Hi, friends! I know Friday is my usual “things that make me happy” or at least “daily dose of beauty” day, but after the week I’ve had I just want to sit down in front of the computer with some ginger ale in a wine glass and a lovely vase of yellow freesias nearby and catch up with you. I’m worn out and in serious need of all the rest and relaxation that this three-day weekend promises to provide.
I think International Pickle Day (May 16) was my last day chalking messages on the sidewalk outside my house. I’m pretty sure my source for holidays was wrong about Pickle Day (the internet wrong? no!) because I’ve since seen that November 14 is actually the correct date for Pickle Day. For some reason it makes me smile that I got it wrong, because the whole project was pure whimsy anyway. I don’t want it to become a chore, so I will put away my chalk for now, reserving the right to go back out there if the spirit moves me.
I’m done with my portion of the statement generation at work! The first four hundred or so were so easy, but the last hundred were brutal. Soul destroying. You get the picture. Yesterday I had a Teams meeting (like Zoom but a Microsoft product) with my boss and she helped me knock out the last painful dozen or so. I can’t tell you the relief I feel to have that behind me. I worked several hours off the clock on this project, something that goes against my belief in work-life balance, so I’m going to have to figure out how to make sure that doesn’t happen again.
Did I tell you the baby robins left the nest? We didn’t witness the event, but after a day or so of not seeing any little heads popping up from the nest, we carefully looked inside. Empty! I would post the photo here, but an empty, used robin’s nest is not very aesthetically pleasing. Now we look at every robin youngster (they are easy to spot – they’re slimmer than the older robins) and wonder if it is one of “ours.”
Most trees around here have fully leafed out, and jackets are usually not necessary for early morning walks now. Sam and I went to the park at the end of the street last night to see if we could go on the trail without risking exposure to, you know, people. We were greeted by the sign you see above, indicating that the trail is now one way. Of course it’s going in the opposite direction of the way I usually go! That’s ok, it will be good for me to change my perspective.
Something that did make me very happy this week was a Zoom call a college friend organized for another friend’s birthday. It was so much fun! There were nine of us on the call and we talked about everything and nothing, as we are wont to do whenever we get together. I hadn’t seen some of the friends since our last college reunion in 2015 (this year’s reunion, which was supposed to be in a week or so, has of course been cancelled). Such beautiful and beloved faces. I’m hoping we can do another call in June for our friend Jean’s birthday.
The final picture above is a sneak peak of a little project I am starting this weekend. I will post more later. I hope now that work is settling down you will see more of me here.
Have a safe, restful Memorial Day weekend if you are reading this in the US. I will see you soon!
I’m happy to say that when I look at the weather app on my phone (which has a 10-day forecast), there are no longer any snowflake symbols, and the projected daily lows are no longer sub-freezing. Progress! There are, unfortunately, some more rainy days in the mix, including today. Still, doesn’t it look all green and lush and lovely out there?
Surprises make me happy – the good kind, of course. This week I had three happy surprises. The first was a letter from my dear friend Heidi. I’ve written here before about how I am always on the lookout for what Anne of Green Gables calls “kindred spirits” – people with whom you just click. Kindred spirits can be hard to find, though, and sometimes you don’t realize a person is a kindred spirit until you get to know them better. Such was the case with Heidi. We met in the first of my five years living in Illinois, and found out we were kindred spirits about half-way through year three. That’s another thing – I always seem to meet a kindred spirit right before moving away. But still. We are friends forever now, and I know that someday we will see each other again.
The second surprise was a small package with my name on it that arrived from Amazon. I hadn’t ordered anything, so it was a bit of a mystery, and an even bigger mystery when I opened the package to see a book on minimalism accompanied by a sweet (anonymous!) note inside expressing gratitude for my blog. Fan mail! A book to read! I was thrilled right down to my toes. I’ve since found out who sent the book, and having that mystery solved makes me even happier.
The third surprise was a text from my brother suggesting a podcast he thought I might like. We’re not in the habit of texting each other on a regular basis, so it was especially nice to get that text out of the blue.
