The Burrow

As I have for the last 41 years, I'll be wearing my green hair. In one picture, Honey Bunny looked like this and then, she looked like this and then there are some in the pumpkin which we are keeping within the family for the sake of modesty.  You'll have to trust me on this, but she's an adorably chunky pumpkin. There's a Taylor Swift and a Mandalorian in Indiana.  Today at Prince there were kitty ear headbands and several sports stars and lots of orange t-shirts with various Halloween iconography in black or sparkles and sometimes both. The real event happens tomorrow.  There are announcements taped up all over campus. Welcome to Halloween 2023.   No weapons allowed. The Afghan twins don't need to be retraumatized by their classmates' accesssories.   And apparently the grown ups need to be reminded to leave their weaponry at home, too.  Even at 8 in the morning.

I finished Dr. Zhivago last night, the ponderous translation almost but not quite ruining what must have been lyrical wonderfulness, overflowing with passion, flowing, one word into the next, to paint the pictures in the original Russian. A quick search of the interwebs found this fascinating deep dive into the three translations into English, which I think is brilliant because I agree with every point the author makes.   But as flat as the language was, there were morsels of wonderfulness that are percolating in my brain.  We're supposed to watch the movie before our first class on Wednesday.  I'll have more to say about it all after that.  Taking advantage of the breezy temperatures in the 70's, I treated myself to new plants and potting soil and was happily digging and replenishing and discarding and planting and carrying and kneeling and doing all the things I used to do and feeling pretty good about myself until all of a sudden I was tired. I cleaned up an...

I've been following a number of interesting writers on Substack .  It's a platform hosting blogs with emails to readers and a way to monetize the writing by offering paid subscriptions.  I can't imagine asking anyone to pay for my random scribblings, and I understand the Blogger interface (finally) so I feel no need to switch.   Joyce Vance and Sherman Alexie and Robert McFaul write often and intelligently and I don't have to pay to read their words.  They do offer subscriptions, often with the encouraging note that it helps me make the time for writing to you.    I've always found that Joyce Vance makes sense out of chaos.  I paid a subscription fee of $50 mostly to thank her for that. Occasionally, five written questions and answers with someone important are available to subscribers only.  I ddin't find them that fascinating, and they certainly weren't worth $50.   There's one part of the dilemma - I still enjoy her writing, a...

It's Random Thoughts because that's all I can manage right now.  Jet lag and altitude and age are a wicked combination.   We don't know if it's noon or nine or three up here, where the air really is thinner.  A regular deep breath doesn't fully fill my lungs, and my body is noticing it. ***** It seems that the Lying Liar got spanked in court today.  Like the petulant man-child that he is, he didn't like what he heard so he stormed out of the room and said mean things about the judge.   Unfortunately for him, the law is more powerful than anything he's encountered before.  He sat where he was told to sit and listened as he was told that he was a lying liar and that there were financial damages to be paid.   I wonder what his poor brain is doing right now.  His world is scrambled eggs. ***** Yesterday it rained for a while, just enough to release the creosote smell and the ionization.   It was breezy and in the 70's today, 5...

I'm too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to focus on the heartbreaking situation in Israel and Gaza.  So, I'm finding it quite delightful that the Republicans have given us so much to think about and for the talking heads to talk about.  I was making headway into Dr. Zhivago on the airplane home, but that energy has passed.   Instead, I'm having fun watching Ali Vitali doing fan fiction about the future of our democracy.  As the clown car containing the Republican Caucus careens down the road to destruction, I had to laugh along with Joy Reid.  She threw the papers on her desk high in the air as she gasped for breath - it's both hilarious and disastrous.   I can't do anything but contact my Congressman, which in our case is an exercise in futility.  There are those in the Caucus who, I am certain, are happy to break the government into tiny little pieces.  Certainly, the Lying Liar is of that ilk.  But I cannot believe that t...

