Quarantine 15?

In the past week, Vince and I have planted flowers, dug tree roots out of the ground, and pulled weeds. I also helped him with his latest Farmer Brown scheme of building a raised bed in which to grow vegetables this summer.

This, as you may know, is wayyy more diggin’ in the dirt than I prefer.

Frankly, I’d prefer to keep my hands as far away from the dirt as possible. Like if I never had to touch a rake or trowel again, I’d be perfectly fulfilled and happy.

But when the neighbors’ dogs head straight for your yard to chew on the weeds for their daily doggie salad, well, you bite the bullet and start diggin’ and pullin’.

Despite these dirty, sweaty efforts, I find myself woefully unprepared for the summer.

Why?

Well, because I fear I have joined the ranks of those who have gained the Quarantine 15. You know – those fifteen extra pounds that creep up when you can’t get to the gym to work off all that comfort food you’ve been consuming over the past several stay-at-home coronavirus months.

Sure, walking Maggie Minx five or six times a day is helpful. And lifting and dumping 25 lb. bags of dirt into the raised bed in the 90 degree heat has to count as some sort of exercise. Doesn’t it?

But when I put on my favorite summer parrot shirt and it’s a little snug around the waist when I button it, well, that does not make for a happy me.

I guess it’s a good thing Farmer Vince is planting vegetables.

And it’s a really good thing I don’t know how to bake bread.

One of the biggest complaints we had during the height of the shelter-in-place order was that we couldn’t stick with the fresh vegetables and daily salads that we’d previously enjoyed. Only going to the store every couple weeks precluded having fresh lettuce and veggies on hand.

The other thing that was a little disconcerting during this time was that we found ourselves purchasing comfort foods like chips and cookies and cheese and bread. These are items we had pretty much eschewed while we have been living a healthier lifestyle the past couple years.

So I say it’s time to get back to that healthier lifestyle. Besides, I’m getting a little sick of the junk food, believe it or not.

Now we just need those homegrown veggies to hurry up and grow.

Bring on the salads – and I don’t mean the doggy salads in our flower bed!

Oh, What a Night!

The other evening I took Maggie Minx for her 29^th walk of the day (this is only a slight exaggeration), and I happened to glance up at the sky. It was one of the most beautiful sunsets I think I’ve ever seen in Westerville, Ohio.

I was barely able to snap a quick photo before our abnormally strong 10 pound dog dragged me on our way. If she’s out, she could care less about the pretty sunsets. She just wants to sniff and leave some pee mail for her fellow canines as if to say: “Maggie Was Here.”

Like most of the neighborhood doesn’t know that Maggie. Was. Here. She can be rather, uh, vociferous on occasion. No one would ever deem her the shy, retiring type.

Anyway, back to the sunset.

On the way back to the house, I managed to snap another shot and this one may have been even prettier.

 

Not only that, but I glanced in another direction – and I saw a faint rainbow. Which made me think of my dad.

After my dad fell and hit his head in June of 2016, I drove my mom to Canton to visit him after he had been admitted to the ICU. This was the beginning of a three week odyssey of ups and downs and progression and regression that ultimately ended with his death.

But that first night, he was awake and alert and we had hope even though he looked awful and we were so very worried about him.

On the drive back home to Alliance, there was an incredible double rainbow that lit up the sky. And we hoped that was a positive sign that dad would come out of this.

While it was not meant to be, I can never see a rainbow in the sky without thinking about my dad.

Just as sunsets and clouds make me think of my mom. 

One of the things I noticed once Alzheimer’s had a firm grip on my mother was her fascination with all manner of meteorological happenings.  She constantly commented on the color of the sky, particularly on those days when the sky was a vivid cerulean blue.  

And she obsessed about the shape and type of clouds, which had me scrambling through my memory banks of sixth grade science class trying to remember the difference between nimbus and cirrus clouds.  (When we couldn’t differentiate between them, I was able to consult Google. Gotta love the Google.)

Anyway, I suspect that by this point, Mom had lost her grasp on current events and recent memories, so she was able to contribute to the conversation by talking about the clouds.

There were moments I was sad listening to her talk about the sky – mostly because my mother had been an incredibly intelligent woman and she was never without an opinion on pretty much any topic.  But she could no longer track a conversation and didn’t really participate in our back and forth banter.

So now, whenever I do take a moment and look up at the sky, I think about my mom and her ruminations about the sky and the clouds.  

And I think to myself that maybe it’s not such a bad thing – to stop what we’re doing and look up at the sky and reflect on how beautiful and amazing our world is.

