I cannot recommed Brussels sprouts in a Bloody Mary.

I am a little bit drunk.
I spent the afternoon in the sun at a park along the Mississippi River, talking on the phone for three hours to my friend Julia (Happify on IG).

On the way I passed the first crocuses I've seen this spring.

The girlette Tag

I came home and made Bloody Marys with HouseMate. We've been having a nightly happy hour. 
I've definitely been drinking more in the past couple weeks--or, rather, drinking differently--not just because, as before, I like a beer or a glass of wine, but now quite clearly because it's emotionally calming–– especially if I'm sharing happy hour. 

HM & I laughed so much making this cocktail (is a Bloody Mary a cocktail? I guess it is... but it seems like it's in a category  more like smoked fish)....

We were laughing because we didn't have the correct ingredients, except vodka---so we had to improvise.

(I've never made a Bloody Mary, but we looked it up.)

Instead of tomato juice, we put a can of Rotel tomatoes in the blender.

For the garnishes, we skewered raw garlic, a pickle, chunks of summer sausage (free food from the thrift store, two weeks ago), and Wisconsin cheddar cheese, and––instead of a celery stalk, we sliced Brussels sprouts lengthwise.

(This was NOT a success, in terms of flavor.)

Also, cumin, celery salt, fresh lime juice, and [required] Worcestereshire sauce.

We were laughing so much putting it together, that was better than the drink itself, though actually, it was quite good!

Then we sat on the back porch in the late-afternoon sun and ate Ritz crackers and sharp Wisconsin Cheddar cheese.

It was really nice!

So... here are a few catch-up photos.

The third Star Trek-themed face mask I've made. This one features Dr. McCoy.
(Don't get me started on the f*-up of management's protection (not) of their workers.)

Mz brought Penny Cooper to visit again yesterday!
We sat across the street from each other.

At the river, I saw an angel hanging from a nail on the phone pole.

And Low drew in the dirt.

I hope you are all doing okay. Are you? Write and let me know (here or on email)---I'd be happy to hear! One way or another.
Ciao!

Kaleidoscopes & Other Shifts in Consciousness

I. Good Vibrations

Yesterday bink & I FaceTimed --we've never bothered before, since we live in the same town.

Our toys wanted to sent out healing to the humans.
(Toy Reiki?)
 With my phone, I took this photo of my laptop screen-- SweePo and bink's bug sending you good energy:



II. A Moment of Consciousness

A very nice person on Instagram responded to me posting "embarrassing photo of yourself as a child" (an invitation going around on social media). (I shared the photo of me miserable at fifteen, wearing tube socks). The person said:

"These types of pictures bring you back to a time that no matter what was going on in the world, as a kid you were blissfully unaware."

I don't much relate to the concept of a time when I was conscious but blissfully unaware of what was going on. I didn't, or course, know political details (not until I was five or so, and the Vietnam War was at the dinner table and on TV), but I had a sense of the scariness of the world from early memory.

(I think perhaps we too easily forget what childhood is like...)

A guiding memory is a scary dream from before I was five (when we moved house): 
I was among? or actually was? a tiny grain of dirt looking up through blades of grass at the sky.
It was terrifying.

That dream always fascinated me--what was it I experienced? 
Was it my consciousness clicking into an awareness of being separate and finite? 
I think it was something like that.
Very scary at the time, . . . but useful.

It's like a favorite film of mine, the 9-minute doc "The Powers of Ten (and the Relative Size of Things in the Universe)", where very quickly as you zoom in or out by leaps of adding a zero, you reach vast empty spaces.
You can watch it here:
www.eamesoffice.com/the-work/powers-of-ten

This morning I read this quote from Czeslaw Milosz, and it weirdly reminded me of the perspective of my childhood dream.

Milosz is writing about "a moment from Nazi-occupied Warsaw":

"A man is lying under machine-gun fire on a street in an embattled city. He looks at the pavement and sees a very amusing sight: the cobblestones are standing upright like the quills of a porcupine. The bullets hitting against their edges displace and tilt them.
Such moments in the consciousness . . . judge all poets and philosophers."

"Milosz wanted to write poems that could survive such a judgment."

––From the New Yorker article, "Czeslaw Milosz’s Battle for Truth:

Having experienced both Nazi and Communist rule, Poland’s great exile poet arrived at a unique blend of skepticism and sincerity." *
.

