The Burrow

I showed up right on time for my COVID and flu shots. Last time I got them both at once and had no reaction.  Foolishly,  I thought the past was prologue. Unfortunately,  they only sent the full strength, not the extra strength flu vaccines, to my Albertsons' pharmacy.  Being of advanced age,  the pharmacist and I agreed that I should search elsewhere for the more powerful dose.  I didn't care which arm he used.  I was offered Pfizer but asked for the Moderna version, again, foolishly thinking I'd be okay.  The needle was undetectable.  I didn't feel anything when the serum went in. I spent the afternoon waving my arm around to distribute the vaccine and keep it from getting stuck in my tricep. I felt fine until I didn't.  Sleep was elusive.  My digestion was carrying on a somewhat disturbing conversation with itself. By 7am I gave up and sat up and wished I hadn't.  Malaise.  Generalized yukkiness. A slow, dull, rhythmic ...

For the first time since my nose Mohs  situation began a week ago,  I wasn't visually impaired when I rolled out of bed this morning.  My left eye was a functional source of information in all directions.   For the first time in a week, I don't have to see over or around the swelling.  Now I can see the keyboard without constantly readjusting my position, and I had a rather full day, at last. I tackled the garage and have reduced one pile to 2 large boxes containing several years worth of  Stroll and Roll t-shirts.  The holiday decorations are sorted into temporary containers, on their way to permanent places in the closets lining the walls.  The kids' toys are still in the dining room, awaiting their return to those same closets.  Preparing those closets will have to wait for another day. I decided that my face could be seen in public, so we went to lunch with TBG's girlfriends .  I put in another stint sorting and organizing...

The theme may have been Vote Early, but the posters were still on the same subject.   She and a colleague came with only their stoles and smiles.  There were lots of extra signs, though. Some signs were thrown together that morning.  Others were retreads from No Kings gone by. I'm not sure about the mixed messaging here (does McD's have pudding?) nor do I know what is in his left hand. He just smiled and smiled at everyone. The crowd was much younger, at least when I was there at the start. So true. My favorite: I was there for an hour or so, representing all of you who couldn't join in the fun.  90% of the cars passing by honked in support. Fingers crossed.  

Fixing the men who thought being 7th in line for a gang rape would be fun is something best left to others.  I cannot imagine their home lives, the parenting they received, the friends they chose.  There's a lack of decency there that I can't remember being around, anywhere, any time.   I've been scrutinizing my past.  I'm wondering if there were signs I overlooked, signals I missed.  Was the neighborhood's naughty boy  reacting to his closeted older brother or his cold and forbidding parents?  What did he grow up to be? The houses on our street were built all at once and inhabited all at once by young families with small children.  We grew up together, playing across our front and back yards, waiting at the bus stop, sledding down the steepest driveway (ours).  Within that group there was no bullying, no feuding, no harassment... or was it there and I just didn't notice? I'd never been warned to look.  My parents protected us from ...

I'm tired, because I have to sleep with my head elevated and not on my sutured side, which is my preferred side.  Fitful describes it best. I'm itchy because that's what healing feels like.  Knowing that doesn't help much. My bandage is smaller and the swollen area around my eyes has mutated from fire engine red to a soft rosy glow.   My lips are still doing their Donald Duck imitation.  TBG has me doing mouth exercises to counter the effect.  It makes us laugh and sometimes seems to make difference. With big, black, dark sunglasses I ventured out to the store and lunch with TBG.  The restaurant was dark, I wore my glasses in the store, and as far as I could tell no one was totally disgusted by my appearance. I have two places to go for solace. One, is Ogden Nash:           My face, I don't mind it           B ecause I'm behind it.          It's the people out front th...

Typing through swollen eyes and a potato on my face to say that the Mohs surgery was successfu.  The stitching was necessary and I somehow never got the memo.  Thanks for the love.  I'm going to ice my face. 

I thought the Mohs doctor was going to compliment me on how well I was healing.  Instead,  he sewed up the remaining own wound and put a potato on my face to bandage it up. I'm to expect more swelling, bloodshot eyes, and, maybe, itching under the packing. No exercise (even walking), no sleeping on my side, ice packs and ibuprofen and acetaminophen and I can't promised to post anything for the next few days.   It's an hour after I got home and my eye is almost swollen shut.... this should be fun. 

The usually responsible Garden Leader took it upon herself to douse her colleagues with the hose. The 3rd grade girls were using the full size shovels to move mud from one end of the Digging Bed to the other; they were no longer very clean.     The 2nd grade girls filled the plastic wheelbarrow with potting soil, with no particular use in mind.   The Dollar Store's plastic wrap was a total failure.  The box collapsed, the cutting edge began to curl, and finding a section that was not over-wrapped by another section became, by the middle of recess, an exercise in futility. Spinach seeds are round balls, easily held in a palm opened to those with soil filled pots.  It was hot.  Her palm was sticky.  She had fun turning it upside down as we tried to put them back into the packet. 4th grade boys were engaged in serious negotiations beneath the mandarin orange tree, over what I do not know. And, as usual, the 5th grade girls began to hover around ...