Guess mom can still teach me a thing or two, can’t she?

So…thanks, mom.  I miss seeing you due to this coronavirus thing. I hope we get to be with you soon.

And I miss you, too, dad. So much.

To-Do Lists and Whatnot in the Land of Covid-19

Happy Tuesday one and all. How you doin’?

I’m okay. This is the third day in a row I’m attempting to finish a blog. Let’s see if I can finally cross this off my To-Do list. {Flexes fingers in anticipation of some speed typing ahead…}

So here goes:

My Sunday’s entry was about how I had no motivation to do anything and all I managed to accomplish was a single load of laundry. Didn’t even put it away. Nor did I make the bed – and I’m a bed maker approximately 99.99% of the time.

I attributed my lack of motivation to the fact that Sunday was cold and rainy and dreary.

Yesterday, on the other hand, was warm and sunshiny and beautiful. And I was a busy bee scurrying about washing floors, polishing tabletops and cleaning glass. I washed, dried and put away three loads of laundry (plus the load I hadn’t put away on Sunday). And I cleaned four bathrooms.

Go me!

Vince also helped by vacuuming. I hate vacuuming. And when I do vacuum, I run the sweeper over the carpet like I’m trying to qualify for the Indy 500. I’m not even sure the wheels touch the ground.

This doesn’t, as you might imagine, make for deep cleaned carpet. Vince is slower and more methodical and picks up enough Jane hair to make me a wig and enough cat hair to build another cat. Well, if we had the other spare parts. And, heaven forbid, if we wanted a third cat in this house.

Which we don’t. Because then I’d probably have to help with the vacuuming.

So it’s good we were able to get some things crossed off our to-do list. Why? Well, because otherwise we’re going to let this house arrest thing with the current pandemic get to us.

And we don’t need that.

Worry these days is sort of par for the course. And, while I know worrying doesn’t really help matters any, it’s hard not to succumb.

I miss being able to spend this last little bit of time mom has left telling her in person how much we love her. And I worry I won’t get another chance. I also worry that her last hold on who we are will fade from her memory before we can see her again.

I worry about those who work in the health care field and I pray for their well-being as they take care of the sick and the elderly.

I am sad and frightened for those I know who have contracted COVID-19 and I pray for their return to health.

And I mourn with all those people who have lost loved ones during this time when they can’t even grieve their losses properly.

So we are adhering to the stay-at-home orders we’ve been given without complaint. (Well, without too much complaint, anyway!)

For the most part, I’m a rule-follower and try not to do things that will (a) land me in hot water, or (b) cause harm to me or those around me.

Yeah, I know. I’m a goody two-shoes from way back. What can I say – I can’t help it.

It wasn’t until I married Vince that I ever heard the saying, “It’s better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.”

What? This makes ZERO sense to me. Why would one want to live their life constantly asking people to forgive them for stuff they did that they could’ve avoided in the first place?

Yes, Vince knows he is supposed to have the
mask higher to cover his nose. We were in a selfie-hurry!

Fortunately, Vince is behaving himself and doesn’t need to beg for forgiveness for anything.

We’ve been on only a few grocery runs in the past six weeks, although we did venture to Costco last week wearing our masks. Ugh. I’ve gotta tell you, for me it was pure torture.

Besides the obvious health reasons we’re being asked to wear these masks, I think the covert objective is to limit our time out. Those masks are so uncomfortable I couldn’t wait to get home so I could take it off.

My ears hurt where the elastic fit around them. And my glasses were so fogged up I couldn’t see. I nearly bumped into an end cap of Pirates Booty popcorn and came very close to knocking the whole thing onto the floor.

I guess I would’ve been begging for forgiveness then, wouldn’t I?

Fortunately, the number of shoppers in the store was limited so I managed to avoid bumping into actual people. Heaven forbid I break the six foot social distance rule.  

As it was, I found myself weirdly holding my breath if anyone ventured anywhere near me. I’d scurry away from all humans and then take a deep breath so I didn’t pass out in the cereal aisle. This wasn’t a good thing as I started feeling like I was hyperventilating.

But we weren’t there for a casual stroll through the ginormous warehouse club and, really, once we were able to snag some fresh produce and finally scored our humongous case of toilet paper, we were outta there.

Since then, I’ve read of ways to reduce the amount of fog that wearing a face mask with glasses can produce by cleaning the glasses with either shaving cream or dishwashing liquid. I’ll have to give that a try before our next foray into the real world.

 

I don’t anticipate needing another Costco run for a while anyway. Our toilet paper shortage has been alleviated and we no longer have to ration our supplies.  

