Day 45

Objet du Jour - old castiron railway clock in my office, it follows me around, loses time unexpectedly but responds well to TLC

I went through the email inbox this morning and answered everything I had been throwing on the long finger as "tomorrow" or "when life gets more interesting."

It is not even 11.30 yet but I was up at 6.30.

I find time is truly flying. I judge it by when I feel my weekly pill boxes. Yes, 2 large ones. Lots of pills. And as I was filling them today, Saturday, which is the day for filling, I thought: didn't I fill these just yesterday? Well no. The week slid out from under me. Also my mornings warp speed by. I think it is 8 but often it is closer to 10.

I'm reading this, sent by Niece and totally enjoying:

I'm playing Enya, it's that kind of morning. We've had a last outburst of snow last night. Enya always reminds me of spring. A long playlist. Sample:


I wrote a poem this morning. There's a poetry contest on CBC, deadline May 31st. I always hand write poems first. I like the sound of the pen on the page and how the poem can evolve as I read it and stroke and amend for clarity. Poems are succint. This one was complex and startling and I hesitate to share it but maybe I will eventually.

We've had no new cases here for 7 days now. So maybe, just maybe?

I hope you're all doing well out there.

Your Thoughts on the Year of the Plague.

I've been asked to do a radio interview on the effects on seniors/elders in the time of Covid 19.

Most of mine are positive as I do love my own company and my own activities and am not one for small talk and fluffy social gatherings that involve bingo and cards and darts, etc.

The down thoughts are as follows:

Not seeing my daughter as much as I normally do. Especially on Saturday which was her birthday.

Not seeing my niece and her little ones.

I miss going out for coffee with friends.

I miss meals out.

I miss theatre and other live cultural events.

I dislike the hit or miss quality of my grocery deliveries.

I fret about the cavalier and careless visitors without masks or gloves entering my building, cleverly evading our superintendent who is trying to police the building from such violations.

On the other hand, on the weekend, I watched a large family of young adults and children performing a dance in the front lawn of my building all wearing masks and gloves to entertain a grandparent watching from her window.

I also think (but not depressively I hasten to add) - is this all there is? Are these my final days on planet earth? What happens if people start dying in my building?

And large thoughts: what happens if there is an entire economic collapse. How will elders survive without pensions or savings and in possible ill health?

Have at it.

Notes from the Year of the Plague

It truly is not a poor existence.

I get to play indoors.
I get to not have to engage with the covidiots roaming freely and laughing at the rest of us.
I realize my privilege in having groceries and medications delivered.
I get to choose who to respond to in both my messages and texts and phonecalls.
I have all the time in the world to watch a series on a streaming service.
I can read all day if I want.
I have the luxury of designing a new blanket and surveying my yarn stash for colours and quality.
I can play a playlist from start to finish. Mozart, Beethoven, The Chieftains, Enya, Peter Paul and Mary, et al, et al.
I get to watch the birds nesting and hear their calls to each other.
I get to play Lexulous with those with whom I've been playing for countless years.
I get to slow-read newspapers
I get to kick off misbehaving members from my two FB groups (I know, a bit petty there but oh so satisfying)
I get to buy an expensive necessary gift for Daughter on line for her birthday tomorrow. After researching reviews, etc. Coz I've saved money on gas and going out, etc. She will be thrilled but not saying anything about it here as she may read this blog post.
I get loads of time to respond to so many interesting requests like a youth group hooking up with SOS in any way we deem helpful once this plague is over. A couple are writing a book on non-state terrorism and asked me assist with material I have collected over the years. And on.

So some pics:

My Easter dinner was dropped off safely by Nephew. I had 4 meals out of it.

Writing away, I was struck by this, we have loads of opportunities here, right?

Covid-19 (Day 31 of Self-Isolation)

Our prime minister, Justin Trudeau. And this is how I feel today.

The thing about being an elder is one can't let one's honest feelings out, right?

We're supposed to be strong and wise with the mellow of our years wearing a lean on me countenance at all times.

But that inner four year old resides within. And boy does she come out now and again. The impatience, the judgement, the no-one cares.

Today is such a day.

So I am throwing it out there. Easter Sunday.

Easter Sunday is the old pagan feast of Oestra, honouring Ishtar, the goddess of fertility and sex. My childhood religion, long thrown to the curb by moi, caught the fertility of the Oestra part but missed out completely on the sex unless it was their evil preaching hypocritical representatives stealing the spirits of innocent children, but I digress.

I am aware my world has completely shrunk, not that it was very large before, but now it is minuscule so I tend to obsess on unimportant stuff. Like tasks to be completed but then neglected. So I need to carve off some unpleasant wee tasks and just do them.

