The Burrow

Mentioned by dkzody in a comment, after I'd read about it in the NYTimes Book Review , I took myself to Barnes and Noble and bought The Yellow Bus. It's much better than Shel Silverstein's much lauded (and by me, much loathed) The Giving Tree .  The nasty boy turned to man just abuses and abuses that tree, and the tree just waits there and feels grateful to be helpful, even as there is less and less to give.  The protagonist never changes.  He just takes and takes.  My synopsis has always been hurt me, hurt me again, I'll be here the next time, too. Ugh.    Loren Long  has a different take on the whole altruism thing.   Inspired by an abandoned school bus he passed while walking with his dog, Long imagined the history the bus must have lived.  He thought about the town in which it lived.  And then, with milk cartons and xacto knives and paper mache, he built a 10' model of the community he'd go on to draw in the book.  His sons...

Who knew that such a thing existed?  Certainly not TBG and I. His 2014 BMW's dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree.  There were unusual rumblings from deep within the vehicle.  He called and was told to bring it in right now.   He did.  They worked on it for a day or two, reset the doohickey on the whatchamacallit, and all was well.   Or so we thought. The car drove beautifully.  TBG took his notice from the DMV to the Emissions Testing Center with a smile on his face.  He left 10 minutes later, with a deep frown. Apparently, all that work at the dealership involved turning off certain important sensors and computers.  Those have to go through a Drive Cycle Reset in order for the car to be tested.  If the sensors aren't available to be tested the car has not failed the test; that would be something the Emissions Testing Center could help us with.  There are signs alerting us to that. If the sensors aren't ready to be tested a ...

I was perfectly happy with the grocery store's old credit card screen.  It did nothing to annoy me.  For the last two days, I've had to opt out of text messaging when I enter my phone number to insure I receive all the discounts I'm entitled to in exchange for sharing my purchasing habits. And finding the opt out space is not easy. It's new!  chirped the cashier when I grimaced. I am not interested in new.  I like old and familiar, like Tim Walz's flannel shirts.   I do not want to be tempted by offers or enticed to spend more time doing something of marginal interest.  Google has a new feature that's announced in its own window, which appeared without my consent.  I do not want to learn how to search even deeper by clicking here and dragging there. It's enough of a rabbit hole as it is. As I live the last section of my life, I am content with what exists.  Maybe that old dog just didn't feel like learning any new tricks. For today, at least,...

The scholars are chosen by their teachers.  Each room has a different set of requirements - some must be respectful, others responsible, others are chosen by the line leader of the day.  Four scholars from each room walk together from the cafeteria, ring the bell at the door, and are let into the library by the smiling, sunny, happy to see them librarian. It's a wonderful space. The College in Classrooms for the library is University of Hawaii.  The librarian thought that hot air balloons looked Hawaiian, hence the hanging decor. A volunteer painted murals everywhere.  Here are two of them. The books are divided by difficulty, by subject, by author, and by the Dewey Decimal System.  There's a Pete the Cat corner, a graphic novels section, and a scary books section where I joined that scholar in that chair to read a scary chapter from a scary book.  Why is there a school underground in a graveyard?  she wondered.  I had no answer except It's scary....

49 years ago, TBG and I were driving away on our honeymoon. That's a lot of years ago. t The honeymoon car, Tars Tarkas, was a giant, green, used Pontiac with oversized shocks on the front (it's a long story).  Brother and others attached cans to the bumper and wrote appropriate slogans on the windows which drove TBG crazy and which I just adored.   Over the years we've had forty-some cars, cars by Ford and Chevrolet, Honda and Mercedes, BMW and Ferrari, Porsche and Audi, with a random, quite unsatisfactory, Toyota thrown in just because. It wasn't quite G'ma's the ashtrays are dirty so you got a new car?.....  but it was close. Just shy of a half century later, we're driving eight year old, new to us, still in great shape vehicles that, like our marriage, just feel right.   There's nothing I'd take in trade.  

