Reemergence

 

I used to be an artist. I was actually pretty mediocre. Not nearly as good as I thought myself to be at the time. But I was young and could take classes of it in high school. It was really kind of a badge of geekness honor in the school where I went to be known as a frequent flyer on the fourth wing ancillary. I even taught a 101 level class in the college that I went to. I was still fairly mediocre. 

My soon to be son-in-law bought me a set of nice sketching pencils for my birthday. It had been decades since I actually just doodled. Interest in other hobbies, distain from my ex-husband and sheer exhaustion and depression are to blame for me giving up on the endeavor. His gift brought back the desire to pick it back up. Not only have I starting using the pencils, I bought myself a set of watercolor pens. 

Art is like writing. It gets better with practice. Atrophy happens with disuse. I am no longer mediocre, I have lapsed into purely pathetic. 

DIIIINNNGGG DOOONNNGGG!!!!!

 

My body woke me up at 6:30. I was despondent to see the counts still at 253/214. The days since the election seemed like going through birthing pains. But my depression didn't last long. Karen came into my bedroom to show me a text from Nora. Joe Biden had won Pennsylvania. For at least half of America a sense of hope has been restored. More than that, we have joy again! People are literally taking to the streets to dance and celebrate. 

Tomorrow we will have to face again the pain and devastation of the past 4 years. The next 10 weeks will be a battle as the other half vents their collective anger and despair. They aren't known for their civility. This is what I fear. But there is a light ahead. Better days are coming.

Vote

Our Voter Pamphlet arrived last week. We didn't get the ballots yet. They usually arrive a week or so after the pamphlet. I went online to check on them and found out that we shouldn't expect them until October 14. With so much voter suppression going on, I wonder about the advisability of sending them so late. The election is is three weeks. Of course it doesn't take much time to fill in a ballot and the closest drop box (besides the mailbox that we won't be using for this purpose) is less than a mile away. Once I get the ballot I can return it in the space of an hour. 

I am grateful for this. In Georgia most of my friends have already voted. But they have had to do it either with an absentee ballot or through early voting where they still stood in long lines for hours and not everyone demonstrated goodwill enough for others and refused not only to wear masks, but keep their distance. At least none of them reported redneck Nazi flag toting Rumpublicans and Proud Boys harassing them. 

I fear what is going to actually happen on November 3. Rumpublicans have already shown themselves to be a violent group, who while crying out for the same law and order that they ignore at their rallies. In a normal election I would read the resume, if not the curriculum vitae of the candidates and choosing the one who most aligns with my ideology. This year there is a much more important message that needs to be sent. theRump and his supporters need to hear the message strongly and clearly, "You are out of line and on the wrong side of history." I plan to vote a straight Democratic ticket and I hope and pray that the majority of Americans do the same. I am afraid that locking this maleficent genie back in a bottle is going to take more than the nation telling them they aren't welcome. I think that this fringe of society is going to cause problems for a long  time to come.

 

I Can't Believe I Forgot!

Do you ever walk into a room and can't remember why you are there? Or better yet, do you come home from the grocery store sans the one most important item you went there for? I do hope it isn't just me. I wrote the previous post with the intent of introducing our newest family member and completely forgot. 

While we were in Port Townsend Lady P's mother came by a couple of times a day to look in on the cats. Taylor has been a close family friend since she and Nora were in kindergarten. When they were eleven they picked up some kittens from a person at the grocery store. Nora's cat is named Simba and still lives with her. Taylor hasn't had  that stable of a residence. Her cat was originally thought to be a boy and named Oreo. That was until the already pregnant (somewhat questionable) Oreo gave birth to a litter of kittens. After that she has been called Mommas, and passed around between Taylor and her many relatives. Taylor asked my sister if she could come stay with us. We agreed with the caveat that she can come visit, but Mommas will stay with us. The cat is nearing thirteen years old and shouldn't be home insecure. 

Cheese has grown extremely feeble and spends most days curled up on a pillow. He ignores Mommas. Max and Ghost would be fine with her but she hisses and spits at them. Pippi is having none of it, and has attacked her a few times. But she gets as good as she gives with Mommas. Mommas is no push over. It has had the effect that Pippi is now more intent that she and I share my bedroom. I think she has chosen me as her person. I am very happy that Mommas has chosen Ken as hers.

So now this household consists of three humans, five cats and one dog. Hopefully Mommas will be the last creature that comes into our home. I worry about what will happen if we don't survive them.