Many out here on the Edge are not gifted with a grasp of the seriousness of this pandemic and since their only hobby may be shopping and wandering aimlessly, indulge in that to the jeopardy of everyone else. I've been offered take out ("like a burger?"), etc, from these happy wanderers, oblivious to their own behaviours and its effect on their neighbours. They get very upset if questioned on how they are picking up such foods and I feel foolish for having prepped little care packages for them under the delusion of their following the isolating rules along with me. One took my gift of a hand knitted mask (not transmission approved, I view it merely as a warning to stay the eff away from me if I have to go in the halls for laundry or pickup) as permission to shop freely now.

So my isolation leads to despair and feeling quite solitary in my persistence of paying attention to all recommendations and wishing there were some real enforcement of them. I honestly believe we ain't seen nothing yet in the spread of this nightmare.
(
Pretty hand knitted masks, (more material can be inserted in the inside pocket). They are merely a signal and protection of others from one's sneezes, etc., but most of all a reminder not to touch our faces.

May the goddess, Ishtar, be good to all of you today.

Covid-19 (Day 29 of self-isolation)

Objet du Jour - a shawl I completed in about 40 shades of violet. I left it on my couch as I like looking at it and can hardly wait to waltz about outside in it.

There's a form of routine to my days, it's loose but there.

So here it is.

I get up at my usual time and make my breakfast (always a frightful bore - a large pot of dark roast - freshly ground beans, one egg and some healthy cereal with homemade yogurt and fresh or canned fruit) and well, 16 pills to start my day. All for kidney and heart and blood pressure function along with some D drops, some complex B and a baby aspirin (they don't call them that anymore right?)

I read my latest novel while I eat, a habit I've practiced for years except in my B&B days when I had to serve my guests. Afterwards it's Tao meditation time (I light a small candle) and the gathering of my self. I plan my meals for the day then so when I get involved in other stuff I know what I'm eating. I jot notes on whatever I'm writing.

Every morning, I email my small family (we have a group chat) a good morning wish and maybe a song or a positive thought. Today it was gratitude for their love for me and mine for them evidenced by a huge care package dropped off by my nephew last night which made me cry. Niece had put it together. I saw him through the heavy glass doors of my building and it felt so lonely and surreal as we waved at each other but this is much worse for them as he hasn't hugged his wife or his children in 4 weeks as he works in an environment that is high risk.

Then I check the newspapers - all digitally. I post relevant news items on the Covid-19 site I founded. And read comments and moderate and kick off misbehaving members with their own hateful agendas. Then I write for a while, or I knit. Or blog. Or a mix of everything. If I attend a Zoom meeting I knit which is a bonus.

I am never bored. I feel enormously free to do stuff now without the pressure of other stuff, if you know what I mean. My meds and groveries are delivered, I can PJ myself all day if I want. I don't have to interact with small talk ever (it drives me bats, call me deranged, I truly have to scrabble around in my brain to find bland sentences to volley back at the ones that are thrown at me).

Here are Canadian woman physicians singing one of my favourite songs of all time (originally written and sung by the Rankin Family).

Have a listen. Try not to let a tear leak. But ah go on - do, it's good for you. You don't have to be tough all the time.

Covid-19 (Day 25 of self-isolation)

Objet due jour - non stop blooming since January in my kitchen.

Time ran out from under me. Not all of it good. I'm sure many of you out there are having the same doldrums I am, days of it at times. Akin to despair. For who is cheerful and optimistic all of the time?

Not least of my frustration and well, yes, rage, was directed at a bunch of communities/towns and their leaders who broke with all Health Service directives and had a huge gathering and lighting of a tree to honour "front line workers" some of whom attended this incredible breach of safety. Not to mention setting a terrible example for youth. Daughter lives in the midst of this on a front line job with a compromised health factor to begin with and I was horrified. And helpless. When we protested along with a few valued friends, the pitchforks came out in full force and we were castigated for spoiling the fun and not understanding the "community spirit" but denigrating it. And should hitch up our wagons and get out of Dodge

No more will I say as I really don't want to relive this appalling episode. I could go on for a good long rant here but let's move on.

I started another novel and actually wrote 4,000 words yesterday. I had done a bare outline of this on my blog years ago and it has taken on an expanded life now and based on my own life. Well so much writing is based on our own lives, right? Some aspects of our own truth and reality. This book is one of the closest and it takes me right out of myself.

I read this somewhere else and wrote it down to inspire me.

"Someone has to succeed and there's no reason it shouldn't be me!"

Words to live by. Whatever that success could mean. Nothing to do with money or fame. Sometimes I am successful just making my own yogurt or gathering the ingredients for a nourishing soup.

I need to up the ante on this blog game. Sorry for the delays. Sometimes I can't breathe out the words or the frustration or the despair or even the smiles. But today the sun is out, and I am back in the saddle and groceries will be delivered today.

How are you all doing?