A beautiful day, mostly porch sitting, and ending with a kid sized pizza from California and watching Little Fires Everywhere on Hulu.
Nothing much to say some days, like today, but I wanted to record it as a day in the quarantine and a wish for all of you that you stay well!
Saturday, April 25, 2020
Friday, April 24, 2020
Day 43: What I did today
1. Moved everything back to the playhouse--aka casita
2. Cut my own hair for the first time in my life: took 2 minutes, tops--a kitchen sink project.
3. Cleaned the house
 |
| I moved the large rug to casita--so this rug and coffee table are temporary |
4. Whew! I'm tired!
Thursday, April 23, 2020
Day 42
Forty days has a sort of Biblical ring to it, doesn't it?
Now that we've passed the forty-day mark, I'm looking back at some of the changes:
My scales indicate that I have acquired six extra pounds.
The volume of junk mail has decreased by at least six pounds--changes I hope we will continue after this Pandemic.
My hair is long again, bangs down to my nose.
Masks are starting to look almost normal. At the grocery store, the clerk said, "I like your mask," and I realized that was a sentence I never expected to hear on any day but Halloween, if then.
The occupant of the White House, always off the rails, is now deep in a ditch of irrationality--firing an expert in immunization, just when we need him most, and eating up two and a half hours that cold be used for news with his rambling insults and blame.
Thanks to said occupant, the U.S. has fewer friends internationally than we have ever had before.
The governor of Georgia, always a self-serving politician, has decided to use Georgians as guinea pigs, send them back to beauty shops, nail salons, and tattoo parlors, see what happens.
Organizing drawers and closets does not count as exercise.
The formerly mold-ridden casita is now freshly floored and arranged and ready to play!
I'm learning how to stretch everything, especially food and furnishings. I gave Reyes and his family some chairs and tables and realized that I have everything I want and need. I even found some great curtains in storage that pull my dining room together just right. And food? I buy in volume rather than going to the store every other day.
I have learned that projects are central to my happiness and I'm loving having so many projects to do right now and to look forward to.
What I miss most is seeing my family and friends in person, whenever we feel like it.
Now that we've passed the forty-day mark, I'm looking back at some of the changes:
My scales indicate that I have acquired six extra pounds.
The volume of junk mail has decreased by at least six pounds--changes I hope we will continue after this Pandemic.
My hair is long again, bangs down to my nose.
Masks are starting to look almost normal. At the grocery store, the clerk said, "I like your mask," and I realized that was a sentence I never expected to hear on any day but Halloween, if then.
The occupant of the White House, always off the rails, is now deep in a ditch of irrationality--firing an expert in immunization, just when we need him most, and eating up two and a half hours that cold be used for news with his rambling insults and blame.
Thanks to said occupant, the U.S. has fewer friends internationally than we have ever had before.
The governor of Georgia, always a self-serving politician, has decided to use Georgians as guinea pigs, send them back to beauty shops, nail salons, and tattoo parlors, see what happens.
Organizing drawers and closets does not count as exercise.
The formerly mold-ridden casita is now freshly floored and arranged and ready to play!
I'm learning how to stretch everything, especially food and furnishings. I gave Reyes and his family some chairs and tables and realized that I have everything I want and need. I even found some great curtains in storage that pull my dining room together just right. And food? I buy in volume rather than going to the store every other day.
I have learned that projects are central to my happiness and I'm loving having so many projects to do right now and to look forward to.
What I miss most is seeing my family and friends in person, whenever we feel like it.
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
Day 41
Finally! Moved the furniture back in and the casita looks better than ever.
Reyes brought his whole family for the final day, two little tiny boys, one strong 13-year-old who helps his dad, and his wife who speaks no English, but follows every move with a cleaning rag. When the baby saw me with my mask on, he started wailing--even though both his parents were wearing masks.
Tomorrow I'll move art supplies back in, but all the big stuff is done.
Reyes brought his whole family for the final day, two little tiny boys, one strong 13-year-old who helps his dad, and his wife who speaks no English, but follows every move with a cleaning rag. When the baby saw me with my mask on, he started wailing--even though both his parents were wearing masks.
Tomorrow I'll move art supplies back in, but all the big stuff is done.
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
Day 41
Today, I believe, is Tuesday.
I stayed up til 4, puttering and planning. The casita is ready all but the cleaning and arranging of furniture, but it's getting done and getting done well. My closet looks perfect, and all my drawers are neat. I bet yours are too!
I took two bags to the parking lot bin for charity last night and it was overflowing. I wish there were an efficient way to get things we don't need to people who do.
I stayed up til 4, puttering and planning. The casita is ready all but the cleaning and arranging of furniture, but it's getting done and getting done well. My closet looks perfect, and all my drawers are neat. I bet yours are too!
I took two bags to the parking lot bin for charity last night and it was overflowing. I wish there were an efficient way to get things we don't need to people who do.
Monday, April 20, 2020
Day 40
A highlight of the day was a virtual visit with Will and Elena via Face Time--an hour of laughing as Elena popped water balloons, on her daddy, on her own head, on everything. Also got a tour of the chicken coop in the process of remodeling to keep their now-18 chickens.
"So, Dad, I've been saving my money. Can I get a pig or a puppy or a turtle?"
"Two horses, two dogs, a fish, a bird, and 18 chickens, and you want another animal?" he asked.
"Yes."
I love my girl!
Sunday, April 19, 2020
Day 39: Sunday, April 19
Another flea market find: a toy pink guitar.
My plan was to decoupage and paint on it, but I never executed this plan.
So one day last week, I put it in the discard pile, hoping someone would pick up this four-strings-left toy guitar and actually do something with it.
Well, here's where the story gets good.
Sebastien picked it up.
According to these pictures and their mom's report, they are loving it--writing songs and playing and singing together! "The boys are writing songs like crazy and the cat approves!"
These pictures make me happy--that these two creative brothers can still find music in a toy guitar that made its way from a Georgia flea market, to my car, to my closet, to my storage room, then a dozen years later or so, made its way to the house next door.
My plan was to decoupage and paint on it, but I never executed this plan.
So one day last week, I put it in the discard pile, hoping someone would pick up this four-strings-left toy guitar and actually do something with it.
Well, here's where the story gets good.
Sebastien picked it up.
According to these pictures and their mom's report, they are loving it--writing songs and playing and singing together! "The boys are writing songs like crazy and the cat approves!"
These pictures make me happy--that these two creative brothers can still find music in a toy guitar that made its way from a Georgia flea market, to my car, to my closet, to my storage room, then a dozen years later or so, made its way to the house next door.
Saturday, April 18, 2020
Day 38: Saturday, April 18
Today I found a page from an elementary school yearbook I'd bought years ago at a yard sale: twenty 5-year-old students of Mrs. Babbitt's kindergarten class at the Webster School in Malibu, 1951.
I look and look at these little faces and wonder how each of their stories unfolded. Every face tells a story and I'm imagining possible narratives that might have unspooled for these kindergarteners, nearly 70 years ago.
Elizabeth Anne grows up to be an professor of English literature specializing in Virginia Woolf. She lives in Brooklyn brownstone with her black Airedale, Lily. Her partner, a well-known poet, died two years ago of breast cancer.
Jimmy (nicknamed Buster) is the youngest of a large Irish Catholic family. Everybody thought he'd grow up to be a hometown cop, that or frequently arrested by a hometown cop. Instead, he and his Italian wife opened a popular pizzeria and taught ballroom dancing. He wears a "Make America Great" cap.
