I'd take a photo of the fruit flies but they're so darned small and so fast I can't even slap them down!
I feel guilty about this -- being snarky about the rain when those out west are in such desperate need of rain. But when it is in your basement or leaking into your family room, you get a little testy. These hydrangeas used to be standing up. Now you can't walk to the back yard without fighting the flowers.
Random Thoughts with Equally Random Photos
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| I'm all for standing up -- but not in a roller coaster! |
I've been in Comcast Hell the past week or so. I was told I should replace my router, which I did. And then I had to install it. Well, first you move the book case behind which is the plug. (Which means moving everything out of it and later replacing, which was fine because it gave it a good clean-and-sort). Then you're on the phone for an hour while they try to get it together. Then, after you're transferred to the guy who activates your phone (who did help me a bit with the internet, too), you think you're done.
Nope. I was able to call out but all calls in are listed as blocked. After another half hour or more on my cell they said they had to refer it to people who deal with more complicated things and I'd hear in 24-72 hours. Well, I can tell you, it wasn't 24. (36 hours and still waiting.)
So, today I went to comment on a blog I enjoy. I'd opened it fresh and in any event, I refreshed it just to be sure. I keep getting this message: You have been flagged as spam/malicious by WordPress Zero Spam. I can assure you, there was nothing spammy in the content. No links, no offensive language, nothing that would indicate I was spamming. I've been in WP chatroom now for two hours and hoping for an answer. So far, on other WP blogs I'm fine so I think the issue may be with the blogger's settings -- nonetheless, it's frustrating. (End note: Yup -- the problem was with a plug-in on the other person's blog. WP figured it out and while they couldn't fix it, I could alert her and she has it taken care of!)
While I'm lucky to be fully vaccinated, I'm still being very careful. Michigan is one of the places in the U.S. where the virus is resurging fast. You know you are in trouble when you keep hearing your state on the radio and national news. So, now that I'm carefully venturing out into some stores, I'm still being very cautious and double masking when in busy places.
New York Times had two excellent articles this week -- one on the "Easy Way to Do Double Masking Right" for the most protection. (Hint -- if you're just putting on two masks, one atop the other like I was, you can do better!) The other is a terrific Q&A on what's safe and what you should think about after you have been vaccinated.
Last night we had friends for dinner. Inside. Without masks. More on this later but it felt really good. And really weird! And really wonderful.
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| "Raggedy Ann" by my aunt Eleanor Porter |
On Taxes
My taxes are done and filed! Hooray. I feel for my accountant -- after she had about half her clients done, the IRS changed some rules and filing info and made certain things retroactive (not things that applied to me, fortunately). So, once she's done with the rest of her clients, she has to go back to those submitted and do amended returns. At least they extended the deadline!
Not long ago I had a comment from someone who mentioned "You don't reply to comments on your posts" (and had plenty to say). I went to their site to explain why and it turned out to be a phishing site to see domain names. (I didn't publish the comment because of that.)
With new readers and even old friends I thought I should clarify that. I love comments, each and every one. I read them all, sometimes even save them in a special file. I'm often a few days slow doing it, but if I have your email address, I reply directly to each one (unless life is a little crazy, then all bets are off). If you are a no-reply blogger (whether you know you are or not!) and don't have other contact info on your profile page, I'll visit your blog and leave a note there (although maybe not after every comment -- if you haven't reposted, I hate to clog your comments with the multiple thank you messages!)
Why not on my post directly? I guess it's because I'm not sure how many return to read the comments after they've stopped by. I know I don't, with a couple rare exceptions where the comments are more like a continuing dialogue related to the post.
I think Rick wonders why I reply at all and I know a lot of you don't. I guess I feel that this takes blogging up a notch from just being a reader to being a blog friend. Wonderful relationships have sprouted up from off-blog emails. Even with those that just remain friendly thank you's, I feel if someone took the time to read my posts and then comment, if I can thank them, I will.
So, thank YOU for reading this!
Back soon -- have a good weekend and new week!
Autumn. A color ride, a stop at the pumpkin farm for cider and donuts. It was a glorious day, the sky that brilliant blue you wish you saw every day. The sun was out and the clouds were puffy. It was a perfect day. Well, almost.
I should be there with two toddlers, taking photos of them with the scarecrow or admiring the pumpkins that were bigger than they were. Then we'd go pick out a pumpkin or two to take home.
We'd have a donut and cider (I wonder if they like cider?) and they would run far faster than anyone else at that place could.
And yes, they'd definitely be impressed by the tractor!
I'm OK till times like that. Just don't think ahead, go from day to day. "Be like Lizzie"-- think from meal to nap to meal to playtime. Don't think about what you don't have right now, think about what you do. Good enough health, a paid up house, a wonderful life partner, a chatty cat with whom I watch the birds, Netflix and Acorn and more books than I could read in a year.
But in the back of my head I have a bit of anger. It is the anger of stolen time.
