we were certain, would keep them together forever, just so as not to have to repeat that sartorial faux pas again.   And the other couple?  Their story is the stuff of Grimm. They were gorgeous - He, tall and blonde, and She slight, with long dark hair.  They didn't share a religion or ethnic background, and that put paid to the relationship as far as all 4 parents were concerned.  Their vitriol was toxic.  It was impossible for our friends'  relationship to endure.   They broke up.  They each married (unsuitable) others.  Neither of those relationships were destined for success; their hearts were still...

I am bound and determined to finish my yard, garden bed by garden bed.  Bending and scooping and digging and pulling are tasks designed to aggravate my hip.  I have to take it in stages.  I have to remember to stop before I hurt, when the twinges are just beginning.  Last week I worked until I dropped, and drop I did.   I am not looking to repeat that experience.  Filling the dishwasher required more mind over matter movements than I've had in a long long long long time.  The good news is that I was able to work hard enough to feel broken.  The bad news was feeling like my back and my hip were spiky corona viruses, poking and burrowing and otherwise annoying me.   Advil and medical marijuana helped, but I woke up feeling only slightly less stiff.  I lost two days of sunshine and balmy winds.  I am going to try to avoid that situation in the future.  Of course, I've said that to myself every year since I was perforated...

The Tucson Festival of Books  is my favorite weekend of the year.  I usually get two or three posts out of the event.  I always learn new things or find a different way to approach an issue.  I can pick up a new author or three, serendipity bringing me face to face with a person who writes what I want to read.   I could wander the vendors and exhibitors, tent after tent of used and new and new-to-me books just waiting to come home with me in my giant tote bag.  Bookmarks and notebooks, activity pages for kids and lists of If you enjoyed this book try these rounded out the You Need This Now items I unpacked on the kitchen table.   There's not a lot of serendipity when you're sitting at your usual desk with the usual view staring at the computer screen.   The same minutes long introduction video played before every session.  What was a charming way of comparing the various moderators' takes on performing the same verbiage at the ...

I'm having trouble coming to terms with my freedom.  A part of me wants to extend my term of imprisonment.  I'm going to miss Pandemica... at least, some parts of it. A second dose of the Moderna vaccine will be shot into my arm on Saturday.  After I recover and wait 14 days, it's unlikely that the disease will hospitalize me.  This is different from my original hypothesis, the one that went once I'm inoculated, I'll be safe .  Safety is relative when it comes to COVID 19, it seems.   I might get sick, but I won't take up a hospital bed.  That's good news, except for the parts where I think about my friends who are long haulers, who never went to the ER, who were never admitted to clinical care, but who are gasping while walking up the stairs months after they were "over it".   I'll be wearing a mask forever, I think.  Scarred lungs are not the gift I want to give my aging body.   I'll visit with vaccinated friends, inside...

It's my favorite weekend of the year, and now you can share in the joy.  The  Tucson Festival of Books    starts today at 9am.  The sessions are all on CrowdCast, both live with a chat function and archived for future viewing. I listened to Garry Trudeau in a pre-festival special event.  I was impressed with the quality of the presentation.  If you're interested, click through to the list of authors/sessions/exhibitors and dive in.   It's where I'll be all weekend.

TBG was flipping through the list of viewing choices when I pointed and smiled.  All of a sudden, I was in junior high. If you were a 13 year old girl in 1965, you might have seen  Joy in the Morning , just like we did.  You might have gone to school on Monday morning with tears in your eyes, waiting to share.   For a moment, seeing the title on the screen, I had knee high socks and a plaid skirt and anxiety and romance and hormones flooding my space.  It was a moment out of time and, practicing mindfulness,  I stood still and let it wash over me.  And now I have a warm feeling, a giant hug, surrounded by old friends, looking back through rose colored glasses.

Both my heart and my Capitol are broken.  The images in yesterday's post hurt my heart in a visceral, physical way.  I can feel it pounding as I type.  Listening to the occasional Congressperson talk about securing the Capitol makes it worse. G'ma and Daddooooo were big on seeing where it happened, no matter what it was.  We took a helicopter over Gettysburg, toured Antietam in the pouring rain, got up close and personal with the Liberty Bell and Fraunces Tavern and The Freedom Trail in Boston, but Washington, D.C. was a recurring trip.   It made everyone happy.   By the time we were tweens, Brother and I could explore the museums on our own, meeting the parental units and our younger sister for lunch.  As we got older, we could roam the city all day long.  I sat in the gallery of the Senate, I saw Dorothy's ruby slippers in the Smithsonian.  I never felt threatened or intimidated or uncomfortable.  There were Park Police and C...

Brother is one of my favorite correspondents.  I've shared his thoughts and pictures before, in stories that were uplifting if, at times, unsettling.  This one is just unsettling. I'll comment on all this tomorrow.  For now, I'll let his words and photos tell the story. **** I took a tour of DC last Thursday, 2/26/2021. First time I was in The District since January, 2020. Wanted to see the fence before March Fourth (the day of big parades). Getting off I-395 to go to the Capitol past the Rayburn Building,  you can’t go there.  Detours send you back to the highway unless you ignore the detour signs and know the other way around. There are heavily armed National Guardsmen in camo inside the fence.  They are spaced about 100 feet apart all the way around all the fences everywhere.  You can hear them talking. They are bored. So are the many DC cops interspersed among the Guard. The unclimbable fence extends for miles. It is difficult to get a grip on the ...

Republicans can't get elected the franchise is expanded.  Therefore, all measures must be taken to limit access to the voting booth. Voter Suppression seems to be the policy of the Republican Party.  Not one of the policies, or the primary policy, the  policy.  It's an interesting pole around which to wrap an organization representing, according to Gallup, 25% of Americans.   That's almost 83 million humans. 83 million people who identify with a cult of personality determined to limit the most basic of civil rights.   Did you see the golden statue of the former President at CPAC?  I'm not sure if it was meant to be ironic (probably not) or exalting (like the golden calf) or reminiscent of their leader's golden locks, but all it brought to my mind was his golden toilet. Seriously.  Would you pose next to a toilet?   As I watch these poorly dressed, poorly groomed, poorly grounded in reality white men pay homage to their idol, I ...

Blogger is having issues.   I really did write a post to be published today.  It seems to have vanished.   I'm going to try to retrieve it. Wish me luck.