The Burrow

This greeted us on our bedroom door.  First graders write lovely notes.  The feelings we had stored in our hearts burst right out in a flood of tears.  Little Cuter didn't think it would be a good idea to wake the kid up and squeeze out some more love.  Being responsive and responsible grandparents is difficult, especially when you've waited 16 months and 26 days for this:

The plane was delayed an hour.  We, of course,  were there 2 hours early. Wearing a mask for 3 extra hours wasn't part of the plan; TBG's mask tolerance was struck to the limit before we boarded. Our 3rd seatmate was a lovely woman on her way to surprise her family.  Her legs were much longer than mine; sharing my foot space seemed like the friendly thing to do.   We all read and napped and hoped that the plane would fly faster.  TBG availed himself of the free-with-an-Allegiant- credit-card Diet Coke.  I opted for my water bottle filled with ice tea.  I reached for it.  I popped the button. The straw shot right up.... bringing with it a giant stream of liquid... heading for the ceiling before landing on my lap.... on my sweater.. on my face.  Our seat mate had a wad of tissues pressed to my self before I realized that I was wet.  My white sweater absorbed most of the spray,  turning it to ecru as I watched in horror.  The...

Yes, it's true - I am too excited to compose coherent thoughts.   TBG and I leave tomorrow to hug our daughter and her family for the first time in 18 months.  We're seasoned post-Pandemica travelers, having flown last month for Big Cuter's wedding, so the airport scene and the whole flying thing aren't terrifying.  They are annoying, since we'll have to be masked throughout, but that's all. We'll arrive after the littles are asleep, but we've been promised a rousing GOOD MORNING!!!!  Like FlapJilly told her mother, I'm too excited to sit or lie down or stand up - it kind of hurts inside. And so, to spare you any more blather and drivel, I'll counter the cicada stories from back east (climbing on legs, landing in hair, too noisy to bear) with this wildlife scene from my courtyard right now: This little fella was under the window, having dinner, for quite a while. Then, he hopped over to the fence to see what the mourning dove was look...

C J Box writes one of my favorite series.  Joe Pickett roams the mountains of Wyoming, enforcing hunting and fishing regulations and solving complex murders with the aid of his falconer friend and the women in his life.  He's a complicated man living a life I can only imagine, and C J Box describes is so that I feel that I'm shivering in the cold, right along side him. The public library is now open to visitors.  We are asked not to browse, so I picked up my reserved book and moved over to FICTION to find another Hilary Mantel opus.  I was waylaid by the new location of New Fiction, from which I picked up  Dark Sky , the latest Joe Pickett story, and a new shelf labeled Aren't You Lucky! which yielded three James Patterson books - perfect for getting between me and preparing for the visit to the grandkids. I came home at 11, and, except for an hour out to swim and talk to the kids, I read straight through until 4.  It was a fine, fun, fast read.  Thoug...

I thought I'd have a better handle on the day to day. I thought that being able to go out and about would help me hold onto the days and the months. I've long ago given up remembering the date; once I've paid the bills on or around the 29th of the month, I'm clueless.  When we weren't going anywhere it didn't matter if it was Tuesday or Sunday.  TBG took care of the television, but we weren't watching anything in particular on any day in particular so that didn't help, either. But now I have an appointment every Thursday morning with the Pilates diva.  I have to stay more connected; I slept through one session already.   The fact is, I'm not trying that hard to know.  I find myself missing the endless flow of one day into another, with only our meals to break the routine.   This having things to do and places to go and people to see stuff is hard.

I'd never heard of Hilary Mantel until she was a question (twice) in our weekly on-line trivia game.  She won a Man Booker award for each of the first two novels in her trilogy about the court of Henry VIII.  Embarrassed that I was unaware of a literary giant, I downloaded the first  book from Kindle Unlimited and requested the second two from the library, in hard cover. They are 600 and 700 pages, and more; while the books were heavy, it was easier than scrolling through it on my screen.  I read most of Wolf Hall  on Lenore the Lenovo, sitting at my desk like an 18th century schoolkid, reading by sunlight.  The find  feature was really helpful since I knew absolutely nothing about the Tudors, despite having taken a course on them from the Humanities Seminars.  (I won't link to it because it was awful and I don't want to smear what is otherwise a wonderful program).   There's a cast of characters in the front of the book, to which I retu...

