Amazing what you don’t notice until you do. Once the pigeon chorus woke me up, the only thing that registered was my bladder. I should have noted the absence of my “white nose machine” because the pigeons aren’t usually so loud without the windows open. I didn’t register the variety of other calls either, with doves, quail, and others filling in the chorus. I didn’t notice the ceiling fan wasn’t working. I wasn’t overheated, and it’s only been the last couple days it’s been on overnight. This was one of the rare mornings where I didn’t crack an eyeball to see what time it was to determine whether I really wanted to get up. One thing and only one thing registered until I was in the bathroom.
Then things started to add up. The motion sensor light in the hall hadn’t turned on. I peeked down the hall to see sun shining on the living room blinds. An extra light pool meant the front door was open. Didn’t Steve realize that the AC was on and we needed to keep the house shut? (Yeah, still not fully awake yet.)
But hey, morning pill time, dutifully observed because the thyroid pill comes first and nothing, not even other pills, can follow for 20 minutes. I glanced at the clock to mark the time. Blank. Black. No green light on the pacemaker monitor next to it either. A little light bulb came on, the only one in the house powered by my brain. The only one powered… barely.
Power Outage! Alarm bells: it’s another 3-digit temperature day in Phoenix!
At least my cell phone works - it is, isn’t it, or are the towers down too? Nope, I’m good. I have our power company number in it. And now I know it was pushing 6:00.
The recorded voice ”recognized” my number, the voicemail system had me verify my address, then gave me my account number (Why would I possibly want that? Come on, get on with it!!!) and assured my there would be no power shut-offs for non payment of bills in the heat, not even late fees tis year. Didn’t care, it’s always paid promptly. Then the important bit came, fed in even before I could be asked if I wanted to report a power outage. They noted there was an outage in the area and it was already being worked on. It should be fixed by 7:51.
OK, that’s good, but couldn’t they just have said 8? How do they know that close to the minute? Murphy still rules, you know.
The mental list kicked in, reviewing what I can and cannot do in the meanwhile. The rest of morning pills, fine, but no coffee. No cooking at all until I figure out where the matches got put in the great cupboard cleanup a couple weeks back. I knew they weren’t back on top of the microwave. But water is ok, and the cold water dispenser of the freezer door should still have cold water in it. I hope. With ice cream in the freezer and lots of meats and things in the fridge, there’s no way I’m going inside for either food or cold beverage. So I push the lever and … nothing. OK, that’s not a simple lever, there’s a circuit in there somewhere. Interesting. At least the tap water still works. I did, after all, flush the toilet this morning without noting anything amiss, right? And even though there is no actual cold water in the summer, it should have cooled down enough overnight to not make me gag. I hate plain hot water, and our pipe got rerouted back in 2012 after a slab leak to its new route through the attic. The sun was just now up so this would be my best chance. If not, there’s slightly cooler bottled water sitting of the floor. No need, tap OK.
I’d shut the front door on my way to the phone, thinking to keep the heat out, then thought the better of it since the outside was still about 15 to 20 degrees cooler then the house. So I reopened the front door, then went outside to the patio with my water and pills to enjoy the only entertainment in the neighborhood along with the coolest air available, now circulating throughout the house. That mental list, well before I got my reassurance that power would return before I baked, reminded me that there was no cool place to congregate and wait this out. Not now. Even scratching the “cool”, there was no congregating. Last resort would be wearing wet clothing and hoping for some breeze to come along. But it shouldn’t get that far. Unless Murphy….
Road trip, anybody? Tank's full. AC works.
Patio entertainment means noticing the early rabbit hopping around, seeing the parade of 4 quail cross behind the neighbor’s fence, noticing someone walking their dog, visible between houses very briefly, and being mildly surprised that the dog the newest neighbors have wasn’t barking as usual at my being outside. He probably doesn’t understand that this side of the fence is Mine! Mine! MINE!
Then, of course, there are the pigeons.
Every year some pair tries to make a nest in one spot where roof sections overlap, offering what looks like shelter from, say, hungry hawks. While it is possible that part would work, they seldom figure out that round sticks on a sloping roof do not a nest make. What we get is a pile of sticks falling down into the aloes. This year they actually got farther along, but Steve went out and used his walking stick to knock it down (into the aloes of course), and they’ve not successfully rebuilt. There are fewer sticks however, so perhaps they’re recycling them for a new location. I know we haven't gone out for cleanup. Too damn hot.