Susan wanted to be an actress, but she married at seventeen, pregnant. She gave birth to twin sons who attended Webster School as she and her husband did. When her children were in elementary school, she went to nursing school and became an intensive care nurse. In her seventies now, Susan performs in local musical theater productions--where she met her current husband, Alfred.
Simon died in Vietnam, 1970. He's remembered as a star quarterback in high school and was voted "Most Popular" in his senior class.
Richard was an altar boy and groomed for priesthood, a path he began but abandoned just before ordination. He is still married to his longtime wife and is a jovial grandfather to seven, five boys and two girls. Richard was active in both Bernie's Presidential campaigns, 2016 and 2020. None of Richard and Camilla's children are Catholic.
No classmates remember the girl whose name--according the handwritten roster on the back--is Julie.
I look and look at these little faces and wonder how each of their stories unfolded. Every face tells a story and I'm imagining possible narratives that might have unspooled for these kindergarteners, nearly 70 years ago.
Elizabeth Anne grows up to be an professor of English literature specializing in Virginia Woolf. She lives in Brooklyn brownstone with her black Airedale, Lily. Her partner, a well-known poet, died two years ago of breast cancer.
Jimmy (nicknamed Buster) is the youngest of a large Irish Catholic family. Everybody thought he'd grow up to be a hometown cop, that or frequently arrested by a hometown cop. Instead, he and his Italian wife opened a popular pizzeria and taught ballroom dancing. He wears a "Make America Great" cap.
Susan wanted to be an actress, but she married at seventeen, pregnant. She gave birth to twin sons who attended Webster School as she and her husband did. When her children were in elementary school, she went to nursing school and became an intensive care nurse. In her seventies now, Susan performs in local musical theater productions--where she met her current husband, Alfred.
Simon died in Vietnam, 1970. He's remembered as a star quarterback in high school and was voted "Most Popular" in his senior class.
Richard was an altar boy and groomed for priesthood, a path he began but abandoned just before ordination. He is still married to his longtime wife and is a jovial grandfather to seven, five boys and two girls. Richard was active in both Bernie's Presidential campaigns, 2016 and 2020. None of Richard and Camilla's children are Catholic.
No classmates remember the girl whose name--according the handwritten roster on the back--is Julie.
Friday, April 17, 2020
Night 37
Tonight is going to be a fun date-with-myself movie night--with delicious soup made by Jan and Kate, cornbread made by yours truly, and coconut pudding to be made between movies. The coconut is already toasted and ready to go.
The floor is more than halfway in and it looks awesome!
Will, Bonnie, Nathan and Elena let me join their sushi making party by video, each of them making their own sushi. It's a beautiful sight to see the whole family making one of their favorite foods.
When my children were young, during my macrobiotic couple of years, I made sushi--salty with umeboshi paste, containing rice, carrots, green onions, tofu and cucumbers. (Heaven help us!)
Little Boy Will took one bite of my version and ran out of the room to spit it out.
Little Boy Will took one bite of my version and ran out of the room to spit it out.
The sushi being served tonight at their house, on the floor, with Japanese music, is "delicious." Will is wearing a sushi chef bandana on his head, and Elena is the hostess/server.
Day 38: Cactus flower's birthday
A few months ago, Nora--who cleaned my house--gave me a few cactus leaves, just snapped them right off hers when I admired them. "Just stick them in the dirt," she said. So I did.
Admittedly I am not an experienced gardener like some of you, (Kate, Jan, Gerlinde, Chris, Veronica, and Joy) but I was thrilled this morning to walk out and see that one of those buds had popped open and exploded into bright yellow. Like magic!
"Easy Peasy, huh?" Kate wrote when I sent her the picture.
"If it's cactus, yes!" I wrote back.
I guess I'm a cactus person; all my succulents are happy. They seem to do just fine with planters like me, the kind who just stick a leaf in the dirt and go about my business.
And to top off the pleasure, this beauty came from a leaf that was wonky and dry and almost got tossed! She looks very much like the yellow rose of Texas on this her birthday.
Admittedly I am not an experienced gardener like some of you, (Kate, Jan, Gerlinde, Chris, Veronica, and Joy) but I was thrilled this morning to walk out and see that one of those buds had popped open and exploded into bright yellow. Like magic!
"Easy Peasy, huh?" Kate wrote when I sent her the picture.
"If it's cactus, yes!" I wrote back.
I guess I'm a cactus person; all my succulents are happy. They seem to do just fine with planters like me, the kind who just stick a leaf in the dirt and go about my business.
And to top off the pleasure, this beauty came from a leaf that was wonky and dry and almost got tossed! She looks very much like the yellow rose of Texas on this her birthday.
Day 37
Lesson 1: "If you don't like it," one of the online teachers said, "It's just not done yet."
Last night, because most of my art supplies are packed for moving (again!) I took a few things into my bedroom and put them on a small table:
a glue stick
some shipping tags I'd painted for practice months ago
a couple of Posca pens
a few gel prints on tissue paper
I tore strips and pieces of gel prints and collaged them onto one tag, focusing on just one thing at a time, slowly, not thinking ahead of myself, not over-thinking it at all, just relaxing into it like a bedtime story.
When I woke at 3:15 I saw the tags in the bathroom where I'd left them to dry, and if I were a puppy I'd have wagged my tail! I liked them. A lot. Yes, quite a lot!
(As opposed to Easter Sunday when the few pages I made wound up in the trash.)
I think I'm onto something--another lesson to take with me when I move:
Lesson 2: Don't have an overwhelming array of art supplies out at one time.
Pam gave me a beautiful handmade journal for Christmas. I've been saving it all these months the way people save their best silver for special occasions instead of enjoying it on a random Tuesday. I wanted to save this journal until I felt skilled enough to improve upon (or at least not ruin) the beauty of the blank pages.
When we spotted it in a gallery in Comfort months ago, we were both drawn to it. Made by an artist in Helotes, it has a soft leather wrap-around cover and creamy pages. It has that soft, supple, sweet feel in your hands that you can't resist touching, and when you do, you feel it wants to go home with you so you can keep touching it.
As I wandered around the gallery, I talked myself out of buying another journal for Pete's sake, telling myself the obvious: You already have plenty of blank books and you haven't even finished a single one yet!
As we were leaving, I was so happy to see that Pam bought it for herself! (Or so I thought--until she gave it to me later, for Christmas!)
Lesson 3: If not now, when? If ever there were a time to get out the best silver and crystal and china, the proverbial special occasion treasures we own, this is it!
Last night, because most of my art supplies are packed for moving (again!) I took a few things into my bedroom and put them on a small table:
a glue stick
some shipping tags I'd painted for practice months ago
a couple of Posca pens
a few gel prints on tissue paper
I tore strips and pieces of gel prints and collaged them onto one tag, focusing on just one thing at a time, slowly, not thinking ahead of myself, not over-thinking it at all, just relaxing into it like a bedtime story.
When I woke at 3:15 I saw the tags in the bathroom where I'd left them to dry, and if I were a puppy I'd have wagged my tail! I liked them. A lot. Yes, quite a lot!
(As opposed to Easter Sunday when the few pages I made wound up in the trash.)
I think I'm onto something--another lesson to take with me when I move:
Lesson 2: Don't have an overwhelming array of art supplies out at one time.
Pam gave me a beautiful handmade journal for Christmas. I've been saving it all these months the way people save their best silver for special occasions instead of enjoying it on a random Tuesday. I wanted to save this journal until I felt skilled enough to improve upon (or at least not ruin) the beauty of the blank pages.
When we spotted it in a gallery in Comfort months ago, we were both drawn to it. Made by an artist in Helotes, it has a soft leather wrap-around cover and creamy pages. It has that soft, supple, sweet feel in your hands that you can't resist touching, and when you do, you feel it wants to go home with you so you can keep touching it.