I can easily locate the appropriate cleaning supplies in the appropriate room with the appropriate amount of searching- which is none, because each is in the first place I look, because that's how I decided where to put them.   That happened during Pandemica, when I was cleaning out of boredom.  Now that life is on its way to normal, I find that I am impressed by the convenience, and wondering why I haven't done the rest of my house the same way.  It feels like a gift from the Pandemic.   But there are things that I lost during Pandemica, and each one makes me smile. I have no idea how to pack to visit Little Cuter's family.  I know that I have clothes there.  What they are is a hazy recollection of some favorite pieces and then lots of nothing.  And then there's the issue of size.  There is more of me than there was in late 2019 - not much, but more than pants with snaps have encountered recently.   I've decided that it's a go...

There was no monsoon to speak of this year.  Our winter rains were pretty much non-existent.  The oleander across the street receives no supplemental irrigation; its owner has a row of dead and dying plants behind his fence, but directly in my view.  All over town, there are trees barely holding on to life.   Our oasis (the areas closest to the house) is well irrigated, and everything is fine.  The irrigation drops off toward the street, where the plants are drought tolerant and the water hasn't flowed in years.  New plantings get a deep soaking, and everything gets really wet down two or three times during the summer, but for the most part, what's out there must fend for itself. I lost a few little cacti and one barrel cactus early in Pandemica.  I thought of them as dying in sympathy for what was happening to their humans.  They were outside the view from my desk window, so their absence didn't make a dent in my life's experience. But yeste...

Together, TBG and I have never lived in a place as long as we've lived in this house.  I'd plant gardens and leave them to flourish for someone else.  Every appliance was always new and state of the art, every room freshly painted, every floor waxed to perfection. Like the proverbial car ashtray, we sold when things started to get dirty.  Or so it seemed.   We only bought one "used" house; and I spent one overwhelming afternoon with our friendly repairman who fixed the Thermador double oven, the KitchenAid dishwasher and the pop up kitchen fan before refusing to look at the recalcitrant disposal.  You've spent $900 already today; I can't let you run up a bigger bill.   That was in the late 1990's.  The invoice included parts and labor, with no discount for the lunch I served.   After bopping around the country, and from house to house when we settled in one city, we found our forever home here in Tucson.  That was 2006; the app...

The Post Office sign  recommends  that I wear a mask inside.  I glanced through the glass door, saw the masked man on the other side, and slip my face covering on.  All the patrons were masked, as were the employees. The tellers in the bank, and the associates in their offices, were all masked, as was I.  Their sign is pretty straightforward : Put Your Mask ON before you come into the lobby. Knowing that they were required, I masked up after gathering my cart and myself together at Albertsons.  I bought a red bell pepper and two apples.  I was in the store for less than 5 minutes.   Even before my vaccine that visit wouldn't have set off any alarm bells.  So I wondered what it would fell like to be mask-less in my grocery store, to be able to hear what others were saying, and to have them hear me.   I have a loud voice.  It carries.  Until Pandemica no one ever asked me to speak louder.  Unmasked, I'd be able to ...

SIR has taken home improvement to the next level, and then some.  Little Cuter calls him her Super Hero; he accomplishes more in less time than is reasonable for a mortal human. This weekend, he unloaded three yards of gravel from his Dad's truck into his own backyard.  The first load was quick, backing the vehicle up to the gate and tossing the stones over the area where grass refuses to grow.  The second load was anticipated, and unloaded with even greater alacrity when it became obvious that a third yard was needed..... and the supplier closed at 3. By the time the third yard was spread evenly and the truck was returned, we were on FaceTime with their family, admiring his work. At the same time, their neighbor began eyeing the mailboxes that live on his front lawn; the kids' mailbox is there, right next to his, allowing the mail carrier to go up one street and down another without missing a house.  Many in the area have decorated these spots, with flowers and seas...

