The Burrow

Almost everyone I love was marching last Saturday.  I couldn't get off the bed to join them. I wasn't ill.  The weather was perfect.  I had the text for Mr 11 and 13 created and ready to be sent. I couldn't make myself do it.  There is something absolutely immobilizing that takes over my heart and my soul whenever I consider being publicly political. I held a sign on the street corner in front of my Representative's office , but went inside when the police protection drove away.  I was fine going up in the elevator and talking to her District Manager, but I went out the back door and avoided the protest on the way to my car. I was scared.  I'm not usually scared.... at least the before-I-was-perforated me was not usually scared.  I suppose I am often scared these days, now that I put fingers to keyboard and think about it. I sat in the middle of the row in the middle of the movie theatre watching Sing!  with Amster and Mr. 11.  I did...

Little Cuter's acorn didn't fall far from her mama's tree. These are her words and pictures. ****** I made a promise to my daughter before she was born that I would do everything in my power to keep her safe and make her feel loved. That is why I marched. I marched to show solidarity to my fellow Americans that the current political climate is NOT ACCEPTABLE to me and that I will do whatever I can in my power to stand against it and protect the future I promised to my kid. I also marched for strength. I marched because I didn’t want to feel removed, hopeless, rudderless or unable to turn on the television or open a newspaper. I marched for power - to share it with those who needed it and to siphon it from others who had some to spare. I marched because I am not entitled to the cushy life that I’ve led so far. I’ve spent 31 years benefiting from the fight that those before me have waged, and I want to show respect, and allow the generations before me to k...