III. Wild Geese (again)

I keep pondering, why do I personally dislike Mary Oliver's poem "Wild Geese"?

It's not about its worth as a poem. I like some pop poems, such as Sheenagh Pugh's "Sometimes" ("Sometimes things don't go, after all/ From bad to worse.") **

I think it's that "Wild Geese" simply doesn't line up with my moments of clear consciousness. 

My moments are more likely to make me want to "to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting"--something Oliver's poem says "you do not have to" do.

No, you don't have to.

But to me, that––walking across deserts, or things like it (pilgrimage)––seems a complicated but reasonable reaction to the reality of a world where gunfire makes cobblestones stand on end like porcupine quills.

So, that's where I'm coming from.
.

Do I sound like a crank, going on about disliking "Wild Geese"?

Really, I'm not against the poem! I do see it lines up beautifully with the consciousnesses of many other people, and that's great. 
.

IV. A Little Leavening

Oh, my.
Have I seemed awfully heavy lately?
Maybe so.

I'm thinking a lot about these crazy times, as things crack open up...  and through them sometimes green shoots appear, and sometimes monsters.

But I'm actually in a good mood!
Setting concerns aside, being under orders to stay home for two weeks is a treat for someone like me. (For, in fact, me.)

Plus, many people are acting in ways that make me very happy.

A couple examples:

A Star Trek band I love, Five Year Mission, live-streamed a performance on Facebook last night. (I'd seen 5YM live at Trek Fest in 2012.)

 Each band member was in his own home, and you could comment alongside the screen that showed them all. (Erg. Not sure the terms to describe this---it's not new... except to me!)

The online event was free, but you could donate through them to WHO and a local food shelf. Eight-five viewers donated a total of $1,200.

Then, a friend who lives nearby has placed a weekly delivery order with a local bakery to deliver a dozen loaves of their bread to her porch. She invites friends and neighbors to come pick up a loaf, as a gift.

Here I am with mine, last week:

These people leaven the heaviness.

And now I'm going to go for a walk . . . with no electronics.

As they say on Camino, Ultreia! "To Beyond!"

Or, from Silver Linings Playbook, "Excelsior!" 

____________________

* A couple more quotes I like from Czeslaw Milosz:

"When gold paint flakes from the arms of sculptures,
When the letter falls out of the book of laws,
Then consciousness is naked as an eye."

❧ “The things that surround us in childhood need no justification, they are self-evident,” Milosz wrote in his memoir, Native Realm.
“If, however, they whirl about like particles in a kaleidoscope, ceaselessly changing position, it takes no small amount of energy simply to plant one’s feet on solid ground without falling.”

❧❧❧

** Sheenagh Pugh herself says "Sometimes" is badly written, because people think it's blithely optimistic. I think her poem gets across that "sometimes" is rare. Still, I see what she means:

"When read carefully, it says sometimes things go right, but not that often, and usually only when people make some kind of effort in that direction. So it isn't blithely and unreasonably optimistic.
But a lot of people read it that way, which means I didn't write it well enough - the writer can always make the readers see what he wants them to if he does the job right."

Our normalcy is being rolled up like a field of sod.

Heads Up:  I didn't set out to write about dying, but I did. Odd, but then, this is an odd time. 

I just checked what I posted on March 28, 2019, one year ago.
 I'd posted about my book display for Women's History Month. 

I'd been setting aside books to put out this year too––
including Billy Jean King's 1982 autobiography––
but I never even got to take down the green books I'd put on display for St. Patrick's Day.

It will be weird when I go back to work eventually and see my BOOK's sitting there, artifacts of "Before".

If I go back... What if I get the coronavirus and die?

Are any of you thinking that, What if I die?

I'm haven't worried about that, really. I've worried about getting sick from this virus, which sounds frighteningly awful. I worry even more, though, about people I love getting sick. 
(And dying? 
No! THEY ARE NOT ALLOWED.)

But then I read this week's Economist and got thinking for real, this could get bad. 
Yes, I knew that, but something about the Economist's rational yet slightly quirky presentation always gets to me. It's like if Mr Spock presented a situation to you, but was interrupted--just slightly--once or twice, by Monty Python.

Here's a nice thing:
If I die, the girlettes are prepared!
They say they will wear black armbands to my funeral, because they are aware that whoever's around might not have time to sew entire outfits in black for them.
They are thoughtful like that. 

