The Burrow

My hometown team is down and out.   Even though my pool didn't have them going any further than this (cue silver lining music) I'm sad. They made it to the Sweet Sixteen, which is better than they did last year when Princeton showed them the door in the first game of the first round.  They lost that game to a better team.  Tonight, they lost to a team that wanted it more. Occasionally, the Wildcats showed brilliance and power.  At moments, the big man was ferocious.  Mostly, they were cavalier with the basketball.  Errant passes were the norm.  Air balls replaced jump shots.  Three pointers were launched randomly, with no one following the ball for a rebound and a second chance to score.   There was more energy on my couch than there seemed to be on their bench.... and I was barely awake.   We really tried to like this team, strangers who were wearing Arizona's uniform this year, but who were playing for Alabama and North ...

It's the last six weeks of school.  The 5th graders are in the process of checking out entirely.  Middle school looms large, bringing waves of nostalgia and terror in equal measure.  There's a new vibe in the garden and it took me a while to figure out my part in it. This is the first year that we've grown enough produce to eat more than a taste.  I'm so proud of it.  I love watching it grow.  I love how fecund it looks.  There are marigolds blooming everywhere; their open pollinating system is right out there for the touching and teaching.   And every time someone asks me for a blossom or a scallion or a strawberry, a little piece of me cries.   I've noticed it and wondered about it for a few weeks.  Spring Break clarified things, thanks to Landscape Guy's efforts to have a crew clear the weeds we'd been pulling at for weeks.  Everything seemed clearer once the detritus was swept away. I was letting nature take her course...

I'm surprised that I'm surprised.  Actually,  royally pissed off is closer to my current state of mind.  Once again, the Lying Liar has escaped the fate reserved for mere mortals like you and me.  I leapt past furious when I heard the news; typing this hours later has left me with steam coming out of my ears. Without explanation, the NYState Appeals Court cut the bond to a mere $175 million.   Try that the next time you're arrested for a crime.  Stay out on the street on your own recognizance.  Appeal the judgement because you just really really can't raise the exorbitant amount required by that very mean judge.  Get a reprieve at the next to the last minute - less money out and more time to find it. There was no explanation attached to the ruling.  Apparently (note irony), that's not necessary.   Someone's offering $3 billion for Truth Social.  The judge in his criminal trial told him to shut up, citing his behavior surro...

Or should it go? You probably have one or three or more of them in your pantry or a cabinet or under the oven in the drawer that's supposed to be used to keep muffins and things warm while the rest of the dinner catches up. There are four of them that look just like that.  They get the job done.  I don't worry about getting every corner as clean as it might be because the stains are from cookies and biscuits and crescent rolls and other goodies I made for those I love.   I bought a new one last summer.  It didn't take long for it to acquire that same patina.... only slightly less unsightly.   The ones in the drawer worked for these potatoes as they've worked for similar meals over the last who knows how many years.   Did I move them with me from California or did I treat myself to new ones for my new home?   Do I want to spend money on something that won't look new for very long?   Does it really bother me that much? I thi...

 Part Two about March Madness will be brief, because I was wrong about Yale (who advanced) and surprised by the Pac12 and I slept or read my way through most of the weekend's games once Arizona won in the morning slot. The reading and sleeping went hand in hand because sometimes acorns fall far from their trees.  Dick Francis's British horse racing series was quick witted and quickly plotted and written in a sparing, blunt style.  His son, whose bio on the book flap says he could not deny that his family's gift of writing had been passed along to him,  should have stuck with teaching A-level physics instead of continuing in his father's footsteps. The father's books could be read as stand alone novels.  There were no characters for the son to bollix up.  But his dense paragraphs on the intricacies of the Value Added Tax, no matter how intrinsic to the plot, led to some of the most restful moments of my weekend. I slept on the couch.  I slept on the bed...

