Two Years Later

Shortly after what I view as world lockdown began, March 11, 2020 (the date would no doubt vary from place to place and person to person), I began what I called "The Covid Journal." Thinking, like so many, that this change in our lifestyles would be short-lived, I chose a rather small journal I had bought two years before at Sennelier in Paris. I would record thoughts from this time in words and watercolor. It would all end neatly, when Covid and masks were a thing of the past. Not necessarily a happy ending, but an ending.

Gathering Our Inner Resources

There are times all during life when we need the inner resources to keep ourselves busy and productive all by ourselves.

         ~ Fred (Mister) Rogers 

How are you doing with Omicron? Are you hanging in there? Self-isolating and going out only when necessary? Living with abandon?

New Years, 2018. Those were the good old days! More abandon then!

On Being Alive

"It is a serious thing

just to be alive

on this fresh morning

in this broken world.”

-Mary Oliver

Sometimes Mary Oliver speaks to the heart better than anyone. (No. Most of the time Mary Oliver speaks to the heart better than anyone.)

A Year in the Life: How It Changed Us

When Rick and I hit the road for Canada a year ago (March 11, 2020) -- he was to continue on to his trade show in Massachusetts --  we had no idea that our world was about to change. I've been reflecting on this past year often in recent weeks, as I've reviewed the Covid journal I made over the past year (HERE).

In the weeks leading to that trip, we'd heard an increasing number of reports about an illness that had started in China and had hit other countries as well, including Italy and other spots in Europe. There were even cases in the United States. The first reported case in Michigan was March 9. People were talking about how important it was to use hand sanitizer and I had bought Rick a large container to put at his booth. He had strict warnings from me not to shake hands with prospective clients.

He'd called several times to see if the show was canceled. It wasn't, so off we went on a lovely mid-March day. Our plans included a stop for dinner in the Ontario town of Strathroy at a favorite restaurant where, that evening, we would celebrate 24 years together, though our friendship actually began a few years before. Then we'd stop overnight at my friend Suzanne's, where I would stay while Rick was at the show. He'd venture on, do the show, spend time with his brother and pick me up on the way home.

It was all so simple. Our dinner -- the pizza and wine special -- was really quite good. But as Rick said not long ago, "If I'd known it would be our last dinner out together for such a long time, I would have ordered better wine!"

And that is one of the lessons of this past year. Order the good stuff now. Because you never know what might happen.

After we arrived at Suzanne and Jim's, we watched the news on a variety of international stations. The president gave the most sobering, somewhat incoherent and robotic and extremely frightening address we'd ever heard, speaking of closing our borders to Europeans that week. The video footage that followed focused on people with shopping carts full of toilet paper, empty shelves, and people in Italy in hospitals and on ventilators, that country -- and many others -- locked down.

That night while I was blissfully asleep beside him, Rick spent much of the night gasping for breath, not sleeping well. He was remembering that only a week before he'd been on a flight home sitting next to a seminary student who had returned from Italy to escape what was now called a pandemic and was headed home to Michigan. The next morning he took off, leaving me behind as we planned.

While on the road, he learned that the show was canceled as of that morning. After an overnight in upstate New York (and tracking down his seatmate, learning he had no symptoms), Rick returned home, leaving me in London with Suzanne -- just in case. (If he had heard "no symptoms" today, he would still be freaked out and so would I, for at least two weeks.) Lesson learned: Covid has an incubation period and you can spread it while being asymptomatic.   

During those days, I remember great concern for Rick, even as Suzanne and I hit grocery stores in an impossible quest to find chicken, while noting toilet paper-filled carts and long lines at Costco and other spots we went. Flour and yeast were in short supply, too. Of course, at that point, no one was wearing masks. We hit used bookstores, some of which already had sanitizing operations in place. We had one last dinner out -- and were practically the only diners in a very large dining room. (That was my last dinner inside a restaurant to this day.) None of us had masks yet.