They know about funerals--remember they held one for a dead bee?
And, related, a going-away ceremony for Red Hair Girl.
They know how to chant the Sanskrit "gate gate" prayer:
"Gone, gone, beyond gone.."

So, I guess I'm set. 
Oh, no! 
Eek, I just remembered, I don't have a will. I don't own much, but I don't want it to go to my sister, who has plenty, I want to split it between bink & Mz.

I just stopped and googled will-writing, and I see on sites like Legalzoom that it's pretty easy. 
(I like their tip: "Whatever you do, don't name your pet as a beneficiary." Appoint a caretaker.
But I'm not worried because I don't have a pet.)

Uh, anyway, it seems just as likely (more likely?) I'd die getting hit by a car while I'm preoccupied by my iPhone. (I try not to get distracted, but...) than that I'll die of Covid-19.
Or something else "normal". I'm almost sixty--I've had friends die at this age of natural causes. So it isn't so odd to think the reality of death, even in ordinary times.
But it's weird, because these are not ordinary times.

You know, in all seriousness, if I did die and don't get a chance to say it, let me say now that I am deeply grateful to you blog friends and my fellow bloggers, now and in the past.
Blogging has been absolutely the ideal writing form for me, and I've loved blogging all these years (here, since 2007).
I never make myself blog--I do it because I want to.

I'm glad I have the blog now. I feel like I'm writing gibberish--I don't know what's what, but at least I can say that:

I don't know what's what.

I've been texting my friend Krista in the middle of writing this.
I wrote:
"Our normalcy is being rolled up like a field of sod."

I asked my friend if I could post some of our conversation.
Here 'tis. I'm in blue:

Anyway, as I've said before, I'm more concerned about the social changes than about being dead*:
how will I/ we, individually and as societies, rise, or sink, under the stresses?
How can I imagine a new way, and myself part of it?
How can I . . .  Be Best? (Ha. Has anyone seen Melania lately???)

Are you all thinking about that? 

And now, for something completely different: HouseMate and I are going to have Happy Hour on FaceTime with bink & Maura!
It's pouring rain out---hooray!
Wash away the winter's grit.

Fresh starts.
____________

*When I say, "I'm more concerned about social changes", I superstiously feel like I'm tempting Fate.
So:
Fate, if you're out there, I 100% do NOT mean I'm not concerned about dying too, and that it would be fine with me.
No.
Do not put me on your "OK to Die" List!!
Thank you.

"Let everything happen to you"

If you saw Jo-Jo Rabbit, you might remember these lines from Rainer Maria Rilke at the end.

I accidentally ran across the whole poem (looking for something about God & night to post on the store's FB).

“Go to the Limits of Your Longing”

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.

Embody me.
Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.
Rainer Maria Rilke, "Book of Hours", I 59 (pub. 1905)

Hm. What do I think of Rilke?
I guess he's in the same category as Mahler for me--someone I loved in my twenties.
I do still like that romanticism. I do. 
But... I don't find that hold-your-breath-at-your-preciousness
as attractive--or as necessary--as I did when I was young.

Being old, I don't have to "let" everything happen to me--it just does. I know that's not what's meant, but still... When I was a teenager, I was eager to experience grief.
At this age, I'd be happy to hand it back.
Is there a return counter?

I add in more ridiculousness now, facing the seriousness of life. 

Stay in! Go Out!

I'm sitting in the sun in the backyard---first time this spring!
It's 52ºF, and sunny--warmest day of 2020 in Mpls so far. 
(It's supposed to be a chilly, rainy weekend ahead, though.)

Stay at Home

Minnesota governor Walz issued a two-week Stay-at-Home order, starting tonight at midnight and lasting till April 10 at 5 p.m.

Given that I'll be here a lot, I'm extra-happy I moved to this house last fall--and that I stayed here (when I was going to do otherwise last month).

I'd hate to be cooped up in my old apartment, with the bellowing homeowner downstairs. The politics of Covid-19 are just the sort to trigger his rants at his wife---and while I sometimes agreed with the content (if I could make out his words, which I often could, unfortunately), I always hated his aggressive surety.

After I didn't move from this house in February, though I never told HouseMate about it, relations between us took a sharp and unexpected turn for the better.
Now, ten days after the St. Patrick's Day closing of restaurants in MN, she and I are getting along well--very well, even.

