The Burrow

Sprawled on Douglas , drinking bottle after bottle of water to counter the altitude headache returning home sends my way, looking at pictures of SIR and Little Cuter and FlapJillly on my phone, I was, once again, screaming at the television. Where were the replays of the ridiculous Sesame Street parodies of Donald Trump during the campaign?  Why was the outrage over his untruths muddied beneath worries about calling a lie a lie? Why did Katy Tur stand before an empty podium for hours, waiting for the candidate to arrive while Hillary Clinton was giving a fact-filled speech? Why? Why? Why? Where was the press three years ago when this outrage began to be perpetrated on the American people?  I'm quite impressed with their current outrage, but, I fear, it is too little, too late. Listening to the attendees at the President's campaign rally last night, it is clear to me that they don't care about the facts.  They are responding to the emotion.  They don't trust, th...

"I'm not ranting and raving... you're just dishonest people." There's a Russian intelligence ship 30 miles off the coast of Connecticut and the President's (fired) choice for Director of National Security lied to the FBI and nobody seems to be minding the store. Peter Alexander wondered what to do when the President, after reviling the media for presenting Fake News, presents as fact that which is demonstrably untrue.  "The leaks are absolutely real.  The news is fake because so much of the news is fake," may make sense to the Commander In Chief (pause... catch your breath.... I know.... I know...) but it wasn't much help to anyone else. Alexander Acosta, nominee for Labor Secretary, wasn't at the press conference ostensibly called to announce his selection.  MSNBC's Kasie Hunt couldn't get a Republican member of Congress to admit to having watched the press conference, let alone appear on camera. For fifteen minutes, the news...

Little Cuter and I had the most marvelously mundane conversation this afternoon.  We talked about everything and nothing and mostly we just heard each other's voices.  It only served to amplify the good feeling I'd carried around all day.  Home from San Francisco, with love from my boy surrounding my heart, I awoke to find the irrigation system had sprung only one leak.  I admired the patches I'd applied last week, and went inside before 8am; it's summer in the desert and no one is doing anything (unpaid) outdoors after that. I had the mail held until today's delivery, so there were no unpaid, unopened, annoying envelopes on the counter.  I connected an old friend with a new friend and felt renewed hope that things may really change for the better. I sent a contribution to Mayors Against Illegal Guns and laughed about me sending money to Michael Bloomberg.  Pilates was strengthening and the vibration machine at PT had me just-about-gliding across the gy...

4 hours and 9 minutes into the race is when the Average Joe's are finishing up, is when the winners' interviews are over, is when the sidewalks are crowded with family and friends.  It wasn't surprising that the woman crossing the finish line was more absorbed in the buttons on her wristwatch than on the boom-cum-smoke behind her. The pictures will soon be iconic -  the young father carrying an infant, cradling that little head in his hands, the runners crumpling to the ground as the concussive force of the blast met their within-sight-of-the-finish-line-exhausted bodies, the brightly colored flags waving in the white smoke.  There will be stories of heroism and near misses; I'm so glad you got off that rooftop, Miss Sarah. But that is in the future.  Right now, my head is about to explode. TBG's voice held more outrage than did the reporter and eyewitness for the Boston Globe, who was giving his first hand account on CNBC. There was a curiously flat aff...

We stood on the concrete where, as Emily said, her son, Gabe, lay for hours. We were surrounded by the media and the survivors and the sheriffs.  There were lots of sheriffs.  We made sure of that before we committed to attend. The sun was shining, the temperatures were in the 70's, we knew the players and the program and our roles.  Americans for Responsible Solutions held a press conference, and everybody came. Colonel Bill spent this morning scanning the crowd for miscreants; he and TBG crossed paths on their circuit at the back of the pack.  Carol made sure we had tissues and stiffened spines.  Pia went over the talking points. Roxanna and I sat on the swivel chairs outside the store; our achy hips weren't having any more standing than absolutely necessary.  I'd be speaking, but she'd be right beside me, holding the picture of Christina-as-flower-girl at her uncle's wedding. We were to stand close by the podium as Mark introduced us, five of us, e...

You'll just have to wait. That's all there is to it.  No, I will not go on television tonight to tell you what I'm going to say tomorrow.  No, I do not want to give you a peek inside my head.  No, I really do not. I understand why you are asking; it's your job.  I appreciate the abashed tone of your voice and the reluctance with which you make the request.  I try not to wonder if it's a skill honed by practice.  I remember when I'd turn on the computer and put in a load of laundry and return to the finally-booted-up-computer all those minutes later.  I was annoyed by the gap as I laughed at my annoyance - it was still lots faster than a snail mail letter. Now, in the race to be first, we have newscasters telling survivors in the ER Waiting Room that Gabby is dead.... untrue... terrifying to those still searching for information ... but first. I get it. I like being first, too. However, I think there are difference of scale. I liked ge...