First There Must Be a Catchy Title

Sorry once again for the long delay. There really is no excuse for it. I don't have any other pressing concerns that occupy so much of my day that I have no time to write. I do apologize for my neglect. Unfortunately, I don't have much of a plan to remediate the situation. It's not that I don't want to write. It's just that I really feel overwhelmed by the rapid fire crises that we have been embroiled in for the past four years. As we roll toward November the fever pitch of the insanity is magnifying by quantum leaps. The only ray of light is the increasing probability of a democratic tsunami on November 3rd.

It was the beginning of September when I last blogged. We had just spent an afternoon with the little girls. I have decided to quit calling them the three little kittens. With the volume of cats we have, the name seems a bit confusing. We met the little girls at a park. I was uncomfortable with the laxity of social distancing that was taking place. In general, all the groups were keeping their distance from each other, and most adults were wearing masks. But children are children, and it was a bit dicey. 

A few days later, my sister and I met a friend at the outdoor seating area of Zola's. And the next weekend we went to Everrett to meet up with Julie and Nikkle. Again, masks, distance and outdoors were employed to keep everyone safe. It still seemed a bit unsafe. And being out in a touristy area I was unsettled with the laxity that other people were exhibiting. 

A couple of weeks later it was my niece's birthday. Nora has been visiting, wearing a mask and limiting it to mostly outdoors for a few months. My sister wanted to have a small party for her. Again, it involved masks. But it also involved another child who at thirteen months old was unrestrained by any understanding of viral spread. I will be calling her Lady P.  By the time of this party the California, Oregon and Washington wildfires made the air quality in our area dangerous. We brought the party into our home. There were only four people (including Lady P) who were not part of our household and less than the ten people total. Even so, I spent the next day cleaning the common areas of the house. 

Shortly after, we went to the Port Townsend, Sequim area for a long weekend. It was much needed. The smoke from the fires was very unhealthy and we needed to get away. As it turns out, a thick fog moved in with enough on and off rain to damp down some of the fires and clear the air. That night the view was eerie, but the rain was welcome by everyone. Within a few hours of being there we were all feeling much better.

The next morning most of the smoke was gone and we had a day of just dreary weather. Even in fog and smog it is an incredible vacation spot. On the third day we woke up to a beautiful early autumn day. I have so many awesome pictures I want to use, but here is just a sprinkling...

Looking for Pizza in Port Townsend

Spooky church in Uptown

Best Crab Sandwich and Fish & Chips

Beautiful third day

We stayed in a cabin that was about ten miles away from either town. The cabin, while billed as a motel was actually a family farm. It didn't have WIFI which became a blessing. The greatest gift of the weekend was being unplugged for a few days.

It had the atmosphere of the Bates Motel if you were expecting a Holiday Inn. We weren't, but were still a bit uneasy. I'm glad we stayed. It was clean and comfortable and the owners were nice enough. Being away from everyone and everything was worth the lack of sophistication.

On arriving home, we made two decisions. The first is to push the genie back into the bottle and become more conscious to keep ourselves safe from the virus this fall and winter. The second seems contradictory to the first, but it isn't. We have decided to go on a similar trip just before the election. This time when we were looking for accommodations, we focused on places where people complained about the WIFI in the reviews. We found one that will have us sitting on a Pacific beach. The state will probably have to go backwards on lockdown and we don't expect the shops and bars to be open. We are just looking forward to a quiet beach in a cabin away from others and the vitriol of the election.

You know, I may just start calling the three kittens Ladies A, B and C.

How are you all doing?

In the Days of Corona

 

The summer is slowly strolling past us. In a normal year this would be a lament. In 2020 this is almost a plea. It would be a plea if it weren't for dread of what is next on the calendar. I love those FB memes that has someone questioning "Who had square dancing hurricanes for August?" Here in Washington, we have had plague and protest. Though, we have been spared the weather craziness the rest of the world seems to have been embroiled in. It begs us to question what is next on the agenda in the upcoming months. A volcanic eruption or a slide of the Andres Fault anyone? To speak of another meme, if 2020 were a birthday candle it would be a pile of burning cow manure.

And our government? What a shit-show! I am so sorry, but there simply is no polite way to express it. It's a daily sucker punch to any sense of reality. Jules Verne and Kurk Vonnegut could not have come up with a better plot. We have a president who is using a secret police and is empowering domestic hate groups to attack people on the streets. They are out turning peaceful protests into riots and murder scenes. The president himself supports white supremacist and terroristic conspiracy theorist. He is ignoring and empowering Russian aggression. And all this while his mismanagement of the pandemic response has cost the country nearly 200,000 souls and set us in a financial depression. And does anyone know what is happening with the children in cages? I cried tears of hope while watching the Democratic National Convention. I am praying for a blue tide on November 3. I feel like Princess Leah saying "You are our only hope, OBiden Wan Kenobe."

