The Burrow

When the boundary between pool and patio is blurred.

I was adamant the first time it was asked.  Fall? I don't fall.  Not since my son tackled me in the driveway as I was going for the basket. Then, I took a tumble, tripping over loose stones, falling backwards, landing none too lightly on the pony wall, the backs of my arms keeping me from landing on the ground.  I vowed to wear shoes whenever I ventured out the front door; socks only would be a thing of the past, and I'd be fine. Then my sandal caught the edge of the oriental rug in the kitchen.  I was very glad to have the counter right there; had I been 6 inches further away my nose and the ground would have become quite well acquainted.  By concentrating on strengthening my ankles and remembering to pick up my feel rather than dragging them along the floor I was sure I'd be fine. Then I had lunch with Lady Jane, down three small steps to get to the garden at The Arizona Inn.  Coming up after a delightful repast, she tripped over the rubber strip holding ...

Our cable package has music channels.  R&B, Country, Heavy Metal, Pop Hits, and, TBG's favorite - Classic Oldies.  That's what we swim to; Zone 2 is the outside speakers and that's the red button I push to make the sound happen.  Our set up is complex and I never bothered to learn it.  That one red button is enough for me. So, this afternoon, I changed and slathered lotion and grabbed a towel and my goggles before I pushed the button and the music began.  I had no idea it would be a romp through my adolescence - and my failure to learn to dance. Daddooooo taught me the lindy in our living room.  It was fun, but I was too awkward to enjoy myself. I paid more attention to the fact that it was a dance named after Charles Lindbergh than I did to learning the steps.  Besides, nobody in junior high was doing the lindy; they were doing a raft of other dancer.  I didn't know them either. First on this afternoon's playlist was The Mashed Potato.  ...

Pandemica was made a little more bearable by the ease with which I could participate in our democracy without leaving home.  Postcards To Voters  and  Vote Forward  have, once again, sent me emails asking for help.  It's a much more productive use of my time than playing Candy Crush Soda Saga. After being vetted - I sent a sample postcard and was approved within 24 hours - back in the Olden Times, it's now a simple matter of clicking on a link and downloading my voters.  Vote Forward has me printing out template letters with a Fill In The Blank section following I vote because .  Postcards to Voters gives me the essential information and lets me format the (less expensive) postcards myself. I write about participating in democracy and making my voice heard and my vote as my statement of interest.  I use colorful markers and print carefully.  With football rearing its ugly head once again, having meaningful work that allows me to share space w...

She died last Spring, just as things were opening up.  Her death opened a giant hole in a lot of hearts. Her husband devoted his life to making her happy, and he was quite a success.  He tended her when she was well, and cared for her when she was ill, and always made sure that she had what she wanted, when she wanted it.  She was always particular, and he didn't mind accommodating her. Now she's gone, and his responsibilities have vanished. I sent him sustenance from Whole Foods after her death; he called to tell me that almost everything I selected was our usual order.   I haven't seen them in decades; some things never change.  We grew up together and those early memories are deeply imprinted. I'm still not used to the fact that she is no longer on this earth, even though our paths rarely crossed once we were adults.  Since April, she's taken up permanent residence in a corner of my mind,  popping up in the most unexpected places.  She never di...

Sometimes it feels like yesterday.  Sometimes it feels like forever ago.  Always, it feels just right.  

As Linda pointed out in her comment to Friday's post,  it's too bad money can't buy common sense.  Upon a deeper dive into the school funding issue, it seems that this applies, oh, most definitely applies, to Governor Ducey. Let me explain. The Governor's decision to withhold federal Rescue Plan money from any school district with a mask mandate may come to bite him in the ass.  It's $1800 per student - a sizeable chunk of change in any district's budget.  Unfortunately for Governor Ice Cream, these funds cannot be released to districts which receive other Federal aid programs, like all those available to lower income demographics.  So my District and all the other school districts serving those at the bottom of the economic pile are losing nothing by doing the one thing the experts say can mitigate the transmission of COVID 19 - mask mandates.  And which Districts stand to lose all those Federal dollars our Incompetent in Chief won't give them if they, too...

Gen. Milley says there was no information sent to his desk that indicated an 11 day collapse of the Afghan Army. Gov. Ducey will give families $7000 for private school tuition if they don't want to send their kids to a mask-mandated school.  He'll also withhold  $1800 per student in American Rescue Plan money from districts which enforce mask mandates.  According to his spokesperson, this money is the Governor's to dispense.  No one else ought to weigh in. The City of Tucson is punishing their unvaccinated workers with a 5 day without pay suspension. The Pima County Board of Supervisors is rewarding vaccinated employees with $300 checks. Does it seem to anyone else that our governance is running around like chickens with their heads cut off?