I think many of us feel much the same. We are delaying visits with people we love because travel and being with others brings a threat far worse than the disappointment in staying home. If one is 30 or 40 or maybe even 50, it's a big deal in a different way. It's inconvenient and working from home with toddlers, I'm told, is not easy. Nor, have I heard, is online school. We miss casual lunches with friends -- inside. We long for the theatre or movies or the big game. Instead, we take walks by ourselves -- or if we are lucky, with a friend who stays at least six feet away.
But there is next year. And the year after. And probably many more after that.
But when you are in your 60s and beyond, and/or if you have challenging medical "co-morbidities" (one of the scariest words to come out of this, along with "ventilator" and the phrase "dying alone") it's a different deal.
We are being robbed of time when there is less time on the end of the life continuum to make it up. Things are more likely to happen. A devastating fall or diagnosis. Financial issues. Life complications.
Many of us canceled travel this year. I'm supposed to be in England now with a side trip to Paris. On the last trip, I went through the month with ruptured tendons in my foot. It held me back. I was looking forward to not having to deal with that this time. Of course, I might not "hold out" for as long as I'd like, but I might. But with every passing year, who knows? A hip? A knee? Cancer? We just don't know how many months or years we will be able to get on the floor and play with a toddler or travel the world. None of us do.
I can't even cross the border to visit Suzanne in Canada. She can't come here, either. That may be a good thing. My guest room looks like this. But if they'd open the border, I'd find the bed underneath that quilt in record time.
I don't mean to rant or whine. Well, maybe a little. But I understand all too well that there are those of us who are in far worse straits that I am. I'll miss Thanksgiving and probably Christmas this year. But for many, their holidays will be missing someone who will never come back to the table. Sometimes, and for many, they will be missing two or more people, integral family members, well loved and lost forever except in memory.
I had my annual physical on Friday which went pretty well. I got my flu vaccine and also my pneumonia vaccine booster. No guarantees, of course, but all things considered, a good thing to have. Later that night, the chills started and then throughout the next day, a fever. Normally, I'd just think it was a bug or a reaction to the shots (which is not uncommon) but this time it took two calls to my doc to talk me off the ledge. It wasn't the feeling bad from the lack of sleep that night before. It was the worry of it all, the projecting. The fear that time stolen already was closer to being gone forever.
This week, those of us in the United States who haven't yet turned in their ballot for the elections, will do so. But for four years I have lived, as many have, in a state of anxiety as I've seen our country's reputation become damaged among the world community.
I've seen what Rick calls the "United States of aMErica" at its very worst, with people putting their own selfish wants and needs above the collective good, urged on by one who has done everything in his power to dismantle processes that protect the people, the environment and the country's integrity itself. It's not just the "rich getting richer," it's the poor and middle class falling desperately behind as valued services are reduced.
The rhetoric is vile and dangerous has an impact as Michigan's governor can tell you. Our international reputation is in tatters as we cozy up to dictators and disregard our longtime allies.
Those of us with health insurance through work or retirement, and/or medicare (and please don't put down socialism if you receive medicare) should not forget that millions of people lack health insurance, meaning attention to serious issues is delayed simply because one can't afford it. Unlike countries that have national health insurance or a "public option," far too many are slapped with devastating bills, leaving them in financial ruin.
And don't forget the pandemic. Just about everyone I know is stocking freezers and cupboards with sanitizer, disinfecting cleaners and food.
My best friend from grad school, Tom, now lives in New York but is spending a few days in the metro Detroit area as a poll watcher through the election and if needed after as a legal advisor. He came up for the afternoon and we had (till this photo!) a distanced meet up, talking old times and new. He said that already he has seen attempted voter intimidation and bad mask behavior by those coming to vote.
I choose to vote this year for kindness. For less anxiety. For science and the environment, for health care and for humanity. For respect. For people beyond those in my orbit. My taxes won't go up. Yours probably won't either. But even if they did, aren't some things worth it? I believe they are.
All votes matter. This year they matter more.
The past few weeks have felt very disconcerting to me. I'm back at the lake, quarantining from Rick. Or maybe he's quarantining from me. Either way, I don't like it.
If you look at some of the Covid maps, Michigan is getting in the red again and there's a big chunk of that red in Lansing where we live. You can thank the Michigan State University students for that, partying down with big groups, no masks or distancing. At the beginning of summer, our county had about 750 cases since March. In three months we now have over 3,000, over 1,000 in the past two weeks. Four times more in the past three months than in the first three months of lockdown. Fraternities, sororities and group living are in mandated quarantine; other students are advised to do so.
I will say people are being relatively good about masks -- it's a mandate to wear one if you want to go into a store. (Of course, the clerk at Tractor Supply up here had his hanging below his nose and a few customers didn't have them, but by and large it's pretty good.)
Try finding toilet bowl cleaner. Anywhere. And if you have rusty water as we do at the lake, good luck finding the "rust and lime" version. (Hence the visit to Tractor Supply where I scored the last bottle.) Shelves are empty. But toilet paper is in good shape, I'm pleased to say. Get it now while it lasts! Wipes are hard to come by too. But I did score some Lysol spray.
Oh, and here's a tip. If you are stocking up on hand sanitizer, read the ingredients. The one below is only 62.5 percent alcohol. That's not enough.