As I wandered around the gallery, I talked myself out of buying another journal for Pete's sake, telling myself the obvious: You already have plenty of blank books and you haven't even finished a single one yet!
As we were leaving, I was so happy to see that Pam bought it for herself! (Or so I thought--until she gave it to me later, for Christmas!)
Lesson 3: If not now, when? If ever there were a time to get out the best silver and crystal and china, the proverbial special occasion treasures we own, this is it!
Thursday, April 16, 2020
Steve Schmidt
I nominate Steve Schmidt as best responder to Trump's briefing today.
When I turned on the TV and saw that it was briefing/rally time, I muted it. Each time I looked up at the silent screen to see if Trump's part was over, Trump was doing the same robotic gesture he does--as if he's measuring fish of various sizes. Finally, I looked up to see that Steve Schmidt, former Republican and political strategist, was speaking.
This man packs a punch every time he speaks.
https://www.msnbc.com/msnbc/watch/-baghdad-don-trump-blasted-for-most-inept-response-to-any-crisis-in-history-82180165991
When I turned on the TV and saw that it was briefing/rally time, I muted it. Each time I looked up at the silent screen to see if Trump's part was over, Trump was doing the same robotic gesture he does--as if he's measuring fish of various sizes. Finally, I looked up to see that Steve Schmidt, former Republican and political strategist, was speaking.
This man packs a punch every time he speaks.
https://www.msnbc.com/msnbc/watch/-baghdad-don-trump-blasted-for-most-inept-response-to-any-crisis-in-history-82180165991
Day 36
Today's a beautiful spring day, and I smell like rosemary--which I've been clipping a bit while talking on the phone.
Reyes and Jose are making great progress on prepping for floor installation--what incredibly cheerful men they both are! It's such a pleasure to hear laughter throughout the day, and Reyes can do anything as far as I can tell. He's hauled off the old carpet and will lay the floors tomorrow. I stepped in for a second to take a look and the smell of Chlorox was overwhelming, so that mold doesn't have a chance.
I drove to the Urth Juice Bar and then decided to try Mexican take-out one more time. So far, my efforts have proved unsatisfactory, but Taqueria Los Dos Laredo on Austin Highway makes yummy fajitas, as good as any I've had anywhere.
Will told me that three firefighters have tested positive, so his health is my number one concern right now. All the rest of my family members and most of my friends are still in quarantine.
I know the peak hasn't hit San Antonio yet, but I'm determined to stay in my house as long as needed. Having a project and having sunshine, both make the days feel way less oppressive than they might. After whacking some rosemary and pulling weeds, I'm ready for a nap.
Reyes and Jose are making great progress on prepping for floor installation--what incredibly cheerful men they both are! It's such a pleasure to hear laughter throughout the day, and Reyes can do anything as far as I can tell. He's hauled off the old carpet and will lay the floors tomorrow. I stepped in for a second to take a look and the smell of Chlorox was overwhelming, so that mold doesn't have a chance.
I drove to the Urth Juice Bar and then decided to try Mexican take-out one more time. So far, my efforts have proved unsatisfactory, but Taqueria Los Dos Laredo on Austin Highway makes yummy fajitas, as good as any I've had anywhere.
Will told me that three firefighters have tested positive, so his health is my number one concern right now. All the rest of my family members and most of my friends are still in quarantine.
I know the peak hasn't hit San Antonio yet, but I'm determined to stay in my house as long as needed. Having a project and having sunshine, both make the days feel way less oppressive than they might. After whacking some rosemary and pulling weeds, I'm ready for a nap.
Wednesday, April 15, 2020
"In A Crisis, Listen to Your Elders"
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/in-a-crisis-listen-to-your-elders/id121493643?i=1000471597588
One takeaway from this excellent podcast in which elders were interviewed and asked, "What is your biggest regret?"
What almost all of them said was, "Spending too much time worrying."
One takeaway from this excellent podcast in which elders were interviewed and asked, "What is your biggest regret?"
What almost all of them said was, "Spending too much time worrying."
Day 35 3:30 a.m.
My eyes have been getting tired lately--as in David Whyte's poem: tired of limitations, worry, and distance. Tired of listening to the droning on and on of dullest president we've ever known, tired of bullying, blaming and discord.
As much as I like and appreciate good journalists and smart political experts conversing about topics important to us all, my eyes have been getting tired of CNN and MSNBC too.
My ears have been getting tired of hearing myself weigh in with opinions all the time. (I just did it above.) Everybody already knows, for example, that Trump is the dullest, most narcissistic, and malignant president in our lifetime. So why should I give more weight to that reality by complaining about him as much as I do--especially when there's a whole other world, even in the middle of this pandemic, to be inspired by?
When I began listening again to David Whyte, that led me to On Being with Krista Tippet. And that led me to Rebecca Solnit. I'd just been reading one of her books today, and here she is on Krita's show. What a nimble mind, what a provocative writer she is!
And that led me to Ross Gay, a poet and writer who talks about looking for delight every day, even in times of great fear. So here I am in middle of the night, inspired again, my eyes not so tired anymore.
We all find inspiration at different doors. I find mine in poetry, nature, art and philosophy. I don't lean toward lectures or sermons, but I perk up in conversations with people you'll hear if you follow this trail:
Here is Krista Tippet (from my favorite podcast, On Being) and her "care package" playlist "for uncertain times."
https://onbeing.org/starting-points/a-care-package-for-uncertain-times/
As much as I like and appreciate good journalists and smart political experts conversing about topics important to us all, my eyes have been getting tired of CNN and MSNBC too.
My ears have been getting tired of hearing myself weigh in with opinions all the time. (I just did it above.) Everybody already knows, for example, that Trump is the dullest, most narcissistic, and malignant president in our lifetime. So why should I give more weight to that reality by complaining about him as much as I do--especially when there's a whole other world, even in the middle of this pandemic, to be inspired by?
When I began listening again to David Whyte, that led me to On Being with Krista Tippet. And that led me to Rebecca Solnit. I'd just been reading one of her books today, and here she is on Krita's show. What a nimble mind, what a provocative writer she is!
And that led me to Ross Gay, a poet and writer who talks about looking for delight every day, even in times of great fear. So here I am in middle of the night, inspired again, my eyes not so tired anymore.
We all find inspiration at different doors. I find mine in poetry, nature, art and philosophy. I don't lean toward lectures or sermons, but I perk up in conversations with people you'll hear if you follow this trail:
Here is Krista Tippet (from my favorite podcast, On Being) and her "care package" playlist "for uncertain times."
https://onbeing.org/starting-points/a-care-package-for-uncertain-times/
Day 35 12:30 a.m.
This poem by David Whyte speaks to me, a person who loves the night. A few years ago, I listened over and over to his CD collection: Clear Mind, Wild Heart. At the time, those CDs spoke to me on a level beyond understanding and shaped my view of the world and myself in the world. Every time I listened to them, I heard something new.
This poem is one that comes to mind a lot when I wake up in the night and feel completely alone--especially when that aloneness is not loneliness but a time of clarity.
I remember David telling about how he wrote the poem, how he passed the middle point of the poem and wrote "You must learn one thing...." and he paused for a long while, wondering what he was going to write next. And then the words came, "The world was made to be free in."
I would like to hear David Whyte again, so thankfully I still have that audio book and will listen again.
“Sweet Darkness”
by David Whyte
Listen
When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.
When your vision has gone,
no part of the world can find you.
Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.
There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.
The dark will be your home
tonight.
The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.
You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.
Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.
Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn
anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive
is too small for you.
This poem is one that comes to mind a lot when I wake up in the night and feel completely alone--especially when that aloneness is not loneliness but a time of clarity.
I remember David telling about how he wrote the poem, how he passed the middle point of the poem and wrote "You must learn one thing...." and he paused for a long while, wondering what he was going to write next. And then the words came, "The world was made to be free in."
I would like to hear David Whyte again, so thankfully I still have that audio book and will listen again.
“Sweet Darkness”
by David Whyte
Listen
When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.
When your vision has gone,
no part of the world can find you.
Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.
There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.
The dark will be your home
tonight.
The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.
You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.
Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.
Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn
anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive
is too small for you.
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Day 34
At some point, back in the other world, before this one, maybe a couple of months ago, I was thinking about going to The Netherlands.
Two months seems so long ago, yet the book on Amsterdam I borrowed from a friend is still on my nightstand.
So when I saw that the newest Masterpiece was filmed in The Netherlands, I couldn't resist. At least I'd see big swaths of tulips, some canals, and the city of Amsterdam.
I did see all those things in Baptiste.
This series is about a retired detective who's been called back to solve a missing persons case. It has been a distraction, I'll say that, but I'm not sure any of you would care to watch a convoluted gory series involving Romanian gangsters, but if you do, there you go....Baptiste is all that.
Two months seems so long ago, yet the book on Amsterdam I borrowed from a friend is still on my nightstand.
So when I saw that the newest Masterpiece was filmed in The Netherlands, I couldn't resist. At least I'd see big swaths of tulips, some canals, and the city of Amsterdam.
I did see all those things in Baptiste.
This series is about a retired detective who's been called back to solve a missing persons case. It has been a distraction, I'll say that, but I'm not sure any of you would care to watch a convoluted gory series involving Romanian gangsters, but if you do, there you go....Baptiste is all that.
Monday, April 13, 2020
Day 33
Today I did a few things that felt almost normal.
I bought gas for the car, drove through a car wash, and got flooring samples at a floor store, curbside.
I was masked and gloved, the clerk was masked and gloved--and she actually rolled a big display counter outside the store so I could choose my samples. Four-foot-long samples. Five dollars apiece.
She made a phone call, the samples were delivered from inside, and when I held out my credit card, she said, "Nah, just take 'em."
Day nabbed it when she called this lockdown a "roller coaster." Not a big fancy theme park roller coaster, just a rumbling old coaster, little ups, little downs.
Yesterday was a down. Today was a little up. A project. Something to do that required getting out.
So the floors will be installed this week and I can soon return to my casita to make things--maybe by the weekend.
I bought gas for the car, drove through a car wash, and got flooring samples at a floor store, curbside.
I was masked and gloved, the clerk was masked and gloved--and she actually rolled a big display counter outside the store so I could choose my samples. Four-foot-long samples. Five dollars apiece.
She made a phone call, the samples were delivered from inside, and when I held out my credit card, she said, "Nah, just take 'em."
Day nabbed it when she called this lockdown a "roller coaster." Not a big fancy theme park roller coaster, just a rumbling old coaster, little ups, little downs.
Yesterday was a down. Today was a little up. A project. Something to do that required getting out.
So the floors will be installed this week and I can soon return to my casita to make things--maybe by the weekend.
Sunday, April 12, 2020
Day 32
Today is Easter Sunday, though it looks like every other day--except for a few text pictures that brightened up my phone.
This recent batch of chicks come from a chicken farm in Natalia, black, brown, golden, each a different breed:
Here's Elena playing with her FIVE new chicks to go with the
FOUR little yellow chicks she got last week at the feed store.
 |
| She named this curly-haired pigeon Elena 2/0 |
This recent batch of chicks come from a chicken farm in Natalia, black, brown, golden, each a different breed:
Saturday, April 11, 2020
Day 31
Yay, Happy Mail Arrival!
In my box of happy mail from Daisy were:
Two masks
Note cards she made, fabric stitched on paper
A picture of Marcus
A picture book intended for cutting up (which I spent the afternoon doing)
A blue mixed-media journal
4 red wax pencils
Two notes from Day and family
An embossed paper piece she'd made
A gel-printed book-mark
A stencil of a large flower
Some pants I'd bought her that were too short
A Snickers Bar
Some handmade texture/stamp plates, like this one:
Giblets of paper for collage
A Zentangle book
A Rolo-Dex card with a black and white drawing of a flower.
I had a happy hour unpacking all the treasures in the box and stacking them for tomorrow's paper play!
In my box of happy mail from Daisy were:
Two masks
Note cards she made, fabric stitched on paper
A picture of Marcus
A picture book intended for cutting up (which I spent the afternoon doing)
A blue mixed-media journal
4 red wax pencils
Two notes from Day and family
An embossed paper piece she'd made
A gel-printed book-mark
A stencil of a large flower
Some pants I'd bought her that were too short
A Snickers Bar
Some handmade texture/stamp plates, like this one:
Giblets of paper for collage
A Zentangle book
A Rolo-Dex card with a black and white drawing of a flower.
I had a happy hour unpacking all the treasures in the box and stacking them for tomorrow's paper play!
Friday, April 10, 2020
Three things
Sorry to clog up your inbox, but I have three more things to tell you on Day 30:
1.
Kate called this morning and said she was feeling a little blue. But the good news, she said, was that her pomegranate tree was blooming.
So I went outside and looked at mine and saw 8 blooms and about that many buds. (Jan's tree right next door is so laden she's going to have to sell pomegranates!)
So then Kate and I started snapping pictures and showing each other our plants--I showed her my Confederate Jasmine and the oh-so-happy Blackfoot daisies and all the plants Bonnie and Will had planted for me this year, and she showed me hers. We were laughing like little girls at an Easter egg hung--oh whee! look I found one!
That little phone party pushed the blues right out of her hair and mine!
I have a volunteer (and loaded) cherry tomato plant growing between the leaves of a fern. Joy and Kate both want seeds, so my instructions are to let them dry and save the seeds for them.
When Bonnie and Will designed and planted my back yard, it was as if they knew we were going to have a time ahead when I would need a pretty back yard more than ever! When I walk out there every day, I still gasp in delight to see the yard looking so amazing after a two-year pitiful spell!
I only lost a few Blackfoot daisies but the ones that remain are lush and show-offy! I called Evergreen to get some more, but they don't have them yet. They promised to call when they come in.
2.
If anyone has any old-timey family pictures, preferably close ups in black and white or sepia, and if you could send me some by email, I would SO appreciate it! One of my projects includes old photos, many of strangers; it would be great to replace these strangers with people related to my people!
3.
While looking online for pictures, I found this one taken during the 1918 flu pandemic:
1.
Kate called this morning and said she was feeling a little blue. But the good news, she said, was that her pomegranate tree was blooming.
So I went outside and looked at mine and saw 8 blooms and about that many buds. (Jan's tree right next door is so laden she's going to have to sell pomegranates!)
So then Kate and I started snapping pictures and showing each other our plants--I showed her my Confederate Jasmine and the oh-so-happy Blackfoot daisies and all the plants Bonnie and Will had planted for me this year, and she showed me hers. We were laughing like little girls at an Easter egg hung--oh whee! look I found one!
 |
| Little baby tomatoes |
 |
| Luscious fragrant jasmine |
 |
| Black foot daisies |
That little phone party pushed the blues right out of her hair and mine!
I have a volunteer (and loaded) cherry tomato plant growing between the leaves of a fern. Joy and Kate both want seeds, so my instructions are to let them dry and save the seeds for them.
