Gimme Shelter… page 24

11 Apr 2020 Leave a comment

Day 30 – 04/11/2020

Highly resembles my view of home for the first two trimesters of my life, until we moved to the great greenway of NE Kansas. Social/physical/metaphysical distancing is in my DNA – I can do this ’til the cows come home. Stating facts, not bragging about being a weirdo, although if you wanna compare notes…

Yesterday was a hit-the-wall day – after Kim’s brief flurry of git ‘er done, it was a big space-off. We did mark and mail our primary ballots, so we were productive – this is no time to become expendable.

Amazon is starting to ship nonessential goods as they’re able, and we got a little speaker for the balcony yesterday that does not disappoint. The breakfast cook is out there with his coffee, soaking up the sun and providing a soundtrack for the yard guys. Every day there are moments to put in the bank…

It’s been a month, but feels like about half that – weekends roll around at a crazy pace… how can it be Saturday again already? Mental engagement feels like a challenging but crucial factor. Can’t afford to drop out… I might not ever make it back and I’d be pissed about that.

*****

Little something to pass the hours…

Image by Judy Smith

Gimme Shelter… page 23

10 Apr 2020 2 Comments

Day 29 – 04/10/2020

Kimmers and I are uncharacteristically (that word looks endless!) out of sync on this 29th day of the siege. He woke up full of energy and purpose, showered and dressed, hit some house chores, and he’s been playing guitar for a couple of hours now. I’m sitting at my desk in yesterday’s pjs, drinking coffee and wondering if the sense of limbo ever wears off. I’ve been up for five hours and have barely stirred my bones. Need spring to settle in – the sun’s shining but it’s only 42º on the balcony and feels 39. Not whining, just observing.

My involuntary prickliness is starting to take a toll on relationships and only further distancing helps to mitigate that effect. We’re all isolated and insulated, to a degree, each wrapped in our cocoon of thoughts and feelings – we’re bound to start knocking the rough edges off things eventually. But we need each other and when this is over we’ll need each other even more. I try to remember that when the abject cruelty makes me want to reach out and hurt somebody back.

Image by Judy Smith

Gimme Shelter… page 22

09 Apr 2020 Leave a comment

Day 28 – 04/09/2020

Beautiful morning, crisp and still. Kim’s out for his dawn patrol of Mass Street and environs while the girl has coffee and works on being alive. Also studying the spider web on the window, bigger by the day, obviously prime real estate for the fat arachnid that perches in its middle at night and scampers to a hidey-hole when the sun shows up. Ever’body gotta make a living.

Odd experience yesterday. I rode with Kim to pick up our repaired blinds, and on the way back up Iowa we could see flashing lights. Looked like there’d been a wreck until we were right on it and realized there were no car pieces, but a couple dozen items of knit clothing strewn across three lanes of traffic. Just as we passed by, I saw the body on the greenway, face in the grass, handcuffed behind the back, and either wearing flesh-colored tights or naked from the waist down, looked female. Totally bizarre, and I haven’t found anything about it in the news yet. Makes ya’ wonder what ELSE people get up to when nobody’s looking…

It was 90º here yesterday… and by Sunday we have a chance of snow. Go home, world, you’re drunk.

*All photos property of Kim Smith

Image by Judy Smith

Gimme Shelter… page 21

08 Apr 2020 Leave a comment

Day 27 – 04/08/2020

A gentle-feeling morning, with fog hanging in the trees. We have a forecast high today of 84º with wind, so the softness at 7am is nice.

Speaking of nice, yesterday was. Kim had to deliver something across town and invited me to ride shotgun. The ride was welcome after being inside for about a month, but the sights were sobering – brought it all home in a big way. Pretty much nothing is open except for curbside pickup. Mass Street is a ghost town. Saw people on their porches, but not many out and about on foot, and no kids running around anywhere.

Our delivery was the wooden blinds for the balcony door, in need of having a cord replaced and restrung. The storeowner opened the door a crack and asked Kim if he’d traveled anywhere recently. When he said no, she motioned for him to step away, placed a rubbermaid tub outside the door, told him to lay the rolled-up shade on it, and when he was back in the car she reached out and picked it up. Hello, brave new world.

