Happy Birthday, SIR

There are people you know you will like from the moment you lay eyes on them.  

There are people who bring out the best in others, without even trying.

There are people whose smile lights up a room, sharing the sunshine and joy with reckless abandon.  

There are people who play to a broad audience, comfortably enhancing any gathering.

There are life long learners, who know that the world has more to offer than they've seen so far, who are open to expanding their horizons, who happily admit what they don't know, as long as someone is there to explain it.

SIR is all of those people.  

His kids have a great example of how a husband should treat his wife, how a father should interact with his family.  Giblet's 1st Day of School statement says he wants to be Just Like Dad when he grows up.  That is a worthy goal.

Our daughter makes great decisions, especially when it came to picking a husband.  We are the luckiest in-laws in the world.

Happy Birthday, SIR!!  May all good things come your way, this year and every year to come.

 

And Then There Was This

Except that I couldn't. 

I tried, as I posted yesterday, but I wasn't allowed to create a boarding pass on line. So we waited in line behind humans who had never used a digital device before,  or so their actions suggested.  

We waited. We waited.  We laughed at the absurdity.  We snarled at the sign.  Then an agent motioned us to her station and in two minutes we were done.... until she stepped out from behind the counter and looked at our bags. 

Do you have carry ons?  I didn't pay up for the privilege of using the overhead bin; our bags fit under the seat in front of us.  She looked what she saw and wished us a pleasant flight. 

We were in Group 6, the last people to board.  The gate agent reminded us that our suitcases couldn't go overhead.... and she looked at each passenger's gear very closely as we checked in. 

I haven't felt like a second class person in a long time.  United did their best to remedy that situation today. 

A Very Short Rant

TBG asked if we had boarding passes.  

The email from United alerting me to my upcoming trip didn't have a link to boarding passes.

Turns out that if I'm not checking a bag I can't access a boarding pass anywhere but at a kiosk at the airport.  

Used to be that checking a bag required waiting in a long line for an attendant to assist you.  Now you can do all that from the comfort of your desk chair and simply drop off your bags when you arrive,

unlike those of us who are traveling light, for a 7am flight, who don't want to intersect with the world any more than absolutely necessary before sunrise, at least.  

Nope, for those of us trying to be as low maintenance as possible, there's one more step.  For my uber-anxious spouse, that's just one more thing that could possibly go wrong, one more thing for which we should add just a little more time, just in case.

Thanks to United Airlines, my 4:30am alarm is now set to 4:15.

Yawn.

The Women's Game

 I find myself obsessed 

with the long curls

and the Mouseketeer ears,

with the Olive Oyl

and the functional.

Long, 

blonde 

ponytails

abound.

Sometimes they are just that little bit of extra blonde

Oh, dear.

This started out to be more than a section of Seventeen Magazine, but, alas, that's what my fingers produced and what you've just read.  I feel that I ought to apologize.

Then, again, wasn't it fun?

A Lovely If Gloomy Day wonderful

The sun was out for an hour this morning.  I should have taken my walk then.  By the time I got through with waffles and eggs the clouds were sharing their bounty.  It went on all day long.

There was no checking on petunias in need of deadheading.  There was no smelling the lemon tree.  I could have worked on the cactus and succulent situation in the front courtyard, but the roof over the entry didn't keep out the cold.

It was mid-50's and raining.  That's yucky in any zip code, let alone one in an arid location.   

Every arthritic bone and joint in our bodies is rebelling.  Chopping vegetables was an exercise in mind over matter.  TBG's knees make melodious music when he stands up.  We're old and here to complain about it, and complain about it we will.

Once we got that ground rule established, the day unfolded in a series of serendipitous events.  We turned on basket ball games at just the right time to see the fabulous plays, one after another.  The women's game was beautiful basketball, the men's game had more amplitude and power.  As long as we didn't switch rapidly between genders the disconnect wasn't too jarring.

There were characters galore, and since we don't really have a rooting interest in any of the remaining teams, we enjoyed the excitement without the angst of true fandom.  It was a novel and delightful experience.

It being Easter Sunday, Turner Classic Movies was all Jesus all the time.  We tuned in to Richard Burton refusing to deny his Faith, then walking off to his death hand in hand with Jean Simmons.  They really knew how to make movies back then, with huge budgets and cinemascope and costumes that defy description. 