As for that last statement, this is me speaking from my imperfect heart. I don't think that the Democratic party can save us. We have to do the hard work, each and everyone of us, if we ever hope to defeat racism in our time. I was raised in the south. Racism is taught  to us with our nursery rhymes and fed to us with our pablum. There are values that are buried so deeply in the filter which we see the world we don't notice that they are racist, and wrong. I have been actively calling out and correcting my thoughts and attitudes and impressions since I was a young child. But I can't tell you how many times I read the words that I write and decide that I reject the idea as being just wrong. To defeat racism every person has to examine his heart and chose what is true and just. I see that as a huge mountain that must be moved. We absolutely must do this work. 

My personal life. Well, I have been very alone. Regardless that I live with my brother and sister and five animals, even the hermit that I am is feeling the sting of isolation. I miss having a church and friends to hang around with. I miss the little girls. We actually had them with us last weekend. We met them at a park. Everyone wore masks and we all kept our distance as much as you can with three children. It was good to see them. But it wasn't the same as having them in our home. And it wasn't as safe as I would have liked it to be The park was crowded. People were being polite, but children are miniature germ factories. I don't think it is something we will be doing regularly for a while. 

Financially we feel blessed, even though we live on the low income specter. My brother and sister are both essential workers. They have seen increases in both pay and hours during this time. I claimed my Social Security and along with my pension, I am making roughly what I made when I was working. And when that is compounded by no longer needing to buy such things as gas, clothes and lunches to get to work, I'm doing okay. This has been an adjustment for me, a long and hard adjustment even if it is a happy one. I spent so many years worrying about being able to make enough money to provide for my children and myself. And now I don't work, but the money keeps coming in. I am free to spend my days as I wish. And the money just comes in. I was five years old the last time I was in this position. I can't explain it to you very well. But trust me, it has been an adjustment.

Cheese is still with us. The first thing that I was told about him when I came here was to not expect him to live too long. He has defied the deathwatch for the fourteen months since. We don't expect that he will be here again for Christmas. He is so weak and feeble. But he is still fairly happy. He enjoys sunning himself on the front walk. He has his animal and people family here. He likes to lick the gravy off the top of the cat food, but he isn't interested in eating much else. As long has he seems happy and reasonable comfortable we will do what we can for him. 

I am afraid that if I don't end this here, it  will become another of the twenty or so drafts I have sitting in my posts folder. Even as I write this I am sure that something is happening somewhere that will have me shaking my head and saying "Never would I have ever imagined this in my wildest." 

Wear a mask, wash your hands, don't touch your face, and vote in November. #bluetide

Signs of Revival

I rode my bike past the market today. I didn't really need anything so no stop was made. But I noticed a sign has been hung announcing a new bakery to be opened in the strip. What a bold move. It felt incongruous to attempt to open a business as so many around it are still shuttered. There was no estimate on when it will be opened. It seems that even getting the correct licenses and permits would be a monumental task. If it opens, I will probably try it out. Though, I have never had Chinese takeout from the shop right beside it. 

My grandparents were children during the Spanish Flu pandemic. They never really talked about it. My grandmother talked about being taken out of school after her 4th grade year. That would have been about the time the second wave of the pandemic would have hit. She made it sound as if she'd been taken out to work in the boarding house her parents ran. She said that she was kept home to help cook and do the laundry. She was taught how to play the piano, garden and sew. I thought that she meant that was the end of her formal education until I found a high school picture of her on Ancestry. I suppose that what she was really talking about was the year or so she may have spent home while the flu was in the community. She was an only child. It would make sense that her mother wouldn't have been too keen to send her out to get sick. I wonder if my ten year old grandmother hadn't understood the reason that she wasn't allowed to go to school that year. The kicker on this is that while my grandmother was a very intelligent and curious woman, the skills she used her whole life, she probably learned in the time she didn't go to school. The only paying jobs she ever held were teaching and playing the piano and organ and sewing clothes for other people. 

I wonder if my grandson, like her, is developing the skills that will help take him through life during this time that he is being home schooled. 

Imagine That!

I walk away from blogger of ten minutes and the whole thing changes! I'm kind of up in the air on whether I like the new changes or not. Mostly right now, I'm thinking not. Really I think that right now when everyone in the world is dealing with their whole lives changing, making us adapt to changes on this platform is a bit sadistic. Can't we have any place that seems familiar and safe? Sheese!

