The work on the water lines continues apace as we close out yet another week. It’s engaging to watch, even knowing it’s hitting our HOA in the shorts, but it does go on and on, much like life in the time of COVID. I felt overwhelmed for a bit yesterday as I suddenly registered the weight of where we find ourselves. Our case numbers in the county have gone from zero to 100 with lightning speed, and our whole U.S. healthcare system is overrun for the fourth time. Hospitals are full, children are dying in ever greater numbers, Florida’s gone to reefer trucks to store their dead… again. In the midst of all this, it’s worth noting that no hospital anywhere is full of people suffering side effects from the COVID vaccine. Where did we lose our ability to all pull in the same direction for even one split-second in history? I miss the “All for one, one for all” response to past challenges to our existence. I’m not as inspired by the “All for me, fuck that guy” philosophy. But people do what they do and believe what they believe… so we’re saddled up for Rodeo #4. We’ll see who’s still standing this time when the dust clears.
Speaking of dust, this crew is A+ at what they do, wreaking a minimum of destruction. The entire fire line is exposed now, from doors to street, and it could all be history by the end of the day, which I’m sure everyone would welcome. Beer-thirty, everyone, and happy weekend.
In the saga of the haircut, it finally happened, along with some much-needed chick therapy, and the trek to attain the new refurbished me continues. I hope the world doesn’t go to sleep on us again just when we were breathing new air.
Welp, for now, let’s all sing in the sunshine, boys and girls…
Saturday was a beautiful day so we spent a lot of it on the balcony. Sometime mid-afternoon, Kim said “What’s that fluttery noise I keep hearing?” And then he stood up, looked over the north railing, and muttered “Oh, shit. Oh, holy shit.” My ESPN told me right off we were in trouble but I didn’t know what I’d see down on ground level. Muddy water was gushing out of the ground on both sides of our entryway and from several spots in the parking lot, rapidly coating everything in its path with sand, clay, and silt. When I first looked over the railing I thought the water was pouring out of our lobby doors, and I could imagine it sluicing down the elevator shafts into the parking garage and storage cages, among other thoughts. Kim got our building manager here ASAP and it turns out it was the city’s fire line that broke, which isn’t good but does let us keep our house water on – fortunate, because this will take a while. There was a broken pipe earlier out by the street, so since yesterday we’ve had guys here running fun-size machinery to trench out the whole line, and Pa is entertained. Even with the jackhammering it isn’t all that loud, so we have to wonder how big a sponge the parking lot has become and we hope no one drops a backhoe into a sinkhole.
Down to about half-force at this point.
Kim & Kevin Cheney (bldg mgr) deciding how to handle the mud piling up against the garage’s overhead door.
Waiting for the City to come shut the rest of it down.
The entry’s boarded up like there’s been a bank robbery, and all the concrete has been dug out of the walkway, so progress. There are bad pipes in there somewhere, and something wonky out in the parking, so hey, free entertainment while it lasts…
Speaking of “free” and “entertainment,” I stole a bunch of stuff from my friend Steve Gelder this morning because I can use the smiles and he just carelessly leaves it all lying around on Facebook anyway…
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Seriously.
It’s all in there, I just need a system for accessing it when I want it!
Who of us cannot say the same thing?
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Happy Tuesday! Steve did the work, I did that thing I do (theft), and we can all just smile for a while…
Don’t look now, but another week is in the record books. A couple of our projects moved forward, weather happened, I talked to John, got to see Rita, politics remained in a state of flux, and our old friend Pandemic raged on. Standard-issue for 2021, it’s what’s happening. After today’s dental appointment I’m on vacation ’til Monday, I mean it! Because that’s how it works every weekend. 😂
The words I put on this page on any given day mean nothing to anyone but me. They change nothing, stop nothing, alter no course of history. But truth matters. Human life matters, or nothing does. Our time here is such a blip it’s hard to think anything we say or do makes a difference… but somehow it does, every bit of it. So once we stop mattering to each other we’re headed for the trees and caves again, and you know what THAT means… no internet. Hey… 💡
There’s a heightened awareness again out here in the heartland as the Delta variant sweeps across the prairie claiming hosts. Our infection rates are up after months of low levels, there’s a shortage of ventilators, no fully-equipped ICU beds available, and children are dying in increasing numbers. Two things we’ve been familiar with all our lives – face masks and vaccinations – are the primary reasons this is happening, both of them having been politicized off the map.
The frowny-face is a bonus.
Talk all you want, people are hung up on what matters to THEM and you won’t reach them.
