The Burrow

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.  

I posted this on  September 11, 2011.   It was the 10th anniversary of the falling of the towers.  It was also Christina-Taylor Green's 10th birthday, just  9 months and 3 days after she died, holding my hand. Today, once again we are marking a milestone in the passage of time by remembering those who were lost.  That is right and appropriate, as CTG would be the first to tell you.  She understood the importance of history and remarkable events.  She believed she was put here for a purpose, that her birthdate inevitably tied her to the United States, that she was meant to do something.  No one who knew her would dispute that claim.   This week, I was at a loss for words, just as I was 15 years ago.  So, I went back to the source.  It still rings true. . ***** I am at a loss.  I have no words.  I've tried all day.  TBG has offered suggestions, Little Cuter told me to stop apologizing for crying for no reason....

The family I watched grow from elementary school through high school moved away at the beginning of the month, and the new people came right on their heels.  Actually, their repair and installation and other contracting people showed up and got right to work.  It was hard to tell if the new owners belonged to any of the vehicles.    There was a partial lull in the proceedings this week, and the garbage cans were out for collection in front of their house yesterday (and Monday, too, because they are new and didn't realize that the holiday pushes our pick up days back).  Those were clues enough, I baked and wrapped and left brownies on the packages stacked up at their front door; the only response to the doorbell came from two delighted to see me dogs. She called to thank me this morning, and we visited in her semi-furnished new home for just enough time.  Once again, I found a neighbor who loves to cook, and whose interest in an herb garden led to talk of a ...

School's out for the summer.  I have no scholars begging for my attention, sidling up for a quick hug, screeching HELLO!!  across the playground.   It's been many months since Lady Jane shed this mortal coil; I miss her every time I drive past her house.  I could count on her for lunch or an adventure every week.  I didn't have to plan them.  She did the work.  All I had to do was show up. Scarlett is seriously under the weather and in no condition to amuse me three times a week with mah jong and long stories.  I miss her little dog racing like a crazy person whenever you come to the door .  There are certain smiles on the faces of certain friends that will live in my heart forever; Scarlett's joy in her pooch's love for me is certainly on the list.  JannyLou is long gone to her retirement community; a good move for her but a big loss for me.  She was always up for a quick lunch or a long chat, without any notice at all.  ...

I've written this before and I'm sure I'll write it again.  Girlfriends are the best. I've had a lot of them in my life lately.   Miss Mississippi and I talked on the phone for 90 minutes before one of us looked at the clock and we both realized we had to go.   The Social Justice Warriors are here from Chicago; she and I walked and talked and talked and talked this afternoon and, despite her husband's fears, we'll still have more to talk about over dinner tonight. The Chauffeur is getting Mr. 19 (in Chicago for a solo Spring Break) into the East Bank Club  on a guest pass.  Being who she is, she finagled him 2 days to visit. My daughter's smoothie recipe, a quick text from a Playgroup Mom, delightful conversations with the women who run the landscaping company and the Pilates studio and the hair salon and the doctor's office - all encounters with woman who were upbeat and helpful and smart. I'm a lucky woman.

They will always be The Boys, though they are now Mr. 17 and  Mr. 19.   They tease the way they did when I was taking them to pre-school - the big brother asserting dominance and the younger one shrugging it off with a smile that lights up the room.... even when the barbs strike close to home.   They eat the way they did when Amster and I took them for breakfast after we finished working out - with good table manners and big appetites.   Tonight the conversation was also about working out and food and friends and school, just as it was all these years, watching them grow from babies to young men, approaching adulthood, right on the cusp.   It was just the four of us; Amster's tummy kept her home.  My heart was full - the boys wanted to come and celebrate even if Mom couldn't join us.  We had memories to share and jokes to retell and questions that went unanswered .  Why didn't Mom put me in baseball? from the kid who begged me ...

I liked her until I didn't like her.  I trusted her until I didn't.  She's the only person I ever told I just cannot be your friend.  We shared activities with our children, even a road trip.  She was good company, always up for an adventure.  Still, I didn't really trust her.  I was always on guard.  Years and miles separated us.  I was curious about her, but nothing more.  The long ago wounds never lost their sting. Not very long ago, she fell ill.  Yesterday, she died. I feel nothing.   I'm sad for her children, for her ex-husband, for those who loved her.  For me, there's no emotional component connected to her at all.   Her death is just another reminder that we are getting old and that this is happening more and more frequently.  I'm getting used to the emotions that accompany these announcements; I'm noticing their absence right now. Remembering when my parents' friends began to die, I didn't laugh wh...

