The Burrow

The Democrats have purchased a great deal of airtime here in Arizona.  In addition to the constant stream of snail mail from Joe Biden and my Instagram feed, TBG's chosen medium, broadcast television, is a non-stop political diatribe.  Between MSNBC and all sports known to man, there's a lot of television advertising in my house.  I've seen it all. Beginning with the early college football games (10am Arizona time) and peaking during the UofA game, we were reminded that Kari Lake thinks abortion is murder.  We watched Kamala's border speech. Pieces of it appeared in an ad the next day.  Her ads feature the bumbling and rambling word salad and absurd promises to protect women (where are Ivanka and Melania these days?), the love affair with Putin, the weakness and vanity and vulnerability and basic unfitness for any position of responsibility let alone the Presidency. According to his side, their country is going to hell in a handbasket, and if they have to lie to...

JannyLou came to town and I got distracted. Have a wonderful weekend; I'll be back on Monday.

We are talking real mail here, not email or texts.   I mean pens and markers and pencils.  Different tools for different purposes. The grandkids get colorful postcards and note cards written in whatever ink strikes my fancy.  I used to keep my calligraphy supplies (a much loved but short lived hobby) in a drawer.  Now they are in the cups I've repurposed as desk accessories.   I have a drawer full of stationary and a collection of forever stamps  bought just before the last price increase  (and whatever happened to our outrage about Mr. DeJoy?). Little Cuter's colleagues sent Notre Dame swag for the Prince scholars' Colleges in Classrooms project.  I composed a generic, typed letter of thanks.  Along with two of these tiny magnets of the scholars at work and play,  I sent each donor a personal note, on  GRIN  stationary accumulated over the last 12 years.  One recipient sent Little Cuter a picture of her packet w...

It was sometime between 1963 and 1969, homework on my lap, G'ma in the kitchen, rubbing Twinkle on the bottoms of her Revere ware pots. She wore gloves for this, long to her elbows, yellow, rubber gloves.   That's the crucial to the vivid-to-this-day image I have of her standing in the foyer across from my surprised self on the couch, eyes blazing, arms encased in yellow rubber gloves raised in cactus pose responding to my simple request for a quick answer.   Mom, where did Patton fight? Cue loud noise from kitchen, fast stomping feet, and there was my mother, typically a dispassionate and reserved woman, informing me in no uncertain terms, in that voice that mothers' have, loudly and passionately that it was  Italy, God Damn It!  My brother fought there!  That is not HISTORY..... that is MY LIFE. She went back to the sink, nodding her head .... in satisfaction? ..... dismay?.... who knows?   I have never forgotten the two lessons I learned ...

Twelve years ago today, I could barely lift my head from the pillow.  Seret warned me that weddings are exhausting; that was why she refused to commit to coming for dinner the Monday after SIR and Little Cuter were married in our backyard.  It was a beautiful setting, and her father and I didn't charge extra for a Saturday night event.    The weather was perfect.  The officiant (Big Cuter) was outstanding.  The guests were smiling and seemed to be enjoying themselves.   The police came to enforce the no amplified music after 10pm  ordinance.  We turned on the cd player and partied until 4am, Hershey's kisses for energy, and love to fill our hearts. Now, two children, two houses, several vehicles, and one dog later, she made tacos for dinner and was happy with a text message sharing joy from her mother.  They are as happy (happier?) now as they were then.

Kamala Harris admits that she has to work to gain the votes of young, black men.  Their support is not taken for granted.  Neither are the Black Women for Harris and White Women for Harris and Cat Ladies for Harris (true) and, TBG and Big Cuter's favorite - White Dudes for Harris. TBG often comments that as a white male, he is part of a reviled subgroup.  He's not surprised; the misogyny is impossible to ignore.  He is appalled at the waste when 50% of the population is devalued and left to flounder; trust his MBA to color his dismay.  He shakes his head at polls showing white men feeling.... doing.... voting....  Women are going to save this world  comes out of his mouth on a regular basis.   I offered to make him a hat saying something along the lines of this is a decent white guy.   He declined. When he heard about White Dudes for Harris his mood changed.  There were others out there.  He had someone speaking out in his...

I couldn't live there; I love the change of seasons. How many times I heard that, how many times I laughed.  Marin has seasons.  Tucson has seasons.  The changes are more subtle than in Chicago, that is certain.  They may not be noticeable to those who don't live with that climate all year long, but they exist. Yesterday was a good example.  I rolled down the windows in the UV; it was suddenly in the high 80's.   That's still hot, but it's not triple digit hot.  The sidewalk doesn't radiate heat in the same way when it gets this cool. Okay, cool  may be a relative term, but that's how you recognize that the seasons are changing.  Suddenly, overnight, I'm eyeing my shirts with sleeves instead of the tank tops.   I walked outside this morning and I was cold.  I'm a total weather wimp.  It was in the high 70's.   Fall has arrived.... this week, at least.  