Giblet could not do it.   FlapJilly was able to hug, but her face reflected what we were all feeling.   It's hard to say goodbye. Nobody cried.  Little Cuter reminded us that we'll be together again in two months and a few days.  That wasn't enough to satisfy the littlest one.  He buried his face in a pile of blankets and whispered that he didn't want us to go. We don't want to leave, either. The leaves are turning here. There are fields of cornstalks, harvested or waiting for the thresher, everywhere you look.  It's cool enough to go outside.  Four of the people we love the most are here. It should be hard to leave. But their lives are busy and there's not much free time to hang out with grandparents. If we lived closer, we could drop in for a quick kiss before soccer practice. Instead, we will rely on video calls and written love notes sent through the mail. And we'll count the days until we meet them at the airport. It's hard to be so far ...

Dr. Zhivago  is still in the Kindle.  (On the Kindle?) My Indiana family are delightfully attractive nuisances.   We've been shopping for books and clothes and tchochkes. We've been to the ice cream parlor.  We've played 100s of games of Uno. We've been to the zoo and to Little Cuter's office under Notre Dame's golden dome. We've gone to the indoor trampoline park.  We've laughed ourselves silly playing wiffle ball in the backyard; running grandparents were the source of much hilarity, even as the grandparents were inordinately proud of themselves for doing it at all.  Boris Pasternack requires more concentration than I can muster with all this love in the air.  I've fallen asleep on the same page twice.  The other book I brought,   The Leftover Woman , is depressing, and that's not a space I want to occupy when grandkid love is all around.  So when FlapJilly asked if I wanted to read the book she'd just finished, I jumped at t...

After much too much time, TBG and I are finally in Indiana with the biggest grandbabies. We are awash in grandchildren, with, as Little Cuter pointed out, one at every stage of wonderfulness - a big kid, a little kid, and a baby.  For a woman who couldn't wait to be called Grandma, this is heaven. Lots of lengthy conversations and giggle fests and snuggles will mark our days.  Adventures on FlapJilly's Fall Break may be the title of our next Shutterfly book. For now, I'm going to take tonight and tomorrow off from posting so that I can revel in the love. Have a wonderful weekend.  I know we will.

Little Cuter reacted to yesterday's post before I rolled out of bed this morning.  Here are her text messages, slightly emended for privacy High School Nephew taught us all about drip  last Christmas-.  It's cool clothes/ style. You can have drip, but you're NEVER drippy. Because that's gross. Apparently. Also noteworthy: RIZZ- charisma No cap- for real, I'm not joking Sus- highly suspect/suspicious Snatched- fit/ in shape, sexy Cheugy- basic, out of date, trying too hard Bussin'- awesome Recognizing that I would need context, she didn't leave me hanging: For example, I sound cheugy when I call something sus, no cap. I rsisted the urge to be reminded of what basic connotes today.  It's been explained before, and seems like a synonym for cheugy, but don't quote me on it.   Because, no cap, no matter how much RIZZ I bring to the table, my use of these bussin' words will always be sus.

There was a commercial on Monday Night Football.  The young people (they were all young people), tattooed with wild make up and hair dyes, were wearing NFL logoed clothing. They seemed happy to be wearing the hats and sweaters and sweatshirts.  They were smiling and there was music playing. And then there were words on the screen.   The Drip is in The Details I looked at TBG.  He looked at me. Neither of us had a clue. What we did have was the immediate recognition that this was yet another way the world was telling us that we are old.   Except for medicines, clinics, and incontinence products, we are of no interest to advertisers.   And then I remembered Daddooooo trying to teach me The Lindy in our living room and my indignant response that no one was doing old fashioned dancing any more. Sorry, Daddooooo.  I should have recognized your pain.