But it’s definitely mating time. This morning there was a pair on the power wires running over and between the back yards, one of their favorite spots. I happened to be looking when one of the pair mounted the other. OK, I mentally labeled which was male and which female. Duh, you’d think.
Well, that’s when it got interesting. When they were both on the wire afterward, the one I’d labeled female reached its head over in a caress to the other, then immediately flew up on its back. It sat there, calmly balanced, for over a minute, while the new “bottom” just quivered. Then “she” mated with “him.” Hmmmm….. Gay pigeons? Or is this a regular part of their mating ritual, just one I’d not observed?
There were other things to observe while sitting out here. My desert willow tree is sporting a full crop of light green buds. In a week or so I’ll be seeing purple flowers all over. I’m sure I’ll be out here with my camera, trying one more time to get some kind of satisfying picture of them. Every year I try, and every year I just can’t capture them to my satisfaction.
The ocotillo have shed their leaves from our March rains, and while the small ones we planted after we moved in have never bloomed, I discovered the big one, struggling for its piece of sunlight while blocked by the neighbor’s unpruned citrus trees, finally managed two blooms. Sort of a last gasp before dormancy again.
The baby mesquite tree is filling out nicely, now that the quail have quit jumping up on the tiny branches to pluck the leaves off . Now, what were just leaves along its branches, regrew and became the start of new branches while I wasn't watching. I’ve been watering it without seeing the changes, only noting it still lived. There was a plan to get bird netting, but it got dropped after two stores didn’t carry any. Now I won’t bother. At least the rabbits don’t go for it.
Another recovery has happened. We have a Mexican bird of paradise along the south fence. It blooms lightly every year, another semi-victim of the neighbor’s plants growing taller and shading it. Every year we cut it back like we’re supposed to, about 12” from the ground. The instructions say ground level up to 12”. All those dead branches were crowding pretty solidly together, so Rich and I got together this winter and took it down to a set of knuckles too big for the pruners to take out, even using our feet to knock over some really stubborn ones.
That can be interesting when the foot slips and you’re on blood thinners!
I watched the bush for months, never seeing any hope of regrowth. Had we been too extreme? I added Miracle-Gro to the watering. I’d given up on it when Rich showed me some tiny red buds just popping up from the knuckles. Cool! A few days later they weren’t visible. Dratted rabbits! Chicken wire time again. It’s now a dense clump of light green about 20” tall and almost as wide. - growing through the chicken wire, of course! Too late to pull it off now. Nice problem for next year's pruning.
The neighbor’s oleander bushes are just past their peak of spectacular blooms. One is white, the other a beautiful hot pink. The petals are just beginning to decorate the ground, as their branches push through our fence, though in this weather it’ll be brown again in no time.
There is a spreading clump of dark green agaves along the back fence. I think they started on the other side, as those cover more territory. Ours sent up the first blooming stalk a few years ago, and we had the yard crew take it and the dead agave out after it was done. Next year another offshoot did the same, and we ignored it. I decided finally to go pull the dead stalk out, easily done by tilting it over. The remains of its base are too shabby to bother with. But there are now 4 stalks in the patch. One is a dead one from last year in the neighbor’s yard. Of the three blooming, two are in our yard. In the week since I pulled out our dead stalk, the three flowering ones have developed a southward bend on the top, which none of the previous ones had. They’re pretty woody, so it’s another puzzle to entertain somebody waiting for the power to go back on.
According to my laptop clock, they are one minute late. Think I’ll go inside and check. Time to shut the doors anyway since it’s warmed up 10 degrees out here. Plus, there was that glass of water with those pills….
The power company”s recording now says power will be restored by “8:57 AM.” Why do they do that?
Now they say “10:57 AM.”
OK, 9:41 and power’s back. The fridge is humming, the TV clicked, the wi-fi router’s flashing it’s 1st light trying to restart, and - best of all - Steve’s lift chair works again. Think I’ll go see what’s
Tuesday, April 28, 2020
Sunday, April 26, 2020
Getting "Paraded"
At first we weren't sure what it was. Besides a ruckus, that is. A vehicle went by honking its horn. A lot. Noisy, long and obnoxious. So did another, then another. It started to get annoying. We tried to mostly ignore it all, continuing on with reading, watching TV, or surfing. Not sure who was doing which, when. They do tend to blend together these days. A glance out the window from our chairs provided few clues as to what was going on. We assumed it had nothing to do with us, and did our best to ignore it all.
