The Burrow

Does planning a trip stop you dead in your tracks?  Do you enjoy the thought of visiting people and places far from home but dread the work it takes to get there?  Do you like traveling but hate organizing it?  If so, welcome to the club. It's been far too long between visits to our grandkids.  A wedding this summer complicated things.  Illness and surgeries added to the delay.  But FlapJilly has a short Fall Break next month followed the next weekend by Halloween; it is just too good an opportunity to pass up. Getting it all together, though, has been an entirely different state of affairs.  I've had the idea for weeks.  It's taken me that long to figure it out.  I'm still not done. There are a lot of moving pieces.  Friends to see, places to stay, transportation to be arranged.... it all became overwhelming.  I was stopped dead in my tracks, unable to do more than click through to the various airlines which can get me where I want...

After more than two years of benign neglect (I maintained the irrigation while ignoring everything else), Grandma's Garden was in need of a serious overhaul.  I spent a morning or two pulling weeds, finding a carrot, and swatting small flies.  This was clearly a job for my young gardeners. The little kids had fun weeding. They didn't make much progress, but they did require a lot of help.  There was no time for photos.  The bigger kids were more adept (they avoided disengaging the irrigation tubing)  and were stronger.  It took two then three then four of them to extricate the carrot. They dug around it with a plastic trowel, they pulled,  they grunted, then one intrepid soul got down and dirty and pulled it out.   I'd have taken a photo but they were too excited to hold it still.   From the other raised bed, came these gardeners with something vaguely cucurbita....  a squash or a melon....  We cut it lengthwise and smelle...

Little Cuter called.  Giblet had something to share with us.  Were we available for a video conference with our 4 year old? It took a while to turn on my phone and figure out how to make the call include our faces but I got there eventually and we tuned in to see a very happy little boy and a very soft and round panda bear, Bob the Bear, to be precise. Everyone will get a chance  to take Bob home and document their adventures.  What adventures could Bob look forward to tonight? I'm going to read this book to him     Apparently, talking to grandparents is also an adventure, and Little Cuter snapped a photo to include on the pages that Giblet would contribute to the journal which accompanies Bob the Bear.  We were privileged to view it.   Here's Avery's picture.... here's Lucia's picture..... This is Thomas (interjection from Little Cuter - Thomas the friend at school, not the dog at home).... this is Leo's... And so it went, each page careful...

and I feel fine! The sunset really did look like the end of the world. That's rain. The desert is amazing.

It's nice to know I'm not alone. Except for Dkzody , the comments shared all the feelings.  It's so hard to move to a newer way of life , and despite  Latane Barton 's reminders (and she's 88 years old so has wisdom beyond mine) that it's just a new adventure I don't like it any more than I did last week.   The 2nd day, I woke up and turned off the alarm and opened the front door before I remembered that I wasn't getting a daily paper delivered any more.  I frowned.  I tried to read the comics on my phone, because, like Kathy G , they are very important to me.   But they were even smaller in pixels than they were in print.  I gave up and opened a book. I played with the various ways of getting the news on my phone.  I followed The Star and Tim Steller  on Instagram and Twitter.  I downloaded The Star's app and hit all the icons to see what happened.  It took me a while, but I figured it out. The screen looks just like the ...

I had my mammogram this week.  The protocol includes foregoing lotions, creams, sprays, and goo of any kinds on the day of the procedure.   I showered right before the appointment.  Muscle memory took my hand to the CeraVe before my brain kicked in.  I didn't open the drawer with the deodorant. I drove over, changed into a shirt length gown with the opening in the front, and walked down the hall for some squishing.   The technician was delightful, the experience completely pleasant, and I smiled my way back to the small dressing room where I put my used gown in the basket near the shelves and I saw this: No smelly patients leave their establishment, that's for sure. It was truly a thoughtful accomodation.

For the first time in my life,  I will not be receiving a print copy of the local newspaper.  I'm joining those of you who read The Burrow and The New York Times on-line with your morning refreshments.   No longer will I unfold newsprint with my orange juice.  Nevermore will the Opinion Page accompany my oatmeal.  I cancelled my subscription to the print edition of The Arizona Daily Star . Owned by Lee Enterprises, The Star still has editorial cartoons, unlike many other papers .  It runs a full page of Letters to the Editor.  Their Solutions Journalism  long form projects really do contribute to making Tucson a better place.  I can access all of that very comfortably on-line. The comics are another story entirely. Used to be, there were two full pages of comics and puzzles at the back of the Tucson & Region  section.  I'd get there after reading the local news and the opinions and staying up to date on the UofA in the spor...

I spent the morning at Prince, on the playground and in the garden.  I tied shoes.  I pulled weeds.  I counted 3-2-1 and never got to GO for races across the concrete.  I pulled carrots that demonstrated their root vegetable-ness by sprouting roots from the carrot itself.   Strangely, I encountered no wildlife in the garden itself.  I had to step out onto the grassy area to be confronted with the first creatures.   To me, they looked like small berries.... like the small berries on the Solanum americanum I'd pulled out five minutes before.... a plant that self-seeded in Grandma's Garden.... a plant whose little berries give little kids tummy aches if ingested and therefore has no place in a school garden.   But the girls insisted they were little lady bugs and in no danger of being eaten.  They spent some time showing me the wings and the dots and by the time they were finished I was convinced. There was a crowd of kids waiting...