Auntie M now has as many years as Harold Hill has trombones.   That was her brother's quick math answer to an unasked question, as he sat beside me on the couch, frantically switching channels, trying to find one that wasn't advertising chilling side effects and horrifying diseases or shivering puppies or starving children...... and don't get me started on that adorable little elephant who's just learning to walk.   More and more often, TBG and I are struck by the novelty of ...... well, pick just about any category... and find ourselves noting that in 140 years on this planet we have ...... At back to school night this week, FlapJilly's new 2nd grade teacher recognized SIR.....  because she taught his sister three decades ago and recognized the face.  That sister is now teaching 2nd grade, herself. This brought me back to volunteering in the library when Little Cuter was in 2nd grade and her 20-something teacher had a mild meltdown when one her her student...

We ran an errand where both of us went into the store at the same time (masked, of course). We got lunch at a drive through window and ate in the car, under a tree in the parking lot. We got a curbside pickup of groceries. We came home. This is not the way a rainy Tuesday should be spent.  I can't feel safe going inside a restaurant because people refuse to get vaccinated.  I can't stroll comfortably with my husband, because after a few minutes he starts to feel claustrophobic beneath his mask, and mask we must, because we don't know who is unsafe. This is backwards.  It's not fair.  We did everything right and now we are punished and forced to stay home because others refuse to believe the science.  They are running around, merrily infecting themselves and others, and I don't want to be one of their others.   I think they should stay home, or at least away from indoor spaces and crowded outdoor venues, and the rest of us should have free reign over th...

It looks awful. It's got to feel worse. There are no women and girls in the streets; the unmarried ones are hiding to preclude their being taken as wives for the young Taliban soldiers. And don't get me started on those who've spent 20 years working with the coalition forces to build a modern, functioning society - and who are now left behind.  Joe Biden did a poor job in preparing for their evacuation and I cried as Matt Zeller spoke on MSNBC  about the moral stain this leaves on my soul. Alexander the Great turned away from fighting there.  The Russians failed after a disastrous attempt at nation building in their own image, and now we are repeating the scenario.  One of the poorest countries in the world, its economy dependent on heroin, with a fantastically corrupt elite (per Rachel Maddow) and the Taliban now in control of American military bases and the equipment (arms, ammunition, helicopters....) - this is not a scenario that bodes well for the future. I've l...

Listening to  Patrick Lam talk to Helen Rosner on Splendid Table  this afternoon, I had one of those Meg Ryan moments. Y'know, the moment in Sleepless in Seattle where she and Tom Hanks both say magic  - he on the radio, she in her car.   Helen Rosner was talking about her ambivalence regarding air conditioning.  She and Patrick Lam agreed - you need it and you love it but it distracts you from the season outside.  I mean, it makes you want to make (all together now) a post roast.

Randomly one afternoon on our last visit to Indiana, Giblet asked me about my brother.  Specifically, he wondered why he wasn't visiting, too.  Was he visiting Chicago Cousin, his daughter, helping her with her new house?  Why? He was perplexed.  We were surprised at his recall of the details.  After all, my brother appears, randomly, when he's driving from Maryland to Chicago.  He stays for an hour (the trip puts him in Indiana just around dinner/bath/bed time) then drives on to see his own kid.   Though it's not a great quantity of time, it is obviously high quality time. This time, Brother brought gifts.  FlapJilly got G'ma jewelry that Intrepid Cat (Brother's eldest, for those keeping track) passed down to the jewelry person in the family.   Some of it was deemed too delicate to wear right away.  It's safely stored until the proper occasion arises. Giblet got a bright yellow dump truck.  It makes noise.  It has flashin...

The yard guys started things off before 8am.   I saw them through the window when I rolled out of bed. I usually have time for breakfast before they arrive, but, there they were and so there went I, walking the entire property and pointing out what needed to be done.   There was much to be done. They raised the lantana so each bush is now a lovely round capped mushroom with lots of space beneath the lowest leaves.  No pack rats will find them attractive, now that the sun and the wind have free access below the entwined branches.   They trimmed a tree branch or two; it was hard to tell which to cut, since the rain weighted them down.  Still, I knew that nothing belonged dangling over the bbq.... too bad we couldn't figure out what to do to fix the situation.   They planted a tree.  Purchased from a local not-for-profit, I only saw it on-line.  In real life, it is too small to replace my downed palo verde but perfect to grow big ...

Monsoon brings rain in the afternoon.  The clouds come together in a dark and menacing crowd and drop much needed moisture - sometimes for a minute, sometimes for hours, sometimes gently and sometimes with the full force of Mother Nature. Our mornings are hot and steamy.  The sky is blue. If there are clouds, they are sitting on Pusch Ridge, stuck on the mountain top.  Mornings are the time to go outside and do what can be done, triple digits not withstanding.   Swimming in the morning when the birds are looking for breakfast and the flowers are opening to the sun is one of my great pleasures.  I went to sleep last night with the firm intention of doing half a mile in the pool then cleaning out the second tall planter.  I did the first one yesterday, in the light drizzle that monsoon provided.  It was lovely. But I awoke to raindrops.  Lots and lots of raindrops.  I tried to roll over and go  back to sleep, but TBG is back to his mo...