When Bonnie and Will designed and planted my back yard, it was as if they knew we were going to have a time ahead when I would need a pretty back yard more than ever! When I walk out there every day, I still gasp in delight to see the yard looking so amazing after a two-year pitiful spell!
I only lost a few Blackfoot daisies but the ones that remain are lush and show-offy! I called Evergreen to get some more, but they don't have them yet. They promised to call when they come in.
2.
If anyone has any old-timey family pictures, preferably close ups in black and white or sepia, and if you could send me some by email, I would SO appreciate it! One of my projects includes old photos, many of strangers; it would be great to replace these strangers with people related to my people!
3.
While looking online for pictures, I found this one taken during the 1918 flu pandemic:
Shadows and Joys of a Life in Bavaria
One of the things we can't do right now is travel. But one things we have plenty of is time: time to read, time to travel in words and pictures.
I've been re-reading Gerlinde Pyron's memoir this morning.
Even if I didn't know the author, I would love this book!
Gerlinde has an impressive memory for detail, and her artfully-told stories evoke the mystery and allure of fairy tales. (princesses, giants, witches, monsters, scary forests). I was so lucky to get to hear some of these stories and see her family pictures (now in the book) when she was in a writing group.
Carlene wanted to read the book, but I didn't want to part with mine, so I just ordered her one from Amazon. I highly recommend you get yourself a copy and visit Gerlinde's childhood world before she moved to America. (Imagine moving to a foreign country alone, at seventeen, not speaking the language, and learning not only to speak the new language but to write eloquently in it!)
Here are a few excerpts to whet your appetite:
The only noise in the room was the steady tick-tock of the cuckoo clock on the wall, the scratchy crackle of her pen, the creaking of the bench as she shifted her weight, and the occasional tap-tap on the inkwell.
P. 67
Life in Bavaria
A unique smell of incense, earth, and flowers hovers in the air, and the humming of the bees and the distant ringing of the church bell brings back such sweet memories of after-school hours in that lovely and truly poignant place.
P. 49
In early spring, the dandelions in the meadow next to the orchard were in full bloom. Then it was just too tempting to make a stop there for a while. What a pleasure to inhale the honeyed smell of those golden blooms. The dandelion’s pliable, hollow stems were ideal to weave artful wreaths. We pretended to be crowned as princesses when we put them on each other’s heads. The stems oozed white sap that left sticky-brown smudges on our school aprons. It made our mothers fuss when they saw those stains since they were so hard to get out.
P. 47
Another place that tempted us was at the last house in town. The house belonged to the town’s grave digger, named Reinhard. His orchard had a cherry tree, and the branches hung low over the fence when the fruit was ripe. Those cherries were within reach of the sidewalk, and we just couldn’t resist pulling off handfuls of cherries, while we kept an eye on Reinhard’s windows.
P. 47
I…remembered those heavy gray veils that hung over the countryside. They shut out the sky and made the world eerily silent and mysterious. You couldn’t even see the neighbor’s house although it was less than fifty feet away. Tante Annerl is easily frightened, so I understood it when she said that the dense fog often creates grisly shapes that were scary to her as she and her sisters walked home from school. She said even the trees looked like stunted monsters in a fairy tale.
Her next door neighbor was her “favorite imaginary witch:
“Most mornings she waddled past my window, grumpy as always, with her yellowish shriveled fat framed by loose strands of gray hair straggling out from under her faded denim-colored kerchief. She was hunchbacked and held on to her walking stick. It was so easy to make up my own fairy tale where this witch would get lost in the nearby woods or be swallowed by an evil monster.”
P. 46
"It was always so cold in that bedroom but at least sunlight made the intricate ice flowers sparkle on the curtain-less windows."
p. 60
"By the time we started down the hill, Hans let them gallop for a stretch. The speed was such a thrill as snow sprayed in all directions. Flecks of it flew in my face but I didn't mind at all. When the horses slowed down, they dribbled white, foamy slobber that froze on their muzzles. The sleigh swayed gently as they trotted along bare-branched hedge rows tipped with puffy caps of snow. We moved along rough-plowed fields where smudges of brown earth peeked through the snow....
"After more than an hour's ride, the road led into a forest. The fir trees were covered in such enormous pillows of snow that they could have been big-bellied giants lining up beside us. Sprays of light feathery snow floated down on us when birds shook a branch while lifting off for flight. My eyes followed the different traces of animals in the forest such as the black rabbit pellets on the snow banks, the tracks of deer hooves, and the stick-like signatures of crows' feet."
p. 62
If you enjoy these vivid excerpts, treat yourself to the book. The cover of the book, a village dusted in snow, is also one of Gerlinde's paintings.
I've been re-reading Gerlinde Pyron's memoir this morning.
Even if I didn't know the author, I would love this book!
Gerlinde has an impressive memory for detail, and her artfully-told stories evoke the mystery and allure of fairy tales. (princesses, giants, witches, monsters, scary forests). I was so lucky to get to hear some of these stories and see her family pictures (now in the book) when she was in a writing group.
Carlene wanted to read the book, but I didn't want to part with mine, so I just ordered her one from Amazon. I highly recommend you get yourself a copy and visit Gerlinde's childhood world before she moved to America. (Imagine moving to a foreign country alone, at seventeen, not speaking the language, and learning not only to speak the new language but to write eloquently in it!)
Here are a few excerpts to whet your appetite:
The only noise in the room was the steady tick-tock of the cuckoo clock on the wall, the scratchy crackle of her pen, the creaking of the bench as she shifted her weight, and the occasional tap-tap on the inkwell.
P. 67
Life in Bavaria
A unique smell of incense, earth, and flowers hovers in the air, and the humming of the bees and the distant ringing of the church bell brings back such sweet memories of after-school hours in that lovely and truly poignant place.
P. 49
In early spring, the dandelions in the meadow next to the orchard were in full bloom. Then it was just too tempting to make a stop there for a while. What a pleasure to inhale the honeyed smell of those golden blooms. The dandelion’s pliable, hollow stems were ideal to weave artful wreaths. We pretended to be crowned as princesses when we put them on each other’s heads. The stems oozed white sap that left sticky-brown smudges on our school aprons. It made our mothers fuss when they saw those stains since they were so hard to get out.
P. 47
Another place that tempted us was at the last house in town. The house belonged to the town’s grave digger, named Reinhard. His orchard had a cherry tree, and the branches hung low over the fence when the fruit was ripe. Those cherries were within reach of the sidewalk, and we just couldn’t resist pulling off handfuls of cherries, while we kept an eye on Reinhard’s windows.
P. 47
I…remembered those heavy gray veils that hung over the countryside. They shut out the sky and made the world eerily silent and mysterious. You couldn’t even see the neighbor’s house although it was less than fifty feet away. Tante Annerl is easily frightened, so I understood it when she said that the dense fog often creates grisly shapes that were scary to her as she and her sisters walked home from school. She said even the trees looked like stunted monsters in a fairy tale.
Her next door neighbor was her “favorite imaginary witch:
“Most mornings she waddled past my window, grumpy as always, with her yellowish shriveled fat framed by loose strands of gray hair straggling out from under her faded denim-colored kerchief. She was hunchbacked and held on to her walking stick. It was so easy to make up my own fairy tale where this witch would get lost in the nearby woods or be swallowed by an evil monster.”
P. 46
"It was always so cold in that bedroom but at least sunlight made the intricate ice flowers sparkle on the curtain-less windows."
p. 60
"By the time we started down the hill, Hans let them gallop for a stretch. The speed was such a thrill as snow sprayed in all directions. Flecks of it flew in my face but I didn't mind at all. When the horses slowed down, they dribbled white, foamy slobber that froze on their muzzles. The sleigh swayed gently as they trotted along bare-branched hedge rows tipped with puffy caps of snow. We moved along rough-plowed fields where smudges of brown earth peeked through the snow....