Are you watching March Madness?  Have you completed a bracket to be entered to win zillions of dollars through ESPN and its marketing affiliates or are you in a family pool dating back to the last century?  Do you not care at all, but fraternize with those who do?  I watched so you didn't have to.  If you need some tidbits to make it seem like you're part of the conversation, try these: Oakland beat Kentucky in a close game.  If you agree that that Oakland kid sure could shoot  you'll be fine. Arizona looked flat as a pancake in the first half, then acted as if their half time beverage was Red Bull spiked with amphetamines.  They won  by 20 points. Tom Izzo's Michigan State team looked just fine as they trounced Mississippi State.  He's got a long record of near success in the tournament.  We shall see..... Tommy Lloyd, Arizona's coach (okay, I know a lot about Arizona for some reason.....) got his first basketball coaching job from the ...

This week has been filled with people telling me they're moving.  It's been a lot. My physician, a woman whose advice I believe and whose manner I cherish, got a better job offer in Scottsdale and will be gone in September.  She promises to leave me in good hands, but I liked her hands.   She is the fourth young, female, primary care doctor I've seen here in Tucson who has moved on to brighter pastures in other cities.  It's getting harder to imagine starting all over again as I get older.  Having some history with those advising me on life (and death?) matters would be lovely. G'ma always said to be sure your doctors are younger than you so they won't be retiring (or dying) just when you needed them most.  Apparently, that advice is moot in the 21st century. She was the first.  Today, the New Neighbors came over to visit in our driveway.  We admired the bluebells. They told me they were selling their house.   I finally got used to ...

 Definitely a first world problem, but a problem nonetheless.   Honey Bunny is celebrating the anniversary of her birth.  TBG and I, her grandparental units, would love to join the festivities.   Flying makes more sense than driving.  United has a pleasing schedule and a basic fare that feels generally reasonable.  Seat assignments are buried at the end of the reservation section, after you've entered all that information, checking the long numbers more than once.  Deciding to pay for something they have to give me anyway seems absurd.  We don't need more than a carry on, and ours fit under the seat if need be.  It shouldn't be as hard as it is. Did I want Basic Economy or Economy?  Would I be able to pay to secure a seat assignment, should TBG need me by his side?  I had to go all through the process to find out.  There's a fare breakdown on the side of the page, but seats and baggage costs are buried.  Somehow,...

Apparently, between Bell's Palsy and March Madness and a myriad of nonsense I forgot to schedule a post for today. Thanks for pointing it out, Little Cheese.   I'll be back tomorrow, as originally and most beautifully planned. (Bonus points if you get the movie reference.)

Apparently, my phone can take panoramic pictures. This allows me to show off my bluebells.  These are not weeds, TBG's protests to the contrary.  A weed is a plant in the wrong place.  These, while not intentional, are not weeds.  These babies have seed packets you can buy in the store.  Fortunately for my garden spending, my bluebells were naturally seeded by the members of the animal kingdom who pollinate and defecate in my yard.  The yellow flowers are brittle bush, and are also volunteers, deposited not always where I'd choose but appreciated none the less. I spent the day in the garden out back, pulling out the rose bush remains that perished when the irrigation system crapped out last summer.  There was no there there anymore; my foot kicked out the stumps with ease.  The face lift was noticeable, but there was more to be done.   I replanted the not-hanging-but-standing-on-a-post basket with the remains of other failed containers....

Reposted, with additions. I know nothing about the origins of the holiday.*  I do know that once the boys made it clear that corned beef and cabbage and boiled potatoes did not hold a candle to pizza, Little Cuter and I began a delicious tradition of eating, ravenously, voraciously, turning to our fingers when  that bite  eluded the fork.   I've missed her every March 15th since she went to college.   Her brother in law brines his own meat, creating three huge trays, each with a different recipe, enough for the family and friends that filled his house.  I'm jealous of the food, but not the public setting.  Part of the joy I take is in the messiness, the pure hedonism, the lack of propriety or respect for anything except getting the tastes into my mouth as efficiently as I can. I usually use a dish towel instead of a paper napkin. I am slovenly and unapologetic. So, for whatever reason we celebrate you, thank you St. Patrick for having a day. ...