It helps that the house is a decent size (one-and-a-half story bungalow), so we can stay out of each other's way, and now the weather's warming up, we can easily go for walks to the superette, hardware store, or the lake, three blocks away.

HM & I are cooking and sharing meals companionably, and every evening now we watch an episode of Picard. (I'm way more of a Star Trek fan, so I love it even with its flaws; she likes it well enough.) There are only five (out of ten) episodes left though.
HM is working on an elaborate art piece, and I've been sewing masks. (I think I'll soon switch to sewing a fully rounded stuffed animal from scratch--something I've never done (only made flat ones).

Living with HM is actually what I'd thought it would be like in the first place. I'm not sure what all made the first few months so hard. 
Her mental state is easily set askew--that was part of it. 

But I'd made an initial mistake that would make anyone feel wary about this new person in their space:
Remember, I immediately replaced HM's toilet-brush without asking her (and threw out the old one)? 
I quickly realized that that was a mistake, psychologically--it was "just" a toilet brush, but that's not what matters---it was the not-asking. 

Recently she confirmed that yes, that had made her very nervous. 
My thoughtless action came up because I was telling her about the book I'd read about hoarding--Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things. 
The psychiatrist who co-wrote it said that forced clearances of clutter don't work. 
In fact, they can be dangerous:
some percentage of people who return to a home that has been cleared by legal order (for health), commit suicide.

People who hoard explained to the author their stuff is like skin, defining who they are, protecting them.
Having it removed is like being flayed alive.

Luckily HM is not that sensitive. The toilet brush debacle?
"I'm over it," she said.

Go Out!

So, we are to shelter-in-place, but we are encouraged to GO OUTSIDE, and stay 6-feet apart. 
bink drove over yesterday and we went for a walk along the lake together, apart.
Here, sitting on logs at the swimming beach.

I love this--Duluth made a guide of what 6-feet looks, for those who know the wingspan of a bald eagle...☺️ or, anyway, of a bike.

I adapted it, so I could post it as a square on the thrift store's FB--I'm still posting "for the duration". 

I'd  texted Big Boss on Monday that I wouldn't be coming into the closed store to list on eBay, as I'd said I would (another decision I'm grateful for--going to the PO is not staying-at-home, and mailing things is not risk-free either).
He'd replied that he wholeheartedly understood and that I can apply for unemployment; but, he wrote, 
"I beseech you to volunteer to keep doing our social media."

(I do like knowing this guy. First I'm dope, now I'm beseeched.)

I've put off applying for unemployment because I dread such things, but I'd have asked to keep doing our social media anyway. 
I like doing it.

I don't like that there's no one from the store (or the larger CSociety we are part of) to kick ideas around with though. I can make posts fine on my own, but this shouldn't be The Fresca Show.

I messaged Big Boss this morning "inviting" him--as co-executive-- to write or video a message I can post online, and offered a few ideas:
What gives you spiritual comfort at this time?
What can people do to help?
What is the local Society doing to help? (I truly don't know!)

He wrote back that he'd start Monday.
I know he's busy (still working cleaning up the store), but I also get the sense he is about as eager to write a message as I am to apply for unemployment. Which is funny because he's a gifted speaker. I'm not sure he trusts that?

He'd mentioned Psalm 91 on his own FB, which is all about how God will protect you from pestilence if you have faith in him.
I hate that blatantly false line of thinking, but there're some great images in the psalm--most especially this maternal image:

Also I like the rhythm and language of these lines:
"You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday."

Breaking News
Wow, I just saw New York governor Andrew Cuomo's speech to the National Guard, deploying to New Rochelle---isn't that where Dick can Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore lived? 
Damn. 
This IS looking like a zombie movie! 

I made this to post online, because--yeah, every moment is a moment in history, but this is a clearly defined moment, a moment to dial up the better angels of our nature.

And those better angels may help most by simply (not simple) staying home.

Word from Ireland:

"“Empty streets are not a sign of the end of the world, it’s the most remarkable act of global solidarity we’ll likely ever see in our lifetime.

"Don't say to yourself [these empty streets] look like the end of the world. What you're seeing in these empty spaces is how much we care for each other. We care for our [grandparents, parents, children].
We care for people we will never meet."

