We Were Just Lucky

That's really all there is to it.  I don't much think about luck, as I don't find it particularly helpful.  However, it's about the best explanation I can think of for why we made it through just fine.  The idea that we have some special worthiness or mission to fulfill just seems vile to me, as if others are lacking.  Maybe you just call that survivor's guilt.  I don't know.  I've just found myself thinking about this randomly over the past year.

We took a trip to Texas in February last year to see the daughter and son-in-law.  It was our Christmas present from them.  It is something else to receive a gift from your kids you could not purchase for yourself or for them, but that's not for today.  I remember the concerns I had as we got ready to go.  I was packing a bit differently.  As usual, I had concerns about Bruce's health, but now with the added unknown swirling about.  I wondered whether the trip would be canceled.  I wondered whether we should cancel it.  I wondered whether we would be able to come home.  Some cruise ship passengers had been brought to an Air Force base near them for quarantine.  I was glad that the daughter's job had changed and she was no longer working on that base. 

It's become a bit of a traveling tradition to pick up a few reusable shopping bags local to the area we are visiting

We had a good visit, and parting was sad.  We wondered when we would see one another again, but we couldn't bring ourselves to say those words, whether we were hugging one another for the last time.  We crossed our fingers and tried not to worry as we made our way back home.  You could see it with other passengers, too, with every cough and sniffle ratcheting up the tension.  

Once home, we increased our efforts to prepare and took further precautions.  Bruce was staying home from most errands.  Soon, even my younger brother (who generally puts forth the view that most people's worrying is worthless and that they are overreacting) was checking to see if we were going to stay home all the time.  We had two last nerve-wracking errands to tend to after that call before we did so.          

The more I learned, the more that was revealed, I see how lucky we have been.  Well, if luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity, we're doing our best to stay prepared, and, well, this is a heck of an opportunity, eh?  

Now, here we are a year out, and it all just hits over and over again for us.  We've had some extra-for-our-area winter weather, but we avoided much worse.  My heart goes out to everyone in Texas.  Here we are, just watching horrible suffering and no way to stop it.  All I can do is add my few dollars to those of others and keep thinking warm thoughts and praying.   
        

May the Bluebird of Crappiness Fly Up Your Nose

Sometimes, I'm just so angry.*  Angry at those who could have prevented so much death and loss and suffering.  Angry at those who could have enabled people to make safer choices by providing for us.  Angry at their lies.  Angry at the way they endanger others with their words and their actions.  Angry at the hate.  Angry at the breathtaking greed.   

Like many other people, early in life, I received some harmful messages about anger, and, well, there has been a lot of reinforcement of those messages over the years. So, yeah, it is still sometimes a difficult emotion for me.  It used to be much worse, I mean, it nearly killed me, but I have learned to do better with it, to allow myself to feel it, and to not stay stuck there when I do.  Sometimes I sit with it for a bit before I shift towards an action to help, or sometimes I need a little bit of silliness to shake it off, and that, combined with a little bit of stabbing, is something I've been doing lately.  

I'm knitting Bluebirds of Crappiness.  Buy this pattern, and the proceeds go to Chicago-area foodbanks.  So, yeah, there's a little bit of helping others, and that is always good.  Also, if you're missing knitting with others, knit along with Anna in a YouTube video she made.   

When I was a kid, sometimes my grandpa would sing "May the Bird of Paradise Fly Up Your Nose" at random times.  Actually, he just sang that one line, and then whistled on in a way that explains the (lack of) musical genius that spreads through so much of the family tree.  Anyway, these are not Birds of Paradise, but Bluebirds of Crappiness, and the idea of them flying up some particular noses both connects with my anger while also helping me release it.  As a bonus, when I embellish them with needle-felting I get to stab over and over and over again, without harming others.

*So, yeah, I wrote this post a few months ago (I think?  Time is all messed up).  At that time, it was mostly about the coronavirus pandemic.  It's so much more now.            

Time to Line Up Some Ducks

So, I'm not doing too well with one of my New Year's Resolutions.  Specifically, the one in which I resolved to do better with keeping in touch.  In fact, I received multiple messages from folks who hadn't heard from me, doing a bit of a check-in to see how we're doing over here.  As it turns out, my thinking about you all often and talking to you in my head doesn't translate into anything other than me living too much in my head.  Yeah, that's not a recipe for what we need.  Oh, and bee-tee-dubs, I didn't really think you could pick up on what's in my head, I just got stuck in the thinking, and didn't move on to the doing.  It's a blessing to have people reaching out and checking in on one another, and I am grateful for it.  Well, it's time for me to get some of my ducks in a row, so here we go with much more of an update than anyone is probably seeking.    