We’re seeing firsthand the meaning of Bangambiki Habyarimana’s statement that “Life is politics, you do it or it does you.” Everything in American life has been politicized by now, to the point that household items have come to define the enemy. We’re watching our society change, morphing into a different animal entirely. We’re becoming another kind of people here… a kind that cares only for its own short-list. We’re not going to like ourselves much when the transformation’s finished, but we’ll feel oh-so-safe and we’ll be very disciplined, and isn’t that, after all, what White America wants?
Authoritarian Capitalism = Corporate Fascism
But say what you will, the universe loves an optimist…
Which means that the haircut I missed on the 4th, already weeks late at that point, happens TODAY. Right, universe? Today? No shenanigans involving ERs and cardiac units, especially with Kim out of town this morning. Just gonna walk right through the cut and… get this mess cut. Too easy. Except that it wasn’t. And doesn’t life have a sense of humor… or something. The artiste who’s trying to tame this 3rd-trimester-of-life fright wig had a medical emergency of her own yesterday! For real. I assured her I won’t die from too much hair on my head, she’s hopefully recovering well today, and the big-hair experiment over here continues…
The weather was perfect yesterday – not hot, not windy, not too much of anything, just right – and that’s always a gift in the middle of August. The little things are everything, with the state of our existence now permanently in flux. Cooler weather… the bagel on the counter when I woke up… the blessed quiet in the house… it’s an all-day list. The best little gift I’ve given myself in recent months has been shutting the door on TV news. There are entire days when the screen is black until the evening sportsing and frolicking, and it’s… just good. I read the straight skinny most days from bona fide feeds… and breathe. I thought I’d miss being dialed in, go through withdrawal, cheat-watch, be in a crappy mood. What happened was I immediately forgot all about it, not because I’m pre-CRS but because my psyche was primed and ready to shed itself of the daily wear and tear. I’m not shirking any responsibilities as a citizen, I’m still engaged, still aware, just processing information differently. It’s all about managing the spaghetti and the waffles.
DISCLAIMER: Since “happy and at peace” doesn’t mean lobotomized, the following is true…
And by the time I get my hair cut we’ll be twins.
I love you, life, don’t quit me now.
And a little something fun for the kiddos…
mornings are for baking
evenings are for beer
middays are for taking naps
it happens daily here
life is good no matter what
and does go on and on
when you treat it with respect
it carries you along
tradition can be stilting
routine can grind your gears
but a balanced life will roll along
'twixt the baking and the beers
merrily we roll along, roll along, roll along...
JSmith 08/16/2021
*May be sung as a round
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Nobody knows what today holds. Anything… literally… can happen. Be fully alive.
What a night! Things were rockin’ and a’rollin’ and ALL the answers were blowin’ in the wind, my friend. Everything broke loose here around 2am when our balcony furniture started doing the shimmy, with the greenery and blooms taking the worst end of it. Kim headed out to referee but changed his mind when the wind and rain slammed against the partially-opened door. The chaos was multiplied on the roof, with tables and chairs tumped over, sodden cushions blown against the walls, tomatoes and peppers slammed to the floor, trim boards torn loose, destruction in all directions. At some point during the party, neighbor’s big rattan sofa blew over the railing, off their 3rd-floor balcony, and landed in front of the parking garage. It was a spectacular event accompanied by 5.5″ of rain and at least 6′ of wind… and Ms Can’t Hear What Yer Saying missed the whole damn show. This crazy life.
Our summer babies have the sadz.
But whatever this is, we’re siding the building with it next year – it’s impervious to everything.
By the time Kim got me woke up this morning, he’d been over to Mass Street for a haircut and brought back my fav Starbucks extravagance – an Iced Brown Sugar Oatmeal Blonde Espresso, a subtle reminder that he’s glad I’m still breathing. It’s the little things. And now I’m chasing it with Iced Kim Smith Fresh-Ground Beans. This crazy life is okay.
John’s in the Bahamas with friends this week for some much-needed decompression, and I’m entirely more relaxed knowing they’re getting to enjoy that. There’s much to be said for vicarious living, just ask me. Saves a whole lotta wear and tear…
And now, after a week of dental appointments and other intentionally-scheduled pain and suffering, I’m primed for a weekend of being nothing but my lazy self. This crazy life is really good.