It must be at least 70 percent to be fully effective. At least, that's what they said at the beginning. Now I'm hearing this would be OK -- but my doc friend said go with 70 percent. So, unless I can't get anything else, that's what I'll do.
So, why are Rick and I quarantining? Or rather, why is he? Well, he went to visit the Toddler Twosome and had a wonderful day. But he didn't know till he got there that Molly had been to a bridal shower that morning. Now, she said it was masked (till eating) and distanced because the bride has immune issues, too. But there were four people seated at eight-top tables for eating and that's too close. When Rick and the kids all had dinner later, they were eating inside at a small table.
That would maybe have been enough to start our time-out, but the day before, he got a flat and a fellow kindly gave him a ride home. Neither were masked. Too close.
It was recommended we stay apart -- ten feet outside with masks for two weeks. He will get tested this week but was told to wait several days to ensure it might be more accurate. Good luck getting in the VERY long drive-thru lines, lines you can't even see the end of, and probably filled largely with students and people from the U who were in their path.
(The best thing about that day was talking on the phone to our little guy peeking out of the bike cab. We actually had a conversation, which isn't bad for a kid two years and two months. It wasn't a deep conversation. We didn't discuss politics. But he called me by name and said "I love you," (I think) and that was good enough for me!)
The thing that is getting to me is the never-ending pace. I get horribly angry at conspiracy theorists and Covid deniers. Yes. For some, it will be no worse than a flu. Some won't even know they have it. But for others, if they don't die, and many have and will, there will likely be lifelong physical complications of lungs, liver and heart. There's a selfishness to all of it. And yes, we're all tired of it. We want it over. But we want it done right. I feel like we're in the woods and aren't sure of the path out.
When I think of things -- and add to it the tragedies of hurricanes in the south and on the coast and fires in the west, I get overwhelmed. Toss in some civil rights issues and add the election to the mix and it gets insane. Our country is in its biggest mess in my lifetime and I don't like it one bit.
I get bitchy. I cry, unprovoked. Like now. I have dreams. I hadn't had Covid dreams since April but now I've had them many nights in a row.
If people would just wear the masks, keep the distance, stop attending superspreader events, wash up and follow guidelines, we might get this under enough control to wait out a reputable, fully-vetted vaccine. It won't be soon, but if everyone goes along with precautions, that time will move along a whole lot faster.
On another note, I've been looking terrible. The hair got out of control.
I didn't think it was as bad as it was till I did a selfie of the top of my head.
Thank you, Clairol. It was easier than I thought and I actually picked the right color, which is pretty good online! Lots less expensive, too!
So, that's our world these days. I leave you with someone who doesn't give a hoot about any of this...
This is one of "those" weeks. We just passed the anniversary of my mom's death. It's not like it was recent -- forty three years. But it just kind of sticks with me every year. Combine that with the lockdown and the weather and it feels bigger than it is.
I'm doing fine, really. So is Rick. We are healthy. We are financially OK. Some bumps that could have been big ones for him (losing a tenant from his largest duplex which is a good chunk of change) ended up well (new tenant moving in soon, and he looks like a good one).
And in all honesty, my days aren't all that different. I'm not sitting around being bored; there's plenty to do -- more than I'm doing, to be honest. There are more than a few jobs that should be getting done and aren't. No motivation. I'm too stuck to the computer. And the news. I try to wean myself from the news. I find if I watch BBC News, I get less stressed. Go figure.
I want to emigrate. Somewhere. Anywhere. But there's no place that's safe.
I'm frustrated that I'm not reading as much as I had hoped, or creating as much as I hoped (I will share a few of those things in another post; I haven't been totally idle).
It seems the only thing I want to do is cook. I will say, we've eaten well during this (once I finally pull an Instacart order together.) Curried chicken; parmesan, mushroom and shrimp risotto; chicken-artichoke casserole and lots of baking -- cookies, scones, lemon bread.
I have my routine. Get up, get dressed and feed Lizzie. Tidy up the kitchen. Computer and blog in the morning. I write to friends, check in on blogs. Clean Lizzie's box. Get on my breathing machine. Lunch. Take a walk (unless it's an ugly day out.) Get the mail, disinfect it and put it in the garage in its holding zone.
On grocery delivery days, I disinfect the food and leave as much as possible in the holding zone. Wash the veggies and fruit in soap and water and fridge or freeze. Back to the computer. Write a letter, pay a bill. Maybe do something creative or read or poke about in the yard -- do some sort of task. Get on my breathing machine. Eventually start dinner if Rick is coming. Feed Lizzie. We eat, watch something or maybe a game. He leaves. (Or, I go to his house for dinner.) I disinfect the door handles, remotes and phone, grab a book and get back on the breathing machine. Lizzie gets her snack and I get ready for bed, where I proceed to have dreams that are clearly connected to the virus. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Mostly, I worry. I worry tremendously about the virus and about being "out there." I don't see myself going "there" till there's a good vaccine. And we all know that is a very long time. Things may lighten up and I might feel comfortable going some places where I can keep distance, but I have little desire to do so.