It didn't stop. A few wimpy beeps came from a golf cart, getting new attention from us. Since I was now distracted enough from what I was doing, my bladder successfully claimed my attention enough to get me standing, where the window view was much more informative. It wasn't a golf cart, it was a dozen, at least in that half a minute. One car went by in the middle of them with red, white and blue mylar helium balloons attached.
No signs, not on any of the vehicles. Had something been on the first car and we missed it? Was it for a wedding, a way of social distancing while celebrating? Somebody's... oh, what, 90th birthday? Had the Governor just opened up some part of the economy we hadn't heard about? Were we supposed to be celebrating our first responders this new way and time, but nobody got the message out... enough? Had our ignoramus-in-chief died or maybe even just stepped down? Hmmm, not likely, hence "ignoramus." Too brain dead to realize his limitations. And if either happened, this is still republican territory. How would they find this many to celebrate this publicly?
(Speaking of brain dead, he just commented that if, according to rumors, Kim Jung Un was actually brain dead after cardiac surgery, he could still run North Korea just fine. Trump should know. He's doing it here, skipping the "fine" part.)
The parade of vehicles eventually sputtered out. We went back to appreciating the quiet and resumed whatever is was which had been interrupted. Speculation petered out, and we weren't too upset by the notion that we'd never know the cause. Other things caught our attention, like the heat. I still fought turning on the Ac, but went to bed last night determined that tomorrow's forecast justified finally turning it on for the first time this year. 84 should do it. Heck with that, make it 83. For the incurably inquisitive, I didn't make it past 1:48 PM before turning it on. Fans and wet t-shirts only do so much.
This morning when Steve joined me in the living room, he announced he'd learned the reason for yesterday's parade. All those people were celebrating us. All of us. For staying home, not making things worse. Sweet. If only we'd known.
But kinda makes me feel guilty for taking Steve to that appointment he has tomorrow. You can bet I'm coming inside too, not sitting in a car in the sun when it's likely to have hit 103 by then. Hey, I've even got a mask.
It didn't stop. A few wimpy beeps came from a golf cart, getting new attention from us. Since I was now distracted enough from what I was doing, my bladder successfully claimed my attention enough to get me standing, where the window view was much more informative. It wasn't a golf cart, it was a dozen, at least in that half a minute. One car went by in the middle of them with red, white and blue mylar helium balloons attached.
No signs, not on any of the vehicles. Had something been on the first car and we missed it? Was it for a wedding, a way of social distancing while celebrating? Somebody's... oh, what, 90th birthday? Had the Governor just opened up some part of the economy we hadn't heard about? Were we supposed to be celebrating our first responders this new way and time, but nobody got the message out... enough? Had our ignoramus-in-chief died or maybe even just stepped down? Hmmm, not likely, hence "ignoramus." Too brain dead to realize his limitations. And if either happened, this is still republican territory. How would they find this many to celebrate this publicly?
(Speaking of brain dead, he just commented that if, according to rumors, Kim Jung Un was actually brain dead after cardiac surgery, he could still run North Korea just fine. Trump should know. He's doing it here, skipping the "fine" part.)
The parade of vehicles eventually sputtered out. We went back to appreciating the quiet and resumed whatever is was which had been interrupted. Speculation petered out, and we weren't too upset by the notion that we'd never know the cause. Other things caught our attention, like the heat. I still fought turning on the Ac, but went to bed last night determined that tomorrow's forecast justified finally turning it on for the first time this year. 84 should do it. Heck with that, make it 83. For the incurably inquisitive, I didn't make it past 1:48 PM before turning it on. Fans and wet t-shirts only do so much.
This morning when Steve joined me in the living room, he announced he'd learned the reason for yesterday's parade. All those people were celebrating us. All of us. For staying home, not making things worse. Sweet. If only we'd known.
But kinda makes me feel guilty for taking Steve to that appointment he has tomorrow. You can bet I'm coming inside too, not sitting in a car in the sun when it's likely to have hit 103 by then. Hey, I've even got a mask.