I'll resist the urge to go all E. E. Cummings in this post, despite the content screaming for it.  You can thank me later. I spent the morning with magnetic lower case letters and rotating groups of kindergarteners.  The teacher divided them by ability; what we did with the tiles varied accordingly.  Not that I was given instructions.  Use your imagination  was all the direction the teacher felt I needed.   It's nice to be trusted. The first group had no trouble with anything except the b and the d .  I told them that I had the same problem in school, too, until I realized that the b carried his b elly in front.  We had some fun tracing b 's on ourselves - starting with the stick at our heads down to our big bellies - while I considered all the parts of the b and the d , marveling that kids who barely understand that the letters in a word or a sentence have specific, meaningful places are able to remember which letter goes which way. ...

I found my copy of Little Women, repaired by Sister at some point in her childhood. The pages are brittle and almost orange with age.  The print is very small. But the illustrations are as powerful as ever.   I was struck, once again, by one of the reasons I loved Jo March.  It wasn't only her attic hideaway or her independence or her literary aspirations.  It was something more tangible. See for yourself.  Here's Jo March: And here am I, sometime in elementary school. Obviously, it was meant to be.

With my bus number pinned to my left shoulder and my name and classroom on the fish hanging from my neck, I waited for the bus on my first day of school. The scholars at Prince Elementary School have lanyards with the same information.  The more things change, the more they stay the same. I spent the morning in another kindergarten classroom, this one with fewer students in attendance.  The range of abilities is tremendous.  One girl writes her name and copies the sight words (I, the, see, my, am) flawlessly.  One boy switches the pencil from hand to hand, neither side feeling just right.  Tracing the letters was a challenge; recreating them on his own just wasn't happening this morning.  Nope, not at all.   But there were the requisite number of unidentifiable squiggles vaguely representing the letters in the appropriate space on his paper, so that was a win. Instead of a star with the smelly marker from the teacher, today the scholars received a...

I found the labels and stickers and placed them in the appropriate spots.   I made sure my 10-DIGIT PERSONAL I.D. NUMBER   was visible through the window on the back of the envelope. I stamped it and spent a moment contemplating all the good I could do with $7K a week.   Publishers Clearing House can come to my house any time now, carrying balloons and waving that oversized check as the cameras record the moment for posterity.   Do you think they call before they come?  I want to be sure to be here.

As the High Holidays approach, the local Chabad's  Jewish Calendar and my parents appear.  I'm in the backyard, bickering with my siblings as Daddooooo takes family pictures - stills and movies - under the pin oak tree. I'm in the kitchen as G'ma takes the navy Kosher cookbook off the shelf over her sink, opening to the same stained pages as always. I am certain that the Revere Ware pot is 72 years old;  G'ma and Daddooooo received the set as a wedding present in 1952.  I'm almost positive that the Tupperware with the white lid also began life in their kitchen, as did my lifelong love of the matzoh ball.   I like them all the ways G'ma made them, the fluffy ones and the dense ones, the ones she served at Seders and the ones I could cajole her into serving me for lunch just because.   Consistency was never her strong suit, but I didn't care.  I, the pickiest eater in a family of picky eaters, was delighted with every iteration. ...

1. Securely fasten hair.  Do not think that crab claw clip will stay in place when branches brush against it.  2. Have a pop-up straw instead of a screw off top water bottle.  Pushing the button on the side is much cleaner than turning the cap and watching the little dirt particles fall off your glove into the container. 3.  Wear those gloves.  There's a reason you bought them.  There's a reason Little Cuter sent them. 4.  Long sleeves and long pants are crucial.  Yes, it's 80-something-degrees at 7:30 in the morning and it's only going to get hotter but those prickers are just as sharp whether it's cool or hot outside.   5. You have a kneeling pad.  In fact, you have two.  Use them.  The gravel ground cover/mulch does not feel good on bare skin.  It is really hard to kneel on, too.   6.  Bring all the tools you think  you'll need with you.  It's easier to put away that which you haven't used ...

Friday:  Annual Medicare Wellness Check Up with my Primary Care Physician (PCP). I, concerned about the test results the law insists the lab send to me before they are sent to the doctor, wondered if my blood pressure and cholesterol were going to send me to the morgue before the new year.   She, a trained medical professional, explained every single test result that frightened me.  She was able to reassure me that  High  did not equate to immediate death.  The numbers were trending in the right direction; my medications were working..... except for that bad cholesterol number. I admitted to going on a hard boiled egg/omelet/egg salad/hollandaise/bearnaise/creamy dressing spree during the spring and the summer.  The eggs, she said, were just fine.  But, did I put mayonnaise in my egg salad? Of course. ( followed by eye rolling and laughing) Well, maybe you could think about cutting back on that. I pouted, shrugged my shoulders, and we moved o...