Next up was Easter Parade , the background to a video call with Queen T which turned into our own fashion parade of Honey Bunny dresses for spring.  It was a festival of florals and tulle and ruffles, a lovely offset to the grey, wet  outside my window.  

My Cousin Vinny kept me company as I made dinner.  I got no more use for this guy was where we tuned in and we couldn't leave until Marisa Tomei explained the difference between spontaneous and romantic.  We can recite the movie frame by frame.  We often applaud our performances; this afternoon was no exception.

TBG channel surfed us into Pretty Woman, which we watch as a fairy tale and not social commentary.  It is a wonderful fairy tale, with fabulous clothes and enough snark to make it one of our favorites, even with the cringe factor.   

With a spoonful of Baskin Robbins Chocolate Chip ice cream in hand, and Star Trek on the television, i reflected on the day.  I ran out to the grocery store and stood on the back patio for a minute or two, but otherwise I was inside all day long, visiting with old friends.  

It was a lovely, gloomy day.

They're Done - A Mini Rant

My hometown team is down and out.   Even though my pool didn't have them going any further than this (cue silver lining music) I'm sad.

They made it to the Sweet Sixteen, which is better than they did last year when Princeton showed them the door in the first game of the first round.  They lost that game to a better team.  Tonight, they lost to a team that wanted it more.

Occasionally, the Wildcats showed brilliance and power.  At moments, the big man was ferocious.  Mostly, they were cavalier with the basketball.  Errant passes were the norm.  Air balls replaced jump shots.  Three pointers were launched randomly, with no one following the ball for a rebound and a second chance to score.  

There was more energy on my couch than there seemed to be on their bench.... and I was barely awake.  

We really tried to like this team, strangers who were wearing Arizona's uniform this year, but who were playing for Alabama and North Carolina and San Diego State last year.  That matters.  It's a team game and it's hard to feel like a team when guys drop in and out.

I'm really cheering for laundry at this point.  I find that I'm more disappointed than sad, and, somehow, that's even worse.

Okay.  I'm done.

A Garden Epiphany

It's the last six weeks of school.  The 5th graders are in the process of checking out entirely.  Middle school looms large, bringing waves of nostalgia and terror in equal measure.  There's a new vibe in the garden and it took me a while to figure out my part in it.

This is the first year that we've grown enough produce to eat more than a taste.  I'm so proud of it.  I love watching it grow.  I love how fecund it looks.  There are marigolds blooming everywhere; their open pollinating system is right out there for the touching and teaching.  

And every time someone asks me for a blossom or a scallion or a strawberry, a little piece of me cries.  

I've noticed it and wondered about it for a few weeks.  Spring Break clarified things, thanks to Landscape Guy's efforts to have a crew clear the weeds we'd been pulling at for weeks.  Everything seemed clearer once the detritus was swept away.

I was letting nature take her course, instead of taming her to my will.  After all, isn't that a definition of a garden - organizing nature to your advantage?

The first thing to go was the giant nasturtium, an inadvertent seed which has been overtaking the vegetable garden.  The thing was stubborn, but I had an able assistant.  

She used the sharp secateurs to prune off the branches once it became apparent that we were not going to pull the whole plant out at once.  Even without all its branches, we needed a trowel to dig it out, tracing the gigantic root system back further and further, its tentacles holding tightly until, with her digging and my pulling (and landing flat on my butt) she ended up with a trophy.

I started saying yes with a smile when the big kids ask for those cutting things and a cup.  I looked on with appreciation as the more experienced gardeners explained to the newbies which scallions to cut and where to cut them.  They were turning them into one inch pieces, to share more easily with their friends.

These two kept quite busy pruning off the tops of the scallions in the raised bed outside the garden fence.  They are free to one and all, even if Grandma isn't in the garden.  They have tiny brown tips where the pruning was done, tips which were examined with exquisite care and precision.

I decided not to feel terrible about how small those scallions were, because the onion bulbs themselves were absorbing all the nutrients that had no where else to go.  Some are red, some are yellow, all are quite amazing.

And we planted them ourselves.  We put seeds in the ground and out came fruits (white strawberries are waaaayyyyy sweeter than our very tasty red ones) and vegetables with super powers (extreme bad breath) and beautiful flowers.

