The Burrow

First posted December 31, 2012.  I'm scheduling this on December 19th, and the fact that the second section could have been written today is just very sad. It's finally cold enough to wear my bright yellow polar fleece vest.  The days may be getting longer, but it's still dark much earlier than I'd like.  The full moon woke us up, shining through the shades, and neither one of us was enthusiastic about leaving the warm covers to change the angle of the blinds.   There's no snow, Elizibeth wore flip-flops on our hike today, and I walked comfortably and barefoot out to soak in the spa and consider the advisablility of planting gerberer daisies in the containers out back.  It's not the end of December as I knew it, but it's what I've got, so I'm going with the flow. There is no traffic on the roads.  The parking lot at the trailhead had plenty of spots when we arrived at 10:15am.  Lines are non-existent in the grocery store and the mall lot is full only...

 first posted December 17, 2013   December should be cold and cloudy and snowy. It should make my nose freeze and fingers tingle and my toes go numb.  Driving should be hazardous and dressing should take a long, long time. Layers and gloves and scarves and hats and coats buttoned up to the neck and beyond are de rigeur.... if you live someplace other than the desert Southwest. Here, we wear jeans and long sleeve shirts in the morning, rolling up the sleeves by mid-day, rolling down our windows and smiling at the cars in the next lane as we enjoy the wintry temperatures... in the 50's and 60's.... clement any place else but fairly frigid here. Holding onto the holiday spirit when I'm wearing shorts takes effort.  I'm just sayin'... ***** Chanukah decor is not on sale yet.  Tonight's the last night and I have high hopes that Bed Bath and Beyond will be marking down their candles and dreidles after sunrise tomorrow.  There aren't many places to find Jewis...

We agreed to forego adoring the mailing containers. With no ribbons or wrapping paper to collect,  there was plenty of room for Big Cuter to assemble bookshelves and climbing structures.  After lunch, there was napping to football,  followed by more football and more napping.   By the time Honey Bunny woke up from her early nap (this kid goes from 100 to 0 in a nanosecond) all of Bedford Falls was gathered in George Bailey's foyer.  The little one has no screen time beyond video chats with us, per the current literature.  But Grandma made the call - the last scene of It's A Wonderful Life demanded an exception.   So we listened to people sharing love and joy.  Honey Bunny was as ensorcelled as we were.  Now she can say that she's been watching that movie her whole life. 

  חַג שָׂמֵחַ Chag Sameach Happy Holiday! Wishing you dreidle rolls of Gimel and sufganiot galore, jelly filled donut holes aka baby sufganiot and eight days of light and latkes and love and joy HAPPY HANUKKAH !

From our house to yours, Merry Christmas  💕 And here is a gift, as there is every year. My all-time favorite Xmas carol,   courtesy of Walt Kelly and Pogo.    First, what I saw when Daddooooo sang it to me almost 70 years ago right now. And now, in a font you can read, here are the lyrics.  Sing loudly and lustily to the tune of  Deck the Halls. Deck us all with Boston Charlie, Walla Walla, Wash., an' Kalamazoo! Nora's freezin' on the trolley, Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo! Don't we know archaic barrel Lullaby Lilla Boy, Louisville Lou? Trolley Molly don't love Harold, Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo! Bark us all bow-wows of folly, Polly wolly cracker 'n' too-da-loo! Donkey Bonny brays a carol, Antelope Cantaloupe, 'lope with you! Hunky Dory's pop is lolly gaggin' on the wagon, Willy, folly go through! Chollie's collie barks at Barrow, Harum scarum five alarm bung-a-loo! Dunk us all in bowls of barley, Hinky dinky dink an' pol...

first posted December 17, 2018 Although Little Cuter and I shared a moment of   Oh, dear, I haven't bought enough for them  pre-Christmas panic, we were able to report that we'd resisted the temptation to shop.  She was waiting for one cousin to replace his   not available in your size  request; I was finished.  Or so I declared. As always, there are more brownies to bake.  There are thank you notes to write.  The dining room table still resembles Santa's Workshop on Dec. 26th, although it is hidden behind the 60% off plastic floral stems from Michael's.   I've given up on poinsettias, without much of a struggle. My landscape looks more like Bethlehem, anyhow.  Trying to turn the desert into a Bavarian forest has not worked out for me.  I now eschew the too-tall-for-me-to-decorate-without-a-ladder fir tree entirely, choosing smaller,  craftier, kitschier, table-top models  Somewhere in the garage is a box of more orna...

first posted  December 11, 2017                                                  Bring 48 and take home 48 cookies/brownies/clusters. Chat with Amster's friends and associates. Admire the growing children. It was a perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Amster was prepared with the take home containers she found in her Xmas Storage Bin. The array was varied. Some were gluten free. Some were "no nuts." Many of them had sprinkles or peppermint bark. The girls who made these gingerbread men were reluctant to part with them. I shared their pain, until Mom told me that there were lots more of them at home. Watching the young'uns pick through the frosted shapes, looking for  the most .... sprinkles or icing or size. There were grown up hands reaching and walking in an orderly fashion around the table, delicately placing goodies in contain...