Friday, April 24, 2020
Bizarre
By now we've all surely heard our Idiot In Chief propose fighting covid 19 with antiseptics like bleach. No, not on surfaces, where it has efficacy. On us. Scratch that: IN us! Inject, inhale, swallow, whatever.
Knowing how many idiots hop on his bandwagon, Lysol felt compelled to issue a very public disclaimer that it should NEVER be ingested. They must have assumed that those stupid enough to give it a try never heard about gassing in the trenches in WW1, never read the label about using in ventilated areas, or heard the warnings about combining bleach and ammonia because it releases chlorine gas. And after all, people poisoning themselves with Tide pods is a real thing. Those kinds of people are out there.
I think they've got a pretty good basis for believing they needed to make that disclaimer. So do the vast majority of us. We already put locks on the cabinets where we store similar chemicals when there are babies and toddlers in the house. Can our Idiot In Chief magically make those poisons not only safe but a virus cure?
Well, of course they would cure the virus. Covid 19 can't survive without a living body. Other similar cures would be bullets, hanging, driving your car into a bridge embankment at 95 mph, a full bottle of any of many medications downed with your booze, stepping in front of the subway or a train or....
Well, lots of cures. Now those would finally justify those signs about the cure being worse than the disease.
I kinda get where he's coming from though. Obviously we're not there yet, but wouldn't it be wonderful if there were something they could put in an inhaler like we do with albuterol, only geared to kill this virus? However....
We're just beginning to realize how necessary to human life microorganisms are. We'd have to find something which only targets this virus and leaves everything else alone. At this point, this is beyond daunting. We'd likely need one of those Star Trek transporters, carefully programmed to beam us up without all those nasty little covid particles. (They had an episode years ago like that. DS9 perhaps?) Then we'd just have to solve the problem of preventing us all from getting reinfected, since nobody would have antibodies.
Bummer!
I have further questions. Remember early on they said donating blood was OK, that the virus was only in the respiratory system? So how does that tally with finding out now that other effects of the virus include cardiac arrhythmia, blood clotting causing embolisms and strokes, kidney damage, and who-knows-what else they will discover? Why do we lose smell and taste, have all-over muscle aches, gastrointestinal issues?
Big problems are never simple. In some form or another they are systemic. Insert any name for the problem, you'll have nearly countless causes and interactions. Big problems have their own ecosystems. Poverty, poor education, homelessness, unemployment, overcrowding, pollution, global warming. Even hurricanes, where our Idiot In Chief thought nuking them would dispel them. Like every other problem/solution combination, "cures" have consequences. Not only would a nuke not work to diminish hurricane forces, it would spread radiation. I know: DUH! Well, for us, anyway. Too obvious to bother to mention.
Except for the guy who thought it was a good idea. On television. "Advising" the country.
Bringing it back to healthcare, here's another example of consequences: immunizations. What could be wrong about eliminating smallpox? Or freeing us from polio, measles, chicken pox, tetanus, etc., etc., etc.
Overpopulation, for one. We live longer and with better lives, but keep reproducing. Overpopulation MANDATES new pandemics arise, since we're no longer isolated enough from other populations to keep whatever latest germ which evolves from spreading widely and with lightning speed.
False security, for another. We forget what we have to learn about in books rather than experience ourselves. This gives rise to the anti-vaxxers, more concerned with extremely rare or imagined effects of a shot than with a disease people now don't have immunity to. Measles is a name with an inconvenient rash, rather than a death threat.
It is a death threat.
UV light, our Idiot In Chief's other suggestion, actually will kill virus. Sunlight is its major source. Objects left in the sun long enough will be cleaned of it. Whoa Pony, before you gallop away with that idea for your cure-all....
We're not objects. UV light, to us, will cause cancer. Need that in your lungs on top of the virus? It won't kill as fast as bleach inside us. But it will kill. Like your odds on that one?
There is no magic.
Knowing how many idiots hop on his bandwagon, Lysol felt compelled to issue a very public disclaimer that it should NEVER be ingested. They must have assumed that those stupid enough to give it a try never heard about gassing in the trenches in WW1, never read the label about using in ventilated areas, or heard the warnings about combining bleach and ammonia because it releases chlorine gas. And after all, people poisoning themselves with Tide pods is a real thing. Those kinds of people are out there.
