Ohio probably will stay closed through April, says the governor

No comedian, I, but I have a wonderful rejoinder I've tried on several. People end their cheery texts asking "Do you need anything?", and now I answer "A haircut!" My daughter did respond, "You and the rest of Ohio!".

It led me to think of satisfying things.

Back in 88, when we moved into the big house, a phone call came with the offer of a credit card. I didn't want it, but the fellow was persistent, and I finally caved at "and the interest rate is 9.99% for life."

Eventually I fell into the habit of using it for our business, to reserve motel rooms. The card had a fabulous number. I would begin reading 4444 and pause. Then read 0000 and pause. Often I was asked if the next numbers were seven, or more zeroes, or some numbers particular to them. But the rest were ordinary. It was a New York bank, Chase.

Credit was so easy back then, and Chase kept raising the limit on the card, still at 9.99% for life. In the early 2000'nds, I bought a car with that card. A Chrysler Town and Country. Then money got tighter and Chase raised my rate. I complained a long way up the line about my 9.99% for life being taken (not without due warning), and got a reprieve for about a year. 

When the 9.99% for life eventually was rescinded, I destroyed the card. I took all my business from Chase to a local bank, my IRA's included. I remember the branch manager stopping me in the lobby, to change my mind, and telling her and everyone listening, I would never again deal with a New York bank. And I haven't.

Weather was so nice, earlier in the week, but today, it snowed. And rained, and snowed. Some thunder and lightening, too.

I finally made a trip to the drug store, to keep my heart doctor happy. No more strokes! That certainly looks like a fat tulip bud in there.

And waiting in line at the drug store, another sure, sure sign:

 More stories tomorrow. One includes mandevillas.

Recovery

An explanation. I slipped down the slough of despair again. I'm a focused and oriented person, on the whole. I've been told that as a child I slapped the wind around for blowing in my face.

When we elected the orange idiot, I was as angry as any. I couldn't walk on Washington, but I was burning hot infuriated that a known misogynist, xenophobe could slip into the white house on a fluke. Not even with daddy's noodge to the Supreme Court, like GW, but simply on the electoral collage majority of fellow misogynists and xenophobes.

The might of this great nation, stockpiled again over the eight years of the previous administration, has been squandered so that fat white men could take the profit of the stock market. What we had is gone. Our greatest asset, intelligent and strong leadership, is gone.

When this crisis hit, we were told to be happy, don't worry, long after we needed to move in and take care. Now thousands around the world and at home are dying. Dying for want of supplies and equipment that are not in the storehouses, not in a reliable system of distribution.

Who is dying. A lot of old people A lot of less old people, with years to contribute. A lot of middle aged people, and young people, lives ahead of them Many, many in the medical profession, working non stop to save patients, and felled in duty. Youngsters, babies who have not even lived a life, dying because the greatest nation in the world could not rally round.

I was livid with anger four years ago. Now I am fighting despair at all the lost lives. That effing Russia, the great manipulator of this country's fair elections, is sending a cargo plane of sixty tons of masks, ventilators and other items the medical community is begging for. Thank you, Russia. Clever propaganda move. We'll take the lot of it.

This morning I still was crying at helplessness in the overwhelming futility of doing nothing except staying home. I wove off the next to last fourth of bobbins of yellow. When my back hurt, I quit for lunch, and had an orange and some crackers. At least I'd cried enough.

I leafed through the notebook; what to make for supper? I went all the way to the back. Nothing. I went to survey the pantry. A lot of stuff, and a small jar of some rice mixture. Spanish Rice! Of all the dishes I've worked at since I came to this trailer, Spanish rice is not one. I had all the ingredients except peppers and ground meat. I've used bacon for meat since Laura left, and I wouldn't make a trip to the store just for peppers.

Cornbread always accompanied Spanish rice as a child, so I began with that, and put together the Spanish rice to go into the oven when the cornbread vacated. I took the timer back to the studio and wove another couple of bobbins in the last forty minutes on the clock.

This was the best I've ever had. And no, I did not walk today. When it stopped raining, it was damp cold. Tomorrow will be lovely and I will be out in it, and feeling better.

Reality is trumping out

Every day is more difficult, knowing how many more are sick and dying. Really going nowhere, knowing the the wave is rolling relentlessly toward us. Knowing the people serving us in "necessary" jobs probably would prefer to be home, feeling safer. Certainly not handing change and receipts to us past plastic shields.

At the post office Friday. The shield just went up. It wasn't up earlier in the week. I didn't have the heart to tell him his sign had an error.

