The Burrow

No one is neutral about her.  She makes me smile when others cringe. Growing up with Daddooooo inured me to the fall out of expressing one's feelings at great volume, in public.  I know the words are not meant to defame or demean or diminish.  They are certainly not designed to exact the desired result, which is a good thing, because they rarely succeed.  They are honest expressions of her feelings at the time; there's no boundary between her brain and her mouth when she feels she's been wronged.  She feels that way a lot. I finally convinced her to make a plane reservation and spend a few days in Tucson.  She was nervous but said WTF (she says that a lot) and came to spend the weekend.  She's been gone twelve hours; I miss her. There's an  intensity to her that is missing from everyone else I know.  The first night she was here, my legs were jittering up and down,  my foot rubbing against my newly sensate thigh, my toes flexing and ...

How is it possible that our Playgroup babies are now entering their thirties? I would like someone to explain it to me. The Bride wonders if the Cuters can meet her in Atlanta for her big day.  I read the query on Facebook, and it stopped me cold.  I read it and reread it and tried to smile.  Really, I tried to beat back my beating heart and my flushed face as I looked around for some joy. The kids ( kids?!?!?) have been friends forever; there's never been a time when they weren't invested in one another. Now she's turning 30 and looking to share March Madness with alums who might also be in the Final Four.  Kansas.... Georgetown.... Indiana.... I'm sure great basketball wasn't the only reason they chose those schools, right? I try to avoid thinking about the fact that Little Cuter set off for her freshman year a decade ago.  She's still my little girl, with the untamed hair and the feisty attitude.  The hair is neater, the attitude remains.  She...

January is an odd month for a party.  It's cold and miserable or wet and slippery or sunny for the first time in ages ... you either don't want to go out to get there or you don't want to go inside to visit.  There's an awful lot of cleaning up to do before a party, and December being December, with its endless tchotchke possibilities, with visitors and packages and wrapping and baking and comings and goings, well, December is just a messy memory by the time January rolls around.  Hosting a party requires removing the flotsam and jetsam to less obvious locales and then repairing the damage to floors and windows and countertops.  It's all a bit overwhelming to me even without the knowledge that hungry hordes will be descending on my home.  I don't host parties in January. But I have some friends who have made a tradition of New Year's Day events.  One is celebrating his birthday with home made chili and every friend he's ever had.  When children were b...