Video from "Ar scáth a chéile - Upper Springfield, West Belfast, via twitter.com/mattuthompson/status/1243092973761544192?s=20

So, yeah... I'd like someone from SVDP to say something like this (even a clunky version) for our social media. I guess I'll just have to figure out ways to say/do it myself...

Oh! Here! This is my Act for the Ages:
Update from Seven, the girlette on quarantine duty in Colorado

My friend Jeff reports last night was the first night he didn't cough (much) in ages!
Seven is on the job... with help from GODzilla!!!
You can see in the photo Jeff posted on FB that her hair is mussed from the effort.

Boldly Going

NOTE: Cloth masks are NOT for medical use---they're more like a handkerchief, to protect other people from your spray of moisture. 
Wash them after every use, and stop wearing them when damp from breathing. 

I am so proud of Marz!

I've started making face masks* for her workplace (food co-op)-- yesterday she biked over with a Star Trek T-shirt, asking me to make her face mask out of it.

She left the shirt on the porch and waited outside––in the drizzling rain––while I stitched it up.
Fabric & stuff does hold the virus, but I'm willing to accept that minor risk. (Mz is facing much more!) 
I tried not to touch my face... and, of course, washed my hands.

I cut the image off (T-shirt fabric is too baggy to be a good mask), backed it with a tightly-woven cotton, and sewed on fabric ties.

And I'm so happy that she reported that her mask got lots of compliments at work yesterday, even a "So cool".

I hope her mask's success will encourage other people to make and wear them. 
Though now I've read more, it seems it's the CUSTOMERS who should wear them---they protect other people from you ( not so much you from other people...).
 
Hardly any of her coworkers are wearing masks... yet.
It helps when someone else goes first, sets the pace--and makes it fun and personal, which is why I'm proud. She wore it to protect herself, but it also served as a model.

I told her if anyone else wants a customized mask, give her their fabric and I'd sew one up.

At first I just liked the Star Trek mask because it's personalized, but Star Trek's message fits the situation too: 
the explorer/pioneer/pilgrim call "To Boldly Go..." checked with respect for "Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combination"--(the Vulcan IDIC).

Reminded of that, last night I finally started watching the new Star Trek: Picard. You can get a free month at CBS-All Access to watch it:  use code “GIFT”.

I loved it! Mz only thought it was okay. 

Possibly a difference is that Picard is old,
and we see a lot of his old friends and companions--also, of course, old.

Or, dead.
Picard says he's been grieving the death of Data (Brent Spiner, right) "for two decades".

Two decades! 
When in pop culture is anyone old enough to mention "two decades" of their adult life?
That wouldn't resonate with a younger generation, but it does with me.

Aside from that, I also am caught by the overarching topic---artificial intelligence/"synthetic beings"--echoes of Battlestar Galactica, et al.

I watched four episodes of Picard in a row. The final episode is tonight, but I'm going to pace myself so I have a longer-lasting treat. That's hard for me--I'm the kid who eats one marshmallow now rather than waiting 15 minutes for two.
__________________________

*Are handmade cotton face-masks effective?
Right away I thought of them being like handkerchiefs & tissues--if you spray spit, they catch it before it hits someone else. So, that's something, and it shows concern for others, which is key.
(I worry about the boundaries of politeness breaking down under stress.)
But homemade cloth masks are NOT for MEDICAL USE--they're ineffective for wearing a long time around sick people.

The New York Times article (featuring Minnesota!) "A Sewing Army, Making Masks for America" declares "they offer at least some protection":

"Homemade masks are no substitute for the high-grade N95 masks that are the most effective devices to filter out the coronavirus. They’re not even as tough as surgical masks that, until recently, were plentiful in any hospital or doctor’s office.

"But the D.I.Y. pieces — generally stitched together with a few layers of cotton, elastic straps and, on ambitious designs, a flexible bridge over the nose — offer at least some protection.
“Better than nothing” has become a popular phrase in the tight-knit sewing community.
Some doctors are wearing the homemade fabrics over surgical or N95 masks, trying to prolong the coveted masks’ limited life spans.
Other masks are being handed out at health clinics and nursing homes.

With overrun hospitals facing an acute shortage of masks, people are pulling out their sewing machines to fill the void.
www.nytimes.com/2020/03/25/business/coronavirus-masks-sewers.html

First Cloth Face-Mask Done!