Our governor stepped up early in March, closing schools, business, large gatherings. Ohio's deaths are 142 this morning, but will surge from here on out. 

I cannot shake this overwhelming sadness today. Cathy and I set out on a walk at lunchtime, up to the mailboxes.

On the way home. The mailboxes are across the road, hidden by the building behind me.  I am so pleased with the walking sticks. I've shortened them again, to put my arms at right angles. I need to shorten the wrist straps, too, but my fingers and thumbs aren't strong enough to release the catch.

I'm standing on my street, and when I got to my house, half way down, I took a picture back up the hill.

That is my driveway in the foreground. I actually walked farther today. Cathy lives behind me, on the next street to the left. I strolled (haha) over the turf behind our houses to her house and waited on her porch. Then we walked up her street (my old street), over to the mail boxes, back to my street and down to my house.

Thunderstorms are due overnight and all day tomorow. Rain on and off for the rest of the week. We'll see.

Beautiful, beautiful day

I got up determined to do something on such a beautiful day! I had ranuculus bulbs to plant and zinnia seeds to plant. I had a snow shovel to put in the shed and potting soil and a trowel to get out. And most of all a trip to the mail box with my new ready tripper.

I moved pots, planted seeds and bulbs and took a fifteen minute power nap before Cathy came up the street to walk with me to the mail box.

I ordered hiking poles to try walking with. I hiked with them from one end of the trailer to the other and back again with no mishaps. But I wanted company on my first trip solo, and Cathy was happy to go. She walks every day that she can, and was happy for a new walking companion. I told her we'd see.

So off we went at noon, to the mail boxes, Cathy aghast at all the ceramic pots and bags of dirt I'd shoved around all morning. Me, too, but I slung the New Yorker bag over my shoulder. grasped my poles and off we went.

The trip up was totally uneventful, and Cathy was impressed. We've walked places together, like into the movie lobby or down to the seats, and she's been concerned. This time it was "Damn, girl, look at you!" 

There was one trick spot on the way home. Beginning at the house before mine, the road drops pretty fast. I lost my pole gait, and merely shuffled and hung on. That will take some practice. But I made it. I figured it was 570 feet to the mail boxes, so that was two tenths of a mile round trip. 

Not bad for the first really sustained effort since I broke my leg, almost two years ago.  We agreed to go again tomorrow.

When I came in, there was a surprise box in my mail bag. A box of marzipan and a birthday card from Ann. The card is too clever, and the marzipan too good. I texted her a thank you and she responded it came back with her from England, especially for the marzipan addict, and would have been closer to my birthday but for the damn two week quarantine.

I made waffles for supper, and had the pretty red strawberry in the corner for dessert. I restrained myself. I had only three marzipan's today. Maybe I can make them last three more days.

Throw it against the wall, see if it sticks

I went out today, to the post office and the drug store drive through, to pick up a prescription. I could have gone to the grocery store for more greens and to the gas station to fill up. But some friends are using all frozen veggies and the gas tank just went below a half. 

Things change every day, for better or worse. I have plenty of frozen vegetables on hand, so the gas tank can just wait.

It was so good to go outdoors and do more than stand on the porch, breathing in and out and listening to the deafening silence. I could use the post office in the Falls; it's much closer. But I always go to the one in Peninsula. It's the one I used for years, for the township, and it feels right.

The heron was at the pond on Truxel. It was between the pond and the road.  Or, me and the pond, from its point of view. I drove to the end, turned around and slowly approached, pulling off the road. And it lifted its great wings and flew down toward the river. I pulled into the Boy Scout camp to turn around, and started slowly for the post office, scanning, scanning the pond.

And there it was, at the end of the pond. Another U-turn at the end of the road and the slow approach to the heron. As my tires sounded on gravel, up went the wings. I swear, they take off on that first graceful flap. It sailed to the head of the pond. I slowly approached. Whoooosh, it was gone. The last U-turn and off to the post office.

I chose Quick Road to drive up from the valley, and stopped at the cross country trail head to take a look. 

Away in the distance, two tiny walkers. I turned to take a picture

and when I looked back, maybe the same couple coming back. Nah.

I stopped for the mail, and had a letter from my youngest daughter. 

She sent me two masks she made. I am so pleased to have them. My sister made the yellow mask, on top, and I haven't had opportunity to wash it between wearings. So, I washed all three, because Shelly's were impregnated with her perfume, and it gave me a headache on testing it.

Then some weaving, and now it's time for supper. Another day in the books. Booooring.