The Burrow

Merl Reagle died last week. I am bereft. There will be no more of his crossword puzzles to make me groan.  He felt ill, went to the hospital, sent his wife home for his laptop and snacks, and was gone before she returned. They'd been together for years. She traveled with him and had breakfast with him and helped at his Tucson Festival of Books presentations and all the other presentations he made around the country and now he is no longer. She was a lovely presence, gifting me with $25 to a local bookstore when I won 4th place at the last TFOB.  She was solicitous and thoughtful and now, in the space of an errand, she is alone. I am so sorry for her loss. Her husband has been with me every night for a long time. TBG and I retire to the bedroom, put on our jammies, and while he turns on the television I open my current collection of Merl Reagle's puzzles.  The clues are challenging but manageable. The puns are smart and funny and awful.... just the ...

Again and again and again, I tell myself that I won't let it affect me. Over and over and over, I remind myself that I am safe. The words are futile; I'm terrified and angered and sad. Like a scummy film on the surface of a pond, gun violence blunts the shining sun, diffusing it and muddying it and making the world a scary place. Leaving the house wasn't easy this morning. Then, again, watching the television wasn't any easier. One of their own was shot down on a sunny morning and suddenly all those stories the anchors had been reporting over the years were no longer about the other – the victims were one of them. I watched the CNN correspondent try to hold back his tears as Alison Parker's father said that his soul was crushed. I listened as Ashleigh Banfield tried to make sense of the senseless, describing how Adam Ward's fiancee watched him die from the production studio... in real time. Just saying the words made them facts that smacked her ...

We got a mattress in a box today. It required unpacking and unwrapping and unfolding. There were instructions to be read. We've never had to read the instructions for a mattress before. We'd never watched the creation of a mattress before, either. Today was the day. The Sleep Number guys were right on time, in their Penske rental truck.   They lugged our old and well worn mattress out and toted their much lighter boxes in. Unwrapping the bladders and filling them with air  was the first, and longest, step.  I admit that I giggled. A lot.  When they were full, they were set aside to rest.  The tubes stay attached. They connect to this control box which sits underneath the platform. The soft bottom layer was smoothed onto that platform, and another, softer, gooshier layer went on top of that. The edges were built, side by individual side slipping into the pre-cut curves. A piece similar to the edge...

I was prepared to respond to Rain's comment on yesterday's post, but Skype and FlapJilly and Little Cuter derailed my plans.  I'm too filled with smiles to rain on my own parade. Besides, the clouds in the sky are doing a fine job of that right now, as we roar into monsoon, our fifth season.  The cacti are puffed up, filled with water, and the crepe myrtle refuses to stop blooming. All of that is wonderful, but it pales in comparison to the joy I take in watching my girls toss bags of oatmeal onto the kitchen floor. Her iPad was on the table, angled down to their play space on the floor, and I laughed along with them as the baby took the packets out of the box and flung them behind herself.  She has my daughter trained well; the bring-it-here-wench was right there when she was needed.  FlapJilly was never without more ammunition. They substituted for maracas, too.  One handed, two handed, then tossed on the floor.  Cue the giggles. She took a step a...

Donald Trump bloviated for an hour or so, and the talking heads agreed it was good political theater. There was nothing of substance, but there was a lot of us against them .  Politicians are bad.  Everyone in the stadium is good.  There are so many of us here and we are so happy to be here.  The world is going to hell in a hand basket, because I was not there to save it. Once I have the power, though, things will be different.   I'm going to build a wall and have Mexico pay for it.  I'll name it after ME. When he lost his train of thought, he turned to those seated behind him and took pleasure in their applause.  Turning around, the bigger crowd not to be undone, cheered even louder.  Then he started over again. It was stream of consciousness.  It was not prepared.  That worries me. I want a President who thinks that the words she shares are valuable. I want a thoughtful communicator.   I watched a rabble rou...

45 years. 44 cars... I think. 10 homes.... I'm pretty sure. Your friends.... my friends.... our friends. 2 kids.... 1 grandkid.... more friends. Losses and finding our way back and Hilepower and love. The hardest work I've ever been glad I've done. Is that hard to parse? Really? After listening to me for almost half a century? Happy 40th Anniversary of the day we said We Would. I'm in for 40 more, if you are.

Donald Trump thinks it's passion. Keep that in mind as I tell you a story. Two skinny white guys, not in hoodies this time but one in a wife-beater..... a descriptive term I forbid Big Cuter from using in my presence or the presence of anyone whose respect he wanted to earn.... a term that fits just perfectly right here..... Two white guys coming up from 'neath the streets of Boston, find a 58 year old Hispanic man asleep against the station wall...... and believing that it was OK to assault the man because he was Hispanic and homeless , they broke his nose, beat and kicked his head and body, and, before walking away laughing, they urinated on him. State Troopers followed concerned citizens' prompts and arrested the brothers, who defended their actions by invoking the man who is ahead of every other Republican and Hillary Clinton in polls in Florida : Donald Trump was right, all these illegals need to be deported. Trump seemed genuinely concerned when told th...