For the next six weeks I'm going to be agreeing to just about everything.  Why not?  It's spring and school's (almost) out for summer.
 

https://youtu.be/2Oo8QzDHimQ?si=oyMtfj7aj9DYno5v

Grrrrrrrrr

I'm surprised that I'm surprised.  Actually,  royally pissed off is closer to my current state of mind.  Once again, the Lying Liar has escaped the fate reserved for mere mortals like you and me.  I leapt past furious when I heard the news; typing this hours later has left me with steam coming out of my ears.

Without explanation, the NYState Appeals Court cut the bond to a mere $175 million.  

Try that the next time you're arrested for a crime.  Stay out on the street on your own recognizance.  Appeal the judgement because you just really really can't raise the exorbitant amount required by that very mean judge.  Get a reprieve at the next to the last minute - less money out and more time to find it.

There was no explanation attached to the ruling.  Apparently (note irony), that's not necessary.  

Someone's offering $3 billion for Truth Social.  The judge in his criminal trial told him to shut up, citing his behavior surrounding his other court cases where the judges also told him to keep his mouth shut.  

Did you know that the jurors' personal information is shared with the defense team?  I wonder if I'd be brave enough to serve.  

The guy just keeps winning and winning.  Even when he loses he manages to win.  Should he lose this criminal case he can appeal the judgement, stretching it out well past his expected life span.

Even in death, he'd win.

Should It Stay?

Or should it go?

You probably have one or three or more of them in your pantry or a cabinet or under the oven in the drawer that's supposed to be used to keep muffins and things warm while the rest of the dinner catches up.

There are four of them that look just like that.  They get the job done.  I don't worry about getting every corner as clean as it might be because the stains are from cookies and biscuits and crescent rolls and other goodies I made for those I love.  

I bought a new one last summer.  It didn't take long for it to acquire that same patina.... only slightly less unsightly.  

The ones in the drawer worked for these potatoes

as they've worked for similar meals over the last who knows how many years.  

Did I move them with me from California or did I treat myself to new ones for my new home?  

Do I want to spend money on something that won't look new for very long?  

Does it really bother me that much?

I think, once again, that my fingers typing to you have answered the question.

Thanks.

 Part Two about March Madness will be brief, because I was wrong about Yale (who advanced) and surprised by the Pac12 and I slept or read my way through most of the weekend's games once Arizona won in the morning slot.

The reading and sleeping went hand in hand because sometimes acorns fall far from their trees.  Dick Francis's British horse racing series was quick witted and quickly plotted and written in a sparing, blunt style.  His son, whose bio on the book flap says he could not deny that his family's gift of writing had been passed along to him, should have stuck with teaching A-level physics instead of continuing in his father's footsteps.

The father's books could be read as stand alone novels.  There were no characters for the son to bollix up.  But his dense paragraphs on the intricacies of the Value Added Tax, no matter how intrinsic to the plot, led to some of the most restful moments of my weekend.

I slept on the couch.  I slept on the bed.  I slept on the comfy chair in the library and the twisty-turny chair in the living room.  I plodded through the book between naps.  

It was only 260 pages.  It took me three days.  

The title is No Reserve.  You have been warned.

Karin Slaughter, on the other hand, wrote a page turner that made me glad the kiddos were on Spring Break and I didn't have to stop reading to start gardening.  After That Night follows the characters she created eleven novels ago, and they've matured nicely.  It can be read alone, or you can start at the beginning.  

Perhaps the best thing about this book was on the back cover.  James Patterson's blurb still makes me smile - Karin Slaughter has -by far- the best name of all of us mystery novelists.

I'm about to pick up Patricia Cornwell's newest Kay Scarpetta novel, Unnatural Death.  I remember not liking the last one, yet I remain hopeful.  I have Alexander McCall Smith's latest in my book bag if she disappoints.

Water Cooler Conversation

Are you watching March Madness?  Have you completed a bracket to be entered to win zillions of dollars through ESPN and its marketing affiliates or are you in a family pool dating back to the last century?  Do you not care at all, but fraternize with those who do? 

