The Burrow

Between us, TBG and I have somehow accumulated 112,000 American Airlines points.   Have you priced airline tickets lately?  Even Allegiant, our go-to-for-cheap-fares carrier, wants hundreds more dollars to fly me to see my grandbabies... or to fly all four of them to fly to see us..... than they did before Pandemica..... and certainly more than they were during Pandemica. But that shouldn't matter, right?  We have all those points.  That should cut the cost in half... at least... or that was what we imagined.  TBG and I were on the hook for two of those tickets; rather than put ourselves through airports, we'll redistribute that money to the younger crew.  And there are all those points, which should have made this a cash-less transaction. Or so we thought. Little Cuter figured out dates and ruled out certain times and then she went on the website.  Armed with all the information in the land (KTN, loyalty number, birthdates, account numbers, sign ...

Up until he hurt his elbow, early in the 1st quarter, San Francisco quarterback phenom Brock Purdy was passing successfully 100% of the time.  He ended the game the same way he started it, stats wise.  3 for 3 for 22 yards.   For those who haven't been following the made-for-tv-movie that has been the 49'ers' season.  Brock Purdy was the very last player chosen in last year's NFL draft.  That earned him the title of Mr. Irrelevant. He sat on the bench, watching 2021's third round pick, Trey Lance start..... for exactly two games..... when an ankle injury sent him to the hospital. Jimmy Garoppolo, the handsome, merely-adequate, former 49er's starter, came back to the lead the team,  and did a stellar job ...... until he injured his foot in week 13.... in the middle of a game.... in which the 9'ers were behind.   Enter Mr. Irrelevant, a 4-year starter at Iowa State.  He led the team to victory after victory after victory - seven in a row -...

There's snow on the mountain outside my window. I drove behind a car covered in fluffy white snowflakes yesterday.  I am certain that the driver, who took the time to meticulously remove every offending flake from his front and back and side windows, was much less pleased with the situation than I was.   It was a little bit of winter.... real winter.... boots and mittens and rosy red cheeks winter...snow angel winter.  I was living in Tucson winter... Winter Lite, as it were.  I had thick socks and long tights and a few tops and sweaters on before I left the house.  There were more over-garments on the front seat of my car.   The thermometer on The UV read 41.  I turned my heated seat to the highest setting and waited, impatiently, for the climate control system to remember that there was a heater in there, too.   I laughed as I realized at least I don't need gloves.   . There's a reason I live here

Well, that was going to be the topic, anyway.   We watched Ilhan Omar stand and speak eloquently next to Adam Schiff and Eric Swalwelll, calmly calling the Speaker of the House a vengeful, bought and paid for politician.  I had a few points in mind before I started to do some research.   I never got to those points.  I got stuck here, at  house.intelligence.gov . At the moment, the irony, the obvious oxymoron, is more painful than funny.  Click through.    You may be greeted, in the center of your screen, as I was, by an advertisement (or maybe it's part of the Committee.... there's no indication otherwise) for Fox News,  Hannity in the corner (interviewing Arizona's former Attorney General, Mark Brnovich), a ticker across the top wondering what the Dems knew about the Steele Dossier and when did they know it.   It took me quite a while to come down from my ire - this is my government and it's promoting Fox News? ...

It started ten days ago.  It will continue through April.  Snowbirds have been driving my roads and clogging my restaurants since Thanksgiving, but my friends have only started showing up recently. Big Cuter's family left early on the morning I took She Who Does Not Make Left Turns to the airport.  I returned to a vacant space - no holiday decorations, no extended family, no friends.  There was an empty space in my heart .... for a split second... until I realized how quiet it was. Quiet is good.  There were no people requiring tending.  There was no one to amuse.  I could walk naked to the laundry room without the risk of scarring my son for life.  I reveled in it until boredom set in.  I was lonely.  Then, I got sick.  Having no visitors was a good thing. And now, I'm recovered, and life is resuming.  Added on to my usual routine, friends are coming to town.  Without COVID scaring people (why the calm, I do not know) tra...