Maybe, in time, the “can you spare a square” line will fade from my memory.

And, maybe, in time, this whole COVID-19 pandemic will fade from our collective memory, too.

Probably not. But happy Tuesday to you all, anyway. Stay well.

How May We Be of Service Today?

So it’s Day 296 of the COVID-19 pandemic and we’re still shelter-social-distancing-in-place. I’m channeling my 9-year-old inner child and hoping everyone keeps their cooties far away from me.

What’s that? We’re nowhere close to the 296 day mark? You gotta be kiddin’ me, pal! (Now I’m channeling my old friend, Mrs. B!)

This stayin’ at home thing is a wee bit harder than I thought it would be.

But to keep myself occupied I’ve tried to find a few ways to be of service.

Some people – like my talented seamstress cousin – are sewing masks for hospital

and front-line workers. Some people are helping out their elderly neighbors by picking up food and supplies so the more vulnerable among us don’t have to risk their health.

And some people – like me – are trying to plant a few smiles.

I’ve been sending out cheery cards and newsy notes by the truckload. I’ve even sent cards to people I don’t know. I figured there must be residents in the assisted living/ memory care facility who are alone and lonely during this lockdown. So I’ve sent out cards to hopefully bring a smile to their face. At the very least, it might give them something to puzzle over:now just who is this Jane person and why is she sending me a card?

One day last week I was out at Big Lots and I was inspired to pick up a big yellow Easter basket. And then I quickly walked through the store filling it with treats for the residents at my mom’s memory care.

While I was at it, I also purchased some non-perishable food items and paper products for the staff at mom’s facility. Some of the workers there don’t get home until late and are having a difficult time finding the staples they need.

So Parkside sent out a note to our community asking for donations to their “pantry.” I happily filled a few bags, although – alas – I was unable to provide any of those much-sought-after packages of Charmin’.

But I felt good being able to do something to help.

And then a couple days ago a neighbor asked if we’d be willing to make twenty peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as a part of a church effort to feed the homeless. Normally, the group provides about 100 of these lunches, but the need has substantially increased so they were looking for 1000 bags.

So she put the word out and several neighbors stepped up to the PB&J plate, as it were.

While a thousand lunches sounds a tad bit overwhelming, twenty was nothin’ – so Vince and I got to work. We had an assembly line going the likes of which would have made Henry Ford himself proud. Well, if Henry Ford had needed an assembly line to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, that is.

We filled the paper bags and brought them over to our neighbor to distribute the next day.

And we went to bed that night feeling like we’d made a tiny little difference in someone’s life. Even if it was just for that one meal.

It’s never a bad thing to be of service to one another. And maybe we can even keep this effort going once our lives return to normal.  

In the meantime, I’ll be asking that question more frequently: how may I be of service today?

I Shall Pass This Way But Once

Every so often Vince meets up with some buddies for a little male bonding over a glass of scotch and a cigar. Or two.

This gives me a little “Jane Time,” which is equally as important. I may head over to mom’s place for a visit. Or I might run some errands. Or I’ll have my own catch-up time with friends.

Obviously, none of those things are options right now in the midst of this coronavirus pandemic.

Or are they?

Vince’s friend Steve suggested today that they all get together via Zoom – so Vince is out on the patio enjoying the sunshine and warmth while drinking a glass of scotch and smoking a cigar – and talking and laughing with his friends.

That’s simply awesome.

I just love the creativity I’m seeing right now both in talent and ideas. Musicians are singing and playing for us online. The funny memes are out of control. And there are an awful lot of TikTok and Facebook Live videos being posted that are everything from the silly to the sublime.

But even better - families are taking walks together and friends are gathering in the street (albeit 6’ apart). I even saw a creative way some girlfriends got together by parking their vehicles in a semi-circle and sitting in their open trunks to hang out together and laugh.

I think we are all rediscovering the important things in life. Like life itself. And treasuring the time we get to spend with people we care about.

And maybe when this is all over and we are once again able to eat a meal in a restaurant or watch a game on the TV at a sports bar or gather together for, well, any reason at all, we will not take these things for granted.

When I was a kid I had a favorite saying. Don’t ask me where I came across it back then – but I can still remember it today. Maybe not word for word (as I’m old), but pretty close. I didn’t even know who the author was until I just now looked it up on Google. It’s by Etienne De Grellet (or Stephen Grellet – Wikipedia being what it is). But it reads:

I shall pass this way but once; any good that I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.

Good words to live by. Especially now.

Wishing you all a happy (and especially) healthy Sunday.