I watched so you didn't have to.  If you need some tidbits to make it seem like you're part of the conversation, try these:

• Oakland beat Kentucky in a close game.  If you agree that that Oakland kid sure could shoot you'll be fine.
• Arizona looked flat as a pancake in the first half, then acted as if their half time beverage was Red Bull spiked with amphetamines.  They won  by 20 points.
• Tom Izzo's Michigan State team looked just fine as they trounced Mississippi State.  He's got a long record of near success in the tournament.  We shall see.....
• Tommy Lloyd, Arizona's coach (okay, I know a lot about Arizona for some reason.....) got his first basketball coaching job from the man whose team he beat in the first round on Thursday.  What goes around comes around.
• Yale just couldn't compete.
• Duquesne confused me - the announcers kept referring to Duke and I kept looking for Coach K.  How wrong I was on all counts.
• Oregon is looking real good now that their big man is healthy.
• It's fun to see St. Peter's (last year's Cinderella team) back again.
• And did you see Sister Jean?? She's 104!!

That should be enough to hold you until Monday.  I'll be back then with the weekend's round up.  My brain will be overflowing with basketball, balanced with a sprinkling of mysteries to read.

I love March Madness.

Who's Next?

This week has been filled with people telling me they're moving.  It's been a lot.

My physician, a woman whose advice I believe and whose manner I cherish, got a better job offer in Scottsdale and will be gone in September.  She promises to leave me in good hands, but I liked her hands.  

She is the fourth young, female, primary care doctor I've seen here in Tucson who has moved on to brighter pastures in other cities.  It's getting harder to imagine starting all over again as I get older.  Having some history with those advising me on life (and death?) matters would be lovely.

G'ma always said to be sure your doctors are younger than you so they won't be retiring (or dying) just when you needed them most.  Apparently, that advice is moot in the 21st century.

She was the first.  Today, the New Neighbors came over to visit in our driveway.  We admired the bluebells. They told me they were selling their house.  

I finally got used to them being in JannyLou and Fast Eddie's house and now they are leaving.  They have family near Lake Winnipesaukee.  Their house is beautiful but really big for two.  They can snowbird between Tucson and New Hampshire but they won't be next door.

Some things come in threes.  I'm wondering who will be next.  

At least I won't be surprised.   

Woe Is Me

 Definitely a first world problem, but a problem nonetheless.  

Honey Bunny is celebrating the anniversary of her birth.  TBG and I, her grandparental units, would love to join the festivities.  

Flying makes more sense than driving.  United has a pleasing schedule and a basic fare that feels generally reasonable.  Seat assignments are buried at the end of the reservation section, after you've entered all that information, checking the long numbers more than once.  Deciding to pay for something they have to give me anyway seems absurd.  We don't need more than a carry on, and ours fit under the seat if need be.  It shouldn't be as hard as it is.

Did I want Basic Economy or Economy?  Would I be able to pay to secure a seat assignment, should TBG need me by his side?  I had to go all through the process to find out.  There's a fare breakdown on the side of the page, but seats and baggage costs are buried.  Somehow, that didn't seem right.  

And the more I thought about it, the less sense it made to me.  If, as it was in the past, they let me assign myself a seat when I book the ticket, there is one less piece of the process requiring the gate attendants' attention.  I don't have to stand in line.  The agent doesn't have to deal with me.  Sounds like a win/win situation to me.

It wasn't broke, so they fixed it. 

I moaned and groaned and figured it out and entered the credit card and scrolled past the agreements and clicked BUY NOW and the page flew to the very top and sat there.  No little ball rolling or dots dotting, no indication that the transaction had occurred.  I scrolled down, clicked again, and was sent to the top once again.

Okay, maybe try another credit card.  Nope, that didn't work.  I was afraid to refresh the page; what if I lost it all and had to reenter it again? I moaned some more, then came here and began this post.  Two paragraphs ago I decided to close random tabs as I cogitated where to take this post.  In doing so, I found two identical tabs.  I went back one page on one of those tabs, clicked BUY NOW just for kicks, and wonder of wonders miracle of miracles there was an arrow slowly making its way around and around.

So, it all worked out.  I have a complaint to send to Secretary Pete's transparency team.  I'm going to see some of my family and I have plans to see the rest of them once we have Show Choir's spring performance date.  I'm paying a lot more for a lot less to get to do all this travel. 

Like I said:  First World Problem