Days string out when you are home and in one place, don't they? I wonder how Anne Frank kept track in her diary, maybe she wrote at the same time every day? Talk about commitment, but there was probably little else to do. In all of this, I keep seeing meme's about her, but I am thinking about her Mother, not about her. Frankly, and I can admit this now, I never finished reading her book. She did not interest me as a teen and now we learn her book was heavily edited by her father, so there you are with that, I wonder how the parents kept it going. We have it easy by comparison.
Yet, yesterday I kind of lost it and told Chris that I did NOT want to hear another statistic about the virus. I can't. I just can't right now. Ok, chastise me, but I really am having difficulty with all the illness and death. I just can't. I know I should know but it is weighing on my spirit. Do you feel the same way, dear reader?
It rained all night. I had left my office plant outside. I had brought it home to keep it from dying If it survived last night's torrent, it can live through anything. As soon as it slows down out there, I will go and bring it in.
I have NOT had the energy or the gumption to do anything around her. Yesterday was particularly bad and we ordered takeout from our favorite local Mexican place, Joselito's They relaxed the alcohol rule and you can get drinks delivered with food. I enjoyed a peach margarita. It helped somewhat, but then I went off about the statistics. I felt and still feel bad about it, but I know Chris understands. I am lucky to be quarantined with him, rather than someone else or alone. I don't think I could do that either.
I am calling friends who are by themselves and checking in with people to keep contact. I AM working, so it's busy. The rain is going to make for an interesting day and I had better get myself organized.
If you are reading this, thank you and stay safe!
Monday, April 6, 2020
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Quarantine week --- whatever
It's Tuesday, of that I am certain, as I am going back to "work" in a few minutes. I work from home and, yes, I really AM putting in my full effort at work. I still have a lot to do.
I am still waking up coughing, but that is my asthma, not quite under control. I do NOT have Covid-19, according to my last real in-person doctor visit. I am sticking with that. My last conversation with my pulmonologist gave me pause. He wants to try immunotherapy when this is all over. Ok. Whatever it takes so I will feel "normal" When I said that to my dr , he laughed and said he had never actually seen me "normal" I did make a joke that normal was not a good description of me anyway. The poor man sounded tired.
Being "Safer at home" is wearying. I am afraid to leave the house and a trip to the trash can at the end of the property seems like a covert adventure. Chris goes to the store. Yesterday he suggested I go and stay in the car, just to get out of the house. Maybe next time. This must be how agoraphobics feel. I am listless.
I HAVE been digging into Ancestry and have seen some very cool links to my family past. I found that i AM a daughter of the American Revolution, just not where I THOUGHT, but along a farther line. there is a whole cool story about the guy and I will be looking him up to see if I can find more information about him. He would have been my eight times great grandfather. THAT was a long time ago.
Still I can't wait for the "All Clear" to sound. I read a lot of memes that talk about Anne Frank, but I wonder how her mother fared in all of this. Due to the sanitized version of her diary that everyone reads in middle school, Anne comes off as a sweet dreamy girl. But I wonder about the harsh reality of being in hiding. While it is true, we are hiding in some respects, the brutal reality of the Frank family is an interesting juxtaposition. I wonder about the truth of their daily life, not just what Otto Frank wanted the world to see.
Perhaps I will have to see if the book is online. I am listening to audio books a lot. I find the sound filling up the room to be helpful and the escapist novel I am listening to a counter to the reality of what is going on in the world.
I am still waking up coughing, but that is my asthma, not quite under control. I do NOT have Covid-19, according to my last real in-person doctor visit. I am sticking with that. My last conversation with my pulmonologist gave me pause. He wants to try immunotherapy when this is all over. Ok. Whatever it takes so I will feel "normal" When I said that to my dr , he laughed and said he had never actually seen me "normal" I did make a joke that normal was not a good description of me anyway. The poor man sounded tired.