Prettiest day of the year so far – high 70s, little breeze, warm sunshine – felt like a big hug. When we got back from our errand, Kim rode his bike on the levee while I took all my toys to the balcony. He was home in an hour, wondering if 3:30 was too early to day-drink, and the party was on – we watched the pink full moon come up, and did our part to solve the problems of the world. Too bad nobody listens to us…

A gift this morning from John’s supervisor and friend…

Image by Judy Smith

SQ Diary… page 20

07 Apr 2020 2 Comments

Self-Quarantine Day 25 – 04/06/2020

Watched a movie, slept, got up, drank coffee.

Ate stuff. Played computer games. Left the news on, avoiding city hospital segments.

Folded laundry, paid bills, looked out the windows. Gray skies again.

Balmy afternoon, sans sunshine.

The minutes ticked by, the sun went down, we gave it up again.

*****

… Day 26 – 04/07/2020

The fine line between tuning out and DROPPING out is blurring a little. Yesterday had a never-ending quality to it and I thought far too many thoughts. Not having the answers to the simplest questions is a form of torture…

Being labeled an essential worker doesn’t make you expendable. But maybe we have an endless supply of dedicated humans to feed into the maw, so essential protections for the essential members of society are not an essential part of the picture. There’s no place to hide from that knowledge.

Knowing that nothing under the sun will ever change the conversation in America weighs heavy. It would be a well of strength if we were all in this together… but we can’t hook it up where it counts in a crisis. We’re fighting the virus, the unknown, our fears, ourselves, and each other while Americans of all ages die in a battle they can’t win. If this strikes you as being political, well… point made.

So that was yesterday, my diary friend. This morning is beautiful so far… biscuits & gravy in a bit… and here’s a puppy…

Image by Judy Smith

SQ Diary… page 19

05 Apr 2020 Leave a comment

Self-Quarantine Day 24 – 04/05/2020

Another day, another conversation with my diary…

Yesterday baby sis, who lives across town, had a story to tell me that was too long for text, so we made the weird decision to use our phones for TALKING to each other. The belly laughs and the sound of her voice were good juju. I needed exactly that.

Sister Señorita Margarita Rita has called me her second mommy a lot of times since 1995, but she’s also returned the favor more than once, and she helped me take something off my plate yesterday that I wasn’t dealing with in a good way. Perspective… wisdom… and somebody with skin on besides Kim, saying words to me, making me laugh, letting me feel the lub. There was peace when I put my head on the pillow last night.💗

It’s sobering to know how much we need each other as humans and how much we generally despise each other, globally-speaking, on a daily basis. Those things are under there all the time, but we aren’t aware of them moment by moment because life streaks on and we make sure there’s no time for introspection, examination of facts, or new doors leading to unsettling change. We’re all so VERY human.

Solitude is my jam, but with the great world hum dampened to a murmur, I’m lonely for voices… life… people. Watching East Lawrence come alive in shades of green, white, and pink is conducive to sweeter moods, but the absence of all the walkers with their dogs and babies, the missing shouts of kids skateboarding, riding bikes and chasing each other down the street, makes the air feel a little ponderous and not quite real.

Not complaining, just observing. We never know what we have ’til it’s gone, and that holds true for all of life. We figure out how much it meant when it isn’t ours anymore. Stupid human pet tricks.

Image by Judy Smith

SQ Diary… page 18

04 Apr 2020 Leave a comment

Self-Quarantine Day 23 – 04/04/2020

Fourth weekend of sheltering in place – Kim’s been out for groceries, wearing nitrile gloves and now a mask, and for solitary walks and bike rides, but I haven’t been further than the balcony since we shut the door. It’s okay, staying in isn’t a problem.

Just really not all about humans right now. For instance, I’d rather not know that in today’s economy certain people are considered too costly to save. The coronavirus effort is eating into the 1%’s share of the pie, and the worker bees, who are strictly Not Our Kind, are wasting, by which we mean utilizing in the name of life and death, “our” supplies. The supplies paid for with worker bee tax dollars and stockpiled for the use of the elites, not the states, most especially not the blue ones. Somebody forgot to tell Jared and his father-in-law how this whole “united states” thing works.