There were wonderful moments in the garden today.  The green onions are sprouting everywhere, and the kids had a great time sharing their bad breath.  We have arugula and rocket lettuce and red lettuce and spinach and big romaine leaves.  Rocket lettuce tastes like mustard, which surprised a few taste buds.  The spinach was also a surprise, in that they really liked it.  With mint and cilantro and scallions, the scholars made their own garden grown salad.  Nobody asked for ranch dressing. The irrigation system needed adjusting and the beds and buckets needed watering, which was done by young gardeners who kept the water on the plants.... for the most part.  The daisies are blooming and ready for picking, and all the girls who asked left with a yellow or an orange flower.   But then there were the fifth graders who didn't know odd numbers from even numbers.  Even the teachers were amazed.   Two of the scholars who ate the celery...

The only person who knows what time it is is the one who owns only one clock. I have children in the Eastern and Western time zones.  I am in the Arizona zone (it's true; look at the options for your clock).  I never know what time it is anywhere. My computer decided that my clock should change.  This was confusing for a few moments early on Sunday morning.  I didn't think I'd slept that long. There is so much to be said for leaving things alone.   That's it.  I'm done.  No one listened to me when I insisted that school start after Labor Day.  I don't think anyone will listen to me on this, either.

The sun was shining, a breeze was blowing, the clouds were high and white, and there were books everywhere I looked.  People reading books, people buying books, p eople sorting through books..... you get the picture.  The TFOB is my favorite weekend of the year. I took a different approach this year.  Instead of working through the list of Author Events and marking out a packed schedule for both days, I just wandered.  Open seats were inviting me to hear about Martin Luther King, Jr  first thing in the morning, eating my bagel and lox before hardly anyone else arrived.   I waited in a comfy chair on the patio outside the North Ballroom before listening to  Alysin Camerota and Luke Russert talk about their childhoods.  A mathematician from Britain made the case for   the marvelous connections between mathematics and literature.      T.C. Boyle   read us a story.  I had lemon Italian ice for lunch.  And ...

We've seen one or two of the movies, which is about par for the course. Billie Eilish was wearing knee socks standing next to Ariana Grande, whose sleeves were weirdly gigantic puffballs of pink satin, and Cynthia Erivo, whose deep green dress had lizard scales down her (very lovely) back.  Ryan Gosling scampered about in a sparkly pink tuxedo.   So far, that's the most exciting thing that's happened tonight.  The speeches are, for the most part, unintelligible.  We wondered, more than once, if the winners were speaking English.   The fawning over the Best Actor nominees was cringe worthy.  Bradley Cooper brought his mother to the show, and her big blue sunglasses were just fab.   I always like the hugging when the winners are announced.  Christopher Nolan must be a wonderful human being; everyone hugged him and mentioned him and enthused about him.  Steven Spielberg smiled benevolently as the passersby nodded in his direction....

No, this isn't a commentary on the State of the Union.  Joe hasn't started speaking yet.   No, this is a commentary on the sad state of the stationary department in Target. Yes, I went into Target.  I needed a picture frame and pens; it was the store that had them both and was open at 9:15am.  It's been upgraded since my last visit.  The aisles are wider and it seems like there are fewer options.  I had to ask for directions to the picture frames, of which there were none worth buying.   I searched out the writing implements.  I found them    There was no way to test them, no small white pad of paper and a variety of tied to a console pens.  How was I to choose?   Understand that I write a lot - transferring thoughts to paper by moving a marker over paper, not depressing buttons..... although even there I need just the right keyboard to feel fully at ease.  I have a lot of requirements, starting with no leak...