Bloody h---, that took a long time.
Next time it should be quicker---to begin with, I won't bother using the sewing machine to sew the thick pleats, so that'll save time on changing the broken needle...
Also, maybe won't bother making using two different patterned fabrics for the different sides--cute, but time consuming.

It's more time consuming, but I prefer cloth ties to elastic. (As Leonard Nimoy could tell you, elastic on your ears hurts after a couple hours...)
Oh--my sister just commented on FB that some people are allergic to elastic too.

 

Link to face-mask pattern, from Sew Good (a bit more involved than it needs to be):
https://12c6dcf1-a4f3-9a22-bcd8-4c7e844d2e36.filesusr.com/ugd/152b95_829d763ef01a4bcca8ca6ebf34c65b74.pdf

Protecting the Humans

...from our own foolishness.

I overheard the girlettes talking about how they have to give up material for new clothes because the humans got sick.


Link to the pattern, from Sew Good:
https://12c6dcf1-a4f3-9a22-bcd8-4c7e844d2e36.filesusr.com/ugd/152b95_829d763ef01a4bcca8ca6ebf34c65b74.pdf

NOTE: Cloth masks are NOT for medical use---they're more like a handkerchief, to protect other people from your spray of moisture.  
Wash them after every use, and stop wearing them when damp from breathing. 

The Circle Game

I like this challenge forever:
See your neighborhood, see your life, as if you were a visitor.

Now the sidewalks are free of ice, I'm enjoying exploring my still-new (since September) neighborhood again.
Yesterday evening I walked along the lake, three blocks away. Left HouseMate's dog at home--far easier to crouch along the lake for photos. 

I got a series of circles...

...and a face.

And now I'm going to try to sew a face mask (pleated cotton). They look simple enough--, if only I were good at stitching a straight line.

(That first photo, up top, is tree lichen, in case it's not clear.)

"“We really really need everyone to stay at home. . . ."

UPDATE: After a lot of back and forth (with myself), I just now decided not to go into the thrift store today.

Even though it's closed, there'll be several staff members working there, and I don't trust our workplace leaders to really shepherd the situation. (To begin with, I don't think they trust the science.)

I'd be working in my separate space listing books on eBay, but do I want to use the restroom (filthy at the best of times)? Or go into the breakroom (ditto), where we sign in and out on the computer?
And how would I mail the books once the store's closed next week anyway?

Even if I biked books home, or got someone with a car to drive all the listed books to my house, I'd have to bike a couple miles to the post office--
where I'd have more social contact, even at a distance.

I don't want to get sick, but maybe more importantly, from a public health pov, I don't want be a disease vector.

What I Posted on My FB:

I know some of the guys at work think the whole thing is hooey. As disenfranchised people, they have good reason to distrust politicians & their ilk, who never looked out for their good.
I get that, but I see it from a different pov:
I don't think it's hooey––but even if it were, I still see this whole thing as an Exercise in Good Public Health Practices--
the sort of response we should already be doing for the climate crisis.

Or, like bink said, it's a Pre-Zombie Trial Run. Let's get this right, so when the worst comes (this is bad, but it's not the worst), we're prepared.

What I Wrote to Big Boss Just Now:

"Hi! After a lot of thought, I decided not to come to the store this week. I saw this from Isaiah on Facebook and thought--huh! That matches what the US surgeon general said this morning.

Isaiah 26:20-21 New King James Version (NKJV)

Come, my people, enter your chambers,
And shut your doors behind you;
Hide yourself, as it were, for a little moment,
Until the indignation is past.

US surgeon-general Dr. Jerome Adams appearing on NBC Today, warning:
“We really really need everyone to stay at home. . . . This week it’s going to get bad.
We really need to come together as a nation....”

WHAT I WROTE EARLIER THIS MORNING

Good morning!
In the yard yesterday, the first green shoots I've seen of spring:

I want to write a bit about mundane things here this morning, to get my bearings. 
Today, Monday, March 23, it's been two weeks since I returned from my birthday weekend in Milwaukee. Can that be?! It's like another world, looking back--we went out to eat, and everyone hugged each another.

One week ago, Monday, March 16, the Minnesota governor's  announced mandatory closures of restaurants & other non-essential businesses, to start the next day--St. Patrick's Day. (Schools were already scheduled to close.)