There was laughter and there were tears.  There was an apology.  There was inspiration and there was love.   I missed the memo about wearing white.  Apparently, the DNC texted the delegates about honoring the women's suffrage movement in that way.... and I was left wondering whether I would have packed anything white. After Pink and her daughter, after gun violence survivors and Gabby Giffords (continuing to inspire after all these years), after Mark Kelly My Congressman, Ruben Gallego, stood up for his fellow service members surrounded by veterans who happened to be Democratic elected officials.  The Big Gretch stared right into the camera and painted that man from Mar A Lago  as an out of touch crazy person.  Eva Longoria worked at Wendy's...  and look at us now. Adam Kinzinger told his fellow Republicans you should be here, too.  He called out the  vain, fragile. weak, weirdly obsessed with Putin person who was bent on destroying...

Sister wants me to be sure to watch her candidate at 8:30 New Jersey time.  Seems like I'm not the only one in the family who's glued to the coverage.   Cory Booker introduced the parents of a 23 year old Chicagoan held hostage in Gaza.  The room was silent and tearful and so were TBG and I.  This is not a political issue.  There are no winners when everyone is suffering.  Voting is my black job  read the pin on a Minnesotan.   Stevie Wonder was Stevie Wonder, and I paused in the dinner prep to dance around a little.  Cory Booker said that the VIP's backstage were getting down, too.   The Capitol Police officers were heartbreaking and inspiring and Sister's guy is Rep. Andy Kim who picked up a trash bag and got to work after the insurrectionists were ousted.  The ad outlining the January 6th debacle was devastating.  I sighed, knowing that it won't make much of a difference to the MAGA crowd.   Bro, we ...

It was more of the same, with a snarkier edge.   JB Pritzker took on the biggest brag - Take it from a real billionaire, you're not one. VP Harris took Gov. Walz to Milwaukee, filling the arena to the rafters.  Trump's failure to fill the seats in that same arena last week has become a meme. Bernie Sanders leaned into the Commie Kamala epithet, addressing the audience as Brothers and Sisters. Stephanie Grisham took us behind the scenes, revealing that the Republican nominee for President of the United States refers to his supporters as basement dwellers. The Mesa, Arizona mayor said we all need a grown-up in the White House. Tammy Duckworth's fabulous prostheses got her to the podium where she called out a 5 time draft dodging coward  in her first ten words and ended with Lieutenant Bonespurs  ten minutes later. Doug Emhoff is a guy I wanna have over for dinner.  The delegate wearing a  Jews for Mommala cap and the one sporting a Doug for First M...

We watched it from the beginning.  It got better as it went along. What struck us most was how well it was run.  None of the speeches were overlong.  The signs were coordinated with the speakers.  The messages followed a pattern - thanking Joe Biden, tackling one issue that VP Harris will fix, and exhorting everyone to work to get out the vote.  They each were given a key phrase to use.   It was strangely comforting. Jamie Raskin called it the Democracy Convention.  The UAW President called Trump a scab. Kamala's childhood best friend thinks she's peachy keen.   The Walz's and Doug Emhoff showed up.  So did the candidate herself, much to the obvious surprise of everyone, including the Walz's and her husband.   Texas Representative Jasmine Crockett glittered and alliterated.   The reproductive rights speeches had us in tears.  The personal became public and it was necessary and heartbreaking.  Andy Beshe...

The roses are making another splash before retiring for a while.  Most of the blooms were blown off in the monsoons last week, but the rock roses shielded by the pony wall in the front survived. The crepe myrtle self seeded a baby which is currently outshining its parent. Looking across the driveway to where JannyLou and Fast Eddie used to live, the purple Texas Rangers compete with the Mexican Bird of Paradise for attention.  The barrel cacti come in all shapes and sizes and colors.  These were the last ones open late this afternoon Our giant saguaro died a lingering death,  its smaller arms crashing through branches of its nurse tree, an equally ancient specimen.   When the situation became dangerous to the tree and those bushes surrounding it, The Handyman brought his tools of destruction and collection and left us with two skeletons  and a cleaned up front yard.   Those sagua...