It was refreshing to notice that the talking heads never once mentioned Nikki Haley's sex or ethnicity when announcing the suspension of her campaign.  The last candidate standing was her moniker and it made me happy all day long.   I'm not happy that she's out of the race; I enjoyed someone calling herself a Republican who actually had the audacity to say that the Lying Liar wasn't fit to be President.  Why she didn't start that line earlier in the campaign is a question for another day.  Anyone who takes a step across the line from blind obedience to maybe there's another way gets a small round of applause in this house. We're trying to be kind to those who might be persuadable, the uninvolved voter whose family has always pulled the Republican lever (remember the giant handle which closed the curtain and revealed the voting machine?), the twenty-something who gets his news from the sports channels, the guy from bike class who stopped coming because everyo...

Sister is quite involved in getting Andy Kim  the Democratic nomination for US Senate in New Jersey.  The machine wants the state's First Lady, Tammy Murphy, to carry the torch in the general election.   Sister likens Rep. Kim to Allard Lowenstein , the political hero of our adolescence, so when she asked for a donation on our sibling chat, I made my usual $18 donation.   In Hebrew, where letters serve as numbers, 18 is chai, life  in English.  It's a throwback to my parents' generation and theirs before them.   Apparently, it's ingrained in my family tree.  Brother sent $18 too. Actually, being who he is, he sent $18.36.   I get that 36 is twice 18, but otherwise it's a mystery, just as most of the wonderfulness surrounding him is mysteriously charming.  He and sister went back and forth, tossing the missing 64cents between them, and I was back in my childhood kitchen with them, feeling and seeing and smelling it all...

I'm so happy to be preaching to such an appreciative choir.  Yesterday's comments helped me move on from lonely railing at the wind to knowing that I'm not alone. Friends from LaMaze class are in town; we're seeing a lot of them.  Each time, we find ourselves saying Oh, no, let's not talk about him  as the conversation strays in that unfortunate direction.  He's omnipresent.   I do have confidence in the American people and in our system.  It held against his minions once on election day and again on January 6th.  That doesn't stop me from being terrified.  It's time to start writing Get Out the Vote postcards again.  The first request just came to my inbox.  These are going to be important months in American History. Do you think everyone throughout time imagines that they are Living In Interesting Times?

I've been anxious for several days.  Driving home on Friday, I catalogued all the pieces of my life.  There is nothing to stress over, beyond the fact that age is taking its toll on our bodies.  Everything is fine and yet I'm still antsy. The cd I was playing ended.  As I hesitated to turn on NPR, I realized the source of my angst.  It's the Lying Liar and all the tentacles he's using to poison my America.   I once wanted to be a Supreme Court justice.  Now, the thought of sharing a room with Clarence Thomas makes me quiver and quake.  There was a bipartisan border solution, which was just what he asked for, yet he stomped on it for political gain, putting the legislative process up for sale.  And don't get me started on the ChristoFascistFool's minions have in store for reproductive rights.   Naming the source helped..... a little.  But today, Sunday, my brain nearly exploded.  The news was filled with a NYTimes poll...

It was a wonderful birthday, with cards and flowers and a balloon. Little Cuter found a beautiful spaghetti fork which she packaged with two more practical ones and a butter dish. My brother sent me this: It was packed within a few cardboard boxes cut to size, bubble wrap, foam paddiing, and enough scotch tape to humble a less determined package opener. I gave up on the scissors, moved on to the Exacto knife, and with the sender listening on speaker phone I revealed the gift. He's taken a class at the local community college and created my birthday present. It came with its provenance detailed on the side of one of those boxes: Contains: Recycled brownie container (part of a Hanukkah gift I sent them), part of a left over bag of concrete mix, red pigment, recycled copper gutters (from his house), abandoned copper tubing, telephone wire, 14 gauge wire, almost properly sized brass rivets, traces of tin/silver solder and flux. Wilt proof flowers are impervious to desert heat and b...