Except for the three dozen brownies I will bake next Sunday for Amster's cookie exchange, this batch marks the last I need for Brownie List 2024.   I'm waiting for two or three updated addresses, but the shipping is basically done.  Now I get to hand carry brownies to people I love.   I have some shopping bags in the pre-packing stage.  I'm used to a carry on I can watch for the whole flight, but there was an upcharge for that and our checked baggage is free.  We can fill two suitcases with presents and clothes to leave behind so that future trips can be made with a bag that fits under the seat in front of you.   The Prince Scholars start their vacation after school today.  Grandma's Garden is as well prepared as it can be with no one around to monitor the irrigation for the next two weeks.   I'm going to go on vacation, too, reposting some of my favorite oldies and goodies.   I've been at this since 2009; I'm sure th...

David Hogg wants a position of power within the DNC.     Neither Joni Ernst nor ABC  are showing much backbone lately. The Detroit Lions are injured .   Inauguration Day 2025 is also MLK Day. That's a short list of the things I'm just not going to think about until 2025.   Instead, I'm going to think about holidays past and enjoy holidays present and imagine holidays future.   I'm going to smile at my wrapping supplies which are strewn over the dining room table and a kitchen counter.   I will stockpile my ideas, and share them when I'm able.  But I'm going to concentrate on sweetness and light, on friends and relatives calling for long and lovely chats, on the text thank you from a phone number but no name (I'm glad you liked the brownies, whoever you are).  All too soon things will be getting ugly.  There will come a time when I'll be able to engage.  That time is not now.

The books that made The Cuters laugh four decades ago are the backbone of the books I choose to read to today's Prince kindergarten kids.  Possibly my favorite picture book is this one: Marvin is bemused and amused.  We are never told where he is or why he must go now! There is only this finger, this emphatic, insistent finger, which no kid can resist imitating. The finger is not unreasonable.  It offers Seussian alternatives, from the ridiculous cow to the sublime Krunk Car. My favorite is stamp yourself and go by mail. The transfer of a pretend stamp from your palm to your forehead makes it seem just a bit more real, for a moment or two, before more suggestions and more bemusement and then the time had come, so Marvin went. Why am I telling you a children's story?  I'll tell you. This book was published in 1972, when Richard M Nixon was President.  He was not well loved, for those of you too young to remember.  Dr. Seuss was asked to write on the subject ...

 The Winter Concert in the cafeteria.  

Having given up on the irrigation system, we took matters into our own hands in the Garden this week. We filled all those green containers (and more) with garden soil, then planted radish seeds and basil seeds and a pot or two of yellow marigolds.  In a break from tradition, this year we used a permanent marker to label what's what. While this Garden Leader managed to label without assistance, that was not always the case. Short arms and an eager heart made for some interesting connections as the littlest one just needed what she needed right now.  No one was particularly concerned about her body inserting itself in their work space; they just backed away and let her reach. The boy in the front is counting just how many seeds I poured into his palm.  There were two of them.  He pondered this for quite some time. Until his jeans were soaked through, this one was making a river and a dam in the digging garden.` My Swahili speaking friends at the hose bib were less than...

TBG just asked if this has ever happened before. I don't think so. Sorry I missed writing last night.  The Golden Gopher and The Beader came for a visit and I got distracted.   There will be prose tomorrow.

I'm quivering.  I've spent a month deliberating and two weeks debating and finally today both Little Cuter and I finalized our plans for a family get together in Marin.... for Chanukkah and Christmas and New Year's and TBG's 75th birthday.   My usual self would have purchased these tickets around Halloween.  My current self preferred to obsess and ignore and generally refuse to deal with the situation.  I'm not sure it would have made any difference.  The bargain price is the bargain price, it seems, and there are no discounts around our dates. Figuring all that out, however, was anxiety provoking.   United Airlines' website is user friendly up until it comes to figuring out how much you want to spend on choosing your seats and carrying on a bag.  After much perusal and an occasional swear word, I assured myself that while a bag in the overhead is forbidden, TBG and I each may check a suitcase. It's been so long since I checked a bag that I'm...

I'm spent.   I baked and wrapped and wrote and printed and bubble wrapped and packing taped before I finally took both the giant IKEA bag and an equally humongous Crate and Barrel plastic bag to the Post Office where the Drop It In Here box was too full to open. TBG ordered in and shared enough so that my I'm not really that hungry  self was able to fuel the hangry person I become when unfed. I need a bath and my pj's.  I'm going to believe you when you say that I should also take care of myself. It's that or rant about the pumpkin brain's plan to revisit the Constitution.   There will be lavender and peppermint along with the epsom salts to rid myself of thoughts like that.    