After a long work week, the weekend stretches out enticingly before me. There will be
This is a crazy time, isn’t it? It’s like a roller coaster ride. I remember back in early to mid-March, when we were getting very nervous about what the virus might do. At that point there were some people saying this was no big deal (no, I’m not talking about him – that will never be a topic here), that it was all much ado about nothing. So there was this friction between those who felt that way and others who thought this was something new and different and very scary. Then right after the stay-at-home orders were issued around most of the country, and after we started seeing hospitals overwhelmed by gravely ill people, it felt that most people were in agreement – staying at home, protecting yourself and others, was a good and necessary thing. There was a short period of time where it felt like we were all united toward a single purpose, and even though the virus was still scary I felt warmed by that unity. But then, gradually, it started falling apart. I suppose it was inevitable, especially in these politically polarized times. But that doesn’t make me any less sad to see it go.
This week has flown by. Usually on Mother’s Day Sam and I go for a hike and a picnic in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. This year the combination of coronavirus and cold, rainy weather led to us having an indoor picnic while we watched old episodes of the PBS children’s television show “Arthur.” Yes, as in Arthur the aardvark. Earlier in the day I made a loaf of this bread, which is both fool-proof and fabulous.
Work has continued to be full-on, and although I am so very, very grateful to not be among the huge numbers of unemployed people in this country, I am also tired. I’m looking forward to a little less job stress as we finish up generating statements next week. And maybe I’ll be able to spend a little more time here at that point.
Remember the robin that made a nest on our front door? We’ve been carefully watching the chicks grow. There were four eggs and it looks like three of the four hatched. Now they’re getting big enough to start leaving the nest. We have love love loved the experience of watching first the mother robin tending so diligently to her nest-sitting duties, then the constant back and forth-ing involved in feeding three hungry mouths, and now seeing the bright-eyed chicks sitting up in the nest. Still, it will be nice to use the front door again. Sort of like that end-of-summer-break-feeling you get as a parent. It’s bittersweet, but you know it’s time for them to spread their wings.
On Fridays I usually do a “Things That Make Me Happy” post. I just started writing a post about a television show that I am currently in love with. It’s called “The Detectorists” and it is a comedy that ran on BBC 4 from 2014 to 2017 (we’re streaming it on Amazon Prime). Here’s a link to a trailer on YouTube. There are 19 episodes in total and I am savoring each one. The problem is, I can’t write an entire post about the show without it turning into a review. All I really want to say is that it is funny and lovely and will fill you with joy.
The tulips that I bought a week ago (and which were the subject of last week’s “Things That Make Me Happy” post) have opened up and are really quite stunning. When they first started opening up I thought they had a bit of a venus fly trap vibe and were kind of creepy looking, but as they continued to open up I’ve come to appreciate their unique beauty.
The weather here has been schizophrenic – warm and sunny one day, cold enough to wear full winter gear the next. Today it actually snowed. Trees are leafing out, lawns are looking positively lush, and we had the most gorgeous sunset the other night.
This was another full-on work week. I had a personal milestone yesterday – the first day since I started working remotely that I actually wore work clothes instead of yoga pants and sweatshirts while working. It was also the first day since working remotely that I weighed myself.
Yeah – the two milestones are related.
Have a great weekend, friends. I’ll see you back here on Monday.
I’ve been keeping up with my chalk messages, nearly every day. Rainy weather gives me a day off, as do the rare days that I sleep in. But I took today off even though it wasn’t rainy and I did get up early. I was kind of mad at people this morning. Over the last week or so, we’ve seen distressing things around the neighborhood. An outdoor 50th birthday party with many attendees. People having guests over for what I’m sure they describe as “socially distanced” get togethers, but there is very little distance discernible. People stopping to have chats with neighbors from a distance of much less than 6 feet. This morning as Chris and I were out on our morning walk, we saw a group of women running together with no social distancing at all. I find it disheartening. I worry that as soon as restrictions are lifted, people are going to go crazy and the infection numbers will soar again. I get angry that people seem to care so much about their “freedoms” and “liberties” but not so much about the well-being of their neighbors. And in the midst of feeling all this, I thought, “What’s the point?” What’s the point in writing uplifting messages to ease the discomfort of lockdown when people aren’t buying into the spirit of lockdown in the first place and probably find the messages annoying?