Yes, it has actually been far longer than ten minutes. It's been about three weeks.  My head has not been in a good space. I produce quite enough words that I need to chew on that I was hesitant to spew them here. Truthfully, this is all new to all of us. A couple of months ago, I thought that it was fine to go to a birthday party because there weren't likely to be many children at it. Turns out, that party on the ninth of March was a really poor idea. But it seemed moderately safe and noble at the time. Likewise, closing everything down, it still seems like the right thing to do now. But there are people who are desperately hurting because of this. 

Recently I read a Facebook question posed by my friend, Warren. He is a chef and restaurateur who has spent months with his sole source of livelihood shut down by the virus. He asks:

"Okay Corono-folk. No BS here. I'm posting this cuz I want to hear what YOU'RE doing that is working, and how. Lemme explain: I really don't want to hear from anyone who's drawing a paycheck right now. You're advice might be legit. But right now? I'm thinking, 'Screw that". You know who you are. If you want to tell me how 'we're all in this together'? Post it somewhere else. I want to hear from folks who're actually trying to pay their rent or figuring out how to feed their families."

The question goes on, but Warren's frustration was just being vented and it isn't necessary to the discussion. 

Mindy answered, " I have been stuggling since February to pay my mortgage. No work and being let go in January was a huge hit to the family income. My husband is a painter and we live in the wettest state in the US. That means no work for months for him either. I have been getting unemployment since January but that is a measly $245 a week. My mom has been helping out with food for my kids and animals. I told hubby he needed to do instacart until painting starts back up. That has helped. Still can't pay mortgage and we are 3 months behind. The stimulus check that came went to one of the payments and the rest to our power bill. I have been applying for jobs, but we are still on lockdown and no one wants you to just show up. I have been denied for all the jobs I applied for. 2 were for the unemployment office doing intake reviews. So right now, we are just barely getting by."

Gloria answered, "We are losing over 2000 to 3000 a month with our business dried up"

Katie answered, " My husband and I saw our Airbnb's empty. We shut down our mortgage payments for a few months. We shut down a couple credit card payments. We rented our places out for a huge discount to short term renters.

There were many more answers, Warren has a lot of friends. I was struck by their frustration and their sadness more than anything. It is easy to say "Someone shouldn't have to die to protect your bottom line." until you are saying it to the person who is desperate and has no where to turn and no idea how long it will last. Shutting up and listening to them has given me if not a new perspective, at least a kinder one. There are no simple answers here. Many places in the US have reopened restaurants, including the one Warren lives in. But starting back up isn't as simple as unlocking the doors and putting out the menus and silverware. It gives a new perspective when I want to simply say that peoples lives are more important than a bank account. Yes, it's still true, but people need more compassion than that.                                               

 

 

 

 

Cheeseburger in Quarantine

The truth is that I'm a natural born hermit. Mother Earth sends us all to our rooms to think about the harm we have done, and I pretend to stomp off down the hall. But on the inside I'm a child skipping for joy. I get to spend an hour or so alone in my room with my books and my crafts. YIPPEE!!!

But I am only halfway a hermit. I have always been a friendly person. I put myself out there and meet people. I make friends every where I go. I have been friends with a lot of them for decades. I enjoy their company. But then I go home and I shut the door behind me. My shoulders relax. My anxiety melts away. I read my books. I poke at writing one. I knit and sew. I pinch sprigs off of live plants and turn them into another thriving plant. I pray. I remember. I introspect.

I prefer being alone a very large amount of time. It's difficult to accomplish when I live in 600 sq ft with 2 other people. We are blessed by being alike in this. All of us need our space a good amount of  time. We aren't perfect in balancing it, but we do pretty.

I was thinking today how lucky I am that my life basically hasn't changed that drastically yet. While it's true I can't go sit down in a nice tea room or restaurant, I have tea and food. I can ride my bike around. Karen and I can still drive into the passes and admire  the overwhelming beauty. I am blessed.

The reality is that the whole world has changed on a dime. People are struggling to the point of desperation. People are getting sick and dying. The whole world is out of work and on the verge of bankruptcy. The food supply chain is broken. How can famine not follow? And I don't believe that much is going to get better in this country for a very long time. My bubble looks nice right now. How long can it last.