She brought me home two days before the border closed. 

I don't think either Rick or I realized how significantly our lives had changed in those days, not just for a short period but for far longer. His breathing, he learned, was anxiety attacks. But while those eased, the anxiety we both felt kept getting worse and worse.

I began chronicling things in my Covid Journal (you can see it in more detail here.)  A combination of narrative and paintings, it told our our story and noted how things changed. Events were canceled.

We did shopping online and sanitized our groceries. After one last doc appointment, for months the appointments were by telephone.

We wore masks. Friends made them and sent them to us. We didn't leave home without them. We still don't and despite restrictions being eased, I don't see being without a mask at hand for an indefinite period of time. (I learned a lot about how masks worn by all will protect all and why not doing so is discourteous to others and way more about viral load than I ever thought I'd be interested in.) 

And, because Rick did go out where I didn't, we kept distance between us. We did that till just a week ago, when both our vaccines had fully kicked in, although in public we will wear masks for a long time.  

For weeks, maybe even months, Lizzie was the only living thing that I touched.  

We weren't alone.  We didn't see friends for months, opting instead for Zoom happy hours. We longed to see the Toddler Twosome and at long last -- at very long last -- we have. Carefully.

Everyone we knew was in the same boat -- canceling classes, parties, trips abroad. I had planned to go to England; Rick missed his annual cycle ride into  Canada. We were baking a lot, taking walks, streaming video. I finished my family history book, did a lot of painting, and even managed to lose fifteen pounds. We were hanging on.

Meanwhile, there was plenty of chaos in our country even if we'd never heard of Covid. Police shootings and senseless murders brought the Black Lives Matter movement back to the forefront, Covid-deniers and conspiracy theorists were running rampant, protesters stormed our Michigan capitol and others, and our governor narrowly avoided a kidnapping attempt. Then there was the most ridiculous and important presidential election we have ever faced.

In these months I've learned something. Maybe I knew it before but never really had to put it into such practice. People will either learn to live with the changes for the better good, even if they have restrictions or deny them and go about as usual and taking their chances. The latter was not an option for us. I'm too high risk and Rick is far too caring to play roulette with his health or with mine. So, we adapted.

We put on our masks, we kept our distance. If we saw people (as we did when summer came along and we could be outside) we wore our masks, kept distance and swapped hugs for fist or elbow bumps. We put Cork Poppers on hold, did meetings by Zoom and only saw the toddlers once or twice, including an exceptionally warm day in early November.  

I have learned to treasure quiet moments together. Any moments together. Every moment together. I learned that it didn't matter if people thought being so careful was over the top -- I was worth protecting. So was Rick. 

I learned how to be creative with cooking, especially near the end of the grocery run. And, I learned how to handle my hair. I'm not saying I handle it well, but at least I handle it better than I did back in the summer.

We just moved forward and so did the life around us. Neighbors moved, new ones arrived. I've been without a dishwasher for about a year. I view dishwashing as extended handwashing. I regenerated scallions on the window sill. In many ways, we didn't just cope. We thrived. Not that it wasn't frustrating -- but the options weren't really options for us.

I've always been pretty good at being self-contained. We only children learn at an early age how to entertain ourselves and that's a lesson put into great effect in the past year.

We summered at the lake, spending more time together 24/7 than Rick and I have in the past now-25 years.  

We celebrated birthdays.

And we turned regular days into celebrations. Because we were here and alive. That's a valuable lesson, too.

We missed big occasions in person but did our best to be part of them in whatever way possible, like watching the Zoom version of our cousin Heather's wedding. I learned how to Zoom this year, too!

And life went on. I paid off my mortgage and was able to celebrate with dear friends. Although I didn't do my annual art sale, my sales (thanks to some of you) were better than ever this year.

