Just Another Day with Lizzie

Lizzie has been awfully sweet of late. I don't think she likes the rain storms -- I often find her huddling at my feet or even (shock and awe) jump up on the couch, curl up and sleep. I'm not complaining!

I think back to the time eight years ago this month.

My sweetest boy, The Marmelade Gypsy, had lived a long, loving life and when he moved on, I didn't think I would ever smile again.

It took a few months of coming home to a quiet house, of so many tears that came and went with remarkable unpredictability. But when a friend was fostering an abandoned mom-cat and her kittens and the kittens had found their forever-homes, the mom-cat was still at liberty. I went over and "met her" and I laughed for what seemed like the first time in ages.

She may have been a mom-cat, but she was still a kitten herself when she came my way. My vet bet she was about 10 months old when they "met" in October.

I have to say, the first months were not easy. Lizzie is nothing like Gypsy. He never met a lap he didn't like, especially mine. And it didn't matter if that lap was filled with a newspaper, book or craft project. I was his. Lizzie, on the other hand, didn't "do" lap. She didn't like to be picked up, sit close. She was her own girl.

It took more than seven years for her to fully settle. We would practice lap, thirty seconds at a time. And it's still not her favorite place. But she has turned into a loving close-sitter, a yappy girl with a tone that rivals Ethel Merman, and an animal that seems to have vocabulary comprehension of three phrases -- "Birds!", "Good Girl Treat!" and "Food!" I'm not sure she even knows her name.

She's been a good companion in these days of quarantine. The secret keeper for when my anxiety gets too high, the creature that needs me if for nothing more than two squares a day and maybe a snack before bed.

I think I'll keep her!

For the most part I have ordered groceries online through Instacart. It's a little more expensive but for now I feel more comfortable doing that. But I did my first grocery pick-up. There is a small "general store" in Lansing's Old Town that had wine and locally sourced meat. I want to see them continue to thrive when all this is over.

Easy peasy! I loved that I could pop the trunk and hands-free all the way!

I didn't order scallions because I am learning how to grow them on the window sill, thanks to an article in the New York Times. If you save the root and a bit of the onion part of the scallion, put it in water and change the water daily, new scallions will grow! So far, so good!

Meanwhile, groceries and mail still stay in quarantine, I worry about every rain storm (and kicking myself I didn't replace my basement windows in the fall instead of waiting till the spring and then Covid-19 came along.) There's a problem not with my sump pump but in its "trough" that will require repair and I'm not looking forward to welcoming a repair person to the house. He'd better be wearing a mask. (I couldn't get an appointment till June 16!)

But the lawn is green and growing...

...and the neighbor's crab apple tree was beautiful. Alas, the petals are gone now but it was good while it lasted!

No complaints.

And, if I have them, I know who to tell.

Cooking in Quarantine and Virtual Southern Exposure

I have been plugging along on my family history saga during these lockdown days and once I hear from a few of the cousins, I think I can at least wrap up a first version I can send them all as a pdf. It's 240 pages right now (a lot of those are photos) and every time I proof it, I find something else to change.

That's been the big project of late, since for much of April and May the weather was so cold and unwelcoming that it felt like a good time to clamp down and do it. Besides, you can get a lot done while things are baking!

My favorite lemon bread is always a must. I like having several loaves of this in the freezer to share with someone who does something nice for me. Or just to hand out "because." It's fun to have something on hand to help say "thank you."

One of Rick's tenants volunteered to do a grocery run so I made some chocolate chip cookies to share with him. I also shared some with friends Kate and Mike who brought me some of Mike's birthday cake. We did a hands-free hand-off in the driveway.

I think that might have been the night I made beef stew. I had stewing meat for more months than should probably be allowed in my freezer and it was time to use it or lose it. It was really good. I wish we'd had more leftovers!

The lettuce and radishes I planted in pots have been very slow to come. It this rate, I'll have a salad by the fourth of July. I hope.

But I did do one fun thing -- a Virtual Southern Exposure. One of my "happy places" is an herb farm called Southern Exposure where several friends and I enjoy wonderful dinners and creative workshops. Of course, this year the first two of our workshops have been canceled.

But they decided they could do some virtual workshops. They would deliver the supplies to our front door and follow up with an instructional video.

Our project was a small moss basket with five plants -- thyme, kale, spinach, lettuce and a pretty pansy. My friends Kate and Jan and I got together and zoomed as we finished our baskets.

It wasn't quite the same but the basket is pretty and we had a good time.

Do you know what a "buckle" is? I didn't, but I had blueberries in the fridge that needed to be used and so when I found a recipe for blueberry buckle in my King Arthur cookbook and realized I had all the ingredients, it seemed like the thing to make!

It was delicious -- much like a tasty coffee cake, one I'll make again.

This is a wonderful time for cooking and creating. I'm glad it's a good time for something.

Quarantine Life: Watercoloring My Roots

Louise Penny is one of my favorite authors, thanks to her wonderful Adam Gamache series. I receive her periodic newsletter and her words here resonated with me.