I think they've got a pretty good basis for believing they needed to make that disclaimer. So do the vast majority of us. We already put locks on the cabinets where we store similar chemicals when there are babies and toddlers in the house. Can our Idiot In Chief magically make those poisons not only safe but a virus cure?
Well, of course they would cure the virus. Covid 19 can't survive without a living body. Other similar cures would be bullets, hanging, driving your car into a bridge embankment at 95 mph, a full bottle of any of many medications downed with your booze, stepping in front of the subway or a train or....
Well, lots of cures. Now those would finally justify those signs about the cure being worse than the disease.
I kinda get where he's coming from though. Obviously we're not there yet, but wouldn't it be wonderful if there were something they could put in an inhaler like we do with albuterol, only geared to kill this virus? However....
We're just beginning to realize how necessary to human life microorganisms are. We'd have to find something which only targets this virus and leaves everything else alone. At this point, this is beyond daunting. We'd likely need one of those Star Trek transporters, carefully programmed to beam us up without all those nasty little covid particles. (They had an episode years ago like that. DS9 perhaps?) Then we'd just have to solve the problem of preventing us all from getting reinfected, since nobody would have antibodies.
Bummer!
I have further questions. Remember early on they said donating blood was OK, that the virus was only in the respiratory system? So how does that tally with finding out now that other effects of the virus include cardiac arrhythmia, blood clotting causing embolisms and strokes, kidney damage, and who-knows-what else they will discover? Why do we lose smell and taste, have all-over muscle aches, gastrointestinal issues?
Big problems are never simple. In some form or another they are systemic. Insert any name for the problem, you'll have nearly countless causes and interactions. Big problems have their own ecosystems. Poverty, poor education, homelessness, unemployment, overcrowding, pollution, global warming. Even hurricanes, where our Idiot In Chief thought nuking them would dispel them. Like every other problem/solution combination, "cures" have consequences. Not only would a nuke not work to diminish hurricane forces, it would spread radiation. I know: DUH! Well, for us, anyway. Too obvious to bother to mention.
Except for the guy who thought it was a good idea. On television. "Advising" the country.
Bringing it back to healthcare, here's another example of consequences: immunizations. What could be wrong about eliminating smallpox? Or freeing us from polio, measles, chicken pox, tetanus, etc., etc., etc.
Overpopulation, for one. We live longer and with better lives, but keep reproducing. Overpopulation MANDATES new pandemics arise, since we're no longer isolated enough from other populations to keep whatever latest germ which evolves from spreading widely and with lightning speed.
False security, for another. We forget what we have to learn about in books rather than experience ourselves. This gives rise to the anti-vaxxers, more concerned with extremely rare or imagined effects of a shot than with a disease people now don't have immunity to. Measles is a name with an inconvenient rash, rather than a death threat.
It is a death threat.
UV light, our Idiot In Chief's other suggestion, actually will kill virus. Sunlight is its major source. Objects left in the sun long enough will be cleaned of it. Whoa Pony, before you gallop away with that idea for your cure-all....
We're not objects. UV light, to us, will cause cancer. Need that in your lungs on top of the virus? It won't kill as fast as bleach inside us. But it will kill. Like your odds on that one?
There is no magic.
Thursday, April 23, 2020
Decisions
Happy 866,148 US covid19 cases day. (Anybody explain oxymoron to you?)
Steve has been complaining of all-over body aches and shortness of breath for a few days now. No fever, no coughing, but who doesn't take that seriously these days? Besides Steve, of course. I finally convinced him to call his doctor. We were thinking that his prescription for metoprolol ought to be changed. Sure, it controls his blood pressure beautifully, but it also slows the heartbeat. That's why it was prescribed for me back when I was first diagnosed with A-fib. That's also why it was discontinued after bradycardia requiring a pacemaker. We took Steve's BP and pulse, and the latter registered 61. Borderline.
Steve finally got his arm twisted enough to make that phone call. He'd need a visit to change his prescription if the Doc thought that was the way to go. With his insurance, he has no option but to go through his primary first and then wait for his insurance to OK a referral. That's why it took a full year to get his back pain fixed last year. AAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!