We made a spur-of-the-moment lunch choice today and tried the new BBQ place a block south of us – Gold Medal BBQ, owned and operated by, and I quote “Olympic Gold Medalist Kyle Clemons and World Class Wife. Specializing in Memphis style smoked meats.” They’re athletes with ties to KU and the community, and the very personable young Mr. Clemons stopped by our table to chat, so that was fun. His mama was in the kitchen making the cole slaw, making Kim an automatic bona fide fan, as it’s the real deal. We’ll be back, with friends in tow. The food and service were terrific, and this non meat-eater would happily consume entire pounds of the pulled pork on just about any medium you can name. We had it as beignet appetizers, with sugar, darlin’, yes. And then I had the Wild Hog, a generous baked potato with choice of meat (pulled pork, you guessed it), cheese, and sour cream. Okay, yeah, they’ve got me. The dam on the COVID food desert in my brain is showing giant cracks. So happy…
This crazy life is so good on a daily basis that it’s insane to complain, but we all know how people are…
This has been my favorite kind of morning… before sunrise could establish itself, rain moved in and turned our world to night again and we’ve had great soaking showers. Kim walked before the clouds arrived, and came home with a bagel for me, so we’re hitting on all cylinders so far, and I’m mentally spacing off this afternoon’s dental appointment for now, just for good measure.
We should have countertop people here any minute to help move us forward on our little remodel project, so that’s worth waking up for. We’ve been without sinks in either bathroom for a couple of weeks now, so progress will be entirely welcome. Pick a little, grin a little, things finally come to fruition and we move along, lifelike as all get-out. Oops, we’ve been bumped to tomorrow for countertops, wouldn’t cha’ know, and if that’s the biggest glitch the day holds, we’re favored upon the earth.
After journaling our COVID sheltering experience from start to what was supposed to be finish, I’m dismayed to see where we find ourselves as August unfolds. We could have stopped this thing in its tracks, but some people simply don’t want to.
Can’t help observing how infection rates correspond to voting trends.
It’s crazy-making that we’ve in some ways arrived back at Ground Zero for no legit reason except that people have decided science doesn’t fit their world. My Mama Said, ya’ know.
What will they think of next??
There are passports and then there are portals.
The general populace needn’t sweat it, though, the world isn’t about to shut down again. Been there, did a half-assed job of it, not going back.
Not feeling down this morning, not blue… but certainly in a pragmatic frame of mind. Every human’s existence is greatly shaped and determined by what other earth-dwellers do and there’s no escaping that reality. We have no option but to survive here together on this cockamamie spinning ball of schmeh… and it seems to me some of us aren’t trying very hard lately.
It was wonderful waking up in my own sheets this morning after spending the previous three nights in a hospital bed. They have their charms, and cool bells and whistles, but they don’t feel like home. The whole thing was an interesting diversion, starting with 8 hours in the ER on Wednesday, causing me to miss a haircut appointment, which in Girl World is something to write home about. Then upstairs to the Cardiac unit, of all places, for much additional needle-poking, a rat’s nest of lines and cables, and round-the-clock observation. Was allowed up only for a bedside commode, oh joy of existence, so by yesterday morning I was feeling wretched, especially with my scalp full of glue from a brain scan. My everlasting thanks to Mona, who rescued me from the lowdown blues with a lovely chair bath, a shampoo cap, clean sheets and gown, and a brisk walk in the hallway in my cute yellow floppy-socks. She’s going into my binder full of heroes. No conclusive answers yet from various batteries of tests, but after a high of 210/203 in the hospital, my BP first thing this morning at home was 113/67, so maybe we’re getting somewhere.
We decided to retire in Lawrence for two primary reasons. 1) The vibe of the arts community and the university, and 2) the stellar medical community from here to Kansas City. The excellent LMH complex is closely associated with KU Med, so we always have access to the brightest and best, including the latest technology, very reassuring when things go wonky. In the many times we’ve needed medical personnel here, we have yet to encounter a negative experience, which speaks volumes. The help we received and the people we met this week have only confirmed to us that this is home, and it’s a health perk to feel like you belong somewhere. It’s been gratifying during this pandemic to live in a place where people have instinctively grasped the need for health protocols and followed them. It makes all the difference.
As usual, I have receipts:
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My first test in the ER Wednesday was a CT scan for stroke. The second was a rapid COVID test, showing the priority the virus still holds here in town, especially with Delta assaulting us now. The third was a chest CT to look for pneumonia, yet another marker they’re on high alert for. We could help each other so much, all across the nation, just by keeping that bit of 2-way protection across our mouth and nose when we’re around each other. Kids have no problem with it, it’s an “adult” issue nobody can solve, so on we go, slogging through the viral load around us.
It’s a strange world, which shouldn’t surprise anyone. Just for starters, we’re stuck via gravity to a ball of assorted schmeh, spinning through the universe among other large balls of schmeh. Highly unusual existence, except that we don’t know any other, firsthand. Quite probably it’s our very tethered-ness here that makes us bicker amongst ourselves about things like who’s right or wrong and why it matters. We have no Planet B, so there’s no place to take a powder ’til we feel better about life on this one, we’re “in community” whether we wish it that way or not, so it seems a shame we have such a hard time communicating within the human commune. Not all of life is threatening, nor scary beyond reason, and most things we find the grit to talk about lose at least half their power over us. But the talking, the saying of things, turns out to be the terrifying thing we can’t do, so after all’s not said and done our relationships become part of the health schematic we can’t fix.