I'm watching Game Change this morning as TBG recovers from his visit to the dentist. He's napping and I'm rubbing his forehead and Julianne Moore is morphing into an Alaskan governor. It's no wonder that my thoughts have turned to Paul Ryan. John Stewart was looking for substance last night. The Republicans touted their vice presidential nominee as the intellectual leader of their party. Given that, there ought to have been thoughtful, issues-based, questioning. All he could find were quotes about the Congressman's exercise routine, his father's early death, and how clever he was to sneak out of Janesville and into Boston without the media's knowledge. Where was the substance? Certainly, when dealing with the man who created a plan for the future of our country, a budget to reorganize our government's priorities, certainly there is more to discuss than his abs. Now, when people might just be paying attention because it's something ...

I have to write about it. I've tried avoiding it.  I've tried minimizing it.  I've tried ignoring it.  I've tried tuning it out.  I've skipped headlines and entire sections of the newspaper.  It's not working. Eighteen months ago I was one of those people... those regular, everyday people, those I just went to the movies people.... those people in the all-too-familiar hospital gowns with the silly ties that won't stay together.  I understand why they have those goofy grins on their faces; they've lived to tell the tale.  There is sorrow all around them, but they are here to lend an ear... or to be leant an ear themselves.  ***** Thirty minutes after the bullets stopped flying, I was sedated. I stayed that way until Mr. and Mrs. Obama came into my room and went right back down the rabbit hole again as soon as they left.  It wasn't until Thursday morning that I was fully awake. I think that is why it has taken me so long to tune i...

My phone does not stop ringing.  My inbox is filled with requests and thank you's and more requests.  Everyone, it seems, is interested in me all over again.... that is, if the media is to be believed.  Jewish tradition delays the unveiling of a headstone for a year... or 11 months... or after 30 days of mourning.... the point is that there is some precedent for commemorating anniversaries within my heritage.  Our family tradition was 11 months later, it seems to me.  The ceremonies were more private than the funerals; most of the mourners had moved on. I, however, am in the center of a maelstrom of media madness because these people have not moved on.  That is to say, they are convinced that the rest of you are as fascinated with this story as they are, because at this point the beginning of January is shaping up to be a pretty boring news period and the Tragedy in Tucson headline draws viewers like moths to a flame. I will say that the only ones who ...

Thanking our dinner providers and airport transporters and get-Suzi-out-of-the-house people took place at a hug fest in our backyard Saturday night.  Scheduled around JannyLou's chemo and my ability to ambulate and Chicago Gal's gallivanting ways, I somehow managed to choose the most perfect Saturday night of the season.  Warm all day to heat up the air so that, as the sun got lower in the sky, our sleeveless guests could meander on the hardscape and admire the landscape and watch the colors come out behind Stafford Peak. Not taken that night, but this is the general idea. Guest brought guests and children and wine and guest towels and candles and cards.  A crocheted heart was appended to a hand-written hug from a friend who was tired of sending me angels.  It didn't really matter; I've loved them all. There were two sets of DVD's recording moments revolving around The Event.  One set is more personal, with healing vibes sent out into the community by p...

I've been hugged by POTUS and FLOTUS.  I've chatted about New Jersey with Brian Williams.  The Director of the FBI sent me a hand written "glad you're out of the hospital" note.  Strangers, visitors from Minnesota and Montana, shake my hand and wish me well in restaurants.  I've received crocheted comfort shawls and a Native American healing blanket and a hand-made quilt. Each and every one of those things has been wonderful and has filled my heart with love and joy.  But yesterday afternoon I was in the presence of a superstar, and I'm still aglow.  Listen....... Linda Solomon is an author and a photo-journalist.  She called the house ten days ago and charmed TBG with her enthusiasm and compassion.  He thought I'd be interested in her project, and passed the handset to my outstretched arm.  That was the only part of me which was out; the rest was snuggled under the aforementioned quilt, trying to avoid thinking about what had happened t...

Ronni Bennett is the proprietor of Time Goes By , a blog for people who aren't interested in organic baby food recipes any more. She wrote about her frustration with the cultural perception of aging. Youth preservation and ill health seem to cover it all. Where, she wonders, are the visuals of those of us who are aging without surgery, triathlons and a pre-occupation with our medical conditions. She got me thinking about G'ma. My mother - known here as G'ma - sleeps in late, has her breakfast brought to her on a tray, reclines on her couch, ignores the activities available to her in the pod-castle she now calls home, and always has a smile on her face. When asked if she'd like some more excitement in her life her reply is always the same: "It's taken me 86 years to figure this out - leave me alone!" It's that understanding of the way life is (walker and pills and all) and the acceptance of what is possible that is so striking to me about her...

I'm getting a little bit tired ...ok, a lot tired..... of the process stories surrounding health care. There are serious issues being discussed behind closed doors, and while I know that we only hear what they want us to hear, and that the media is manipulated by planted leaks and back stories, I'm looking for the investigative journalists who will present a reasoned, well thought out analysis of what's being proposed and who's against it and why. Instead, we are overwhelmed with Rep. Joe Wilson and "You lie!" Parsing the phrase has become a national sport; he didn't actually call the President of the United States a liar, he was only referencing the statement. Sure. Any kid on the playground knows there's really not much of a difference. Of course, that child also knows that you don't call out in the middle of an assembly. It's just not done. And that's where I start and finish with Representative Wilson's behavior. It was " dow...