Keeping My Social Distance

If things were normal, HouseMate would be in Liberia now with a woman visiting her deported Liberian husband, and I'd be house- & cat sitting for a family going to Cuba for a drum workshop. Both trips were cancelled––by the destination countries themselves!

I biked over to bink's the other day and we took her dog Astro for a a long walk--facing forward, naturally. No hugs. Maybe the weirdest social changes, not to hug a best friend. 
bink is an artist at home, so her work hasn't changed much. She's been working on a graphic novel about a girl who is a relic thief in 1348, the Plague Year in England. bink's partner Maura works in tech and can work from home.

Penny Cooper came to visit yesterday!
She biked over (about 5 miles) and stood outside my window for an hour, talking with me on the phone. 
It was surprisingly nice to see her so close (and yet so far).

Yesterday I went to the lake, where the ice is receding from the shore:

Bud Duquette spied a lifelike fishing lure (can you see it, just to the left, below her). She tried to fish it out, but the wind was so strong, it blew her into the water! We left the lure there.

Work

I worked St. Patrick's Day and haven't been back to work since, or  anywhere except the grocery store and for walks.  
A skeleton crew is going into the store this week, starting today, to do some much-needed work. It'd be a good idea if the store closed once a year anyway, to clean and catch up.

The thrift store stayed open through Thursday (3/19), then closed "until further notice".

I'm going into the store today to start listing books on eBay. 
I can keep well away from the other workers, but I'm a little uncertain the job is worth doing, since I'll only have access to the store for a week... 
After that, how will I mail books out?
Should I take them home?
This is where leadership matters. I wish I could trust my bosses to help me think this through, but I don't, really.

I'll go in and get the lay of the land. Maybe I'll just load up my bike panniers and bring books home to list and mail--that might be best.

UPDATE: OK, nope. I just decided there are a million good reasons not to go into work, and basically no reasonable good ones.
("Getting out of the house" is a need but can be better met with long walks and bikes.)
I just wrote up top how I came to this decision.

 More later!
Love ya'll! Stay safe & sound!

That's a wrap.

We've made it through this very strange week. 

Tomorrow a fresh new week starts.

Good-night, friends. Sending love to you all.

"in search of new or expanded meaning about the self, others, ..."

Hello, everybody! How are you doing?

I'm fine.
I recently read that people in stress tend either toward hyper-sensitivity or toward dissociation, and I tend to be the latter.
NOT that I think, "This isn't happening". 
No!
But I feel more sleepy, if anything, than anxious. 

(Well, except the other day when I went to the Big Grocery Store and the pharmacist's eyes looked like a dying animal's. I could feel my blood pressure rising.)
 
But generally––and I'm hoping this doesn't get too bad (worse) and I don't feel horrified later for saying this––but generally I'm happy staying home reading, writing, going for walks... 

Seeing this time as a sort of pilgrimage...?

"A pilgrimage is a journey, often into an unknown or foreign place, where a person goes in search of new or expanded meaning about the self, others, nature, or a higher good, through the experience.
It can lead to a personal transformation, after which the pilgrim returns to their daily life."

[--from Wikipedia]

That sounds right. Several people have said this time feels surreal, and I agree––it's an unknown place we are journeying (in time) in.

And what am I in search of?
Well... more of the same, really, of what I said at New Year's:
I want to practice taking a breath before acting, instead of instantly reacting.

So, I'm in search of breathing in a new or expanded way... And when I do, it grants me a new perspective on myself and others, etc.

And you?

Take a Breath

I biked past this broken sign in the gutter yesterday. I did a U-turn and biked back to pick it up.

I googled "3 wavy horizontal lines" and discovered it means that the wallpaper I have purchased is Extremely Washable. 

Okay, then.

What is means to me is, TAKE A BREATH. A nice long one.
When I do, I realize that despite not feeling panicked, I've halfway been holding my breath.
So...
take another, and another.

❧      ❧     ❧

I emailed a couple friends that this Time of the Virus does feel like being on Camino de Santiago to me-- walking day after day across an unfamiliar landscape, putting one foot in front of the other--an odd mix of boring and painful; boring and euphoric.

One of the great insights of my life came on Camino in 2001, the year I walked with bink:
After a day walking on flayed feet (the word "blisters" doesn't touch it), I was in so much pain we stopped early for the night at an old monastery.

