FlapJilly likes middle school.  

Her mother and I are bemused.  Neither of us liked middle school.  Neither of us know anyone except TBG who liked middle school, and he liked it because he was captain of every sports team and president of every class and club and because he was taller (although skinnier) than most of his peers.

But FlapJilly goes off every morning with a smile on her face, and she returns the same way.  She is not bothered by the nonsense that tortured me when I was 11.  She has softball friends and elementary school friends.  She's on the President's Honor Roll, with her perfect attendance and 4.0 GPA, but only knew about that honor because a friend mentioned it to her.  

Her mother would have loved that announcement, would have shared it far and wide... or at least as far as her parental units.  FlapJilly mentioned it only in response to her mom asking if anything surprising happened at school that day.

She even likes walking down the halls between classes.  She and Gimbels, a bff since first grade, trade high fives as they pass one another.  Yesterday, Gimbels switched it up a bit; she added Hey, I like your knees.

FlapJilly laughed. Little Cuter laughed.  I laughed.

What I would have given for a friend like that when I was in 6th grade.  Oh, what I would have given.

There Are Elections

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.  

I suppose I should trust that our most cherished institutions will hold.  

A Senior Judge in DC shut down the White House's attempt to intervene, reminding them that it's written in the Constitution that elections are run by the states.  

That judge, Colleen Kollar-Kotelly, sits in an office on Constitution Avenue, a fact which made me smile as I addressed a postcard thanking her for doing just that.  

There are two women running for Governor of their states, and somehow their gender doesn't seem to be a core issue.  

That's another fact which makes me smile, and smiles have been in short supply recently.  

FFOTUS bragged about acing his MRI while the rest of us wonder what prompted the doctors to order it.  Apparently, death by drone is lawful even though the DOD lawyers didn't show up to the briefing to tell our representatives why.  A trans woman is the proud new madam of a brothel in Amsterdam and I have no idea how she showed up in my Substack feed.

And still, there are elections.  For today, at least, the center holds.

Another Sign Is Needed

(Written on Oct. 30th)

I spent my blogging time wondering about my sign for tomorrow.  Once again, protesters will be outside Rep. Juan Ciscomani's office at 8am.  I'm not sure who is organizing it.  I'm not sure if there is a theme.  I could find the invitation but I'm not that motivated.  

I called his DC office today and had a polite conversation with a staffer.  

• Yes, the Congressman is forgoing his salary during the shut down. 
• No, he has no specific plan to reopen the government.
• He is meeting with the Speaker and other Members trying to fix the problem.   

I'm all out of clever ideas to describe the insanity of denying food to anyone, let alone children and the sick and the elderly, especially when there are billions of dollars sitting in a contingency fund set up for crises such as these.

I cannot think about the fact of the destruction of the East Wing, let alone look at the pictures.  No way I want to carry a sign about it.

One thing has been bugging me since his election,  He is totally unavailable.  One virtual town hall was free.  Everything else he's done has had a fee or a membership requirement.  And so, I created this:

Cousin #1 and I will be standing on the street until it's time to meet Cousin #2 and Dr. K for mahjong.  

Arts and crafts, friends, games.... it's a great start to the weekend.

(There were 50 or so of us old folks out there,  doing our parts to save democracy.)

Happy Halloween

 

jpetersenphotography.com

Something New

I accomplished something today.  I've never done this before, not once in all my more than seven decades on this planet. I never imagined such a thing would occur,  let alone could occur. 

After a trip to the local Ace  Hardware for sealant and to Michael's for clay pots, after another recess spent organizing water brigades running laps with plastic watering cans between a working hose bib and Grandma's Garden, after collecting and tossing those Dollar Store watering cans which could not bear the burden,  I sat quietly under the umbrella and began to create ollas. 

The sealant is equal parts water proofing epoxy.  The dispenser is a clever gadget mixing the two.  The lid edges of the three inch pots are wide enough to drag it along.  

The situation becomes more complicated when the pots are pressed together. Goo extrudes. This is not a bad thing; I use my fingers to turn the olla and smear the extra in and around the seams. 

The last time I did this I was on my paved patio at home.  I used a table covered with a plastic tablecloth (I so love the Dollar Store).

Today, my workspace was a bench in the garden. This bench is where seeds are dispensed,  where holes are poked in soil filled Solo cups, where spills are common. 

And so it came to pass that, after using many of the school nurse's alcohol prep wipes, several attempts in the shower and at the sink, with a stiff nail brush and a loofah, I am now in a position to type that which I have never typed before:

 I have epoxy-ed soil onto my hands.

We Planted

There has been lettuce in the standing garden outside the gate for a few weeks.  The oregano is a new addition.  The tiny clay ollas I made and thought were useless are now passsively irrigating our produce.

.

For scholars who are just walking by, Would you like a bite of lettuce? is a powerful inducement to stop and have a taste.  I now have enough plants to allow us to denude one or two and still have more to feed us tomorrow.  The oregano is there to balance the blandness of the buttercrunch; it tastes like pizza is my favorite comment.