Taos Bubbe and I took our low chairs  to the Mall at the Uof A, along  with hundreds of others, for an Annular Eclipse Watch Party sponsored by the Flandreau Planetarium.   There were scientists to answer questions and a long line to look through the fancy Flandreau telescopes. Most of us took advantage of the $5 glasses with protective lenses.  There were instructions printed inside the left ear piece; one of them cautioned against more than 3 minutes of continuous use.   I tried putting the glasses over the camera's lens in my phone; it registered a black screen.  So I put on the glasses and held the camera in a spot somewhere in front of my nose and clicked. These two photos were taken at 8:31am, just as the moon was beginning to block the sun. At 9:26am, the eclipse was about as complete as it was going to be. We weren't privy to a full eclipse; ours was about 7/8ths .  It never got very dark, although it did get cooler, with no breeze or...

A few thoughts on Hamas, the Palestinians, the Israeli's, terrorism, and war. The people living in Gaza have been under occupation for nearly 2 decades.  They cannot travel freely.  They have no place to go - no one wants them.   What seems to be missing from the conversation is that the travel restrictions are not only from the Israeli side.  Egypt holds one border and thus far has not even opened a humanitarian aid corridor, let alone provided safe passage and a path to citizenship somewhere in the Arab world for the poor, benighted Palestinians. And benighted they are. They are under-educated, over-populated, and seemingly without a credible voice on the international stage.  Hamas, like ISIS, feeds ravenously on the easily manipulated passions of teenagers who've never lived an un-enclosed life, of the young adults who remember life before the fences.  The opportunity to go paragliding and then kill your oppressor must be irresistible.  I...

  A somewhat altered version of a previous post or two. It has always been confusing - was his birthday the 12th or the 14th of October?  One of them was Columbus Day and the other was Herb's Day and to this moment I'm still not sure, especially since the bureaucrats moved Chris's Day to the generic second Monday. He was a confusing person, so this is not surprising.  I never knew if I wanted to hug him or throttle him. Deaf-as-a-door-nail, hearing aids with their batteries constantly squealing or dying or the devices resting comfortably in the breast pocket of his plaid wash-and-wear shirt, he monopolized conversations so that he would know what was going on. That works well until your audience hits second grade or so; after that, it becomes a full fledged "Herb Attack." I know this because I have been guilty of them, myself. His tales were fascinating.  If the facts weren't really facts, well, they should have been.  He went to City College with Richard F...

 A friend and I exchanged a series of emails about the Hamas/Israel situation.  We are bereft.  The conflict will, no doubt, be a foundational myth for all concerned for generations to come.  Where could we put our faith, our hope? I remembered President Obama holding my hands in the hospital when I asked him the same thing.  Look to our better angels.  This is not what Americans are or want to be. As I listen to Republican leaders lie as they blame President Biden for funding this terror   instead of calling out the anti-Semitism which is driving it, instead of recoiling at the barbarity of beheading babies, I know not to look for a united American response. She agreed that the search will not be easy.  We agreed that it seems like a sensible way to try to get through the storm.  Then she sent me this. I hope she helps.

Unranked Arizona took #9 USC to triple overtime before failing to make a 2 point conversion and losing. The 49'ers stomped the Dallas Cowboys in a performance that should quiet Brock Purdy's critics forever. Hamas stormed out of the Gaza Strip and into Israel, wreaking havoc and kidnapping innocents. The WORDLE was tricky and annoying and SPELLING BEE  left me just short of Genius all weekend long. I ought to be able to make a post or two out of all of these events, but my heart is rent open by the carnage and I can't seem to find the words to express what I'm feeling.  Despair, fear, surprise, disgust..... kidnapping teens and grandparents,  raping women while their families listened to the screams over the phone... these people want to destroy my people..... I can't figure out what to write.  I've tried all afternoon to put something together about this, and I've failed. Forgive me.  I really tried.  Perhaps tomorrow will bring clarity, or a different to...

Just look at that stack of wonderfulness.   That's four or five days of unabashed joy, racing through stories to find out who's who and what's what. Colson Whitehead may take a bit more brain power, but it's easily accessible. Then, there's this sitting on the eReader gifted to me by Dr K and Not-Kathy.  It's the text for the class I'm taking in November.  I loved my experience with this teacher in the past, I've never read the book before, I want to start to learn in a classroom setting again, she suggests we finish it before the class begins. Those are all good reasons.  This morning, I read the first nine sections and could feel myself getting drawn into the sprawling mass of characters.  I was wondering about the politics behind the words.  I was lulled by the lushness of the verbiage (and I'm glad I searched and found the translation she suggested) and could feel myself sinking into the chair, ready for a marathon day of ...