Exit  is the most unlikely police procedural/ I laughed out loud.  I gasped.  I was constantly surprised.  These things do not happen with regularity on their own; to find all three in one book is unlikely. Many characters are old... really old, the kind of old that involves figuring out how to get up off the floor when everything hurts. Many characters die.  Each of the characters is a distinct personality; there are lots of them and it's easy remember who's who.  That is unlikely. The story unfolds as if it's somewhere in the middle of a series.  I kept checking to be sure it's a stand alone story.   I have narrative lust - I want to know that even the minor characters will reappear sometime.  Sadly, I think that is unlikely, too. Unlike  Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi  (I apologize if you read Call me Zebra on my recommendation - I could barely finish it and still don't know what happened)   Belinda Bauer   is a...

I have lots of cute sundresses.  I have yoga pants of all lengths and colors.  All my shorts, save one, pull up comfortably over my hips and stay there, without a fastener of any kind.  My two favorite skirts have wide elastic bands that expand and contract with every breath. Nothing constricts.  Nothing pinches.  Nothing requires more than a tug or two to settle into place.  I have wraps and necklaces and earrings that don't annoy me.   I see no reason to change this. Ever. And then I thought of the clothes in my mother's closet.  Her wardrobe during the last few decades of her life included nary a zipper nor a snap.... except the ones on her bra, at which she cursed while fastening it in front and swiveling the damn thing around to its proper position.  We never talked about it.  I wonder if she, too, realized that life was too short to worry about buttons on your bottoms. Or, perhaps, it was totally an issue of comfort.  She...

This is usually my happiest evening of the school year.  The kids show up for their first day tomorrow and, usually, I'm filling the pockets in my Grandma robe with stickers, and deciding which shoes are the most comfortable for standing and bending. I should be setting my alarm for 6:30 so that I arrive in the parking lot while there are still empty spaces.  Hugging and smiling and introducing will occur;  I will comfort little ones who don't want to leave Mommy.....  at least that was my plan earlier this summer, when the virus seemed to have released its death grip on our County, and people were believing that we could go into public spaces without our masks - our reward for being well behaved during Pandemica. Instead, I am going over to Scarlet's to play mahjong.  I can't risk getting sick, and our Governor has made it impossible for the local district to keep me safe.  Masks can no longer be required. This is, I am told, in defense of my liberties. Al...

Once again, GRIN  delivered Back to School treats to every elementary, K-8, and middle school in the Amphi District.  This is what my car looked like once everything was loaded.   The blue IKEA bag behind the goodies was necessary - there were lots of cakes and brownies and more cakes and cookies and muffins and fruit tarts and fancy cupcakes and more cakes and cookies and even some Hostess products.   How does this wonderfulness happen?   Vera - a manager at my Albertsons .  She smiles at me in July and agrees to have supplies for me in August. The store provides some, she provides some, and this year other staff members donated, too. Year after year after year she does this. Why? It's for the kids. It's that simple for her.... and for me.... and for every grateful face I saw in every office for 3 hours this morning.  Doing good for the little ones is its own reward. But Vera deserves her own special reward, and this is all she'll let m...

Last night the bbq refused to light, although the click-click-click (repeat for 8-10 seconds) of the igniter was perfectly fine.  This afternoon, even the clicker was gone.  I can make burgers and hot dogs inside under the broiler, but they are not the same.  I'd just as soon have tuna fish for lunch. When I swam this morning there was no water draining from the spa into the pool itself like there usually is.  It was a signal that there was something amiss, but the temperature was perfect and the sun wasn't over the roof yet, and my swim was wonderful (thank you for asking).  When TBG got home, not only was the water still nowhere to be seen, the thermometer read 129 degrees. The pool itself was certainly no where near that; it's delightfully brisk in these triple digit afternoons, and that suits me just fine..... as long as I don't think about kicking and pulling through unfiltered liquid which is potentially housing bugs and bacteria of all shapes and sizes....

Jennifer Lopez is hawking a product .  I'm not sure what it does or if it is valuable, but if it will make me look as good as she looks, I want it says TBG with laughter in his voice.  It's true that JLo seems to have defied aging by all observable standards, but it didn't seem funny until he went on. Twenty years ago, Cindy Crawford was seen by TBG in person at the Denver airport.  She remains the most beautiful woman I ever saw - without wearing makeup - she was stunning.  She was also seen by TBG on a late night infomercial hawking a skin care product.   She was using melons - as an ingredient and as a prop. She put two melons on a counter - the one she sources from and another, random melon.  Ten days pass, and the other melon looks like you and me, and her melon is perfect.   I'm not sure why, but I'm still laughing.   I don't think we're cantaloupes (under- or over-ripe) yet.  I'm leaning more toward honeydew.