"After more than an hour's ride, the road led into a forest. The fir trees were covered in such enormous pillows of snow that they could have been big-bellied giants lining up beside us. Sprays of light feathery snow floated down on us when birds shook a branch while lifting off for flight. My eyes followed the different traces of animals in the forest such as the black rabbit pellets on the snow banks, the tracks of deer hooves, and the stick-like signatures of crows' feet."
p. 62
If you enjoy these vivid excerpts, treat yourself to the book. The cover of the book, a village dusted in snow, is also one of Gerlinde's paintings.
Kindness
KINDNESS
— Naomi Shihab Nye
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.
— Naomi Shihab Nye
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.
Day 30
3 in the morning of the 30th day,
I drove down Austin Highway,
For the first time in all my night-wandering, I didn't see a single car, not even a police car. Gas signs announced an unbelievable $1.26 a gallon. I passed the Target shopping center, across from the closed gym. Usually homeless people are gathered at the gas stations and bus stops, and usually the line at the one fast food place open at 3 a.m. is long. But this time, nobody was out and about.
When I pulled into my favorite all-night Whataburger for a senior drink, I was greeted with, "Good morning, Beautiful!" by the adorable Andy who works nights.
I know very little about this young man except that he exudes kindness every single time I see him, and if I hold out a dollar, he says, "You know better than that, Sweetheart!"
If I were way younger, I'd have a crush on this curly-haired teddy bear of a man!
I came home to continue working on my round book:
I am so excited about a class I signed up for by Lendon Noe, an art professor who also has a degree in English literature! The class is called "Meaning Making" and combines poetry with visual art in ways I've been hoping to find.
In the first class, she is teaching how to borrow the structure of a sonnet in a line-making exercise, taking the visual to a whole new level for me, bringing to the visual the techniques and themes of some of my favorite poets: Pablo Neruda, Emily Dickinson, Rilke, Whitman, and others.
I found this course on Carla Sonheim's website: https://www.carlasonheim.com/course/meaning-making-inspired-by-poetry/
Ironically, I had just ordered a book of poetry a few days ago by Pablo Neruda!
I drove down Austin Highway,
For the first time in all my night-wandering, I didn't see a single car, not even a police car. Gas signs announced an unbelievable $1.26 a gallon. I passed the Target shopping center, across from the closed gym. Usually homeless people are gathered at the gas stations and bus stops, and usually the line at the one fast food place open at 3 a.m. is long. But this time, nobody was out and about.
When I pulled into my favorite all-night Whataburger for a senior drink, I was greeted with, "Good morning, Beautiful!" by the adorable Andy who works nights.
I know very little about this young man except that he exudes kindness every single time I see him, and if I hold out a dollar, he says, "You know better than that, Sweetheart!"
If I were way younger, I'd have a crush on this curly-haired teddy bear of a man!
I came home to continue working on my round book:
....And my Rolo Dex cards of gel prints
I am so excited about a class I signed up for by Lendon Noe, an art professor who also has a degree in English literature! The class is called "Meaning Making" and combines poetry with visual art in ways I've been hoping to find.
In the first class, she is teaching how to borrow the structure of a sonnet in a line-making exercise, taking the visual to a whole new level for me, bringing to the visual the techniques and themes of some of my favorite poets: Pablo Neruda, Emily Dickinson, Rilke, Whitman, and others.
I found this course on Carla Sonheim's website: https://www.carlasonheim.com/course/meaning-making-inspired-by-poetry/
Ironically, I had just ordered a book of poetry a few days ago by Pablo Neruda!
Thursday, April 9, 2020
Day 29:
1.
It seems so long ago that I collected avocados 🥑,
cabbage 🥬,
flowers 🌺,
hibiscus tea☕️,
red onions 🧅,
blueberries,
and bright yellow turmeric
for dyeing papers.
It was so much fun to see the colors on those pages after dipping them in dye baths, then baking them in the oven for a couple of minutes. When I made more than I had pans for baking, I let the sun cook some of them.
Today I'm arranging stacks of pinks and purples and yellow, cutting them into small rectangles, and folding them to make little books to be bound with twigs and twine.
2.
Here's a picture of my beautiful mama, Carlene, taken by Bob and Jocelyn who filled her freezer with two weeks of homemade meals and groceries. Jocelyn loves cooking and is an excellent cook, so Miss Carlene is bound to be happy every time she opens that freezer.
She's doing so well--happy and active and staying inside (except for walking a little bit outside).
3.
Bonnie and Elena doing pilates together on the porch, both making the most of home-schooling.
4.
Day spent an entire day of Spring Break yesterday making masks for hers and Tom's extended family--68 of them in all!
5.
Last year, I recommended a memoir by my friend Gerlinde Pyron, Shadows and Joys of a Life in Bavaria. This morning she sent me a photo of the cover of one of her favorite magazines along with her childhood memories of Easter:
"Here is my Easter Greeting from one of my beloved magazines (Beautiful Bavarian Forest) that I have saved – they go back all the way to the 1990’s. Each time I visited my aunt I would take along one of these magazines and read some articles that might be relevant depending on what time of the year it was. But of course now she is in isolation at the nursing home and I am unable to cheer her up though her youngest daughter, who works as a dietician in a hospital in Austin, is able to “suit up” to visit her and send videos which is nice...."
"The baked Easter Lamb was traditionally taken to Easter Sunday Service to be blessed along with eggs – ours were not as elaborate as those on the cover. The two bunches of flowers are what we picked and brought home for Easter. The one on the left were called Dotter Blumen (egg yolk flowers) that grew in soggy meadows, the bunch on the right were Schluessel Blumen (key flowers) with an absolutely exhilarating fragrance which I can still vividly smell even now when I put my mind to it. I find it fascinating that not only can we recall memories but also that smells are stored in one’s brain."
6.
I got bored with The Heart Guy midway and moved on to Masterpiece's World on Fire, Helen Hunt playing an American journalist during WW2. The characters are complex, the screenplay and cinematography excellent--highly recommended.
It seems so long ago that I collected avocados 🥑,
cabbage 🥬,
flowers 🌺,
hibiscus tea☕️,
red onions 🧅,
blueberries,
and bright yellow turmeric
for dyeing papers.
It was so much fun to see the colors on those pages after dipping them in dye baths, then baking them in the oven for a couple of minutes. When I made more than I had pans for baking, I let the sun cook some of them.
Today I'm arranging stacks of pinks and purples and yellow, cutting them into small rectangles, and folding them to make little books to be bound with twigs and twine.
2.
Here's a picture of my beautiful mama, Carlene, taken by Bob and Jocelyn who filled her freezer with two weeks of homemade meals and groceries. Jocelyn loves cooking and is an excellent cook, so Miss Carlene is bound to be happy every time she opens that freezer.
She's doing so well--happy and active and staying inside (except for walking a little bit outside).
3.
Bonnie and Elena doing pilates together on the porch, both making the most of home-schooling.
4.
Day spent an entire day of Spring Break yesterday making masks for hers and Tom's extended family--68 of them in all!
5.
Last year, I recommended a memoir by my friend Gerlinde Pyron, Shadows and Joys of a Life in Bavaria. This morning she sent me a photo of the cover of one of her favorite magazines along with her childhood memories of Easter:
"Here is my Easter Greeting from one of my beloved magazines (Beautiful Bavarian Forest) that I have saved – they go back all the way to the 1990’s. Each time I visited my aunt I would take along one of these magazines and read some articles that might be relevant depending on what time of the year it was. But of course now she is in isolation at the nursing home and I am unable to cheer her up though her youngest daughter, who works as a dietician in a hospital in Austin, is able to “suit up” to visit her and send videos which is nice...."