His doctor's staff wanted nothing to do with him. They offered two options: go to the ER or hit Walgreens for one of those finger blood O2 meters. He'd already been thinking about Walgreens this morning for a couple other things, so that was the choice. Still, he just sat in his chair, perched between in and out. After asking whether he didn't feel steady enough to drive himself there, and offering to drive him, we headed over there. I stayed in the car while he went in.
I waited. And waited. Nearly everybody - but not all - who came out wore a face mask. A couple came out empty-handed. I was informed later that 1: TP was coming in on the truck ... later, 2: ditto for several other things on Steve's list too, and 3: due to a recent run on blood O2 meters, Walgreens was out. Frys was out too, but might get some Friday or Saturday night. Maybe. Walgreens had no pending order. But hey, milk and ice tea were available, so the trip wasn't a complete bust.
We arrived home with the same idea: order on line. His go-to is Amazon. Mine is eBay. He found something that would cost around $100. But it came from the Us instead of China, so he figured both the higher price would insure better quality and US origin would mean faster delivery. My eBay search found over a dozen sites with a $15 price tag, a US delivery, and every item was identical. Further research revealed several reappearing seller names, but all with few sales and zero feedback to judge them by. Color me sceptical. Further down the list was a site with the same item at twice the price. Normally I'd laugh at what they thought they could get away with. Research showed this seller with nearly 99% satisfaction level and thousands of sales. After a short discussion, that's the one which got ordered. I even accompanied the order with a note about choosing this one at the higher price solely because of their sales history.
Meanwhile, of course, I'm keeping an eagle eye on Steve. The second option is still open if needed. Fingers crossed. (Actually, that's a lie. Have you ever tried typing with crossed fingers? How about eyes? No? Me neither.)
On the way home from Walgreens we passed several flowering plants. Perfect excuse for going out of the house again, this time with camera. Turns out the timing was perfect.
No sooner was I down to the corner - in the car of course - than I stopped to shoot a landscaping crew pulling down a saguaro. In a series of 4 photos, it went from erect with a rope, to slight lean, to 4 feet off the ground, to down. Perfect timing! Still doesn't explain why anybody would do that to a healthy looking saguaro though.
My next stop netted me a slew of pictures, a long sniff of a lavender rose (the only one these days with an actual rose fragrance!), a conversation with the homeowner about her plantings, expressing my appreciation, her appreciation of such, tips for planting and plans for her yard, and permission to take a baby which had fallen off the agave which was the prime cause for my stop in the first place. If that last -"falling" - sounds unlikely, it was much like the one across the street that I took so many shots of last summer, when it bloomed red and yellow on paddles splayed around a tall stalk, giving it the appearance of a giant asparagus. Today's plant was a different member of the same family, but no red until now, as the bottom leaves were dying in spectacular fashion, and rather than seed pods it produced babies up on the stalk. After a year, these were now dropping down in search of new homes to take root in.
If this sounds like my octopus agave in the corner of the house, mine is different in producing only (!) a single straight stalk, having much less unfriendly leaves, and being a year behind. It should, however, also product babies along its stalk after flowering which can be removed and planted in new homes. I consider this baby as a trial run on propagating baby octopi. My agave should, like hers, produce hundreds to thousands of viable offspring. Hopefully, finding new homes will be much easier than placing puppies.
I know a few garden centers....
Half an hour of driving and shooting later, and here I am, home again, glad to have something a bit more cheerful to blog about. Two favorite things in one day. Let's just hope now whatever is going on with Steve will soon be going away.
* * * * *
In the time it took to write this, numbers changed to 867,089. Also 48,295deaths, one of whom is Elizabeth Warren's brother. And it's only lunch time.
Steve has been complaining of all-over body aches and shortness of breath for a few days now. No fever, no coughing, but who doesn't take that seriously these days? Besides Steve, of course. I finally convinced him to call his doctor. We were thinking that his prescription for metoprolol ought to be changed. Sure, it controls his blood pressure beautifully, but it also slows the heartbeat. That's why it was prescribed for me back when I was first diagnosed with A-fib. That's also why it was discontinued after bradycardia requiring a pacemaker. We took Steve's BP and pulse, and the latter registered 61. Borderline.