I paid attention and did some exploring and I figured out how to create a playlist on Amazon Music, which may be a benefit of my Prime subscription or maybe not but it doesn't matter because I know how to use it and I'm well along in teaching my algorithm what floats my boat. I can hear the music in my hearing aids.  I can't hear anything else, which is a problem for TBG when he carries on his half of a conversation and I ignore him completely.  It's not an issue for me, though.  I love the sense of isolation, surrounded by sounds of my choosing.   It's helpful while I'm cooking.  It sets my mood when I'm working on The Brownie List this month.  I'm working my way through the Amazon curated Greatest Christmas Hits lists, choosing the ones I want on my personal playlist.  I am certain that my children (and probably most of you) have been doing this since the technology became available, but it's all a shiny new thing to me. I'll move on to Chanukk...

No, not my search for a way to log onto BlueSky from my phone.  No, nothing political.  For once, something good is starting.  I've begun The Brownie List. TBG has crowned me Best Xmas Elf Ever;  ever has real meaning for me this year.  I started gifting brownies in fancy containers in 1981, before we were parents, when my list was small ,and, for the most part, local.  43 years later, the containers are less fancy, I'm sending them to my children's friends and their offspring, and my list is no longer small nor local.  It makes me very happy. It's a fun kind of stress.  Do I have the requisite number of containers suitable for all the celebrations, with packing materials ready to hand?  I spent this morning realizing that I had no mailers and no bubble wrap; I added two post offices and Office Depot to my day.   I hooked up the new printer so I can create the mailing labels  It was delivered overnight several weeks ago.... wha...

I'm always glad for another reader.  I'm always happy to see a comment.  I'm always glad that The Burrow flies under the radar, thus avoiding trolls.    Blog Spam does appear from time to time.  Hawking sex drive enhancements or nutrition supplements, often even written in English, I delete them as soon as I notice them.  I try to keep our Burrow neat and tidy for you. Yesterday, though, there was something new: albert December 3, 2024 at 11:39 PM comprare una pistola al mercato nero. comprare una pistola pistool kopen comprar armas glock 17 glock 19 glock 20 glock 21 glock 22 glock 23 glock 26 Reply Delete Not exactly what I wanted to see besmirching my Comments.   I wondered for a while about the algorithm that linked albert's never posted upon blog to mine.  I'm having a hard time figuring out why Mercato Nero decided to pitch seven different versions of the weapon that killed CTG and perforated me.  I examined the addresses but I did...

For the 15 of you who read today's post this morning before 8am Arizona time*, I fixed the picture so that you can see her in all her isolated glory.   Apparently my phone does not like the way I added the picture when I wrote the post in the airport. Alas. *Don't ask me what time it is where you are.  I never can figure out the time zones once the clocks move back and forth at the solstices.

Six year old Giblet had a 3 day fever this weekend,  replete with coughs.  He rarely had to be reminded to cover his mouth.  His sweatshirt was washed quite often, to kill the germs on his sleeve.  We are sitting in DFW, waiting for our connecting flight home.  It's a friendly group in our little section of seats, all of us of a certain age, smiling at one another as an occasion warrants.  The little girl chasing her daddy gave us all grins.  And then there's the slightly younger than we are,  nicely dressed,  page boy adorned woman who has not stopped coughing since she say down.  No one is sitting near her.  She has yet to cover her effusions. Those germs are sent floating into the air the rest of us are breathing,  and she doesn't seen to care.  She volunteered that it was allergies, but who cares?   Polite is polite. We are all in this together.  Looking out for one another is a basic tenet of a civilized soc...

I'm sorry.  Spare me the bs about Hunter Biden's pardon.  There are no rules anymore.  When one side torches the play book, it's foolish for the opponents to laminate it.  With an authoritarian Cabinet and sketchy people in charge of just about everything else, anticipating a rule based future is absurd.  The Presidency is basically ungovernable by the other two branches, all thanks to the Supreme Court. You know,  the Court that's the final arbiter of what's okay. Ivanka's father-in-law got a pardon and an appointment as our Ambassador to France from our Wannabe Dictator, Daddy Dearest.  Kash Patel has Jack Smith in his sights.  Given that absurdity,  President Biden was absolutely right to put his kid permanently and completely out of harm's way.  Anything else would have been child abuse.   When there are no rules,  there are no rules.  Fighting fire with flame retardant makes perfect sense to me. 

I thought that politics would just be a miserable subject this season.  I couldn't imagine anything that could brighten my world.  Then a newscast broke into the football.  President Biden pardoned his son,  Hunter. Happy Happy Joy Joy.  Those bogus charges were retaliation for verifiable charges against the Wannabe Dictator.  They were brought because Hunter is Joe Biden's son.  I have been advocating for President Biden to send the Orange Menace to Gitmo for his role in the Insurrection.  Or, since the Supreme Court has given the Presidency virtually unchecked powers.  I couldn't see any reason why sending Seal Team Six to finish him off once and for all wasn't on the agenda. But that's spiteful me.  Gentleman Joe took advantage of his powers to rescue his son from the maw of the Republican hooligans.   He is a much better person than I am.