Being "Safer at home" is wearying. I am afraid to leave the house and a trip to the trash can at the end of the property seems like a covert adventure. Chris goes to the store. Yesterday he suggested I go and stay in the car, just to get out of the house. Maybe next time. This must be how agoraphobics feel. I am listless.
I HAVE been digging into Ancestry and have seen some very cool links to my family past. I found that i AM a daughter of the American Revolution, just not where I THOUGHT, but along a farther line. there is a whole cool story about the guy and I will be looking him up to see if I can find more information about him. He would have been my eight times great grandfather. THAT was a long time ago.
Still I can't wait for the "All Clear" to sound. I read a lot of memes that talk about Anne Frank, but I wonder how her mother fared in all of this. Due to the sanitized version of her diary that everyone reads in middle school, Anne comes off as a sweet dreamy girl. But I wonder about the harsh reality of being in hiding. While it is true, we are hiding in some respects, the brutal reality of the Frank family is an interesting juxtaposition. I wonder about the truth of their daily life, not just what Otto Frank wanted the world to see.
Perhaps I will have to see if the book is online. I am listening to audio books a lot. I find the sound filling up the room to be helpful and the escapist novel I am listening to a counter to the reality of what is going on in the world.
Friday, March 27, 2020
Friday
Friday used to bring me such joy. AHHHH The workweek was over and I could spend the weekend at home. NOW I wish I were at work. This is NOT like what retirement will be. I am afraid to leave the house; I am high risk and if I catch this thing it COULD be bad. I've had a bad case of pneumonia before- not ventilator bad but bad enough. I am staying put. Chris goes out, but he is mindful of social distance.
I hope this is over soon, but like anything it will get worse before it gets better.
I downloaded a book and am listening to it during the day. I AM working, but the silence is deafening when Chis is not in the room. He is trying to not disturb my workday. I am busy and doing a lot of things.
I'll let you know how the books is. It's the first Lily Singer book, a series about a librarian who is a wizard. They have a whole different definition of what a wizard is, but I am applying a whole LOT of "willing suspension of disbelief" I find it helps- or as my dad used to tell me when I pointed out inconsistencies in movies-"it would be a real short one if they did"
Happy Friday , y'all. Stay safe and catch you on the flip-side.
I hope this is over soon, but like anything it will get worse before it gets better.
I downloaded a book and am listening to it during the day. I AM working, but the silence is deafening when Chis is not in the room. He is trying to not disturb my workday. I am busy and doing a lot of things.
I'll let you know how the books is. It's the first Lily Singer book, a series about a librarian who is a wizard. They have a whole different definition of what a wizard is, but I am applying a whole LOT of "willing suspension of disbelief" I find it helps- or as my dad used to tell me when I pointed out inconsistencies in movies-"it would be a real short one if they did"
Happy Friday , y'all. Stay safe and catch you on the flip-side.
Thursday, March 26, 2020
Quarantine thoughts
ok, we are not EXACTLY quarantined but we are staying home and I am staying, mostly, indoors. I am nervous about my body's ability to fight off the virus. I have a super low immune system. So low, in fact, that my pulmonologist is going to talk to my asthma doctor about immunotherapy, when all this is over. Not fun, but we have to get to the other side of this pandemic first.
My kitchen is shrinking. I keep bumping into things and yesterday I broke a glass and my kitchen-sponge frog. The frog wasn't working out anyway and the glass was from the Dollar Tree, but I swear the kitchen is smaller than it was last week. This weekend, I think I will take EVERYTHING out of the pantry and reorganize it. I look for things I KNOW are there and it's like a worm-hole. Things disappear and reappear. Maybe my pantry is like Morris' Disappearing Bag, a children's story by Rosemary Wells ( I had lunch with her once,as part of a large group, she was gracious and lovely, I think I still have my signed copy of Noisy Nora, but might have lost in when I moved)
In any case, I need to get a handle on my house.
I am working from home and frankly, I hate it. The best part of my job is talking to people and getting their issues resolved. I was once chastised for talking too much ( once? No a LOT of times), as people don't realize that while I am chatting with someone, I am also in the program opening a ticket or looking for the job order or emailing a supervisor. I multitask, but it just seems like I am having a party in my cubicle. It's how I roll. It's not everyone's work style but it's mine.