"The baked Easter Lamb was traditionally taken to Easter Sunday Service to be blessed along with eggs – ours were not as elaborate as those on the cover. The two bunches of flowers are what we picked and brought home for Easter. The one on the left were called Dotter Blumen (egg yolk flowers) that grew in soggy meadows, the bunch on the right were Schluessel Blumen (key flowers) with an absolutely exhilarating fragrance which I can still vividly smell even now when I put my mind to it. I find it fascinating that not only can we recall memories but also that smells are stored in one’s brain."
6.
I got bored with The Heart Guy midway and moved on to Masterpiece's World on Fire, Helen Hunt playing an American journalist during WW2. The characters are complex, the screenplay and cinematography excellent--highly recommended.
Wednesday, April 8, 2020
Chapter One
One of you--a very dear friend--asked me if I might share the book I'm writing, so I'll share here its beginning.
March 30, 2020
My house sits in the curved elbow of a San Antonio street. A lawn mower hums, then the whir of a leaf blower, welcome sounds that remind me of the way life sounded three weeks ago.
A man walks past my house connected to two frisky dogs on leashes. Two young parents push baby wagons shaped like classic Chevies, blue, each carrying a baby boy with curly hair, an adorable matched set of humans.
Nearly three weeks into isolation, I watch the outside from my window and porch. The plants are spring-greening. A canopy of pecan trees spreads itself over our street. An occasional car passes. The conversations that used to enliven the slow walking of neighbors have been replaced with an eerie silence. Families are juggling work-at-home and helping children learn to tele-school.
Like me, my house is a septuagenarian, though we didn’t know each other in our youths. She’s a squatty little house in a grand old neighborhood, and I know every interior crack, nail hole and bubble in her walls. A silent and peaceful cottage, this house is as perfect a place as I could imagine in which to shelter during this quarantine.
The trees are beginning to bud, oblivious of the news floating through the cables below, dire warnings and predictions. A few feet in from the hushed streets, my big pomegranate tree sports only four tiny coral flowers.. The bougainvillea and crepe myrtle have yet to announce their upcoming parties of pink.
Happy patches of poppies and yellow Esperanza are blooming in the community garden, stand-ins for Fiesta. Instead of the usual Fiesta wreaths and streamers that announce San Antonio’s April week-long party of parades, we see lone walkers, unadorned doors, and a bounty of birds, bees and flowers.
At Central Market, a mile away, people wait in long lines to be admitted. A man stands at his prescribed six-feet distance playing “Brown Eyed Girl” on a saxophone. Yellow tape and police remind shoppers of social distancing guidelines.
Because I’m among over seventy the higher risk pool, I venture out in my car only once a day. I drive past Central Market, but I don’t go inside. I mail cards at the drive in post box. Some days I park in the lot and watch people while talking on my phone to my mother, my children, or my friends.
My mother, Carlene, is a healthy and vibrant 94-year-old. By the time we thought of the possibility of her coming here from Georgia to wait this out together, it was too late for women our ages to travel. So we talk every morning, sometimes venting about Trump, sometimes laughing as if these were normal times. We remind each other to count to 20 when we wash our hands. She reminds me to spray the door handles of my car.
The saxophone stirs and soothes me, a tonic after too much news, too many talking heads, too many voices of caution on NPR. A few shoppers, bee-lining to their cars with babies, bags and carts, sway to the music. A young man wearing a green fuzzy animal costume, all but the face which might identify his pretend-species, walks across the parking lot, head down, a sad cartoon character with a human face.
My face in the rearview mirror softens as the honey of stranger’s sax drifts into my skin, behind my eyes, then lodges where music meets memories.
*****
Day 28
A longtime member of NPR, I've never before actually joined PBS, until today. You can join for $60 a year, and what a bargain that is.
As I began to pursue my options, I found World on Fire for bingeing and thought it had only three episodes. So I watched those three and now realize that there are four more.
This inflammatory syndrome I have erupts when I eat flour (cake, bread, cookies, etc.) or when I am in the presence of mold. Every spot on my body aches, I get tired and frustrated, and I'm not inclined to talk until it passes. Taking pain pills is not a solution, but it does make me a nicer person and eliminates pain for six hours at a time while I'm vowing to get back on track.
I bagged up all my crackers and spaghetti, bread and pancake mix, and will either give it to Jan or deliver it to the firefighters at my next opportunity.
What I can eat when my sweet tooth starts talking to me are lemon pudding, coconut pudding, rice pudding, egg custard, etc. Tomorrow I will be sure to add ingredients to my next grocery list.
In the meanwhile, I just happened to have whipping cream and fresh Meyer lemons from Jan's tree, so I made a midnight cup to enjoy on Day 28.
***
The cardinals and other birds are having a party with all the bread-stuff I'm tossing out this morning!
As I began to pursue my options, I found World on Fire for bingeing and thought it had only three episodes. So I watched those three and now realize that there are four more.
This inflammatory syndrome I have erupts when I eat flour (cake, bread, cookies, etc.) or when I am in the presence of mold. Every spot on my body aches, I get tired and frustrated, and I'm not inclined to talk until it passes. Taking pain pills is not a solution, but it does make me a nicer person and eliminates pain for six hours at a time while I'm vowing to get back on track.
I bagged up all my crackers and spaghetti, bread and pancake mix, and will either give it to Jan or deliver it to the firefighters at my next opportunity.
What I can eat when my sweet tooth starts talking to me are lemon pudding, coconut pudding, rice pudding, egg custard, etc. Tomorrow I will be sure to add ingredients to my next grocery list.
In the meanwhile, I just happened to have whipping cream and fresh Meyer lemons from Jan's tree, so I made a midnight cup to enjoy on Day 28.
***
The cardinals and other birds are having a party with all the bread-stuff I'm tossing out this morning!
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
Day 27
When Day created this blog seven years ago for my 65th birthday, it was for sharing memories of my "Traveling Solo" trip to the West Coast. When I got home, I'd gotten so comfortable with this page that I just kept on writing.
I want to than you all for reading my quirky little blog--a combination of scrapbook, journal and letter to my beloved people!
I've been careless with eating these past few days and the result is inflammation and pain, so I'm going back on the flour-free wagon for the duration. Walked 2000 steps, according to the heart app on my phone, and snapped this chalk heart on the road:
Tonight I've been doing Face Time with Nathan and Elena. Here's a screen shot of Nathan doing some special effects as we talked:
And here are a couple of gel prints I made today:
I want to than you all for reading my quirky little blog--a combination of scrapbook, journal and letter to my beloved people!
I've been careless with eating these past few days and the result is inflammation and pain, so I'm going back on the flour-free wagon for the duration. Walked 2000 steps, according to the heart app on my phone, and snapped this chalk heart on the road:
Tonight I've been doing Face Time with Nathan and Elena. Here's a screen shot of Nathan doing some special effects as we talked:
And here are a couple of gel prints I made today:
Monday, April 6, 2020
Day 26, Monday
1. What I'm going to show you today is not art--but I'm offering it to you in the spirit of playfulness, maybe meditation if you want to elevate it a bit:
One of the You Tubers who introduced me to willy nilly collage--gluing and taping and marking on a page with whatever is at hand--is Cat Hand. Another, Nina Ribina, calls these master boards: you do basically the same thing, but then you make color copies and cut them up into pieces and use them to make other things.