I have learned about different vaccines, the differences in masks, the best ways to breathe and control breathing, which side to lay on (your stomach, preferably) and have been talked off the ledge more than once by my doc. I watch daily briefings because things change -- as this process evolves, we have to evolve, too and recognize that what was said when things were new might be different now.  

I'm a pro at sanitizing the groceries. They say we don't really have to do that anymore. Hey, what else am I doing with my time? It doesn't take long -- and it makes me feel better. I sanitized the mail, too. (And that I've stopped doing!)

I think I've always valued the joys of family and friends, but in this past year I've realized how much I enjoy being with them and miss it when we don't have the option. Rick and I became closer; we took care of each other, even though we had to keep somewhat apart.  We have survived and in some ways, thrived. 

While we both sorely miss being able to go to Canada (Rick is hoping to do his bike hike in August -- we'll see if the border is open), and while I look toward 2022 to return to England, we have been reasonably content. With the vaccines, we should have more flexibility, (although I think Rick got pretty bummed out when he realized that just having the vaccine doesn't mean you can toss your mask and hug with abandon and that distance and sanitizing will still be part of the game for awhile, at least for us). 

But we may be able to go to a restaurant more comfortably, hang with the toddlers and see friends more readily in person. I feel very optimistic about the recent Covid relief bill that passed in Congress this week and agree strongly with the go-big-or-go-home plan. I want to see vaccines easily available for all in the world, for businesses to open in full and to resume some sense of normalcy.

But I'm not naive. I don't think we will ever know the "normal" we knew a little over a year ago. And so, we adjust. We go forward. We look out for one another. And I will do my best to be patient. That's another lesson I've learned well this year. And of course, we will try to stay well. 

One warm evening last May, I was walking home from Rick's. We had enjoyed a wonderful dinner on the patio and probably a movie -- I can't remember. It was quite late, very dark, and so quiet I could only hear my footsteps and on occasion, a distant car. Every neighborhood tree or bush that flowered was in full bloom and the fragrance was almost intoxicating. 

And all I could think of, my silent -- or maybe whispered -- prayer was "Please let us be here next spring so I can take this walk again, smell the blooms, hear nothing but footsteps.

That prayer was answered. I hope your were, too.

Has the year changed you? How? What have you missed most or been surprised that you missed it less than you thought? Please share in the comments!

Stay well and safe, my friends.

Sharing with:    Pink Saturday    

The Covid Journal

Back last March I decided that it would be interesting to chronicle the year in a Covid journal -- a little bit of writing, a little bit of art and painting.  I ended up completing Volume I last month  (who could imagine there might be a Volume II?) and thought I'd share a few pages. 

I'll be the first to admit the art isn't pretty. The sketches are rough, the writing often slants left or right.  But that wasn't the point. The point was to provide a record of life over the past year, to remember things. And maybe it will get passed down to the grands who will remember little of this time.

Our "year" began with a visit to Canada while Rick was headed to the trade show. I chronicled our dinner celebrating 24 years and the day we learned that things were considerably more serious than we had previously thought.

I wanted to remember what this was like -- the things we had to do, consider, think about. Things that were new to us.

There were the lifelines, like my computer....

....the daily tasks....

....time at the lake.

I wanted to remember how we were able to see friends for dinner -- separate food, tables set apart.

You couldn't forget the idiot students who started a super-spreader event in Michigan by heading to a bar on a summer evening.

Nor could I leave out current events, like the death of George Floyd...

...and the political situation...

How could I forget meltdown days?

That had been such a dark day -- but Rick helped make it be one of the best days at the lake by taking me on a road trip and into the first store I'd been in four months.

 

There were celebrations, too, like my birthday!

 

 

Those summer days at the lake were good ones, being able to periodically connect with friends outdoors who took the virus as seriously as we did, figuring out where was safe to shop and where wasn't, and enjoying the late summer harvest with tomatoes, corn and squash.

 

 

I thought this would have been finished long before the first of the year, but I actually finished shortly after January 6 and the riot in Washington, DC.

