The Burrow

Cards with the Happy Ladies Club.  It's Hand and Foot, a variation of Canasta that requires some but not total concentration.  With six decks in the draw pile, counting cards becomes an exercise in frustration.  So, we chat and we prompt one another when it's her turn, or when she's forgotten to discard, and then we go back to chatting. If there are two tables, the conversation can often be loud  If there are six at one table, the game lasts forever.  It doesn't matter.  There are no toads in this group, there's no one I consciously avoid sitting beside, we all have our strengths and weaknesses but we're basically a congenial crowd. And so, when Colin Kaepernick's kneeling during the National Anthem came up in conversation, there was no cause for alarm.  The Mainer was appalled, insulted on behalf of the military, thought it was a terrible idea.  I smiled and said I totally disagreed with her, that I thought it was a meaningful gesture that ha...

Those were the topics I was told to avoid.  Those were the topics Miss Vicky reminded us to avoid.  And yet, onward we plunged, fortified by the alcoholic beverages we were toting at 3 in the afternoon.  A margarita with Amaretto, a beer in a pilsner stein, and one red wine of indeterminate vintage fueled the far ranging discussion of ethics and would you go there?  and how can they say that?  and though we weren't all on the same page, we were in the same chapter. There's not a good choice.  #Settling4Hillary.  How could anyone be so ignorant, so unaware, so incurious?  We've known each other for more than a decade.  We've hiked and we've bowled and we've dined and vacationed and shared friends and friendships and I'm always interested to hear what they have to say, what they've been up to, where they're going next.  The conversation flows smoothly and gently, with jibs and jabs as appropriate. No one has ever walked away until this...

There were twelve of us today, filling all three of the tables in Miss Margaret's large living space.  There's a fourth table in the formal living room, but we have yet to expand there.  The woman is prepared for every eventuality. The snacks are whatever we bring; today there were strawberries and cookies and homemade snicker doodles created by the birthday girl, herself.  We are always celebrating something or other. We sing, loudly and off-key, and make the celebrant blush, then pick up the cards and continue the games. It's Hand and Foot, a variation of Canasta, that keeps us out of trouble on Tuesday afternoons.  In partnerships at tables of 4 or as singles at tables of 3, we shuffle five or six or seven decks of cards over and over and over again, sharing health concerns and weather woes and grandchildrens' triumphs (okay, that's mostly me bragging about FlapJilly, but really, can you blame me?) Red threes are special in this game, and they accumulate in...

PTSD said hello this morning.  She crept out of my psyche, catching me unawares.  I was walking through the living room, catching a glimpse of the television, when she found something to set her off.  She's been dormant for a while, but I've felt her revving her engines all week long. There have been too many shootings recently, I moaned to Little Cuter over the phone.  I don't like to interrupt her work day, but TBG was at the gym and Big Cuter doesn't get the whole PTSD thing the way those of us who were there at the beginning seem to find it.  There are some good things that came out of this whole experience, and shielding my son fro the horror is one of them. But today, I needed someone who would listen and understand.  Little Cuter wins the award for that.  She was the only one I could think of who would understand that Tom Brady getting off on all counts of deception and impropriety could be a trigger for me. "We hold ourselves to high standar...

"Were you a teacher in Chicago like the rest of these girls?"  was the first interrogatory from my right.  We had been strangers until we played mah jongg together last Monday .  Now, we're old friends. And yes, we are girls , because, as we agreed over the clacking tiles this morning, somehow it's the right word to use when playing mah jongg.  Rosemarie, to my left, was reminiscing about the sounds the women who played when she was a girl, and we laughed about the perfectly polished nails and the extra long Virginia Slims which were part and parcel of what mah jongg was to us, as young onlookers. Now, as a much older but not much wiser player, I'm enjoying the fact that I can make a mistake and Scarlett, a veteran of NYC and Floridian games, tells me "not to worry... girls who've been playing forever mistake flowers for one bams." I promise, in the context of the game that makes sense.  It would be a lot simpler if the tiles were congruent bet...