Curt Prendergast became our local paper' s Opinion editor after Brenda Starr moved away last Fall.  In doing so, he inherited the Thursday morning Zooms - a moderated community forum focusing on the issues (and sometimes the fun) in and around Tucson.   Juan Ciscomani is running for Congress (against Kirsten Engel, although from her total invisibility you would never know that she is in the race).   I've spoken to Ms Engel twice, and I'm convinced that her views align with mine.  I knew nothing about her opponent.  I'd not Zoomed with The Star since my friend left. I clicked through and found the link, made sure I was muted and that the video was off, then sat back for the show.  I was not disappointed. Curt Prendergast is laid back and tenacious, non-threatening and determined, pleasant and piercing.  Juan Ciscomani is well spoken and well dressed, a proud father and husband and son, and believes in everything that I don't.  They put on...

I've said it before and I'll say it again - girlfriends make life worthwhile. ***** A soft manila envelope appeared in my mailbox, a discovery that made Little Cuter extraordinarily happy. I carried it in with the lunch I was delivering and opened it on the towel protecting the couch from dripped tzatziki. The accompanying verbiage, on a very impressive, heavy weight note card, was pure Little Cuter. One of her besties across campus thought that since we had newly-engineered body parts we should have newly gifted Engineering swag. Very, very soft t-shirts in XL... perfect for sleeping There was joy all over the place - each one of us feeling connected and happy and seen  (to quote this year's Bachelorette' s favorite feeling).  TBG and I reveled in the fact that our daughter's friend is basking in the happiness our kid feels because we will be functional once again.  And she's happy for us, too.   ***** There was more in the mailbox.  A flatter manila en...

Today was a balmy, ninety-something cloudless Tucson morning, with a high breeze that didn't do much to cool things off, but which moved the air just enough.  TBG was able to drive himself to PT.  For the first time in weeks I was alone in my house.   No one would notice what I was doing.  I could read.  I could turn the volume on the music up way too loud.  I could play Candy Crush Soda. I chose to garden. Yesterday, my clippers and I went to work on the dead edges of the hanging basket and the big containers.  I was ruthless.  I ripped out and cut back and removed.  I reorganized and replanted.   The garden center 's newsletter told me to give my roses a haircut, so I did.  LiLou , our grand-pig, did a fine job of trimming their branches on her last visit; there wasn't much left for me to do.   I watered in the changes before going inside to be sure TBG wasn't writhing in agony.    But today I had no ...

Little Cuter texted me this picture of her kid eating mac and cheese (and drinking a Coke!) at the Annual Labor Day Family Fish Fry.  FlapJilly needed her mom by her side (not socializing with the extended family) as she ate and read (a behavior of which both her mother and I heartily approve). And what was she reading as her mother and I were texting (apparently an acceptable behavior, as was posing for a picture for Gramma ("I love being in the blog!")? Prepare for your head to explode. What's the latest graphic novel?   Little Women She is engrossed.  She loves it.  This is her 2nd time reading it.  Jo is obviously her fave.   Jo is FlapJilly's middle name, a family name she shares with her mother and Auntie M.  It's also an homage to the woman I wanted to be when I grew up.  I read Little Women  every few months for more than a few years. A multi racial family during the Civil War?  Very woke.  A quick on-line search reveal...

    Here's my Labor Day post, recycled and improved every year since 2012. ***** My  Zaydeh  was a paperhanger. So was my uncle,  his son, . They belonged to the Paperhanger's Union. When he retired, my Zaydeh got a lapel pin and a photograph of himself. The also-retiring Union Rep got a pension and health insurance. No one knows if he got a copy of the photograph, too. It was that kind of complicated relationship to Labor, with a capital L, that dominated my growing up years. Daddooooo's father owned a business. G'ma's father was a worker. In the same way that her parents' accented speech and his parents' religious devotion were cudgels in their relationship, management/labor, spent a lot of time bruising the edges of their relationship. LABOR:  I sat on Zaydeh's shoulders, bouncing around the living room to his enthusiastic rendition of  Zum Gali Gali , a Zionist/Socialist work song.  When I needed a biography for a book report in second grade, ...

I took this picture on August 21st. I took this one on August 24th. August. Not even September. August. It's one thing to have school start on August 4th, instead of the Wednesday after Labor Day. It's another thing entirely to have Halloween decor and treats greeting me at the grocery store when it's triple digits outside.   What's the damn rush?  

#TFG, as the Urban Dictionary puts it, is an  abbreviation most commonly used on Twitter to describe the disgraced, double impeached, 45th President of the United States Donald J. Trump. It may be that TFG is losing his appeal.  The crazies are still all over the media, all over the Letters to the Editor page in the local paper, delighting the MSNBC talking heads by bloviating on Fox.  But on the ground (literally, on the ground) here in Tucson, things are changing. It's VOTE FOR ME time on the sidewalks and the median strips.  There are the usual MY NAME HERE signs and the THIS IS IMPORTANT SO VOTE YES signs.  There are family portraits (replacing the ominous black posters he started out with). And there used to be portraits of #TFG, like this one from Kari Lake, the Republican candidate for governor, the one who wants to fire the administration , whatever that means. Since things started heating up down in Florida, since it became clear that #TFG was handling ...