I hobbles up to our dim dormitory room and put my backpack on a bunk bed so flimsy, it sagged under the slight weight.

The only window in the room was cut into block stone wall. Leaning on the sill, I looked out at ochre, greens, and puffy blues, like a Dutch landscape painting.

All of a sudden I felt incredibly happy, and the thought came to me,
"Maybe happiness is the baseline of existence."

I went downstairs to the courtyard, where a few other injured pilgrims were sitting around. (One's feet were so bad, she had to leave the Camino the next day.)
I told them the phrase that had come to me--maybe happiness is the baseline of existence--and they all felt that too.

And maybe it is.
But happiness sure isn't the whole shebang, and I resent the fridge-magnet philosophy that insists we should Be Happy. 
That's like saying we should be able to farm on bedrock.

And, in fact, both my correspondents responded that, no, this time doesn't feel like Camino to them at all.

One said it felt like driving down a rural two-lane highway in the evening, when the deer come out to feed and wander onto the road, in front of oncoming cars.

The other said it felt like being trapped alone in an elevator with an alarm going off in your ears--but that can't be heard from the outside.

So, I never want to talk about happiness in a way that dismisses the unhappiness around me... or in me.

What makes me unhappy and afraid is not so much biological illness as social sickness--the way people might behave if things break down too far.
You know, the full-on zombie apocalypse.

We Are the Grown Ups

Walking with bink yesterday, she said this is like a pre-zombie trial run. The cracks in our systems are being exposed. Hopefully not too late to take action--and to prepare better for next time.

I'm still amazed at the lack of preparedness.  I read someone In Charge say no one saw this coming, but that's rubbish. I've heard for years that more new, extra-contagious viruses were absolutely sure to arise. This one isn't even as virulent as it could be.

Meanwhile, I've heard nothing more from my Catholic Church correspondent who told me on Monday that he & coworkers were "working on" a response plan.
All they've posted is videotaped Masses and exhortations to pray the rosary.

How 'bout, say, instructions on how to do Home Church?

Of course the Church is not promoting this, but you 100% don't need a church building and an ordained priest to create sacred space and ritual... People in the early days of Christianity celebrated in homes--there were no churches.

Ah, well. 
I don't actually want home church (all this fretting on my part is theoretical!), but if I did, I'd gather with two or three and together--outside--6 feet apart, and break bread. 
A very long baguette! 

The point to me is . . .We, You, I DON'T NEED PERMISSION.

I see some people still acting as if they Grown-Up in Charge is going to show up and tell them what to do.
I want to say, hey, everyone: we are the grown-ups. That's what the zombie movies are all about.

And... Go Take a Walk

HouseMate is usually volunteers at church half the day on Sundays, but now public Masses have been cancelled. Instead, she made French toast for breakfast for us.

I'm relieved that we're getting along just fine. She acknowledged we might get on each other's nerves, but so far we've been fine.

The house is big enough we can stay out of each other's way, and while it's not warm enough to sit outside yet, (it's 40ºF/10ºC, but the wind is cold), it's warm enough to go for long walks.
The winner is her dog!

 Speaking of which, I'm going to go for a walk right now.

Finally did it! Reusable Toilet Paper

I felt a bit shy about posting this online but decided that at this time of toilet-paper mania, it's good to normalize easy, environmentally friendly, and cheap alternatives to one-use paper products. (Also, to panic hoarding!)

So me and my bum are taking one for the team and posting this on my FB & IG, and here:

Ever since I wrote a book for teens about the history of toilets and learned how much t.p. humans use*, I've been wanting to make reusable t.p., (at least for the liquid stuff...).

Now, as the saying goes, needs must!
Down to a few rolls, HouseMate & I (both Pisces!) have taken the enormous (not) step of cutting up some old, soft cloth for wipes.
Also put water in squeeze bottles for a homemade bidet-spray, so the wipe is mostly just for drying water.

Put a plastic bucket with lid next to the toilet and intend to launder the used wipes every couple two three days.
As for sanitary concerns... well, there will be far less body-wastes than in a diaper pail.

*On average, in the USA each person uses about 50 lbs. of toilet paper every year.
The nation spend a total of $6 billion annually on the stuff.
Also--duh--the environmental impact is pretty bad:
"Why Toilet Paper Is Bad for the Environment"