Friday Whole Foods is no longer sanitizing cartsw, but is requiring masks inside the store.  Approaching the plexiglass encased staff temperature check booth while putting on my mask, I motioned to the 20-something chatting away on her cell phone without a mask in sight.   I guess we're not taking this mask thing very seriously any more, eh? He laughed. Baskin Robbins requires masks, too, even though the worker bees and I were all vaccinated.  Two young women came in at the end of our conversation, and one volunteered that she was vaccinated too.  Her friend made non-committal hand gestures while nodding. Then we should all be comfortable taking off our masks, right?   We all agreed, but kept ourselves asked, anyway. Saturday Albertsons is still sanitizing carts, but the outdoor workers don't have to be masked.  Inside, once again, face coverings were required and I complied, seething under cloth I really didn't need to wear. Saturday night we dro...

My son is happily married to a wonderful woman.  His professional life is taking off and their pig has accepted him as Leader. My daughter and her family are happily ensconced in a home they love, a home filled with laughter, and affirmations, and words.   My husband and I are reasonably hale and hearty.   The bills are paid.  There's food in the fridge.  All the appliances are functional.    And now the CDC says I don't have to wear a mask.  I don't think I'm rushing out to WallyWorld this afternoon, but I'm no longer in the market of color coordinated face coverings.  (Nancy Pelosi won that battle a year ago, anyhow.) It's one of those rare moments in time where everything and everyone is okay.  I'm going off to enjoy it.  Have a great weekend, denizens.  I'll be back on Monday with thoughts on being unmasked in a brave new world.  

There's a bunny in the courtyard right now.   He's all by himself, which is unusual; two together is the norm.  But, here he is, gently hopping into the excavation surrounding my rose bush.  There are no flowers, only the hips, and he doesn't seem interested. He's a graceful little fellow, soft and well-fed and inquisitive.  The one eye I can see is huge and dark and whirling around in its socket, mimicking the big ears that have just perked up and are twitching ................ Up on his hind legs, head swiveling, then 6 hops and he's gone, under the pony wall, through the drainage hole, away from the birds searching for their dinner.  He's pretty big for most of them, but the hawks would grab him up in a moment. And, in the time it took me to type that (much longer than it took to happen) he's back, out in the front yard, investigating the stones and being eyed by a mourning dove, sitting atop the saguaro's newest arm. It's dinner time everywhere, ...

I had high hopes for Grandma's Garden this year.  I was going to install the irrigation system over the hanging baskets, getting the 5th graders to figure it out with me.  I was going to pull every weed and flatten every divot and smooth every hummock until walking without searching for impediments was possible.   We were going to grow strawberries and tomatoes and lettuce and carrots.  Radishes of all descriptions, including the giant daikons, would top off our salads.  I hoped to start gourds that would be ready when the next school year began. Those plans will wait for next year, when we can all be back in the garden together.  This school year ends in 8 days.  We are really behind schedule. There will be summer school, and the number of registrations has surprised everyone.  Two summers ago there were not enough enrollees to run the program.  This year, our cup runneth over.  With the summer's  STEM focus, my little corner ...

12-15 year olds can be vaccinated against COVID-19. ***** Liz Cheney's out and the twice impeached former guy leads the news and the talking heads can't get enough of him and I just don't care.  I refuse to participate in his resurrection. My life is lovely without him.   ***** A town in Japan bought a giant pink squid with the pandemic assistance funds the government sent their way.  It's a tourist town and they figured this would help them in the future.  I can't decide if I'm appalled at their disregard for immediate human suffering or if I'm enchanted by their optimism. ' https://tinyurl.com/bcer3648 ***** The East Coast's main gasoline pipeline has been hacked for ransom and the news is worried about what it will do to prices.  I'm stuck at pipeline has been hacked for ransom .  This is not a good thing.  This is a serious attack on our infrastructure.  Someone ought to be sounding an alarm, not worrying about how much it will cost to dr...

Among many other wonderful celebratory interactions, I kept coming back to Giblet's video message. Dressed in his just-like-daddy outfit, his opening comment was Happy Mother's Day, Grampa! Much hilarity ensued, as he was prompted and failed to say what everyone expected him to say.  Instead, it was a word salad, created by a young brain that's just learning to put thoughts together in paragraphs, that's working overtime to keep up with what's churning, that sometimes just has to smile and say all the loving words he knows. Thus, it was happy everyone day, with our names mixed together, our genders confused, and all of us smiling and laughing and loving. Happy Mother's Day, indeed.