We're, still here, still home, and still well.  Well, as well as what goes for well around here, but you know what I mean.  We look to be home for a long time--like a year or more kind of a long time.  We're trying to balance being realistic and prepared without dwelling on it.  Sometimes it feels less-than-awesome to think about it.  On the other hand, we are incredibly grateful that we can stay home except for going out for curbside pickup of groceries and supplies.  We know that not everyone gets to choose that.  

Now, we spent a lot of time at home before this, and in a lot of ways, our life has not changed too much.  Then again, it has changed a lot.  We miss being with friends and family in person.  We miss the convenience of restaurants.  We miss going inside the grocery, picking out our own produce, seeing new things, and making our own substitutions on the fly.  We miss just popping over there to grab two or three things we need or just want, instead of waiting for the two-week re-supply, making a $35 (or whatever the threshold is) minimum order, and scheduling a pick-up time.  We miss fast food.  We miss drive-thrus.  We miss having more frequent fresh produce.  We miss going inside any store.  We miss going somewhere in the car and not calculating if the adventure will be short enough not to require a restroom.       

We're getting tired of some things, too.  We're tired of the planning and thinking and preparing for possible/probable/likely shortages.  We're tired of what feels like the constant cooking-eating-washing dishes cycle.  We're tired of news that is is not new.  We're tired of planning meals.  We're tired of the smell of disinfectant.  We're tired of mystery shopping, pressing that "order" button, and still not being quite sure of what we will get.  We're tired of so many plastic bags.  We're tired of thinking about this, of planning for it.  We're tired of worrying.     

We've been sad and angry, too, about things big and small.  There has been so much loss, and there is so much more to come.  Who all have we seen and hugged for the last time?  What other lasts have passed?  We can't celebrate birthdays, holidays, achievements, or milestones together.  We cannot comfort and support in person, people going through trying times.  If it cannot be delivered or picked up curbside, we cannot get it.  We have a transnational crime syndicate masquerading as a government (I highly recommend this podcast).  We're missing out on seeing the young ones growing and changing, and the older among us are aging much more rapidly.  We're all getting a lot weirder, and it might be permanent.  People are dying.  People are losing so much.  The most vulnerable and marginalized are suffering much more, the structural inequalities show even more, it is easier for those in power to continue them, and harder for those who fight against them to do so.             

We are enjoying things, too, some old, some new.  We enjoy each other.  If I have to stay home for the foreseeable future, spending that time with my husband, who is my best friend, is pretty much the best.  We still put out food for the birds and squirrels and continue to enjoy watching them.  We're trying some new recipes, making little changes, and adding them to our repertoire.  While we didn't choose particularly well for "these extraordinary times" when we (not knowing all this was coming) bought a few packets of seeds this winter, some of what we planted has survived so far, and the time to do something with those seedlings has arrived, so that's some more new on the way.  Baking more is always good.  We're having desserts we normally only have on special occasions, and peach cobbler is still good, even with canned peaches.  We have so many television/movie choices to stream, and we have watched so much.  An evening of playing cards is a nice way to pass time, too.  We're helping others in whatever ways we can.  And, hey, guess what?  I even knit a bit, too, and that's pretty good. 

So, yeah, that's how we're doing.  We're doing better than some, not as well as others, but that's life, innit?  I know some of our choices differ from those of others, and there are many reasons for that.  We're doing our best to take care of ourselves and be considerate of others.  We hope you are finding that best balance for you and yours, too.                                  

Just A Little Horse

Hilarious, aren't I?  I'm sure staying at home for a couple of weeks will only improve my wit and wisdom.  Yeah, we're doing what seems like the best choice for us.  It also seems like that is the right thing for us to do for others, and it's always nice when those things are in agreement.  Still, there is so much we do not know and things are still changing, and, yeah, I don't have answers to that.  

I am finding it helpful to reach back into past experiences and use what I learned then.  For most of last year, we had a hospital bag packed and ready to go at a moment's notice, and then we spent the summer going in and out of the hospital.  I remember how I felt during those first several months--waiting for something to happen, worrying that something would happen, not fully sleeping so I could spring into action whenever whatever was going to happen would eventually happen.  The hospitalization phase was a bit different, though poor sleep (hospital sleep is not quality sleep) remained.  Find a problem, fix a problem, find more problems to be managed.  They're all very urgent and will kill, you learn.  Also, everything's a balancing act, and we'll have to wait and see.  More tests, more juggling of medicines, more realization that there is a lot of unknown we're dealing with.  It was similar to the CHF diagnosis time.  Anyway, we go back to the basics and do what we can with our abilities and resources.  We remember the lessons we learned then and apply that knowledge today.  

That's what we're doing here.  We're as prepared as we can be.  We try not to focus on what we cannot do or control.  We're texting, calling, and emailing each other.  We wave at the neighbors.  We watch a lot of television.  We're thinking about you all. I knit some (if the little horse isn't your favorite, maybe you'll like something else better).  I'm thinking about the new Animal Crossing game.  We play cards.  We pray.  Some things don't change much.