I debated whether I should reveal these feelings in this blog. My intention has been that this would be a place of positivity – to bring a “measure of calm” to a world that has so much in it that is not calm. To be an oasis in this crazy world and an antidote to the negativity and griping so often found in social media.
But as I reflect, I realize that positivity without an honest acknowledgement of the darker realities of life veers into a sort of saccharine Pollyanna-ism that really isn’t helpful to anyone. So, yes, I do get frustrated and angry at my fellow humans. I generally like to balance that out with an attempt to empathize, but sometimes I find that difficult if not impossible.
By 5:00 this evening I had completed a full workday in front of my computer. My resentments of the morning had simmered down and I was feeling fairly neutral about the world in general. Chris and I went on our second walk of the day (our second, his third). We passed by (on the opposite side of the street!) a lovely lady – I can’t remember her name but her dog is a feisty little white puffball named “Teddy.” And Teddy’s mom called over to me, “I love your chalk drawings! They make me happy!”
And my heart grew three sizes.
So, I guess I’ll be out there tomorrow morning. It’s National Coconut Cream Pie Day.
I’ve written here before about how picky I am when it comes to buying jigsaw puzzles. Among other criteria, I like my puzzles to have a distinct personality. I will scroll through many, many pages of offerings on Amazon before finding a puzzle I want to work on, and sometimes even then I will go back and forth in my mind on a particular puzzle before adding it to my cart.
In the case of the puzzle pictured above (which I completed yesterday) it was a case of love at first sight. Mostly because I love pit bulls – they have a permanent place in my heart.
In early 2015 I had just completed 10 months of treatments for breast cancer and I was emotionally a mess. I don’t think using the term post traumatic stress syndrome is going too far. I needed something to help me get out of my own head – a way to project myself outward into the world instead of inward into my fearful, anxious mind. After looking at the possibilities close to home, I decided to start volunteering at our local humane society, and I asked Sam to come along with me to keep me company.
After training, we started off small – in the cat room. We “socialized” the cats by talking to them and petting them. Many of the cats were skittish and fearful of humans, but we were able to hold some of them in our laps and cuddle. And then we found out, gradually, that Sam is pretty allergic to cats. So, we trained to become dog walkers. And that’s when the fun really started. We loved it, and were a great team.
The dog population of our humane society at the time had a high percentage of pit bulls and pit bull mixes. I must admit I was a little nervous at the start, because of the bad reputation pit bulls have gotten over the years. Sam and I found, however, that every pit bull we encountered was a “good boy” or a “good girl.” They were sweet, affectionate, and eager to please. Sure, there were a few with rusty manners, but I can say that about approximately 50% of all humans I encounter in the world. There was never a time when I was afraid of any pit bull we walked.
As I worked on the puzzle, I thought about all the sweet pitties (and others) we met during the two years we volunteered. I realized I miss the experience (when Sam went away to college I decided I didn’t want to go it alone) and I am now contemplating going back.
Here are some photos that I hope will make you smile on this lovely Sunday. xoxo
I want to preface this post by stating that I am fully aware that my “difficult week” pales to nothingness compared with that of people who are currently unemployed, employed in dangerous jobs, sick, mourning the loss of a loved one – you get the picture. I am incredibly grateful for my life, warts and all. This time of COVID-19 is challenging for all of us though, and it’s probably not helpful to shame ourselves for feeling out-of-sorts just because others have it much, much worse.
On Tuesday I received a message from my biggest blog fan – my step-daughter Chloe. “No blog updates! I’m getting withdrawals.“ Unfortunately, I had trouble with my Messenger app this week and didn’t see her message until this morning. It was that type of week all around. As is probably true for most difficult weeks, several different factors contributed to making it so, and these factors also kept me from posting anything here until yesterday.