I’m not mad, bro, just doing a little self-healing… trying to accept the facts. It’s no surprise that the lives of boomers and other slackers mean nothing to gazillionaires, I know that in my bones. And since the man who would be king is incapable of accepting blame for anything… anything… he’s landed on the medical community as a scapegoat for this virus he said wouldn’t be happening here. I guess he and his tribe will never have need of those heroes. But even that new strain of cruelty isn’t shocking – we’ve seen everything he’s done and said for the past twelve years and longer.

What I’m still sorting is that people I love – and thought were intelligent, caring, compassionate, empathetic people – supported him, voted for him, haven’t backed off their fealty in any measure, and will brook no criticism of him. There’s a word for it.

I may have snipped an inch off my hair… more or less… here and there… I am killing at this stay-in-your-cave game.

Image by Judy Smith

SQ Diary… page 17

03 Apr 2020 Leave a comment

Self-Quarantine Day 22 – 04/03/2020

Recurring thought, morning by morning… if Kim’s little electric clipper had a greater adjustment on it I’d buzz my head. I’d be plunged into the slough of despond if I did it, though, so I resist the urge. Looking like a surprised baby chick is likely the last thing I need at the moment.

Lit a fire under my own fanny yesterday and tore into the overabundance of paperwork on the dresser – in the digital age WHY are all these trees still being marched to the mill?? Grabbed a trash bag and stack #1 and didn’t stop until five piles of detritus had been purged and obliterated. Took me approximately 30 minutes and I kept less than twenty items out of the entire bagful. I will have learned nothing by this, but it was cleansing. Cathartic. Timely.

My thoughts never stray far from the immediate and where we find ourselves, and it’s clear to me that I don’t want to be like the people I don’t like. My blazing anger against people who are making this pandemic harder and more deadly than it would have had to be is justified… but will only serve to turn me hard and brittle, unable to move beyond my own wounds. My heart was prepared for a happy old age, it would be sad to surrender to bitterness and a permanent bad attitude at this late date.

DISCLAIMER: If I hear Donald Trump, one more time, accuse doctors and nurses of wasting/hoarding/stealing masks and other medical supplies I will throw an axe through the TV.

Image by Judy Smith

SQ Diary… page 16

02 Apr 2020 Leave a comment

Self-Quarantine Day 21 – 04/02/2020

Dear Diary,

Can you help me?

That’s okay, I just came to talk, you don’t have to do anything…

Sleep – never my best friend, always kind of a flirty elusive thing – is messing with me again. We became BFFs after I married Kim sixteen years ago, and I slept nine or ten hours a night like magic, plus an afternoon nap. My brain shut off when my eyes closed, no worries, and out I went. Not liking this new normal where I lie down and my brain and body fight me and each other for the next foreseeable hours. So yeah, just thought I’d get that off my list…

I keep expecting to wake up one of these mornings and find that my focus has come back, some oomph, a hint of drive, but the opposite is happening… my give-a-shit is experiencing technical difficulties. Write a few words, read a page or two in a book, play Words with Friends, again, some more, work a jigsaw puzzle, stare out the windows. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure there are a couple of bills buried on my desk, or on the dresser whose load never lightens while the little stacks become bigger stacks and get overly friendly with each other until nobody knows what’s what anymore. It was still looking slightly purposeful before all this hit, so I could pretend not to see it, but it’s time to sort it out…

Starting to sort the metaphysical aspect. It is what it is. It will be what it will be. People have made their choices, from the top down, and the wheels are in motion. No amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth will slow its roll. A Mariana Trench full of human tears won’t alter its course. The only unknown is how bad. Saw this morning that the Pentagon has ordered another 100,000 body bags.

Beyond a couple of trusted news people, the only voices I care to listen to are Andrew Cuomo and Dr. Fauci. Governor Cuomo’s calm measured tones, telling us the truth morning after morning with no varnish on it, are like a security blanket. He makes me cry every day because he’s a real human, taking responsibility, trying to protect his people, speaking TRUTH. I can handle just about anything if you give me the facts and get out of the way. Once you lie to me or show me you’re all about the cya, I’m done. The governor is respecting his fellow humans by giving it to us straight in a low-key way, and he’s a life preserver.

Thanks for listening… it helps.