I feel like I'm getting my country back, day by day.  I used to feel part of a shrinking minority - regular people who wanted regular things - and suddenly I'm finding out that there are lots of Republicans for Harris.  And Evangelical Christians for Harris.  And Deadheads for Harris. Corey Lewandowski rejoining the Republican campaign is being reported with disdain, not fawning interviews.  There was little to no coverage of the rambling nonsense outside Bedminster Country Club this afternoon, although there were many ironic shots of the man standing next to grocery products on a folding table in front of the majestic doors none of his flock could ever afford to enter.  I feel a gentle swing away from the fetishizing of his absurdities; the talking heads refer to him as boring.  As America discovers what he's planning,  thanks to the Democrats' drip-drip-dripping Project 2025 details into the mainstream, the moral arc of the universe seems to be bendi...

This will be a short rant, because I don't want to spend too much time in this space, but I need to tell somebody..... Our Xfinity bill is set up on auto-pay.  The credit card has a high limit; we never come close.  The expiration date is years away. How, then, could last month's bill be late?  I posed that question to the AI Assistant.  It couldn't help me.  I rephrased the situation and wound up at the same screen which was close-but-no-cigar to where I wanted to be. I tried on the app with the same results. I called on the phone.  There were no options which were relevant to my situation.  Saying Representative  and Agent  and HELP!!  accomplished nothing. This month's bill is due tomorrow.  It should be interesting to see what shows up on my Xfinity Dashboard. Thanks for listening.  

I braved the heat and the relentless sunshine, fortified by the world's biggest and most delicious blueberry buttermilk pancake . I helped out at lunchtime with the kindergarteners and the 3rd graders, opening milk containers and bags of chips and comforting a big girl who missed her mommy.  We agreed that being homesick is tough, that she could hang out with me in the garden, that keeping busy was the best remedy and by that time the secret was out - The Garden Is Open! I had a lot of weeds.  Luckily, I had a lot of helpers. Being sure to grab most of the roots was very important, and a close analysis was often necessary. The girls were bemused that the weeds were covering their shoes.  These were not as easy to remove as were the untamed growth in the raised beds.  We agreed to ask the Landscaping Crew to help us out. I lasted for 90 minutes before the sun began to take its toll.   It was a good first day.  There are many more to follow. We have soil...

The flame was medium high under the pot on the cooktop.   The contents were ready. My right hand grabbed the nearest handle... the uninsulated, heat conducting handle. Much language ensued.  Cold water was applied, then I harvested an aloe leaf  and applied lots of it all over my bright red digits, one of which is represented here. I had planned a different post but my right hand is operating at less than full strength and it's hard to keep the aloe in place and type at the same time. We'll talk more tomorrow.  Right now, I'm going to tend to my aloe.

MoveOn! sent all the stuff.  All I had to do was provide the people.   Postcards with pre-printed postage and addresses; brand new ball point pens; instructions that were somewhat comical;    stickers; and three giant lawn signs. I made brownies and cookies and ice tea.  I put out small paper plates and Day of the Dead cocktail napkins.  I invited people TBG and I care about .  Sunday afternoon we spent about 90 minutes penning personal notes in tiny spaces addressed to surge voters.... whatever they are.  The interwebs are conflicted when it comes to a definition but it's how the addressees were identified in the (somewhat comical) instructions. It was a chance to say that voters have the power to protect reproductive rights (the art on the postcards) and the planet and our democracy by casting their ballots for Harris/Walz (everybody wanted to put a T in there at first) this Fall.  Your Vote is Your Voice was my...

It smells like rain at this school  opined the newly minted kindergartener.  He was right.  He was also a little bit scared, grasping his grown-up's hand and not letting go.  I explained about the magic stickers I was adhering to their shirts - rubbing one sends love right to, through, and back from the other sticker, ameliorating loneliness on both ends - and his skepticism receded as his fingers caressed the smiley face. I've been using that trick for 13 years.  The parents are usually as thrilled as their offspring.  Today was no different.   He's our oldest and he's starting kindergarten..... possibly the most plaintive words spoken by any mom, anywhere.  I walked them toward their destination, commiserating with her.  I'd been there, felt that, although for my youngest.   Returning gardeners had many questions. Old friends looked much more mature than when they were only a first grader.  There were new teachers, ...