Therefore… we fix what we can! And we’re fixing to have another healing spa soak on this partly-rainy Sunday morning, and count blessings.
A handy thing about keeping a blog, however long in the tooth and past its prime it may get, is having a place to stash “keepers” – the melange that gets my attention through the week and politely waits to be shared. I like the patchwork that’s created by a few days of hoarding.
Since I’m in the process of shedding layers of anger accumulated since the start of the pandemic, a lot of what catches my eye relates to that. We came out of either the 2nd or 3rd wave of COVID just in time to greet the Delta wave hitting us from unvaccinated next-door Missouri, and things are kind of going on hold again. So yeah, there’s anger, some of it “righteous.” A comment found online:
“The Delta Variant got this bad because of people like you (anti-vaxers). We’ve been in this pandemic almost a year and a half. I’m tired of it. I want my life back. I want shit to be normal again. Shut up and get the god damn shot.”
That’s where I am this morning, but working on it. People are selfish, end of story, and if it’s truly every man for himself (women and children be damned) we’ve lost the plot on this grand experiment of democracy.
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Masks, distancing, all the protocols. I’m saying it nicely, with my inside voice, but you know it’s true.
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One week’s numbers.
Medical data says it’s the unvaccinated who are harboring, incubating, and sharing the Delta variant, and they represent some 99% of deaths from same. The vaccinated are still getting sick in various (low) percentages depending on region, but they aren’t in hospitals on ventilators – they get well. However it impacts you, COVID-19 is an illness you don’t want to encounter once, let alone twice, and for every reason in the world it’s in the planet’s best interest that we somehow still manage to contain it. The tragedy lies in the ultimate challenge to shut the lid on Pandora’s box after the fact, so this mob of viruses (virii?) is likely here to stay, in its various iterations. That makes me justifiably angry, but I’m laying it down… for today… along with my concern for beautiful young people in this world, some of whom are raising amazing little ones, all being strong in the face of fog and fear… and for so many other humans who are making it through, showing up, doing the things. None of them deserved this lack of preparation, mobilization, engagement, or caring on the country’s behalf, yet here they still are. All respect.
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My comment to a Facebook friend just now (edited):
“The whole thing is ugliness from start to (hopefully someday) finish. My rage has simmered since learning about coronavirus; through the agonizing wait for hospital personnel to have access to the vaccines (LONG after politicians who STILL bad-mouth them stepped to the front of the line and got theirs); past losing friends for saying one too many times that there’s an RN I care about more than any other human out there; through people’s refusal to help themselves, and their willingness to put the lives around them at risk; through all the denial and racism and other visceral hatred out there. I’m tired of being angry and I can’t afford to replace it with ennui and depression, so I have to deal with it. Stand back… “
ICU Nurse
Kathryn Ivey’s statement is the saddest part of the whole pandemic saga – it didn’t have to be. Which brings me to another apropo comment…
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Can’t remember the last time I argued the facts with anyone. Besides Kim.
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Life, as we all say, goes on – to a point. It’s brief, so it’s important to me to live it with joy and enthusiasm, which requires chutzpah, energy, and an unfailing sense of humor.
As the fog of the past eighteen months continues to dissipate, it’s impossible not to register the hurt of humanity around us. Everyone we know, everyone we see, has absorbed pain and uncertainty since the outbreak of the pandemic, and it shows. In the human race we want somebody else or a whole lot of somebody elses to understand, to just please get it, okay? And when it feels like nobody does, it’s a lonely place, so maybe someone needs to hear this on the first day of August 2021:
Much of the world is still in dire straits, and here’s a fact: It always has been. But the trajectory as we start another new month is onward and upward, which hey, happens to be our state motto: Ad Astra Per Aspera – To The Stars Through Difficulty. Feels better, hm? And in case nobody’s mentioned it since Christmas of 2019: If you’re reading this, you’re worthy of everything the world has to offer, so getcha’ some.
So here’s a simple rule of thumb…
And this, despite its typos, says good things:
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This presents as an oxymoron, but it’s possible to take our time while moving forward…
We’re really not here very long…
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Best thing to know in the midst of chaos, sadness, happiness, all the time…
Happy Sunday, August 1, 2021, to all of us, with a hug for everyone who still stops by this blog. 💙💋
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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.
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.
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