I felt well enough to walk on Christina's path this weekend.  I attended the rose seminar.  But mostly, there was football.   A friend wondered if I liked it.  I asked what she meant by it. I despise the culture of violence.  I am discomfited by the exploitation and the physical toll on bodies pushed to the breaking point and playing on (cf Patrick Mahomes on Sunday).   I'm uncomfortable with the white patriarchy's inability to recognize potential head coaches of color.  The whole thing feels very 20th century to me..... when it doesn't feel vaguely 3rd century BCE.  Y'know, the whole gladiators in the Colosseum thing,  an opportunity for the rich aristocrats to display ... wealth and power  (cf Jerry Jones in his box during the game; Jerry Jones discussing Dak Prescott in the press scrum after the game). Most of the time I'm on the couch without my hearing aids, reading or crocheting or playing Candy Crush Soda Saga on my phon...

I recognize that those of you who are contending with the third of many months of gloom and cold and frozen soil are probably gnashing your teeth at the notion of sitting outside and learning how to prune roses.  But that's what I did on Saturday.   Katie,  Rillito Nursery's Assistant Manager, started her talk on time, paused when the MedEvac helicopter buzzed the hospital across the street, repeated the crowd's questions loudly before answering with just as much detail as necessary.    She told us how often and how long she runs the irrigation in her own yard and in the nursery.  She described her fertilization schedule in detail.  And she was brutal about her pruning advice - be ruthless. Look at the structure of the plant.  Use bypass pruners, aiming the point into the heart of the plant, cutting just above an outward facing node above a cluster of 5 leaves. Working above the graft, cut back the canes that criss-cross, the ones that t...

In yet another installment of how to alienate a customer, PNC decided that my closed account was overdrawn......and that the $12 delinquency was for the monthly charge on that closed account. I discovered in early December that a trip to the physical branch was required in order to close an account.  I went to the branch.  I withdrew all the funds.  I signed the papers (okay, the tablet with the pixels) agreeing to close the account.  I left, assuming that I had done what needed to be done. A thin envelope arrived in the mailbox last week, the PNC logo visible on the return address.  I got around to opening it this morning, assuming it was a won't you reopen your account, we miss you  missive.  Instead, it was a demand letter for $12. I called the number at the bottom of the letter.  The automated system didn't have my option, so I pressed 0 a gazillion times.  That got me no where ( I do not recognize that number .).  I said Representat...

For a quick second, I thought that George Santos represented the district in which I grew up.  It gave me chills.  Then I Googled, waded through a variety of redistricting maps, and found out that he is the elected representative of the North Shore not the South Shore of Long Island.   The North Shore, a little bit richer, a little bit whiter, a little bit more conservative than my home turf, the South Shore.  There's a little bit of Queens tucked into the western corner of the district, but most of it is that upper crust.  And they have only themselves to blame for the fact that George Santos is their voice in Congress. And not only is he their voice, he's part of the coalition of right wingnuts who are trying to dismantle our democracy, one Jim Jordan committee chairmanship at a time.   I keep trying to grapple with people who defied subpoenas issuing subpoenas.   The Oversight Committee's Republican membership includes members who wer...

The air is ionized.  The sky is blue. The clouds are high and white. There's snow on Mt. Lemmon. I don't feel well enough to enjoy any of it.  It's not COVID (funny how that's the first thing we do these days).  It's just overall body aches, sore-ish throat, headache, and absolutely no energy at all. I had nothing on the calendar.  I was waiting for a package requiring a signature so the day was going to be full of closet emptying and rearranging and desk clearing and holiday boxes going back into the closet in the garage.  None of that happened.  I kept trying to do something but I never got very far into reading or laundry or those closets.  I did manage to type to you, but only to update you on the situation.  I plan to feel better tomorrow.  I promise to be more interesting when next we meet. Until then, I'm going back to lie on the couch and feel sorry for myself.  

We raised our babies together, all four of them.  We took family vacations together.  We took Mom-and-Kid vacations together.  The boys played on the same teams, practiced on the same fields, went to the same school.  Their younger sisters did much the same, two little girls following along on the bigger kids' playgroup adventures, accepted without question.  Our husbands liked one another.   We spent this weekend together, interrupted by her 2 day conference at a  local, swanky, uber-unfriendly resort.  She was caught up in the FAA mishap and arrived hours later than expected, but we still managed to take a walk on Christina's path.   We used to walk along Chicago's lakefront.  As we walked again this morning I was reminded that she starts out faster than I do, but I finish stronger.  I showed off my neighborhood as we discussed the desert flora and the joys and follies and foibles of those we know.   It was as ...