We filled the two new raised beds with ollas and veggie starts.  Celery and basil and dill and a tomato plant here

spinach and dill and some petunias and a snapdragon in the other bed (which I forgot to photograph...sigh).

This raised bed has lots of something coming up..... I have no idea what it will turn out to be.  There didn't seem to be any leaves punching through the soil on the right edge, so we placed four onion bulbs and a sprig of dill to round out the planting.  I would add ollas but I'm afraid to dislodge the roots of those hardy suckers who survived a Tucson summer, a dry monsoon, and an unusually warm fall without any human intervention.  We'll be hand watering this area.

The painted tire that Mr. Guy rolled in for us last year is now home for the chocolate mint plant and several onion bulbs.  Mint has a tendency to take over; this one is totally contained.  Even if it sent roots down into the ground below, the soil is so dense and unforgiving that those roots will either die or turn around and rejoin their compatriots in the fresh, amended soil.

There is still more work to be done.  This old raised bed is a favorite spot for digging and making mud tunnels and looking for worms and buried treasure.  

Behind it is the second new raised bed and the older bed's twin.  Those are not plants back there.  They are Dollar Store scarecrow-on-a-stick faces.  Rearranging them is something else that makes the kiddos smile.  Today they are facing one another, kissing.

The best part of the garden, though, is our mandarin orange tree.  It has recovered from its near death experience when the irrigation was shut off all summer long and is now covered in lots of little white flowers-soon-to-be-oranges, like the one right here.

We can hardly wait.

Time Flies - A Snippet

It's pitch dark by 6:15.

Thanksgiving is a month away, with Hannukah nipping at its heals.

And suddenly it's almost TBG's birthday and then mine.  

I remember thinking that I would be 9 forever.  Now, I keep forgetting how old I am; the years are flying by in a way they never have before.  

All this while I'm conscious of living in the moment, of being present, of relishing each smell and sound and sight.

I'm not sure I'm pleased with the situation.

Slogans From A Catalog

SOME HIT CLOSE TO HOME

Being Twenty in the 70's was more fun than being Seventy in the 20's

I don't mind getting older but my body is taking it badly.

It's weird being the same age as old people.

I don't want to go through things that don't kill me but make me stronger anymore.

SOME WERE PERSON SPECIFIC

Everyone is born right handed.  Only the gifted overcome it.

Emotional Support Husband - Do Not Pet

Being a TROPHY HUSBAND is exhausting.

Excellent friend.  Would recommend.

SOME WERE SELF-REFERENTIAL

Sometimes I talk to myself, then we both laugh and laugh

I'M COLD.  Me 24:7

My password is the last 8 digits of pi.

I just want to bake stuff and watch Christmas movies.

Bigfoot saw me but nobody believes him.

Sarcasm.  It's how I hug.

Underestimate me.  That'll be fun.

If you think I'm short, you should see my patience.

Hold on.  Let me overthink this.

My plants are rooting for me.

SOME WERE EXPLANATORY

I've lost my mind.  I'm pretty sure the kids took it.

I'm not arguing.  I'm explaining why I'm right.

I don't have my ducks in a row.  I have squirrels and they are everywhere.

I'm the oldest; I make the rules.  I'm the middle; I'm the reason we had rules.  I'm the youngest; the rules don't apply to me.

I'm a multi-tasker: I can listen, ignore, and forget all at the same time.

In my defense, I was left unsupervised.  (my personal favorite!)

SOME WERE OBVIOUSLY CORRECT

90% of being married is yelling "WHAT?" from other rooms.

Either you LOVE DOGS or you're wrong.

Books - the original handheld device.

A day without books is like (just kidding, I have no idea).

"Ehh, that's good enough"  ~ Mediocretes

THERE WAS EXCELLENT ADVICE:

Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup.

AND THERE WAS THE ONE I LIKED THE BEST:

Today I Choose Joy

from the Winter 2025 Signals catalog

Too Pooped to Pop

Mayo Clinic is remarkable.

It is also a four hour round trip from home.

I'm impressed, relieved, and exhausted.

If I could put two thoughts together they would be about great medical care.

Unfortunately, I cannot.

My Congressman Sent A Letter

Rep. Ciscomani and twelve other vulnerable Republicans sent a letter to Mike Johnson on Tuesday, a letter that is being touted as a plea to reopen the government.  As my Representative's website reports:

These 13 House Republicans reaffirmed that Congress’s first duty is to keep the government working for the American people - not to use shutdowns as leverage for political gain - and that responsible reforms, such as with healthcare, must move forward on its own merits, through regular order, as soon as the Democrat-caused federal government shutdown ends.

(the underlining is mine)  

In and of itself, that seems perfectly reasonable....  at least the parts I underlined.  Kinda like a middle school social studies book describing the role of one of the co-equal branches of government.

Oh, right. Nobody teaches civics any more.  And that whole co-eequal branches thing is long gone.  And don't get me started on.... no don't even mention what that awful, evil, America hating devil incarnate is doing to the White House.... the PEOPLE'S HOUSE.....