First of all, it was a full-on work week. I am now on my (remote) work computer a generous 40+ hours a week, and my department is in the middle of one of our busy seasons. We’re in charge of getting quarterly statements out, among other things, and although most of the first quarter 2020 statements have already gone out, we’re now trying to get the trickier ones ready to go. Over the course of the last week I prepared 313 of the 500+ that I need to sort out. Statement time has a certain amount of pressure associated with it, but like most things, I am the one who puts the most pressure on myself. I’m just a teeeeeny bit competitive, too, so let’s just pile on that internally-generated stress as well. I can’t help myself. When I worked crappy assembly-line jobs with my best friend Beth during high school and college, we would inevitably get into productivity wars with each other that tended to teeter on the knife edge between friendly competition and bitter rivalry.
So, work’s been challenging. That’s one thing.
Something else that weighed on me this week was the arrival of May 1st. Now, I knew better than to think that with May 1st would come some form of normality. Back in mid-March when this all began, May did seem sufficiently far in the future that the idea of a new normal emerging in May appeared plausible. And governor DeWine has outlined a cautious plan for reopening Ohio, which began with okay-ing elective surgeries and opening up stores (both with caveats). But even with the governor’s OK, I don’t feel like it’s safe enough out there to do anything but my grocery shopping. I mean, nothing’s changed with respect to the virus – it’s still out there as much as it was on April 30. So, we continue to hunker down, and I am incredibly grateful that I work for a company that follows DeWine’s guidance to a T. We are not only continuing to work from home (with a few exceptions), but they have bought us all new computers to help us work from home more easily (many of us have pieced together decidedly sub-standard work stations from whatever computers we had at home).
But even though all this is good from the prospect of what is most important – my health and the health of my family, friends, and neighbors – I am tired. This marathon is wearing me down.
I was scheduled to see my oncologist yesterday (actually my oncologist’s nurse practitioner – I don’t see my actual oncologist again unless the cancer comes back, so I hope I never see her lovely face again). That appointment usually brings with it a little stress, and this time it had to be accomplished over the phone. Not ideal. I sort of rely on the nurse practitioner giving me my gold star each visit after a thorough physical exam to carry me over to the next appointment (they started off every three months and now we are down to every six months). When we were wrapping up the call and she said, “OK, we’ll schedule you to come see me in six months” I whined, “I won’t see you for six months???” So now I have an in-person appointment scheduled for July. Squeaky wheel gets the grease.
Finally, although I have seen the death toll get larger and larger every day since this thing first hit my consciousness (I screen-shot the Johns Hopkins figures every night, remember?), it really hit home this week. A coworker lost not only her elderly mother, but a not-elderly cousin within the last two weeks, both from coronavirus. When I received her email, I immediately started crying. It was like someone turned on a switch and I fully understood that this is real. This is not something going on “out there.” It shook me, and I remain shaken. And when I went grocery shopping on Thursday and swung by the greeting card aisle to buy a Mother’s Day card and card of condolence for my coworker, I saw this:
Now, I had seen similar photos in news updates, but I always sort of thought the photos were taken in places like New York and New Jersey, not in tiny midwestern suburbs.
I know that I need to come to grips with this situation, because not only does it look like I may be working from home through the rest of spring and summer, but we will be continuing to hunker down regardless of what is technically allowed by the government for at least another couple of months (to be re-evaluated if the situation changes). I’ve dealt with the concept of “new normal” before with my cancer, but there’s a difference here. The new normal I am living due to my experience with cancer is a life-long new normal. I will never have breasts again; I will never have a life in which I don’t immediately think “cancer” (even if it’s for a split second) when I get a headache; I will never be able to be carefree about drinking a margarita on a Saturday night. Those changes range from mildly annoying to traumatic, but they are permanent, and therefore easier for me to adjust to. The current situation we are in is not only temporary but of uncertain length. Presumably we will be able to go back to our pre-coronavirus lifestyle when a vaccine is readily available. Whenever that is. But maybe we’ll feel comfortable doing some of the things we used to enjoy, like going to the library or having a coffee in a coffee shop, sooner than that. I really don’t know. And that is what makes this so hard.
But today is Saturday. I’m not turning on my work computer. The sun is shining. I’m finishing up a small jigsaw puzzle that I’m loving. We’re making our own chicken wings tonight to have while we watch a movie (I’m thinking maybe the new Emma). We are incredibly privileged and lucky to be healthy and safe, and that is what I am going to dwell on for the rest of today.