Martin Luther King was 39 years old when he was assassinated.  Bobby Kennedy was 42.   His brother, Jack, was 46. Every once in a while I spend some time rewriting history, imagining if RFK had lived to run for President.  I wonder if the momentum built up by his victory in California would have propelled him into the White House, his ruthlessness the perfect antidote to Richard Nixon's perfidy.   Would JFK have been able to pass the Civil Rights legislation that LBJ muscled through Congress?  What would MLK's passion have achieved? Forty-some years later, a bullet tore through my Congresswoman's brain.  Gabby Giffords was 41.   It took ten more years to take a small but significant step in the right direction toward sensible gun ownership. Last weekend, six months after my friend and 54 others were shot in Highland Park, the Illinois legislature passed a remarkably broad bill , covering almost everything its citizen/survivor sponsors de...

..... and yet I finished all 356 pages. The book would have been much better at 250 pages.  In the afterward, the author credits those who trimmed the manuscript down from 1000 pages.  I wish an editor had told him that not every noun in a sentence needs two adjectives to tell the reader what she could surmise from the context. That's how they teach kids Reading Comprehension.  Was Baker anxious? can usually be answered by examining the surrounding paragraph.  It doesn't require the author to use up all the synonyms in Roget's Thesaurus.  That's just insulting. And it makes the book very tiring to read.  If my mind isn't picturing the scene, all the adverbs in the land can't bring me there.  If the story is interrupted by endless, unnecessary descriptive words, the plot falls by the wayside. And that's where I got stuck.  The story was compelling.  I wanted to know what happened next.  Plowing through lightly edited text just got in the ...

I finally got around to taking down the Christmas decorations, the same task I had planned for another sunny Saturday,  the afternoon of January 8, 2011.  Christina-Taylor and I were looking forward to playing with bubble wrap.... an adventure that never came to pass.   I did my best to keep the sad out of the activity, laughing at the Santa's stuck on the pedilanthus. I had to wedge myself into the corner to reach them all,  and that's when my smile reached my heart.  The mammillaria bloomed.  Tiny pink flowers with bright yellow centers had appeared  overnight.   I chose to believe it was CTG saying hello.

There's a lot going on tomorrow.  I haven't had a lot going on in a long time.  I missed it during Pandemica, I resented a pale approximation of it when the world began to reopen, and now I'm resigned to the fact of it. And the facts are that there's nothing I'd rather be doing than what I'm going to be doing.  I just wish it could be spread out over a few more hours. I spent today planning my seeds-in-a-bag lesson for tomorrow's 5th grade science class.  The bean seeds are soaking overnight.  The pages to be projected onto the smart board are printing out.  The teacher is ready to help me with the technology; anything more complicated than writing on a white board is beyond my ken. After that, I'm picking up She Who Does Not Make Left Turns at the airport.  There are not enough hours in the day to do all that I want to do with her, and I'll have her when her weekend meeting at the Ritz allows.  There's lots of planning that has been done, lots o...

My car needed gas.  I had a mysterious warning light on the dashboard.  I was down to 15% oil left in the tank.  Driving downtown to the Jan 8 Memorial was putting The UV at risk....not really, but I tried to make the case. Then I laughed at myself.   Being sad wasn't going to accomplish anything.  Wandering around a sleepy downtown Tucson wasn't going to make my walk very pleasant.  Why was I looking for reasons not to go?  I didn't want to. I put on my best sock-and-shoe combination and headed for Christina's path.  That seemed to be the best way to honor the day.