  I don't know what list they bought.  I don't know how I, an active Act Blue donor, ended up on anything remotely connected to The Lying Liar and the Faux Hillbilly.  Still, there it was, staring at me from the screen. I won't reprint the whole thing.  I don't want to ruin your day.  But I can't ignore the pain in my gut when I look at that emblem.  Police force?  Military force?  There isn't much joy in that emblem, is there?   The email is an invitation to Trump Force 47 CAPTAIN'S TRAINING.  Yes, that apostrophe is making the Captain possessive.  Are we invited to watch the candidate be trained?  Mike Huckabee is the Special Guest; is he a captain who will be sharing his expertise?  Inquiring voters want to know. DEFEND DEMOCRACY!  DO YOUR PART! the email exhorts. This seems somewhat disingenuous from a candidate who tried to overthrow that very democracy, who conspires with democracy's enemies, who thinks the...

,    LiLou , our grand-pig, enjoys the backyard.  She follows the sun from one end to the other, spending the day outdoors, taking care of her biological needs along a secluded side of the yard. LiLou loves tomatoes, especially cherry tomatoes.  She eats a lot of them.   This spontaneous garden is the ultimate in recycling.  No one planted any seeds.  There is no irrigation.   Dozens of tomato plants organically appeared.   TBG thinks it's pretty weird and isn't sure about the whole concept in general. Queen T says they are delicious.

As the Harris/Walz campaign keeps reminding me, there are a dwindling number of days before the results of the November election will be known.  I've made my decisions regarding the humans, but my choices on Propositions must be made before then.   That would be a lot easier if I knew what the choices were about. My decision about the access to abortion initiative (meaning it was driven by the citizenry not the legislatures on the ballot, though I have no idea what the initiative's name or number might be has been made for a long time.  (As TBG told the AFL-CIO pollster who rang our bell, reproductive rights is an easy problem to fix.  It takes a vote and a signature, costs nothing, and affects a significant portion of the population immediately.  There are many more pressing issues, climate change chief among them, but only this one rings all three bells) Is there more?  I do not know. I will admit that I've skipped reading the local paper for the pas...

Dinner plans with friends are now contingent on the 49'ers' schedule.   I'm thinking of downloading the NFL app for quicker access to the answers to TBG's random questions.  He has his own phone and could search on his own, but it's so much nicer when you tell me things, and how can I argue with that? RedZone still confuses me.  When I look up and see a red team going from left to right and then look up again and see a red team going from right to left it takes my brain a while to remember that it's probably a different game.   The Pac 12 became the Pac 2 and is now the Pac 6.  The Big 10 teams were 17-1 in the first week of non-conference play.  This also makes my brain hurt. With my hearing aids in or out, the game and the commentary become white noise as I type to you or read ( Challenger ) or play silly games on my phone.  TBG takes great joy in the things I do hear, things that bring me out of my fog and into his.  This evening it w...

I hope you enjoyed today as much as I did.   MSNBC ran and re-ran my favorite pieces of the debate all day long, each talking head using different clips to make the same point - the guy's a loon.   Also, she's an adult.  But most of us are accustomed to adults running for President.  A clown in a long red tie is, thankfully, a rarity.   I love Joe Biden but I'm so glad he's not the candidate.  I've been scaring myself this afternoon, imagining two old white guys behind the podia, trying to make sense of a world gone awry .... how else to describe a world where they were the two most able Americans out of all the Americans in the land to be the leader of the free world. I was embarrassed for us as a country. Today was different.  With a little shove from VP Harris, his rhetoric was visible in 67 million households over 17 different media outlets.  Someone so unengaged as to be undecided saw a vital, vibrant, engaging woman ...

You'd be 23 today.   No doubt you'd be taller than I am.   No doubt you'd be doing my little errands because taking care of others was embedded in your soul.   You'd be excited to vote in your second Presidential Election.  I see you registering 1st time voters who become incapable of refusing your entreaties, because you are still a force of nature. I see you treasuring FlapJilly and Giblet as your own little faux niece and nephew, because, in your life,  there were never too many people to love. I ran across a picture of you standing, arms akimbo, staring me down for some long-forgotten reason, at the Reid Park Zoo, on the group tour when you charmed the entire Cornell Club of Southern Arizona with your questions and your enthusiasm.  I laughed through the tears that appeared out of nowhere.  You were a presence, kiddo, an honest to God presence. I carry you with me, in my heart, every day.  You encourage me and annoy me and laugh...