Yesterday morning I went grocery shopping again, a task I have come to dread. It wasn’t too bad. I went immediately after the special hour set aside for people over 60 (and those with compromised immune systems), so the store wasn’t crowded. I didn’t have to wait in line to check out. Every single person I saw wore a face mask. People kept a safe distance.
However.
Keeping a safe distance in cramped grocery aisles requires taking many about-faces and doubling-back-laters when the aisle will hopefully be empty. When I was in the Air Force working with fighter pilots, I remember the term “SA” or “situational awareness.” In the air, pilots must have constant awareness of everything going on around them – similar to what a good driver has on the road, but taken to a much higher level (as the pilots are moving about 1,500 miles per hour faster than your typical car driver). The intense focus required is exhausting. I can now relate.
By the time I had placed all my items on the conveyer belt to be checked out, I finally felt able to relax slightly. I casually looked at all the impulse-buy items strategically placed around the check-out line, and saw something I just had to have.
I love having cut flowers in the house. I can’t believe I’ve gotten to my tenth “Things That Make Me Happy” post and I’m just now mentioning cut flowers. For a while we constantly had fresh flowers in our kitchen, but we have slacked off a bit in recent months. I’ve missed them especially in these last few weeks. They do make me happy.
It’s been a long, tiring week. I will write more about that tomorrow, but in the meantime I hope you enjoy these flowers.
One of my first “Things That Make Me Happy” posts was about how much I enjoy seeing wildlife around the neighborhood, especially less common animals like foxes and opossums. Now, robins are pretty much ubiquitous – you can’t walk very far in this neighborhood without seeing one bob-bob-bobbing along beside you. But yesterday afternoon when Sam and I were walking out the front door to go for a walk, he opened the door and abruptly closed it again. He said that a bird had been sitting on our wreath and flew away.
Sure enough, when we carefully opened the door again and looked at the door, we saw this:
And when we carefully took a photo of the inside of the nest, we saw this:
And when I looked at the door this morning I saw this:
So, we’re no longer using the front door – we’ll come and go through the garage door – until the mother robin no longer needs her nest. Pretty soon I’m sure we’ll hear the high pitched peeps of four little hungry mouths.
And that makes me happy.
Have a wonderful weekend, friends. I’ll see you back here on Monday. xoxo
Back in mid-March, when we were first given the stay-at-home order by our governor, I felt the need to do something to lift the spirits of my neighbors in some way. My neighbor Chris and I had long had a plan to use something called Rainworks (link here to see what Rainworks is) to leave fun messages on the sidewalks of our town. Two (three?) years ago Chris bought us each a kit to get started on our messages, but we just never got around to doing it. When lock down started, I texted Chris and said, “Let’s do the Rainworks messages! Now!” and he responded, “Yes. Yes. 1000 x Yes!!!”
The problem is, it turns out that making a Rainworks message is kind of tricky. You have to cut a stencil out of cardboard and then spray it carefully so that the letters are distinct and don’t bleed. My first two efforts turned out to be unintelligible blobs. I lost momentum at that point, but neighbor Chris saved the day by buying two large buckets of chalk for us to chalk our messages around the neighborhood instead. After that I was hooked. A couple of chalking adventures in the neighborhood later, I decided to stay closer to home, writing a new message every morning on the sidewalk in front of my house. Every night I go out and wash the old message down.
I’m not sure how long I’ll carry on with my messages. Our governor is set to start gradually re-opening Ohio on May 1, but I’m not even sure what that means (and he won’t be revealing what that means until next Monday). My workplace will start to gradually go back to normal operations on May 4, but we haven’t been told yet what that will mean. I may be working remotely at least some of the time well into June. So, we’ll see. All I know is tomorrow is Arbor Day, and I hope the rain lets up by morning so that I can get out there and draw a tree.
As I’ve often told Sam, “Corny is what I do best.”I’m particularly proud of my artistic talent on display with that jar of mayo! Yes, I had trouble with the spelling of “quarantine”!The clumpy stuff is wet grass from the previous day’s mowing – in case you were thinking some dog made an editorial commentSam helped me with this one 🙂I’m afraid I might have crossed the line from “talk like Shakespeare” to “talk like a pirate” here