All the vendors were local.  Not all of the were as snazzy as she was. There were blocks and blocks of them, on both sides of the street, in parking lots and enclosed spaces and undeveloped parcels.  There was lots of street parking within a block or two, and street parking is free on the weekends (and after 5pm every day.... another reason to love living here).   Taos Bubbe and I had planned a lovely day of breakfast and shopping, but her tummy ache got in the way.  I found out about the change of plans as I was putting gas in my car, a block away from Not-Kathy and Dr. K.  A phone call and a quick change of sweatshirts and Not-Kathy was in The UV with me. This was a fortuitous turn of events.  Grandma's Garden was right on the way.  I used my special key,  we examined the bench that needs shoring up, I locked up the gate and we continued downtown.  The GPS got us through the construction and luck gave us a parking space one...

The Loop  is beautifully paved and marked and signed. B efore Pandemica,  Brenda Starr and I walked some of it, section by section, gradually increasing our speed and endurance.  We went from barely making it from the parking lot to the trailhead to climbing gentle rises.  We weren't fast, but we were faithful.   This morning, Taos Bubbe and I covered three and a half miles in little over an hour, out and back from Brandi Fenton Park (which has a lot of parking lots, all of which I drove through, looking for her, before I settled into a space and hoped for the best) to the ramp up to the Swan Bridge ..... the other side of the bridge where Brenda Starr and I started our last walk.   I had forgotten how wonderful it is to move outdoors.  Except for a lot near the wash where two gigantic excavators were maneuvering, loudly, around yards of huge boulders, there was no extraneous noise.   Sneakers and bike tires provided the background ...

I've said it before and I'll say it again - girlfriends make life worthwhile. ***** A soft manila envelope appeared in my mailbox, a discovery that made Little Cuter extraordinarily happy. I carried it in with the lunch I was delivering and opened it on the towel protecting the couch from dripped tzatziki. The accompanying verbiage, on a very impressive, heavy weight note card, was pure Little Cuter. One of her besties across campus thought that since we had newly-engineered body parts we should have newly gifted Engineering swag. Very, very soft t-shirts in XL... perfect for sleeping There was joy all over the place - each one of us feeling connected and happy and seen  (to quote this year's Bachelorette' s favorite feeling).  TBG and I reveled in the fact that our daughter's friend is basking in the happiness our kid feels because we will be functional once again.  And she's happy for us, too.   ***** There was more in the mailbox.  A flatter manila en...

JannyLou and Fast Eddie drove down from Tempe last night.  She had a doctor's appointment or two here in Tucson today and it's really too much for them to do a round trip in one day. That was really good news for us. Our guest bedroom was all prepared for guests.  Fresh towels; clean sheets; a comfy light blanket for a room that, for some reason, seems to be unusually warm no matter what the thermostat tells it to be were all there.  All that was needed was a quick check on the soap and shampoo situation and a light dusting.   I spent the early afternoon making stuffed cabbages and a totally dairy-free lemon tart so that lactose intolerant JannyLou could enjoy more than a nibble of one of my usual brownies.  I was done in plenty of time to finish my latest Harlan Coben mystery; I love it when I read the last page just as a We're at the I-10 exit  text appears on my phone. They nudged their lots-of-metal-between-us-and-the-road, filled-with-safety-featu...

When the first Play Group Dad died, it was an anomaly.  We were young, raising our growing families, but he'd always been a bit distant, close to reclusive, which, we found out after his passing was due to a long standing illness he chose to keep private. We mourned.  We supported.  We wept.  People our age weren't supposed to be die.  We were stunned, with no real framework in which to set the circumstances.  Holding it as a one-off, we moved on. But now Carey is dead.   Carey, with whom we'd vacationed.  Carey, whose son played on most of Big Cuter's teams when they were young.  Carey, whose daughter and ours were the young hangers-on to Play Group.  Carey, whose kids went to school with ours, went to the Menomonee Club after school for sports and crafts and companionship together.  He could be counted on for carpooling in a pinch, for sharing a freezing sideline at a flag football game, for showing up. The same could not be ...

I can't have you go into the weekend thinking that I am feeling low.  I'm really not as sad or upset as yesterday's post might lead you to believe.  Talking to you through my fingers helps me work through most of the angst that comes my way these days.  Boring does have its upside; there's not that much to kvetch about when you don't do hardly anything at all. I had lunch with Amster today.  We kvelled about our kids, her newly paved driveway,  her travel plans.  And then she, the least dramatic human I've ever met, shared an ongoing saga amongst the girls.   She has somehow managed to get herself entwined in something that is reminiscent of middle school, when no one had anything more important to do than quibble about nonsense and then squawk about the quibbling and then involve others in the kerfuffle.  These, though, are middle aged women arguing over birthday parties - it's not fair  is a common refrain. They all work and earn good ...

I communicate with some people by phone - very few, but some. I communicate with lots of people via email - great for long, catching up conversations, not so good for making plans. I communicate using my phone to text for most things - wanna have lunch?  where is that store you told me about? thanks for a lovely (insert event here)! The messages are short and to the point.  There is no extra verbiage.  There are emojis to carry bigger feelings in a smaller number of pixels.  I love it. And then, this afternoon, texting with Formerly Fast Eddie for the first time in real time (vs finding a message asking me to call him) I hit a snag.  (My words and thoughts are in italics) When will you arrive? JannyLou is driving .   OK.  When will you arrive? She's pulling into the fast lane now.  Zooming up to 73. More relevant data would be where you are right now!  Though the timely updates are fascinating.  Frisky (the dog) is riveted on the r...