Once you've seen it you never forget it.   You really don't want to be on the receiving end. Seeing it directed to my tardy Brother, TBG shivered and whispered I'd never be late again So when VP Harris's gentle reminder that we're a democracy and people have a right to express their opinions quieted neither the hecklers accusing her of genocide nor the attendees who were attempting to drown them out by chanting Kamala, she responded the way my mother did.   She called them out, then stared them down.   My brother heard Do you know what time it is?    The hecklers heard Do you want to elect Donald Trump? And then, there was The Stare.

Sister's oldest and dearest friend is the daughter of my high school home room teacher.  A through Ba, we occupied the coolest corner of the coolest corridor with the coolest adult in the school.   For three years, we started our school day at our desks, alphabetically arranged so that new friendships were bound to occur.  I didn't see most of my homeroom classmates in any other setting, but in that room, with that man, everything was possible. He was big, larger than life, in stature and personality.  He was inclusive before that was a buzzword;  he just did the right thing.  When the fraternity of cool jocks' hazing rituals sent a boy to the hospital, our school was in an uproar.  The cool kids were astounded that anyone thought they were wrong.... which was when Mr. Jan began to speak, to us in home room, to the teams, to the individuals, and, finally to the whole school. I don't remember what he said, and I don't know if the pledge ever got ov...

No one knows anything as I'm typing this.   You probably know already. That makes this post anachronistic before I post it. I should probably type about something else, but you don't want to hear about my flat tire and AAA.... believe me, you don't.   So I'll leave you with the same thought that's been rattling around in my head all day - it may be that the Vice President of the United States is a man who would recognize me in a crowd. Strange fruit from being perforated, for all of us.

Amster has a new trainer.  Did I want to join her on Sunday morning? a Lifting weights was the beginning of our friendship.  We kept at it, together, in the gym, regularly then sporadically, for nearly two decades.  Work and COVID and hip and knee replacements got in the way, but we always held on to the notion that we lifted weights together. It was our thing.  I think it might be once again.   Her trainer is a world champion power lifter.  His medals hang from hooks on the walls and the supporting posts and above the mirrors in his no frills gym.  There are low fans and peppy music but nothing else is electrified.  There are no fancy monitors blinking results.   There are hand weights and bar bells and elastic bands wrapped around the posts supporting the ceiling.  There is a pull down machine and a leg extension set up with a seat but no back.  The decor is classic lifter.   We stretched the specific areas we'...

.... and I won't have time to type to you. JannyLou and Fast Eddie are traveling for a funeral; our personal bed and breakfast is happy to welcome them.   I know there are clean sheets and fluffy towels somewhere in the vicinity of the big guest room.  I'll get dairy free options for breakfast. They are easy guests, but certain basics still apply. We'll go out for an early dinner at the family owned and operated Mexican restaurant in the strip mall down the block, just like we used to when they lived next door.  We'll have margaritas and ask the server about The Sailor, son or cousin or brother or nephew to everyone who works there, who joined the Navy to see the world.   There will be a gentle argument over paying the bill, which JannyLou and I will ignore.   We'll go to sleep early because that's what we do.   It's not a long visit, but it will feed my soul.  Good friends have a way of doing that.

It sure seems that way, especially here in the desert Southwest.   Sister reports that New Jersey Democrats are pissed off about this and angry about that and nobody knows anything about Kamala and that means she must be awful, but that's suburban New York City people who need a gripe to get through the day.  Peeved is their natural state.  So be it. For the rest of us, though, it's as if we've taken a collective deep breath and then slowly, with gathering enthusiasm, have expelled it with a smile. It's so wonderful to hear a message of hope instead of hate.  It's equally wonderful to be enthusiastic about the herald.  She is out loud, front and center, about my main issues - reproductive rights and gun safety.  She has evolved as a candidate, and I have to admire a person who, in reconfiguring the way she presents herself to the public, has become more genuine, more relatable, more fun in an I wanna hang out with this woman  way.   She'...