It takes practice.  I have not had enough. Just today,  I stopped by Grandma's Garden to water the newly planted baskets without wearing my mask.  I entered through the back gate, thus missing the signs on the front door reminding me that We Wear Masks at Prince .  There were no scholars on the playground or in the garden with me.  I turned on the hose and was gently sprinkling the baskets when a timid voice said Hi, Grandma Suzi. I turned, I smiled, and I quailed.  The child was at the gate.  My mask was in my car.  I explained why she couldn't come in, repeated it to the younger boy who came a minute or so later, and got out of there as soon as my task was done.   I sat in traffic going across town to Scarlet's house for mah jongg.  I sat in traffic coming home to swim with TBG a couple of hours later.  Heavy traffic around lunch time was not unusual in the Before Times.  When I ventured out a year ago,  I was struc...

When the kids moved 45 seconds away from SIR's parents, I worried that it would be difficult to create the kind of bond that proximity breeds.  It's the little things, I thought.  The ring pop Papa brings every time he drops in, Maga's store of crafts and tea sets..... how could I compete with that? It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.  I wrote letters and sent presents and we would, every once in a while, try a video chat.  TBG and I visited as often as we could without feeling like an invading horde.  It was fine; we made our own memories and they were powerful and wonderful. Then Pandemica hit.  Instead of flying to visit last March, FlapJilly and I spent an hour or two every day or so, drawing and reading and talking on Zoom while Mom and Dad tried to work and care for a toddler.  As things sorted themselves out, and the family returned to some semblance of order, we'd settled into a lovely routine - dinner with the grandkids, brought to us ...

(This follows a piece of yesterday's post .  Reading that will fill in any gaps.) All the relevant parties being vaccinated and on vacation and available for hugging, it was time to buy tickets to see our grandchildren.   My excitement was tempered with the overwhelming number of choices and decisions to be made.  Which airline?  Which airport?  Which days?   I gathered my thoughts and my phone as TBG watched the NFL Draft, hour number nine zillion and twelve, and failed dramatically to purchase round trip airfare on Allegiant.   Yesterday's post was written before I rewarded myself by opening the tabs and choosing flights and dates and seats and once again being rejected. After the third time the laptop reset itself to the box for my email and refused to accept the reservation, I began to take things personally.  The Live Chat Now  told me it was my devices' faults and not their system at all.  Sometimes people have to clear ...

My cell phone rang today.  Twice.   It hasn't rung twice in one day since Pandemica began.  Texts come through on a regular basis, emails pop up and are quickly answered, but a ringing phone that demands to be spoken to was a rarity.   The first call was from my Cousin Ilene; we don't speak often enough.  The second call was from a Phoenix area code; I picked it up with trepidation.  Usually, the 602 calls are from Amy from Health Care Services reminding you....  I've never heard more than that, hanging up before I scream futiley at a recorded message.  This call was from a name I recognized.... but couldn't immediately place..... though she identified herself with the expectation clear in her voice that I would know who she was.   Awkward.... until I decided to laugh at myself, concede my faux pas, and move on, promising to attach her name to the phone number now living in my contacts.   ***** We're planning a trip t...

BBVA bought Compass Bank, my neighborhood banking establishment with the friendly tellers and loan officers and managers.  The website experience didn't change all that much, nor did the in bank experience, nor did the drive through experience. This week, though, the on-line banking wouldn't load.  The verbiage told me to update Chrome (it is up to date; I checked, just the way they told me).  I turned off the computer, unplugged it, and didn't restart it for a long time.  I got the same error message. I could access the app on my phone, so I knew I was still a customer.  But it's not set up for paying all my bills at once; figuring out my path through new steps in small print was more trouble than the never found benefits. This was April 29.  I waited for April 30, hoping that a new day would bring a new result.  Nope.  Magical thinking didn't work.  What a surprise. I took a check from TBG and went into the bank to deposit it; I didn't trus...

Feedburner, the RSS (which stands for Really Simple Syndication) feed is no longer really simple, at least for me.  As of July1, 2021, Bloggers's RSS subscription service will end.   I'm working on setting up something new. In order to be sure you don't get left behind (at least I hope you don't get left behind),  please send an email to  ashleighattheburrow@gmail.com.   That will put you on the list (which I should be able to find in Feedburner but cannot) which (I hope) I will import into the new RSS. I'll be posting this at the end of my verbiage over the course of the next few months, too.