Not sure what day of the self quarantine I’m on. I do know I have begun to have conversations with myself. Last night I took both sides of an argument, and I have to say it got fairly heated. Also, I have noticed that though I’m still jumping in the shower every morning, my makeup drawer remains closed and my leggings and tee shirt drawer remains open. Serenading the cat while practicing dance moves on UTube is somewhat entertaining, at least to me. The cat, perched on her princess and the pea pillows has begun to look at me as if to say, “Woman, you need to get a hold of yourself, you really do and BTW this whole free spirit Isadora Duncan thing is not working for you.”
With extra time on my hands I am getting caught up on various projects around the house which is a plus. This morning I went on line and filled out my census questionnaire and put that to bed. Next I took the remaining three overripe bananas left on hand and made delicious banana muffins with cream cheese frosting. Unfortunately I may have to eat all twenty-four before Saturday as my small freezer has space for one frozen pea and possibly that would be tight.
The phone has taken on a life of it’s own. People are calling I haven’t heard from in a long time just to say hi. No sooner do I disconnect and begin to do something constructive and the darn thing rings again. What can you do? You can’t really say you weren’t home. Also, I appreciate people checking in with me so it doesn’t feel like the world is getting smaller.
A friend on Facebook put up a sobering reminder this morning which made this ordeal seem more palatable. She reminded those of us who were whining, oh okay I own it, about the confinement, Anne Frank and her family were in hiding in very cramped quarters for 761 days fearing discovery. Guess when you put it in perspective this is little sacrifice to be made on behalf of our health and that of our family, friends, and neighbors.
Today is my mom’s birthday. Originally we had planned a family gathering with all the trimmings but for now a card and an image of me singing happy birthday to her on the phone is what we will make do with. It is hard not to see her. Thursdays are our “hair and lunch days”. Ah well, I’m putting away the whine, out of cheese anyhow, and moving on.
Perhaps we should open up Swap Shops like marketplaces in medieval times where a goat might be traded for produce or pelts. Dark smoke filled places where a guy with too much toilet paper could meet to cut a deal with another guy sitting on a Costo size block of blue cheese (not literally, naturally, this would make it far less desirable). What a concept. I have a friend who would be in the catbird seat should this come to pass. He scored a five pound jar of peanut butter at Dollar General last week.
My creative juices seem to be stirring. It wouldn’t hurt me at all to have something stirring beyond my spoon in whatever it is I am currently stuffing in my mouth. Aside from cooking and eating I am rediscovering my love of sewing and drawing. After Rick passed away, hard to believe it will be two years in September, I really stopped doing all the things I’d always enjoyed. Truth was when he was sick there wasn’t much time for recreational activities. Had a therapist tell me once when humans are in what she referred to as “survival mode” there was no room for concentrating on external pleasures. For example if the only thing in your cupboard is half a bottle of mustard or you are about to be evicted your first thought might not be take out your watercolors and put brush to paper. Not saying some people don’t, but perhaps it is safe to say this might not be the norm.
I’m glad to see the government is attempting to do something by way of a hand out (not handout but actual hand out) to American businesses and workers. Certainly many people in this country count on their next paycheck to keep up and without it it will not take long for the fabric of their lives to begin to fray. It is heartening to hear of small businesses keeping their kitchens open to provide meals and the acts of kindness popping up in the news as the days pile one on top of the other.
Someday we will telling our grandchildren, perhaps too small now to understand, how this experience changed us back in 2020. Change us it will. Life altering situations such as this have a way of leaving a brand on you that though softened through time remains permanently etched on the windows of our souls.
Often I think how glad I am to be where I am today, the sum of all my yesterdays. Each experience good and bad combined to help make me stronger, more insightful, hopefully more tolerant, and undoubtedly wiser. As I’ve gotten older I occasionally miss my younger reflection in the mirror. However, every line in this face has a story behind it and will remain a part of me as long as I inhabit this body. Sometimes I look at famous faces and wonder why they feel the need to stretch and rework their features to such an extent. I could name quite a few that have had so much surgery done their original features are nearly undetectable. Perhaps it is society’s constant pursuit of youth that pushes us to hold onto it. Eighty year old power figures married to women half their age convincing themselves their trophy wives would still be standing next to them at the altar if they were flipping burgers at Micky D’s rather than running huge corporations padding massive bank accounts. Youth cannot be purchased no matter the price. It is a gift, if lucky, we are all given a chance to experience for a brief moment in a lifetime. Most of us, me included were far too clueless to appreciate being young when we actually were, and by the time we gained enough knowledge to have handled it well we were long beyond being considered youthful. An enigma of life for sure.
Today feels reflective to me, undoubtedly a side effect of too much time with me, myself and I. What an argumentative “B” myself can be by the way but don’t tell her I said so.
At any rate it is beginning to rain. I am off to do some sewing and dance with the cat. Talk later
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