Scarlett read the Happy Ladies Club newsletter and chose mah jong for her first activity.  I got into the class off the wait list... and I was just about as anxious as those of you watching the mailbox for college replies are right now. Does that seem odd?  Scarlett and I can meet for any number of wonderful reasons.  My life is totally scheduled with class and exercise and GRIN and The Burrow and I don't need another appointment on my calendar.  The weather is beautiful and won't be this palatable for long and I really should be outside enjoying it. Yet,I was giddy when I received the email giving me a newly opened spot in the five session Introduction to mah jong class. I like games less for the strategy involved than for the feel of the pieces in my hand.  Nannie gave me a backgammon set 40 some years ago; it's as delightful this afternoon as it was when I played it as a grad student in Chicago.  Various iterations of dice resulted in one red and o...

The Happy Ladies Club took us to the Birthplace of Tucson today.   Located on land which has been continuously cultivated for 4100 years, its focus is on restoring the native crops to their original home. This Three Sisters Garden (Corn, Beans, Squash) deserves a paragraph all its own. These lime trees, which froze back to mere stubs last winter, require an ode to "the right plant in the right place" all their own. The signage itself is worthy of a post Sadly, I have not the time and Picasa has not the will to allow me to create verbiage worthy of the experience.   I will try over the weekend, and you will see the results. For now, trying to make Evernote talk to Blogger or Picasa or even my phone seems to be more than I can handle.

Miss Vicki organized a trip to Desert Survivors last week.  The Happy Ladies Club Gardening Group is a fluid bunch; those who were regulars have disappeared and new members have joined and I've been absent for much too long.  I forgot how inspiring it is to be surrounded by others who share a passion; the plants looked much different after hearing how they grew in this one's front yard, in that one's courtyard, in a pot by another's poolside. After three hours of garden gossip, I was energized.... and so was my credit card.  Shopping for plants is the gardener's joy and abyss... there is really no reason to stop, it seems, since everything looks so luscious.  I was good - I bought only this leopard succulent... whose name escapes me.   But, I'm getting ahead of the story.   Desert Survivors is a human service organization with a botanic twist. Set on 3.8 acres at the base of A Mountain it carries 550 species of native plants. T...

I rode in the Rodeo Parade today. Want to see why I love Tucson so much?  This is what I saw at 7:30am from my perch inside the wagonette rented by The Happy Ladies' Club  and piloted by the lovely Jane owner and operator of this small business. We were part of four tranches of wagons and horses with marshals in red vests,   keeping order and vaqueros on horseback,  and all kinds of decorations on those wagons  celebrating the organization  which paid the fee to ride. This is not an inexpensive proposition to mount. These four groups merged onto the large, square, parade route,  and we traveled right down the middle of the road. We were not alone. There were fans galore and we waved to every single one of them. Do not underestimate the amount of energy it takes to move your arm back and forth, rhythmically, while smiling and showing enthusiasm. By the end of the 2.5 mil...

It's easy to see why angels play harps in heaven.  On Saturday afternoon, some of them were in the apse of St. Mark Catholic Church. With strong fingers and graceful wrists they plucked and strummed and caressed the strings. With a sharp pull and a graceful release,  hands up, curved fingers freeing the vibrations,  the audience silent, the leader, raising her hand in triumph, as the music died. It was something to behold, something to treasure. I was there because a friend from The Happy Ladies Club extended an invitation. Her church was throwing a party for its new building  and The University of Arizona's HarpFusion was playing.  Auntie Em played the harp in her youth.  I wished she were by my side on Saturday.  I wanted Christina-Taylor, too, so I lit a candle, just in case her spirit was wandering in the neighborhood, looking for a pleasant afternoon respite. I was in church, after all. Harps are beautifu...

The Happy Ladies Club took a field trip on Thursday. The weather is finally cool enough to plan an outdoor adventure. There's no worry about rain at this time of year; we can count on blue skies every day. We gathered in the driveway of Matt and Holly Finstrom's home. Together, they've turned a hobby into a thriving enterprise, all on their little half acre of paradise right in the middle of a sub-division.  We carpooled and parked carefully, wanting to be good neighbors, wondering if we'd like to live across the street from a bustling business.  It wasn't exactly bustling.  We were the only visitors that day. We sat in an eclectic assortment of outdoor seating as Matt explained the difference between clumpers  and runners.  The runners grow as rhizomes, sending out an underground root-and-bulb-structure that seeks water... wherever it may be hiding.  The clumpers send up many shoots in a relatively small area; they can be contained by l...