Image by Judy Smith

SQ Diary… page 15

01 Apr 2020 Leave a comment

Self-Quarantine Day 20 – 04/01/2020

Slept more hours than not last night, so there’s that. I’ve awakened my Sleeping Sciatic by spending most of my time at my computer, because sure, why not, so it has a say in everything right now including in the middle of the night. Would it kill me to at least FEEL good?

Haven’t yet worked my way past the basic divide in the pandemic issue… one side says it’s about people, the other says it’s about money. What’s being done to our medical community here in the U.S. is heartbreaking, infuriating, crazy-making. All I can do for now is try not to inflict myself unnecessarily upon the world until I can swallow the deeply-entrenched cruelty that’s been awakened in our society – lots of awakenings this morning, huh…

Maybe I just need to cut ’em slack? This from my friend Mylène AF in Quebec:

“Reading some people’s posts, I realize how many have not grasped the severity of this situation. The fact that we are in a time of exceptional circumstances where NONE of the old rules apply and only exceptional measures will do. Everything has changed forever. The world we knew before is gone. Let it go. Those rules don’t apply anymore. Move through the stages of grief if you must. There is a definitive before and after line here.”

**********************************

Jeff Bezos isn’t intellectually challenged, though, so this makes no sense. It strikes this farm girl as a no-brainer… If almost 9 million dollars per hour rolling onto your side of the ledger isn’t enough to take care of the people who make that money for you, there will never be enough. It will never happen. The poor(er) among us will never be cared for, ever. Today there is no one poorer among us than Jeff Bezos – I wonder if he’s even slightly embarrassed about telling us that.

But perspective helps. Kim’s been sending lush guitar notes through the house for the past hour and now he’s making the Saturday breakfast on Wednesday – he knows how to get me to make actual food part of my day, and the flavors are a mood-lifter – sloooow food, with the love cooked in, as my sweet cousin Lonnie Joe always said. Feeling better already.

So yeah, some food, more coffee, sunshine, birds, balcony, Kimmers is going for a walk after breakfast… I’ll accomplish one thing I can point to as participation in living… and we’ll find ourselves at the end of another day. We have only so many chances to get this right, by which I mean everything. We’ll either figure out how to help each other and survive as a species or we won’t, end of story.

Image by Judy Smith

Next Newer Entries

Winnowing the Chaff

56,892 spam blocked by Akismet
Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Playing for Time

"How did it get so late so soon?" ~Dr. Seuss

Mitch Teemley

The Power of Story

John Wreford Photographer

Words and Pictures from the Middle East

Live Life, Be Happy

Welcome to my weekly blog on life's happiness. We are all human and we all deserve to smile. Click a blog title or scroll down. Thanks for stopping by.

Wild Like the Flowers

Rhymes and Reasons for Every Season

The Last Nightowl

Just the journal of an aging man looking at the world

Jenna Prosceno

Permission to be Human

Flora Fiction

Creative Space + Literary Magazine

DanVenture Travels

tonysbologna : Honest. Satirical. Observations

Funny Blogs With A Hint Of Personal Development

ipledgeafallegiance

When will we ever learn?: Common sense and nonsense about today's public schools in America.

Alchemy

Raku pottery, vases, and gifts

Russel Ray Photos

Life from Southern California, mostly San Diego County

Phicklephilly

The parts of my life I allow you to see

Going Medieval

Medieval History, Pop Culture, Swearing

It Takes Two.

twinning with the Eichmans

Vox Populi

A curated webspace for Poetry, Politics, and Nature with over 6,000,000 visitors since 2014 and over 9,000 archived posts.

Life with an Illness

FranklyWrite

Live Life Write

Social Justice For All

Working towards global equity and equality

Drinking Tips for Teens

Creative humour, satire and other bad ideas by Ross Murray, an author living in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, Canada. Is it truth or fiction? Only his hairdresser knows for sure.

john pavlovitz

Gretchen L. Kelly, Author

KenRobert.com

random thoughts and scattered poems

Margaret and Helen

Best Friends for Sixty Years and Counting...

WordPress.com News

The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.

Musings of a Penpusher

A Taurean suffering from cacoethes scribendi - an incurable itch to write.

Ned's Blog

Humor at the Speed of Life

Carrie Rubin

madmanknitting.wordpress.com/