The Burrow

I love writing the cards and baking the brownies and decorating the packages and dropping them off in the post office, one by one down the chute, smiling as I send loving thoughts to the recipients. I love putting out the pillows and the candle holders and the door hangers.  I love watching my house move from TBG's Episcopal sparseness to his mother's Christmas-on-every-surface. There is nothing I relish more than an afternoon in a comfy chair, with a good book in my lap and liquid refreshment by my side.  It's even better if the sun is out and the temperatures are in the 60's -Tucson's version of winter - and if the book is #10 in a 20 book series, and all the remaining ten texts are on my bookshelf, on loan from the library, just waiting to be read. And that's where I am right now.  I have something from every column of my Smile Through December spreadsheet, and I don't know what to do.  I punted, earlier in the day, by getting my nails done.  Out wi...

Big Cuter says I never send him brownies any more.  We'll see if he reads this and reacts with a smile. I have something to send Megan, frequent comment-leaver and fierce woman incarnate, and it seemed silly not to send her brownies, too. Not-Kathy and Dr. K know the holidays begin when my brownies arrive; it's early this year, my friends. And, perhaps, my treats will arrive at R-Square's before their lands on my doorstep. It's Brownie Season, and I'm happy. I will not ruin it by thinking about that which I cannot change (ie. President-elect tweets) having done what I can to make my voice heard (emailed my Senators re: Jeff Sessions for anything). I will smell the baking and write the cards and start the season off with a full heart.

Thanksgiving was early.  Chanukah is late.  This is an extra week. My holiday season revolves around the baking and distribution of dozens of boxes of brownies. The fact that I didn't bump into December this weekend means that this is an extra week, a week which has no assignments, a week in which can be used to compile and prepare. It's a luxury I rarely experience. This year, as always, I lost the Brownie List.  Not the hard copy I always print out, the list of names I can check off as cards are written, labels are printed, and boxes are packed.  No, the list that Little Cuter created for me a decade or so ago, the one with the addresses, the Official Brownie List. I searched this PC  and documents  and Gmail messages and came up empty.  There were links to folders which had been deleted.  There was no Brownie List.  My girl attached it to the plaintive email I sent.  I realized that it was a Google Doc..... easily accessible f...

I've been re-reading Thanksgiving posts, and smiling a lot. Here is some of the joy.   I'll be back to reality on Monday; I'm taking the weekend off. ***** Memories Then: ..... of full bellies lying on the couch, begging for relief, as Hough's creamed spinach wound its way through an overloaded digestive tract..... ..... of my first niece, a veg even as a toddler, eating cucumbers for dinner and feeling just fine..... ..... of walks around the neighborhood, wrapped in scarves and hats culled from the front hall closet, surrounded by all ages and temperaments, mellowed by tryptophan On dinner in Cleveland Heights at Nannie's house: We'd sit in the dining room, using it, for once, as more than an inconvenient space between the kitchen and the tv room, sideboards groaning, waiting for Nannie's yearly screech.  Thanksgiving wouldn't be Thanksgiving without my mother-in-law jumping up from the table, just as the first fork was lifted and yelping,  ...

For my happy, healthy family, here and there, For my friends, near and far, old and new, and old-and-found-again, For the abundance of goodness I see every day, For the richness of the world I inhabit, For the fact that I am here at all,  I am truly thankful. Happy Thanksgiving to you all !

RE: The President Elect His phone call with Mr. Abe was on an unsecured line.  Surely this is as disturbing as Mrs. Clinton's use of a private server. His businesses are intertwined with the business of the nation, and his children (who cannot really run a "blind trust" for him, now can they?) are in the room making policy even as they plan to run the businesses after the inauguration.  How is this not a conflict of interest? His DC hotel touting their space to diplomats - how is this not Pay for Play? I am quite concerned about the integrity of our government.  I hope that you will pay close attention to these matters, as you have to Mrs. Clinton's emails. That's what I wrote in the space provided at the Blow the Whistle  tab on the  House Oversight and Government Reform Committee's  website.  I signed my name, and the site assures me that I'm safe:  Any personal information you provide us will be kept in strict confidenc...

I wrote this missive to my Congresswoman: Dear Rep. McSally, Silence=Acquiescence. Hatred, division, and vengeance have no place in civil discourse. Can you stand up for women, and our right not to be groped? Can you stand up for the First Amendment, and the right of cast members to speak truth to power: You took on the Air Force and won; I admired that.  Are you brave enough to speak out for others, too? I await your response.  Mr. Trump's behavior is often inappropriate - will you call him on it? I took my letter (handwritten, on my embossed stationary) to a Pantsuit Nation Tucson Meet Up  on the street in front of Rep. McSally's office.   There we stood, men and women of all ages and descriptions, holding signs and smiling at the cars passing us by. I joined them after thanking the Tucson Police for their presence in the parking lot nearby; they were looking out for us and that made me feel marginally safer.  Drivers slowed to re...