I miss my peeps!
I am working nonstop on reports that needed doing and it's good to have the quiet time to concentrate, but being home, every creak, every bang in this old place startles me. Chris is home now for the most part. He tries not to distract me as I AM working and I take seriously that the City is paying me to WORK, not sit on the couch and eat cheese puffs and watch "Say Yes to the Dress" or some other mindless program.
Still I can't wait to get back to my office where things are somewhat normal. I am praying that we all come through this wiser and more aware of ourselves and our actions and interactions..
I will be stocking my pantry.
My kitchen is shrinking. I keep bumping into things and yesterday I broke a glass and my kitchen-sponge frog. The frog wasn't working out anyway and the glass was from the Dollar Tree, but I swear the kitchen is smaller than it was last week. This weekend, I think I will take EVERYTHING out of the pantry and reorganize it. I look for things I KNOW are there and it's like a worm-hole. Things disappear and reappear. Maybe my pantry is like Morris' Disappearing Bag, a children's story by Rosemary Wells ( I had lunch with her once,as part of a large group, she was gracious and lovely, I think I still have my signed copy of Noisy Nora, but might have lost in when I moved)
In any case, I need to get a handle on my house.
I am working from home and frankly, I hate it. The best part of my job is talking to people and getting their issues resolved. I was once chastised for talking too much ( once? No a LOT of times), as people don't realize that while I am chatting with someone, I am also in the program opening a ticket or looking for the job order or emailing a supervisor. I multitask, but it just seems like I am having a party in my cubicle. It's how I roll. It's not everyone's work style but it's mine.
I miss my peeps!
I am working nonstop on reports that needed doing and it's good to have the quiet time to concentrate, but being home, every creak, every bang in this old place startles me. Chris is home now for the most part. He tries not to distract me as I AM working and I take seriously that the City is paying me to WORK, not sit on the couch and eat cheese puffs and watch "Say Yes to the Dress" or some other mindless program.
Still I can't wait to get back to my office where things are somewhat normal. I am praying that we all come through this wiser and more aware of ourselves and our actions and interactions..
I will be stocking my pantry.
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
Pen pals
Do you remember how excited you were to get actual mail? I do. The mailbox on our porch made a squeaky noise and I would race out on the porch to check the mail. Most of the time it was for my parents, and in retrospect, most of the time they were probably not thrilled with the mail, but once a month or so, I would receive a letter from my penpal.
I signed up for a penpal via a magazine I got in church ( this is an important detail, please tuck it under your hat for now) I was given the name of a girl named Sue ( I will not put her last name here) She lived in a small town in Michigan. For years- probably five or six at least- we exchanged letters, newsy and not so newsy letters about our daily lives. I can't remember much of them and I no longer have her letters. Here is why. I had NO idea that my longtime penpal had family in California and when she said she was coming to visit I gave her my phone number so we could FINALLY meet in person. My mom was down with the plan and I thought she was too. Then, she called me from her family's home. In Beverly Hills. She was calling to say we could not meet, that there just wasn't time, or some lame excuse, but I was pretty good at reading through the lines. Her rich family was aghast at anyone from Pacoima meeting with them. Didn't matter that I was a good Christian girl, just that I lived in the wrong part of town for their darling to meet with. We exchanged letters, less frequently, the last one telling me she was getting married. She was eighteen and on the verge of being an old maid I suppose. She was about two years older than me. I hope wherever she is she is happy and maybe she wonders what happened to me. Probably not. That single incident revealed her to me. Her letter when she returned to her small town from the glitz of the family estate, showed no regret at not meeting. Our warm friendship was over.