Your hair is getting lighter  she said, referring to the black stripe going back from the top of my forehead, my skunk line, my last excuse to say  mostly grey  instead of  white , or, as TBG just suggested,  salt and light salt.... salt and pepper but not much pepper left. It's been a tough summer. Obviously.  Tell me. And for an hour, as she snipped , we traded stories .   Her daughter is now a Staff Sergeant. FFOTUS is a fool.  Penzeys makes great spice blends.  And so on and so on as I felt my shoulders relaxing and my face smiling and then we were both laughing at I can't remember what and, for a moment, all was right in the world.  

Living in Marin, I got used to seeing famous people in the grocery store.     For a while, Andre Agassi and Steffi Graff lived next door; we'd drive down our road behind his shiny convertible with the top down, watching him smile at passersby.  Dana Carvey and Peter Coyote and I worked out every morning at the same small gym; we and the other gym rats shared post workout beverages on the benches outside.     When The Cuters were in high school,  I gave Phil Lesh and George Lucas the parent tours for 8th grade applicants.  Jerry Garcia and I shared a lovely conversation one holiday season, waiting in line at the art supply store.     Grace Slick liked the pet accessories store in our small downtown; she'd sit in the comfy chair with cats in her lap and a floppy hat on her head. Carlos Santana was a mainstay, appearing everywhere and charming everyone.  Halle Berry rented my friends' home one year.   It was commonplace ...

I sat and looked at the screen and searched my mind and I came up empty. Do you care that I spent 15 minutes unsubscribing from political emails I never signed up to receive? Do you care that writing colorful postcards for candidates in far off districts makes me happy? Do you care that nothing very exciting happened in the garden today - either at home or at school? I know you care about politics, but it's just the same old same old with lots more money attempting to change the narrative.  I'm having trouble coming up with a new angle to explore. I know you could care less about Kash Patel's engagement or my take on Taylor Swift's Cleveland . I am hopeful that tomorrow will offer more possibilities. Right now, this is all I have.

There's talk about prestige, sexual citizenship, and personal responsibility.  The poor girl was lured.... except Annie Savoy would dispute that. I did not get lured. I accept full responsibility for my actions. YARNmemes Mothers of boys are freaking out.  Lawyers are warning that there is no basis for a criminal suit, despite Letitia James's investigatory powers.   And I am deciding to ignore the controversy and immerse myself in the memories, some of which I share below. There was once a pumpkin atop this spire on the undergraduate library in the middle of campus. No one knows how it got there. Walking down these stairs takes you to the Suspension Bridge. The top of Libe Slope, with a viewing platform atop the underground piece of the library. Dorms and a student center at the bottom of Libe Slope. Really old dorms next door. And mostly, there's this. There are chimes in the tower, and they ease you into evening. This is what I'll be remembering, regardless of what...

I was morose all day.  I'm really feeling the loss of a big piece of who I am .  I cannot imagine wearing a Cornell t-shirt right now. I tried to talk myself into a smile, but then the radio told me that the Tompkins County DA misrepresented  lied about the victim's original statement.  Now I'm mad at him, too. The Prince gardeners brought me joy, as always, although the mud play may have gotten just a bit out of hand.  But driving home was a rerun of driving down there. There's no escaping it. Plus, the Cleveland Browns quarterback has recovered from his knee injury; an unrepentant serial sexual predator, he was booed at first.  Now he's winning games and the fans are cheering.   I wouldn't want to share a locker room with him.   Plus, more reporting confirms that Bibi knew what Hamas was planning plus the Republican candidate for Ohio's governorship wants people on Social Security to get off the couch and go to work PLUS goddamn if tha...

I used to really love Cornell.   I did volunteer alumni interviews for 40+ years; my name is on a plaque somewhere.  TBG and I donated a landscape installation alongside a well traveled path; our names are on a bench there, too.  I've been on Alumni Boards and College advisories and been president of our local alumni club.   We've donated every year since graduation; Cornell is mentioned in our will.  At least it has been up until now. First, there were internal machinations within the Colleges that drew my attention and ire.  I protested and supported the student protesters and wrote letters/emails which received boilerplate, anodyne responses.  Then, the administration complied instead of fighting the bullying, sending control over $60 million to the Felon in Charge.   That's when we stopped sending them money.  I didn't stop telling every entity asking for my dollars why they were being denied.  There was a say-nothing ...