Queen T is napping.  Big Cuter and TBG are watching football.  It's sunny and still outside, a little bit warmer than it was 12 years ago when the bullets began to fly. Friends reached out via text; they know I avoid the phone and, really, there's nothing left to be said.  I am here.  They are glad.  So am I. Little Cuter texted that we should video call whenever, so we did.  It took me a few minutes to realize that her how are you doing today  meant more than it would have on any other Sunday.   TBG hugged me tightly at 10:10am; I enjoyed the closeness but couldn't share his tears.  It's odd, but I'm not sad anymore. I ache for the friendship CTG and I would have had; I would like a 20-something in my life right now.  But that's what it is, an ache. I've run out of tears, of that deep, penetrating, unrelenting sorrow that I took to bed every night.   I wonder how much of this is the passage of time and how much of it is m...

The talking heads are running out of things to say.  There are only so many synonyms for humiliation, after all. As I'm typing this, they are on the 11th round of voting for Speaker of the House.   An obscure, one term Floridian Representative had some votes in the previous rounds.  He's a person of color, an anti-abortion, gun rights, right wing stalwart. He's had nothing to say. Matt Gaetz - how is it possible that he is in a leadership position in his party????? - nominated Donald Trump.   He giggled. My stomach turned. Kevin McCarthy has given away the keys to the kingdom, and still he can't pay whatever debt the obstructionists hold.   The Clerk of the House reads the precise notes handed to her by staff.  Mostly they are boring.  The first one this morning, however, made me smile.  She scolded the members-elect for their bad behavior.  She reminded them that they should talk to her, not to each other.  None of them looke...

There's a whole cadre of scholars who missed out on the onion sets in Grandma's Garden.  Rillito Nursery  sells rubber banded groups of scallions anchored by tiny bulbs.  They grow beautifully in the garden.  And, best of all, they are speedy producers of snacks. Now, you would think that scallions would be too sharp a taste for little kids. But, properly presented, they have become the go-to veggie for Prince Scholars. Pinching off a small piece of greenery is a simple task.  Getting the kids to put it in their mouths takes a little bit of convincing..... but I have a trick up my sleeve. Did you know that this veggie has the ability to endow you with a super power?   What super power, you ask? Extreme bad breath! Once they stop laughing, they can't get close enough to the treats.  A small bite, a chew or two, and then there's an explosion of HELLO's and HOW are you's.... the open mouths spreading that onion-y deliciousness and empowering the litt...

I enjoyed Rep. Aguilar's delight when he nominated the pride of Brooklyn, Hakeem Jeffries of New York  to be Speaker of the House.   I enjoyed Kevin McCarthy's humiliation almost as much.   I had to agree with Laurence Tribe, who admitted on Twitter that while it wasn't nice to take pleasure in another's troubles, he was unable to hide his glee.   Marjorie Taylor Green is pissed that she wasn't included in the Freedom Caucus's power grab in Kevin's office last night. I didn't know that the position could be filled with someone who's not a member of the House.  Bring back Liz Cheney?  Adam Kinzinger?   And, when the talking heads ran out of ways to spin the confusion, there was always George Santos.  That blue sweater made it easy to spot him...... sitting next to the children of another Representative - Elect... one of whom refused to leave his seat until a Speaker was chosen. All those family members dressed to the nines, ready to ...

I was about to type and then I looked at the boys' faces and I stopped.  A young man made a tackle, stood up, and collapsed as they watched Monday Night Football.   He needed an AED.  CPR was performed "for several minutes."  They waited for his mother to come from the stands and join him before the ambulance left the stadium.   He's at "the only Level One Trauma Center in the area." Players and coaches and the officiating staff were weeping on the field; talking heads were sniffling at ESPN's main desk. I'm channeling Willie Nelson right now.  Mama, don't let your babies grow up to play football..................

My yogi gifted this to me.  It took me a while to hear it.  Once I got there, it was obvious. It's adding on to something she wished for us as we closed out 2009 - a new year filled with radiant health-  something I embraced then and believe in today.  This new piece just makes it more lustrous. We ended our practice last Tuesday with her hope   that we approach the new year in radiant health, with wonder. Something about it made me smile.  She's been talking about wonder  for a while but it never penetrated my consciousness until then.   It was wonderful that I was able to do the poses that had be unattainable a few months ago.  The mesquite bosque was deliciously verdant, and it was wonderful that I had the opportunity to use that word in real life.  A single tree located in the middle of our plaza had been removed and replaced with red salvia; we wondered if the tree missed us as much as we missed it. Science is wonderful.  ...