I'll get it out of the way first.  The moderators lost control in the second half.  He was allowed to rant and she was cut off, not allowed to respond.  If the intention was to let Trump be Trump and not sane-itize his behavior, they sure did that.  He was himself.  That probably was comforting to those who love him and ridiculous as always to those who don't.   I don't know how the 20,000 people in six key districts (Steve Kornacki's analysis of what will swing the election) saw it.  That is terrifying. So is the fact that he firmly believes that immigrants are stealing and eating people's pets.   Having a plan shouldn't be a novel idea.  Everyone didn't want Roe overturned.  Victor Orban is a questionable character reference.  January 6th. Charlottesville.  I could go on, but it was enough having him in my living room for 90 minutes.   While he was squinting, she was engaging with the camera.  If he e...

The day got away from me and then the 49'ers got hold of me and then James Patterson wouldn't let me go. I'll be back tomorrow with all things debate.  

Smiling is not something usually associated with my interactions with technology.  Groaning, moaning, growling perhaps, but not smiling.  Not until Friday.  I was in my closet, evaluating outfits for the evening, when faintly, right at the edge of my brand new right hearing aid's capability, I heard the first few bars of Humoresque.  A little louder, it switched to my left ear, and I realized it was my phone's ring tone. No way on God's green earth would I have heard that without my updated assistive devices.   Even better, as I walked out of the closet toward the rest of the house the sound became progressively louder.  The music led me right to my phone. I don't remember who called.  I was entranced.  I was tempted to call my cell from the land line (don't judge; yes, we like our land line) just to do it all over again.  Tech that seamlessly enhanced my life was hanging over my ears. It turns out that what I found remarkable is mundane...

As if yesterday wasn't enough, today Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton filed suit against the Texas State Fair. Because there are not enough fried items n a stick?  Brother counted 58 varieties at the Iowa State Fair; was Texas not competitive enough? Because the rides were terrifying or the lines too long or the weather wasn't great? Nope. The State Fair decided to ban weaponry.   The State Fair of Texas prohibits fairgoers from carrying all firearms, knives with blades over 5.5 inches long, clubs, explosive devices, ammunition, chemical dispensing devices, replicas or hoaxes, or weapons of any kind. This includes concealed carry and open carry of firearms anywhere on the fairgrounds including Cotton Bowl Stadium. This policy does not include elected, appointed, or employed peace officers. In the past, licensed concealed carry was permitted.  Not anymore. Every year, the State Fair of Texas has an ongoing safety and security assessment, adding and adjusting security...

Columbine Sandy Hook Uvalde Parkland I have no words.  

The scholars kept asking if the garden was open.  My car's thermometer registered in the low 90's.  I wasn't planning to garden; I had neither a hat nor water.  But the little boys already had hold of my hands and their destination was clear.   I was hooked.   There's not much to do when the temperatures are so high.  Mr. Guy, our landscape manager, weed whacked the giant cluster of weeds beneath the hose bib, which spread out to the near garden bed.  He swept up a lot of that which he cut, but there was still a lot to do.   These two set to work without being told, proudly displaying their collections of hay and dead plants before depositing them in the giant white garbage bag which is, for the time being, living in the middle of the garden. Tasked with clearing out the beds, the scholars discovered a tree, albeit a very small tree.  After some discussion about the merits of a tree growing in the garden bed, extrication was be...

Full of chutzpah as usual, the New York Times decided now was the time to discover The Best Books of the 21st Century .   It's not 25 years into the century.  What prompted them to query  hundreds of literary luminaries ?  Did they grow tired of promoting false equivalencies in the news section, so decided to swing their attention to literature? There are no poetry collections (if I missed something let me know) nor histories.  The marvelous new translations of the ancients are missing, too. I've read 10 of them, and put down two of them (Atonement   and  The Corrections I found familiar authors and missed many of the African and Indian novelists I've read over the l ast few years ( Tomi Obaro, Akwaeke Emezi, Vauhini Vara, Sopan Deb, Omolola Ogunyemi). It's an interesting list, but it's paywalled.  Because that offends me and because I'm aggravated with The Paper of Record and because I can, here's the list, in case you care. 100. Tree o...

(This is one of my favorite posts, every year. ) My Zaydeh was a paperhanger. So was his son, my uncle. They belonged to the Paperhanger's Union. When he retired, my Zaydeh got a lapel pin and a photograph of himself and the also-retiring Union Rep. The 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. That dynamic influenced their relationship in the same way that her parents' accented speech and his parents' religious devotion were there, bruising the edges of what must once have been love but wasn't anymore. I sat on my Zaydeh's shoulders as he bounced me around the living room, singing  Zum Gali Gali , a Zionist work song with one line, repeated over and over:  the pioneer is meant for work; work is meant for the pioneer.  When I ...