 

 

It's been almost a year since we shut down, changed our lives to accommodate a virus far smarter than e are. Now we've been vaccinated -- and still will be wearing masks and being aware of distance. 

 

My journal ran out of pages. If only Covid would run "out of pages," too.

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A Little Bit Stir Crazy

Would I be as sick of winter if we weren't still more or less shut in, awaiting Covid Vaccine Freedom Day? Oh, yes. No question. I'm done.

Rick was out of town on Saturday last week and I decided I'd do two things: stop at wine store that has curbside delivery and get their six-for-sixty package and then get take-out. Coral Gables is a pretty old restaurant in my town and the one where (in days of yore) I would meet with my former work colleagues for lunch. I want to keep them in business. And they bring the food to the car. 

Our gang, in the days when we went to a restaurant

Now, the city had plowed in my driveway a bit when they were plowing the street and it wasn't bad but I figured I'd best hit it pretty hard to get out. So I did. Let's just keep a couple of things in mind: when you have a lot of snow, your driveway seems to get more narrow throughout the winter. And, when you are going fast, it's best to go straight -- and not drive into a snowbank.

I am so fortunate to have great neighbors who both dug and pushed me out, and then blew out the offending driveway-blocking snow for me. Yes, the pizza was cold but there are remedies for that! And it was very good.

I'm reading a lot of posts about how everyone is just about "up to here" with staying in. Monique sent me a link to this video by The Marsh Family, a family of six who live in Kent, England, and have fabulous voices and a tremendous sense of humor. I laughed and I needed to laugh. I hope you enjoy. (You might want to check out their other videos, too!) 

I'm coming back "to" after a period of low motivation and today finally got the Christmas things put away in the basement, freed from the totebags in which they were taken downstairs. I still have my Happy Tree up, but it isn't long for this world. I'll miss it. (It will be down by this weekend.) And, since the guest room was a catch-all for "things you don't want to deal with," I pretty much have that under control, too. (The bed there has now become Lizzie's afternoon napping spot.) 

Rick went to Indiana to meet up with his niece and ski a bit. He was then to take her to her train back to Massachusetts and head home the next day. She had a negative Covid test and has been careful and they thought "no problem." Well, Rick found out that Indiana is not really big into enforcing masks. The hotel, which is more like an outdoor sports theme park in the winter, was filled with unmaskers. Inside. Restaurant, halls, everything. 

I have rarely seen Rick so freaked about anything related to Covid but this was too much. Even though he kept masked and had two vaccinations, he isn't outside the waiting period. So he decided that he would get a Covid test this week -- it was that bad. No distancing. No masks. No brains. I'm sure he's OK but we're keeping more stringent space till he gets results. (This just in! Negative test, yay!)

Speaking of which, if you are having difficulty finding places in your area to sign up for the vaccine, check out the link at Vaccinefinder. I was surprised to see many places in my community I didn't know were doing the vaccinations. I'm sure age ranges might vary state to state, but it's something to work with if you can.

I started this post on Rick's computer. I am finishing it on mine. It wasn't the hard drive. It still has its issues but my computer goddess, Kim, has it going a bit faster. She said it was doing really well on her internet but when we plugged in here, there were still issues. So, maybe part of the problem is Comcast. In any event, I'm still on the market for a new one, but it seems a bit less urgent now.

The weekend is here. And I know a little boy who is turning four!

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That's a Wrap!

I'm one to never "wish days away," knowing the older we get, the fewer days there will be to enjoy, and never more so than this year, when we've been all the more aware of the fragility of life.  But I suspect just about everyone in the world is eager to kiss 2020 goodbye and welcome a new year of hope. 

A vaccine for Coronavirus-19 may not completely prevent and not cure the virus, but if it helps makes it easier for us to become less sick and return a bit more to normal, then that's a huge gift and a great deal of hope.