Which brings me to why this all came up. My friend Cindy Alexander, who is an AMAZING singer-songwriter and if you aren't a fan YOU SHOULD BE , is taking about writing letters. I hope she does. In this fast paced world, it might be nice to put pen to paper, practice my penmanship , which has totally disintegrated , not that it was wonderful to begin with; I actually failed handwriting in Mrs. Gnotta's second grade class. My mom in an uncharacteristic show of support for this failed scholastic endeavor, showed me HER handwriting, which was almost illegible. Me ex's mother once asked me, in a snotty tone, why my mother always typed her letters. I went into my house and handed her a sample of the letters I used to get. I was now a skilled translator of my mother's handwriting. She understood. I remember my mom leaving me a note on the door and because I could not read it, I sat on the back steps crying until one of the neighbors came and got me. The note told me she was next door.
Still I am hopeful to put my letter writing skills to the test. Writing is really the only art form, I practice ( Chris will tell you it's cooking, but that skill is survival, even if I enjoy the process most of the time) I am looking forward to that giddy feeling of getting a letter that is not a bill or a pleas for charity. Just an old fashioned "HEY, You've got mail!
I signed up for a penpal via a magazine I got in church ( this is an important detail, please tuck it under your hat for now) I was given the name of a girl named Sue ( I will not put her last name here) She lived in a small town in Michigan. For years- probably five or six at least- we exchanged letters, newsy and not so newsy letters about our daily lives. I can't remember much of them and I no longer have her letters. Here is why. I had NO idea that my longtime penpal had family in California and when she said she was coming to visit I gave her my phone number so we could FINALLY meet in person. My mom was down with the plan and I thought she was too. Then, she called me from her family's home. In Beverly Hills. She was calling to say we could not meet, that there just wasn't time, or some lame excuse, but I was pretty good at reading through the lines. Her rich family was aghast at anyone from Pacoima meeting with them. Didn't matter that I was a good Christian girl, just that I lived in the wrong part of town for their darling to meet with. We exchanged letters, less frequently, the last one telling me she was getting married. She was eighteen and on the verge of being an old maid I suppose. She was about two years older than me. I hope wherever she is she is happy and maybe she wonders what happened to me. Probably not. That single incident revealed her to me. Her letter when she returned to her small town from the glitz of the family estate, showed no regret at not meeting. Our warm friendship was over.
Which brings me to why this all came up. My friend Cindy Alexander, who is an AMAZING singer-songwriter and if you aren't a fan YOU SHOULD BE , is taking about writing letters. I hope she does. In this fast paced world, it might be nice to put pen to paper, practice my penmanship , which has totally disintegrated , not that it was wonderful to begin with; I actually failed handwriting in Mrs. Gnotta's second grade class. My mom in an uncharacteristic show of support for this failed scholastic endeavor, showed me HER handwriting, which was almost illegible. Me ex's mother once asked me, in a snotty tone, why my mother always typed her letters. I went into my house and handed her a sample of the letters I used to get. I was now a skilled translator of my mother's handwriting. She understood. I remember my mom leaving me a note on the door and because I could not read it, I sat on the back steps crying until one of the neighbors came and got me. The note told me she was next door.
Still I am hopeful to put my letter writing skills to the test. Writing is really the only art form, I practice ( Chris will tell you it's cooking, but that skill is survival, even if I enjoy the process most of the time) I am looking forward to that giddy feeling of getting a letter that is not a bill or a pleas for charity. Just an old fashioned "HEY, You've got mail!
Monday, March 23, 2020
Cooking and Julia Child
Can I admit that I have never been fascinated with French food? I know, I know, it's supposed to be the best food on the planet, but maybe it just has a great press agent.
Last night, Chris and I watched Julie and Julia, about a woman in Queens who is drifting in her life until she takes on the challenge of making every dish in Child's standout book, "Mastering the art of French Cooking" She blogs her journey and becomes famous, obsessing over her perception of who Julia Child is, based on the book and her popular cooking show. Julie becomes a literary star, but at the denouement of the film learns that not everything is what it seems.