Still, I was home inside my house today. The weather was nice enough to open the windows and let the fresh air in. I rode my bike around town. I found a pink dogwood tree in full bloom. It was lovely. On the corner of J Street and Main there is a house where the elderly sisters sell cuttings from their garden. I left a note on their table yesterday asking if they were willing to sell me a cutting from their geraniums. Today I rode by and there were 3 cuttings sitting out with a note asking that I pay $1 each for them. I only had a $5 so I left it. It's more like what the plants are worth anyway. The cuttings are healthy and I'm sure we will enjoy them. We have some violas that have self seeded from the baskets we had last year. I dug them up and put them into the baskets. The mint is coming back too. My brother doesn't like mint, but I have convinced him that it repels pests. It does, but cats are better. He wants to cut down the black berry and raspberry vines. I didn't argue. But we may need them if things get bad.

 I spoke with Mollie on Messenger for three whole hours. She was having a spell and needed someone to talk with. While we were talking Pippi Longstockings decided she liked the conversation and wanted to join in. Soon Max and Cheese joined us too. Mollie fell in love with Pippi. She wants to keep her. Good thing she lives in Chicago and can't come get her. Mollie found out that the bar she has been working at for the past 4 years will not reopen. She is upset because it was the reason she moved to Chicago in the first place. She wants to get out of that business anyway. I told her that she needs to start researching the community trade schools and colleges in the area. To get the country running again a lot of people are going to need to be re-educated to do different jobs. I will bet that there are going to be tuition assistance to bring about recovery. She needs to be in a position to move quickly when that happens. I think that she may have listened to me this time. But she doesn't believe me when I tell her that 28 is prime time. She is young enough to change her life and take it in a better direction. I hope she does anyway.

So now it's late. And it is in the wee hours of the next day. Maybe, just maybe something good will happen today. We can always hope.

Baked Potato

I make a mean baked potato. I really do. I make baked potatoes that are moist and delicious inside with crispy skins. Serve them with plenty of butter and a pinch of salt. It is a real feast.

When my mother died I had been over at her house for about a year taking care of her in the day while my sons were in school. I'd make dinner and leave it warming for when my brother came home from work. He took care of her in the evenings. I took care of her in the day. He got used to my cooking then, but for some reason he thought that I boiled those potatoes. So, my mom died and I didn't think that I needed to be over at the house every day. We were young, but he was 28 and I was 32. I thought for sure he knew how to cook a little. He didn't. About two days after all the family left he called me to ask how to boil a potato. "Mmmmm...you put it in a pot with water and put it on the stove. You turn on the eye and let the water boil until the potato is soft."  Then he asked me if that was how to boil a hotdog too. I lost a little faith in his intellect just then.

The truth that keeps missing me is that my brother loves potatoes. He especially loves them baked. Over the week we had gathered bits and pieces of left overs in the fridge, enough roast or sausage gravy for just one person, a couple of scoups of sour cream, assorted vegetables, but not enough of any to make a serving. I put the vegetables in the stone soup freezer bag. Then put potatoes on to bake. I cut a small head of broccoli and steamed it. Then I cut the roast up finely and added it to the sausage gravy. I heated that up in a frying pan by adding a quarter cup of water, and sour cream just for variety. And there we had dinner. And we used up left overs while keeping dinner fresh. My brother really doesn't like leftovers if he can identify them from another meal. There were too many kids in our family to have ever eaten them as children. So we are spoiled that way. But I am adverse to throwing even a few scraps out right now.

Here is the thing. I think the food distribution system is on the edge of collapse right now. We might be on the brink of a famine. Crops aren't being planted of harvested. And meat packers are showing themselves to be the hustlers they are. We can't afford to waste anything. I have a freezer full of meat and a pantry lined with canned vegetables. I have dried beans, rice and pasta. I'm pretty sure that I could feed us through the summer. But what happens in the winter?

I used to grow potatoes in plastic garbage bags. I thought that I could do it here, but Ken pointed out that it would draw pests to our house. We live by the railroad track. It will. He's going to bring me some of the 5 gallon buckets that people are so fond of using for almost everything. They throw them away where he works. I'm going to attempt to grow them in those. We can put a sturdy wire mesh over the pails. Someone told me that I'd need to get seed potatoes to do that. I've never bought a special potato to grow plants with. I just use whatever potato that is getting past it's prime and growing "eyes". Then I get really crazy and start thinking where I could put a chicken coup and rabbit cages. No, I'm not really planning to do that. My brother is a picky eater. I don't think he'd eat a family pet. And that is what he make them. He doesn't remember when the older ones of us were small. We almost always grew our own meat. I'm sure if I cooked a rabbit I'd be accused of slaughtering Thumper. It's just that the short term future isn't looking so bright to me. And that is if we manage to survive the Pandemic.

It's time for me to stop, to go to bed. After all, "Tomorrow is another day."