 For some, 2020 has been especially tragic with loss of loved ones or income because of the worldwide economic situation due to Covid-19. I know several who have been sicker than they have ever been before, but who have made it through. Others are not so lucky. The constant vigilance -- remembering masks, extra handwashing and sanitizing, disinfecting food, keeping distance -- is critical -- but wearing thin.

We've had tremendous trials this year, beyond the virus.

These and differences of opinion on restrictions during the virus have torn relationships and cities apart.

But I have found certain joys during this year and it would be remiss not to look back and acknowledge those things for which I am grateful, cherished moments, and the things that makes every second of this life I have worth fighting for.

In January, Rick, Kevin and Molly redid my kitchen -- a deeply loved holiday gift! And in February, the new stove arrived! Yes, I'm grateful!

We also were able to see all of Rick's extended family on his Mom's side when we celebrated her 80th birthday in Dallas. (And I got to connect with Laura from Decor to Adore, too!)

 March brought a celebration of 23 years together for Rick and me! 

The next day, we visited friends Suzanne and Jim in Canada. Rick took off for a trade show which was canceled while he was enroute due to Covid. He headed home; I stayed in Canada for a few days and so grateful for those last few days of semi-normalcy! This was my last dinner out, in mid-March.

I'm grateful for these little guys. We didn't get to see them nearly often enough but I treasure every one of those more carefree times in the spring before Covid hit...

...and in the fall before we locked down again.

I became more in tune than ever before with nature and truly appreciated walks to the Ditch and savoring the beauty of nature, feeling relatively safe in my mask outside. Seeing the water birds, deer and new life in the spring was such a gift.

We were lucky -- we had food to eat....

....and a cottage to escape to, which offered spectacular sunsets to take my breath away. 

The change of seasons and the beauty those changes brought with them lifted my spirits in every way. From the first blossoms of spring...

....to the dazzling color display of fall, I was in awe.

Could we have made it through 2020 without the kindness of others? Those incredible doctors and nurses who kept going when feeling both exhausted and hopeless? The scientists who steamrolled through several vaccines? The grocery store workers that allowed us to be able to get food? The other "ordinary people" who helped out in any way possible? Early on it was those who made masks -- not just for those who were desperate for them in the early days of Covid (they did astounding work) but also for sharing them with us.

I appreciated those who offered curb side delivery (and still do!)

And simpler things, like my neighbor taking care of the weeds on my beach at the lake, saving my back!

How could I ignore virtual doctor visits and house calls from my vet who turned Lizzie's lethal paws into carefully manicured, talon-free feet.

We had two occasions for which to leap for joy -- the engagement of one cousin's son, Jeff, to the lovely Lauren...

...and the wedding of another cousin's daughter, Heather, to the handsome Mike. We had to enjoy that on Zoom, but that was OK -- at least we got to see.

Zoom. One of the best things to come from all this was the rise of Zoom so we could connect with friends or attend board meetings. For those who worked, it meant the difference of being able to function while working at home.

I accomplished a lot this year. I completed my 300+ page family history book (or at least the first draft -- I have a few revisions to do!)

I painted loads of watercolors, read lots of books, and paid off my mortgage, which we celebrated with friends at Southern Exposure. Safely!

 I was grateful that I could vote by mail.

And by the results.

And would I have made it through 2020 without this guy?

I don't think so. His January concert was nicely attended and his passion for his music and bicycle makes me smile. No one could have been more supported or aware and conscientious in keeping me safe this year. We have more or less distanced for 10 months. Hopefully the vaccine will let us be closer.

And then there was this one -- the Secret Keeper, the Bed Buddy, The Girl with the Motorboat Purr. She was the one who made me get up every morning because she does not like to start her day on an empty stomach!

It wasn't a perfect year, to be sure. But we're turning the page. It won't fix the losses of last year. Loss of life, loss of experiences, loss of precious time. But pretty soon we will be able to get more of these.

And I can't wait.

 Happy New Year!