Something happened.  It's the MacGuffin  in the story.  The situation resolved itself and everything turned out okay in the end. A little bit of harm, no lasting foul. But in the moment, I thought my head would explode.  I could feel my eyes bulging out of their sockets, something I thought only happened in Loony Toons.  I was totally focused, in my head and in my body.  Every fiber of my being, tingling from my toes to my hair, was intent on what I was hearing, on what I could or should or shouldn't do or say.   In the moment, I knew that I wanted to remember what I was feeling.  Not the angst associated with what I was hearing and seeing. That was quite unpleasant. It was the single-minded-ness, the intensity of unusual dimensions, that I wanted to capture.  High amplitude situations produce surprising results.   

One of the fifth grade Garden Leaders wanted something special to do.  She's usually content to spray herself and her friends with the garden's hose, but I forgot to bring the handle to turn it on. No, I don't leave it available for any miscreant to reach over and turn it on to douse one and all without supervision or permission. The handle comes and goes with me, in the bag I left in my trunk. She was mildly disappointed, but willing to try the secateurs ( The WHAT?? They are scissors.)  I didn't have gloves to protect her hands, but she figured out how to grab the end of the desiccated aloe vera and reach into the depths of the plant to cut.   I watched for a while, making sure she was safe.  That gave me time to notice the only other scholar in the garden. A trowel is a feeble weapon when faced with the hard pack that is the ground beneath our feet.  Yet he persisted.  This was no random flinging of soil, he obviously had a purpose, even if it wasn'...

Yes, it is. From the garden center at Lowe's to Grandma's Garden at Prince, carefully planted and nurtured by the upper grades, Tuesday's surprise was waiting when I opened the garden gate. Kindergarten and first grade were all about the digging and the planting of Toota-Toota-Tube seeds            one seed per toilet paper tube to notice it, but that all changed when the big kids arrived. Several of them were gathered around their raised bed, peering closely at what they planted in September . I walked over as the scholars discussed the squash they had growing at home, in their own grandma's gardens, and how good they are to eat. Others looked on in amazement.  That little flower, those little buds, will turn into a big squash? That flower will be a tomato or a bell pepper? Yes.  They will all mature and grow and become more delightful and delicious with every passing week.  And then, we will eat them. Farm to table is getting closer all th...

We had appointments for flu and RSV and COVID injections late on Friday afternoon; we blocked out the weekend in anticipation.  The last time our physicians advised us to protect ourselves, it took two days to recover from the protection.   Our emails and text messages informed us that afternoon that they didn't have the COVID vials.  They told us not to come, but to call if we wanted more information.  Of course, I called.   Turns out that corporate CVS allocates the vaccine supply, and the individual pharmacies never know when or how much they'll receive.  Call back on Monday and check and see was the best she could offer.   We're traveling to Indiana in a couple of weeks.  We don't have time to call back and take a chance.  I checked on the Walgreen's website, but they weren't scheduling anything at all.  Then, I went grocery shopping. They have a small sign encouraging vaccination at their pharmacy.  The lovely ph...

 Not only did they have butterflies ,    Butterfly Wonderland had fish. There was a giant koi pond in the butterfly experience and a room filled with fish inside. shark sting ray odd white fish with even odder strings  This is not a Disney character.  There wasn't a sign telling me what/who/why this looks like this.  I leave it to your own imagination. They also had insects and reptiles but this is as far as I got.  There was a big, hairy tarantula in a cage at the entrance to this section.  JannyLou and I sat at a table while Not-Kathy indulged herself in the slimy, creepy, crawly creatures. The Artist's Mother and I were happy to sit and remember the beauty her son had created.