Am really hoping this finds you safe and healthy.  I am both, and relatively sane.  Have decided I am not actually stuck at home - I am now a "writer in residence".  And this quarantine is beginning to feel normal.  
How comforting, how disconcerting is that?  Comforting that we can indeed adapt, and quickly, to this radical new reality.  But disconcerting that it can feel anywhere close to normal.
I find I am both more relaxed and more anxious.  The rapid, scary, dismantling of all that we'd known and taken for granted, has slowed.  The restrictions on our freedom are now in place.  So there is less shock.  The ground beneath our feet has stopped shifting.  
And so have we.  
I find I am now less frightened.  But more worried.  About what the world, our lives, will look like when this is over.  About what 'over' even means.  
But then, I eat another chocolate bar, go for a walk, phone a friend, and feel better.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Louise Penny~~~~~~~~~

Or, you watercolor your roots.

We've been "in" for a long time, haven't we? I know I will continue that life for a long while to come. While I want those who are in businesses that have closed during the quarantine to again be able to work again, I have no desire to venture out of my zone, to step inside any store or restaurant or even order take-out. If they are counting on people like me to save the economy, they are in for a big disappointment. About the only economy I'm saving is Instacart.

The first grill out of the year felt all the more exciting! We've had a wretched cold, rainy spring and when you get a good day, you savor it!

I just don't trust people in restaurants or take out to be healthy or careful. I trust Rick.

I have lived my life in optimism and trust. Never blind trust, but still, trusting, willing to see the best in people. In recent weeks I have seen that -- and I've seen the worst. And everything in-between. 

I am shocked and disappointed that so few wear masks in public or mind social distance. It seems such a selfish thing to do. The more one is "out," the more they have the chance to catch covid-19 and pass it along, whether they have symptoms or not. That is a fact. These people put everyone's lives in danger. I'm sure that's not intentional but it still feels both ignorant and selfish, "all about me" in cases like this.

I am angry at protestors who storm my capitol city, many from out of state, and many who advocate assassination of our governor with threatening tweets, posts and signage. Their motive is more political than related to the virus. (I must confess, as they protest this morning at our capitol, we are in the midst of a thunder and lightning storm. I will happily mop every drop of water that rains into my basement if it will keep up all day.) I am aghast that a customer shot a security guard simply because he asked him to put on a mask before entering a store. At a different store, when asked by the clerk to please wear a mask, the customer grabbed her arm and wiped his nose and face on her sleeve. What has our world become?

As Louise Penny says, I am less frightened but more worried about what the world and our lives will be like when this is over. If it is over. And I don't think it will be. Not for a very long time.

I have seeds in starting trays and some in the ground. The trees in my neighborhood were in full bloom.

I loved passing them by and admiring their array of pink and white blossoms. Now only a few remain in flower.

I've read four or five books; felted gnomes and Santas, ducklings, lambs and French-attired bears. I've made scones and cookies, casseroles and soup, coffee cakes and muffins. I've painted birds and houses and the Toddler Twosome.

I'm close to finishing my book on our family history. I've enjoyed many walks to revel in nature at the Ditch and quiet moments with Lizzie at home. I've spend wonderful evenings with Rick and if it was possible, this has brought us even closer.

I read blogs and loads of articles I find in various sources. I watch British mysteries on Acorn, video on Netflix. I think I've seen every Perry Mason episode and way too much news. I disinfect my groceries and make lists of all the things I can cook.

And yes, the rains have come. And yes, I've been bailing my basement. This was the what I walked down to. And then it got worse. Fortunately, it is storage only and everything is elevated so no damage, but it's just super annoying.

I've lost eight pounds and my hair has grown out a good inch or so. I've whacked at it, unable to see the back of my head as I cut blindly. I don't worry about this too much because the only person I see with any regularity is Rick. Everyone else is too socially distant away to notice.

The roots have gone silver -- there's a good inch or so that I see at my hairline or when my hair is heavy enough to droop from the top of my head.

And so, I watercolored my roots.

Have you tried finding hair color online? Good luck with that. Good luck with finding powdered root color, too. It exists. They're just out. Just about everywhere. There is a world of women who are beginning to look like their mothers and it scares them. It scares me.

Now, lest you should think I've gone totally around the bend, I only do this on occasion (it washes out nicely, which isn't necessarily a good thing) and since I can only see the front, it is of marginal purpose.

Use a stiff brush and the cheapest water colors you can find. This is not the time for your Windsor-Newton or Daniel Smith palette. You'll only be able to get what you can see unless you're better with a mirror than I am. I suppose I could ask Rick to do the back (no -- not on a bet!) but the rest of my hair covers it up! It worked quite well. (No watercolor? Eye shadow and applied with a stiff brush works, too.)

Oh, and don't go walking in the rain or else you'll be dripping watercolor down your face. Other than that, it works just fine!

It's not like there's anything else pressing. Just think of it as a break in the action.

Or, learn to live like Lizzie. Eat. Nap. Nap. Eat.