Are they actually suggesting that the Speaker bring back the House and allow healthcare reform to move on with a robust debate involving their colleagues across the aisle?   Up or down, on its merits, politics be damned.... is it a please pay attention to the fact that our constituents are furious with us letter?

It would be lovely to believe that this came from a caring heart instead of a fearful one.

There was one line, though, that could have come from my own fingers:

Allowing these tax credits to lapse without a clear path forward is not an option. 

We shall see...... keep calling.... 

It Was a Perfect Plan

Moderate temperatures were promised.  Home Depot's founder just donated $50million to HBCU's so I felt good about shopping there.  Not-Kathy and Aunt Jane were there, too; hugs were exchanged.  I loaded up a cart with lettuce and spinach and celery (!) and Early Girl tomatoes and basil, checked myself out, and was at the garden ten minutes later.  That's when things began to go awry.

It was hot.  

In order to reach the handle, the kiddo who volunteered to open the umbrella was found standing on the tree stump that holds it up - a definite no-no.  Whistles were blown.  Conversations were had.  It all worked out in the end (I'll remember - no feet, no knees, nothing but my bottom on the stump) and tears were averted, but it was a close call.

I found the clay pots I glued together last year in my first attempt at creating inexpensive olla balls.  They were enmeshed in spider webs holding little white balls of baby spiders (ugh).  We decided to put the lettuce in the raised bed on the playground side of the garden's fence.  If we can manage to keep from eating it for a while, it should cover the space with healthy snacks.

We practiced taking the seedlings out of the six pack.  We dug holes as deep as the root balls.  After gently separating the roots, we planted them and tucked them in.  We dug holes to house the faux ollas and buried them.

It was time to water the veggies in.  I took the 4-way-key out of my pocket.  I placed it on the valve and turned it.

Nothing.

We checked for kinks in the hose.  I turned it off and on.  A few sad drops dribbled out of the nozzle.  Worse, there was no left over liquid in the watering cans that hang on the outer fence.  (Only spider webs!!!)

Not only were there planted lettuce seedlings, there were all those other veggies sitting forlornly in their containers.  There is no way that any of them would survive without a thorough soaking.  I sent an email to Mr. Guy, who's in charge of outdoor spaces, wondering if, once again, the middle school had shut off our water without telling us.

The Perfect Principal walked by; she promised to get your water turned on.

 

While I was fretting, Miss Stella, the most helpful of the Garden Leaders, organized her fellow 5th graders into an old fashioned bucket brigade.  From the cafeteria's water bottle filler to Grandma's Garden and then back again, they spent half their recess saving our plants.  They were all new to the garden;  Miss Stella is quite persuasive.

I'll be back tomorrow to finish the work.  There are bigger ollas for the bigger raised beds and the bigger plants.  

It seems like another perfect plan.

We shall see.

Silliness

The protests were peaceful but he's still in the White House, building a ballroom by tearing down the East Wing, and gilding everything in sight..

He's also touting all the land available in Egypt and surrounding Arab nations for the Palestinians to create great lives as the shelling continues in Gaza.

The Mayo Clinic is the victim of a "nationwide technology problem" leading to an hour or more wait time on the phone.  The site won't load anything beyond the home page.

The olla ball company has not returned any of the messages I've left over the past 10 days.  

TBG's on a 7 day course of treatment that precludes his three major food groups - chocolate, caffeine, and milk.

Frustration rules.  Silliness, really.  Most of life is going along quite smoothly.  It's just that I'm always on edge these days, and everything kinda hurts.

It Was Joyous

The sun was out and I was here to protest in it, at 8am. 

By definition, it was a good day.

By the time I left at 9:30 there were people around the corner, out of site.

This is the entrance to the community that protests every Saturday.  

Their usual dozen or so had swelled to many many dozens.

I left and collected TBG and we drove up to Oro Valley.  

He usually lets me represent the family, but this event hit him differently.

"Numbers matter and I care."

The crowd was a little younger (not much) and a lot more boisterous.  

I didn't chant in the 1970's and I didn't chant yesterday.  

I did wave my sign(s).

Having held placards at these events before, I created a self-standing unit to lean upon.

Yes, they are garden stakes.  They, as well as the Camus quote, attracted a lot of attention.

I learned another lesson.  

20 year old scrapbooking adhesives do not live up to their name.  I spent the first protest sticking the stripes back onto the posterboard; I taped them down before we took off again.

There were flamingos and frogs and a turtle or two.  There were many chickens.

The signs were not hateful, nor were the t-shirts.  A new friend, Paul, stopped and chatted with TBG for a while.  As always, it was a friendly, happy crowd.

This was the most original sign all day.

We left, TBG carrying his watching-the-kids-play-sports chair and the giant red, white, and blue pinwheel, I dragging my sign and our water.  It's exhausting work, protecting democracy.   But as I looked at my husband's smiling face I realized that I had not led hinm astray when I told him it would be fun.  It was joyous.