This is my first effort, displayed on my bedspread yesterday. Today I will see if I can pull it together in some way. I chose generic ink for my printer at its last change and the colors--should I try to copy them--won't capture the actual colors very well. Next time I'll but the name-brand ink.
The good thing about this particular background-making collage is that you can listen to podcasts or audio books or even watch films without subtitles while you make them!
2. A few years ago, Diana--one of the members of my Sunday writing group--introduced me to the blog of Sherry, her writer friend who lives in Bali. I love Sherry's posts. The one she wrote for today really spoke to me, a kindred introvert. Sherry's recent blog posts were about her trip to Italy, to celebrate her 70th birthday. Now she is back in Bali going through her own self-quarantine.
https://writingforselfdiscovery.com/author/writingforselfdiscovery/
3. "The Heart Guy"--the Australian series I've been watching on Acorn--is a good distraction, but I decided last night to watch a shorter series on Netflix today: Unorthodox.
One of the You Tubers who introduced me to willy nilly collage--gluing and taping and marking on a page with whatever is at hand--is Cat Hand. Another, Nina Ribina, calls these master boards: you do basically the same thing, but then you make color copies and cut them up into pieces and use them to make other things.
This is my first effort, displayed on my bedspread yesterday. Today I will see if I can pull it together in some way. I chose generic ink for my printer at its last change and the colors--should I try to copy them--won't capture the actual colors very well. Next time I'll but the name-brand ink.
The good thing about this particular background-making collage is that you can listen to podcasts or audio books or even watch films without subtitles while you make them!
2. A few years ago, Diana--one of the members of my Sunday writing group--introduced me to the blog of Sherry, her writer friend who lives in Bali. I love Sherry's posts. The one she wrote for today really spoke to me, a kindred introvert. Sherry's recent blog posts were about her trip to Italy, to celebrate her 70th birthday. Now she is back in Bali going through her own self-quarantine.
https://writingforselfdiscovery.com/author/writingforselfdiscovery/
3. "The Heart Guy"--the Australian series I've been watching on Acorn--is a good distraction, but I decided last night to watch a shorter series on Netflix today: Unorthodox.
Sunday, April 5, 2020
Day 25, 384 cases in Bexar County
This morning, I disinfected, donned my gloves and flannel mask (gift of my sweet friend Jan), and drove through the parking lot at Central Market. The three-deep line, if straight, would have reached into Incarnate Word's parking lot next door. Half the shoppers wore masks.
The saxophonist played to grim faces. In spite of the store's effort to infuse a few moments of festivity among shoppers who would, in normal circumstances, be celebrating Fiesta, wearing flowers in their hair and Fiesta medals on their shirts, nobody was moving to the music, not even a little, as they did a week ago.
Had I gotten there earlier, I'd planned to go into the empty post office and mail a Happy Mail to Day, but I decided to drive to a more isolated post office, go in with gloves and mask, and use the machine. The box--UPS was going to charge me $75 to mail it by the way--cost only $11 to mail from the post office.
Driving down McCollough, I passed the three streets we'd lived on in our first two years in Texas, three tree-named streets: Magnolia, Mistletoe, and Huisache. I wanted to take a look at my three former houses, returning in memory to a different life when we were young and hopeful and the future stretched out decades ahead of us. I tried to imagine the girl I was in 1967, 1968, back when the backdrop of that neighborhood included the new Hemisfair Tower. Back when my then-husband and his SAC students made a float for the Fiesta parade.
I remember making candy-cane striped curtains for the wide upstairs bedroom window in the two-story Huisache house, a quarter of a yard of fabric at a time all I could afford at Winn's as I walked home from my classes at SAC. I remember being sunburned in that bedroom after falling asleep on a Spring Break trip; my teenaged brother visiting and our German Shepherd Tony growling at him as if he were an intruder; my parents visiting and a robbery in our house while we were at Canyon Lake with Tony.
At 18 and 19, I never paid attention to the houses next door to ours, the trees on each street. An old person to my then-young eyes would have probably--let's be honest--been virtually invisible. Even my parents who came to visit were young, in their early forties.Young people tend to see what's close at hand, not the bigger picture.
At this stage of my life, I not only love and recognize grand old trees whose names I know, I pull my car over to look at a few of them in morning light, the budding of baby leaves on their branches. I notice the houses surrounding the houses we lived in. I notice old people sitting at bus stops, young men running, parents pushing strollers.
Back then, I might have wondered if I'd have babies; today I long to see my grandchildren in real life but was happy to get glimpses of the Texas ones on a text.
Driving home, I pulled into the parking lot of Julian Gold, an upscale clothing store, and snapped a few iPhone pictures of their window displays, seeming now like relics of another life:
In just one month, so many things we barely even noticed before look like anachronisms.
I watch movies and see people moving about freely, hugging, eating in restaurants dressed casually or glamorously, drinking and eating and laughing. I drive past churches on a Sunday morning and remember seeing people on lawns dressed in Easter colors. I think, wistfully, Oh yeah, I remember that world! Those were such good times!
The saxophonist played to grim faces. In spite of the store's effort to infuse a few moments of festivity among shoppers who would, in normal circumstances, be celebrating Fiesta, wearing flowers in their hair and Fiesta medals on their shirts, nobody was moving to the music, not even a little, as they did a week ago.
Had I gotten there earlier, I'd planned to go into the empty post office and mail a Happy Mail to Day, but I decided to drive to a more isolated post office, go in with gloves and mask, and use the machine. The box--UPS was going to charge me $75 to mail it by the way--cost only $11 to mail from the post office.
Driving down McCollough, I passed the three streets we'd lived on in our first two years in Texas, three tree-named streets: Magnolia, Mistletoe, and Huisache. I wanted to take a look at my three former houses, returning in memory to a different life when we were young and hopeful and the future stretched out decades ahead of us. I tried to imagine the girl I was in 1967, 1968, back when the backdrop of that neighborhood included the new Hemisfair Tower. Back when my then-husband and his SAC students made a float for the Fiesta parade.
I remember making candy-cane striped curtains for the wide upstairs bedroom window in the two-story Huisache house, a quarter of a yard of fabric at a time all I could afford at Winn's as I walked home from my classes at SAC. I remember being sunburned in that bedroom after falling asleep on a Spring Break trip; my teenaged brother visiting and our German Shepherd Tony growling at him as if he were an intruder; my parents visiting and a robbery in our house while we were at Canyon Lake with Tony.
At 18 and 19, I never paid attention to the houses next door to ours, the trees on each street. An old person to my then-young eyes would have probably--let's be honest--been virtually invisible. Even my parents who came to visit were young, in their early forties.Young people tend to see what's close at hand, not the bigger picture.
At this stage of my life, I not only love and recognize grand old trees whose names I know, I pull my car over to look at a few of them in morning light, the budding of baby leaves on their branches. I notice the houses surrounding the houses we lived in. I notice old people sitting at bus stops, young men running, parents pushing strollers.
Back then, I might have wondered if I'd have babies; today I long to see my grandchildren in real life but was happy to get glimpses of the Texas ones on a text.
Driving home, I pulled into the parking lot of Julian Gold, an upscale clothing store, and snapped a few iPhone pictures of their window displays, seeming now like relics of another life:
In just one month, so many things we barely even noticed before look like anachronisms.
I watch movies and see people moving about freely, hugging, eating in restaurants dressed casually or glamorously, drinking and eating and laughing. I drive past churches on a Sunday morning and remember seeing people on lawns dressed in Easter colors. I think, wistfully, Oh yeah, I remember that world! Those were such good times!
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