There is a line from a Joan Baez song about Bob Dylan "Idols are best when they're made of stone." I think of that often. We build people up to these monuments in our heads, forgetting that most people really don't walk on water. I am glad I was raised by my Dad who worked around movie folks but reminded me that they were just normal people. doing what was perceived as a glamorous job. The reality of film-making, from what I understand, is anything BUT glamorous. It's hard work and long hours. Sure your picture is everywhere while you are on top and , as James Taylor wryly noted "perfect strangers call you by name" but ( and I seem to be quoting songs here) "a legend's only a lonely boy when he goes home alone"
It was nice to try to watch a movie. Chris thoughtfully pauses it when my restlessness causes me to get up from my seat and prowl in the kitchen. I am glad my husband understands what is going on with me these days. One day, when this is all over, I would like to treat him to one of those movie palaces where you can have dinner and drinks brought to your recliner while watching a film.
One Day!
Last night, Chris and I watched Julie and Julia, about a woman in Queens who is drifting in her life until she takes on the challenge of making every dish in Child's standout book, "Mastering the art of French Cooking" She blogs her journey and becomes famous, obsessing over her perception of who Julia Child is, based on the book and her popular cooking show. Julie becomes a literary star, but at the denouement of the film learns that not everything is what it seems.
There is a line from a Joan Baez song about Bob Dylan "Idols are best when they're made of stone." I think of that often. We build people up to these monuments in our heads, forgetting that most people really don't walk on water. I am glad I was raised by my Dad who worked around movie folks but reminded me that they were just normal people. doing what was perceived as a glamorous job. The reality of film-making, from what I understand, is anything BUT glamorous. It's hard work and long hours. Sure your picture is everywhere while you are on top and , as James Taylor wryly noted "perfect strangers call you by name" but ( and I seem to be quoting songs here) "a legend's only a lonely boy when he goes home alone"
It was nice to try to watch a movie. Chris thoughtfully pauses it when my restlessness causes me to get up from my seat and prowl in the kitchen. I am glad my husband understands what is going on with me these days. One day, when this is all over, I would like to treat him to one of those movie palaces where you can have dinner and drinks brought to your recliner while watching a film.
One Day!
Sunday, March 22, 2020
Safe at home
It's been less than a week and yet, I am losing it.
I want to go somewhere but I KNOW better. I am half afraid to go to the mailbox of do the laundry. I am high risk and all this misinformation is making me crazy.
The Orange Menace is now having daily Press Briefings" which he has in lieu of his campaign rallies. He lies outrageously, to the point where his experts behind him cover their faces or roll their eyes.
I am trying not to watch him, just read the reports and I am with Rachel Maddow on stopping the "daily Pressers" It's a replacement for his rallies.
So far, my "safe at Home" days have been .. interesting. I am working from home and it is exhausting. I miss my friends and personal interaction with people. It's going to be a long month or two.
I have been entertaining myself by cooking new dishes; my kitchen is somewhere between an episode of Chopped and Worst Cooks In America..
Still I am thinking about Anne Frank and how long she was stuck inside. We are not exactly stuck inside and we can talk to one another, read books online and see movie, we can take classes and connect with one another even if we can't be in each other's presence.
It's going to be interesting...
I want to go somewhere but I KNOW better. I am half afraid to go to the mailbox of do the laundry. I am high risk and all this misinformation is making me crazy.
The Orange Menace is now having daily Press Briefings" which he has in lieu of his campaign rallies. He lies outrageously, to the point where his experts behind him cover their faces or roll their eyes.
I am trying not to watch him, just read the reports and I am with Rachel Maddow on stopping the "daily Pressers" It's a replacement for his rallies.
So far, my "safe at Home" days have been .. interesting. I am working from home and it is exhausting. I miss my friends and personal interaction with people. It's going to be a long month or two.
I have been entertaining myself by cooking new dishes; my kitchen is somewhere between an episode of Chopped and Worst Cooks In America..
Still I am thinking about Anne Frank and how long she was stuck inside. We are not exactly stuck inside and we can talk to one another, read books online and see movie, we can take classes and connect with one another even if we can't be in each other's presence.
It's going to be interesting...
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