Does it seem like we were gone for a long time or for no time at all?  he asked me after we returned from our overnight at The Boulders .  We were gone for 24 hours.  Our minds tracked it as a very long time away from home. Everything was different.  The bed was higher. The pillows were bigger.  The view out the window displayed big boulders and spiky trees, not Safford Peak and the sweet acacia.  There were people to carry our bags (not really necessary) and to answer our questions (very necessary) and to serve us food we didn't have to cook ourselves. Vacation .... aside from visiting children and grandchildren we have done none of it for a very long time.  Our friends' invitation to join them for a night on their week long sojourn in Scottsdale was just the impetus we needed to get out of the house.  TBG is not big on travel, but a 2 hour car ride didn't bother him at all.   The fact that there were good friends at the end of the driv...

Many different religious groups visited me after I was shot.  Only the Jews came with food - a Shabbat dinner worthy of King Solomon.  The conversation was lively and felt comfortable; though none of us had met before, the cultural connection was strong enough that it didn't matter that we were strangers.   Among the visitors was a writer with a purple streak in her hair.  Her charge was to write about the short Jewish girl from New York who'd been perforated while participating in American Democracy.  What happened was a friendship. Her car was covered with stickers supporting choice and voting and equal rights and all the other things that Jewish liberals believe are good.  Those decorations kept her from replacing it long after its expiration date - they were hard to part with.   We'd have breakfast or brunch all around town, chatting up a storm about our children and their children and her writing and my blogging and politics and growing older. ...

You met him when he was Mr. 3, an adorable bundle of love and smiles and curiosity.  He was happy to climb at the playground for hours, while his mom worked and I watched. I took him to buy hissing cockroaches at The Bug Shop and crystals at The Rock Shop (those are the real names, not blogonyms.... creative, eh?).  I drove him to the park with his scooter and to play basketball at the courts partially funded by CTG's foundation.  I watched his soccer games from the sidelines and basketball from the bleachers. Today, I'll be watching him sit behind the wheel of a car, driving. Amster says she won't sign him up for driving lessons until I think he's safe behind the wheel. She thinks he's fine, but she wants confirmation.  She's the only one he's driven; he needs more practice with someone not his mom.    I am the designated "Is This Okay or Not" person, because every parent needs someone who loves their kids as much as they do  and who will step in ...

There were eight of us, four fraternity brothers and their girlfriends.  We met when I was a sophomore at Cornell.  We've stayed in touch ever since.  Two couples are still married, five decades after we were together in Ithaca.  One marriage ended in divorce, despite the lime green tuxedos at their wedding which, we were certain, would keep them together forever, just so as not to have to repeat that sartorial faux pas again.   And the other couple?  Their story is the stuff of Grimm. They were gorgeous - He, tall and blonde, and She slight, with long dark hair.  They didn't share a religion or ethnic background, and that put paid to the relationship as far as all 4 parents were concerned.  Their vitriol was toxic.  It was impossible for our friends'  relationship to endure.   They broke up.  They each married (unsuitable) others.  Neither of those relationships were destined for success; their hearts were still...

It was BYOE at our house.... or, to be precise, on our driveway.... last night.  The E stood for Everything:  Chairs, Liquid Refreshments and the vessels thereof, snacks if needed..  It was the easiest party I ever hosted.  I was in charge only of knowing when the shade would hit. The six of us - Dr. K and Not-Kathy, Fast Eddie and JannyLou, TBG and I - sat appropriately distant from one another, the breeze either blowing the virus away from us or onto us, depending on whose version of the facts we chose to believe.  The tiny flying bugs weren't too annoying and then the bats came out and we stopped swatting.  Not-Kathy pouring her mini-mason jar of light brown liquid into a fancy-shmancy glass, Fast Eddie sharing good news.... there was nothing really outstanding about any of the little things that happened over those 90 minutes..... and it was the best time I've had since the beginning of March.

Actually, we stumbled over that and settled on laughing as I said "We've been friend for a long time." We fell into one another's arms the way you do with a woman you used to see several times a week, in and around town, at meetings and doing good deeds with our daughters, at parties and on girls' nights out in the city. We all left Marin when our kids finished school there; since then we've kept in touch on the interwebs. But she was traveling with her husband and their son, for business, and they'd be in Tucson on Thursday.  A plan was made. I saw her sitting at the table in the lobby where wares are hawked.  I noticed and disregarded the customers. I pushed aside a folding chair, and listened to her describing us as old????? friends....ugh. as we hugged, and looked at one another, and hugged and smiled and got teary all at the same time. Our girls are mothers themselves, now.  We, of course, haven't changed a bit.  We were so very glad to se...