Steve finally got his arm twisted enough to make that phone call. He'd need a visit to change his prescription if the Doc thought that was the way to go. With his insurance, he has no option but to go through his primary first and then wait for his insurance to OK a referral. That's why it took a full year to get his back pain fixed last year. AAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!
His doctor's staff wanted nothing to do with him. They offered two options: go to the ER or hit Walgreens for one of those finger blood O2 meters. He'd already been thinking about Walgreens this morning for a couple other things, so that was the choice. Still, he just sat in his chair, perched between in and out. After asking whether he didn't feel steady enough to drive himself there, and offering to drive him, we headed over there. I stayed in the car while he went in.
I waited. And waited. Nearly everybody - but not all - who came out wore a face mask. A couple came out empty-handed. I was informed later that 1: TP was coming in on the truck ... later, 2: ditto for several other things on Steve's list too, and 3: due to a recent run on blood O2 meters, Walgreens was out. Frys was out too, but might get some Friday or Saturday night. Maybe. Walgreens had no pending order. But hey, milk and ice tea were available, so the trip wasn't a complete bust.
We arrived home with the same idea: order on line. His go-to is Amazon. Mine is eBay. He found something that would cost around $100. But it came from the Us instead of China, so he figured both the higher price would insure better quality and US origin would mean faster delivery. My eBay search found over a dozen sites with a $15 price tag, a US delivery, and every item was identical. Further research revealed several reappearing seller names, but all with few sales and zero feedback to judge them by. Color me sceptical. Further down the list was a site with the same item at twice the price. Normally I'd laugh at what they thought they could get away with. Research showed this seller with nearly 99% satisfaction level and thousands of sales. After a short discussion, that's the one which got ordered. I even accompanied the order with a note about choosing this one at the higher price solely because of their sales history.
Meanwhile, of course, I'm keeping an eagle eye on Steve. The second option is still open if needed. Fingers crossed. (Actually, that's a lie. Have you ever tried typing with crossed fingers? How about eyes? No? Me neither.)
On the way home from Walgreens we passed several flowering plants. Perfect excuse for going out of the house again, this time with camera. Turns out the timing was perfect.
No sooner was I down to the corner - in the car of course - than I stopped to shoot a landscaping crew pulling down a saguaro. In a series of 4 photos, it went from erect with a rope, to slight lean, to 4 feet off the ground, to down. Perfect timing! Still doesn't explain why anybody would do that to a healthy looking saguaro though.
My next stop netted me a slew of pictures, a long sniff of a lavender rose (the only one these days with an actual rose fragrance!), a conversation with the homeowner about her plantings, expressing my appreciation, her appreciation of such, tips for planting and plans for her yard, and permission to take a baby which had fallen off the agave which was the prime cause for my stop in the first place. If that last -"falling" - sounds unlikely, it was much like the one across the street that I took so many shots of last summer, when it bloomed red and yellow on paddles splayed around a tall stalk, giving it the appearance of a giant asparagus. Today's plant was a different member of the same family, but no red until now, as the bottom leaves were dying in spectacular fashion, and rather than seed pods it produced babies up on the stalk. After a year, these were now dropping down in search of new homes to take root in.
If this sounds like my octopus agave in the corner of the house, mine is different in producing only (!) a single straight stalk, having much less unfriendly leaves, and being a year behind. It should, however, also product babies along its stalk after flowering which can be removed and planted in new homes. I consider this baby as a trial run on propagating baby octopi. My agave should, like hers, produce hundreds to thousands of viable offspring. Hopefully, finding new homes will be much easier than placing puppies.
I know a few garden centers....
Half an hour of driving and shooting later, and here I am, home again, glad to have something a bit more cheerful to blog about. Two favorite things in one day. Let's just hope now whatever is going on with Steve will soon be going away.
* * * * *
In the time it took to write this, numbers changed to 867,089. Also 48,295deaths, one of whom is Elizabeth Warren's brother. And it's only lunch time.
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
Adventures In Caronavirus Land, Episode 771,214
Oops, that's not the number of these I've written. No, really. It just seems like it. But 771,214 is the number of covid 19 cases reported - aka tested - in this country this morning. Since people are now dying about every 23 seconds, I'm sure every number recorded anywhere is already obsolete.
Oh, not to be misleading, that every 23 seconds rate is worldwide, I believe. I know we're #1, but maybe not that good at killing off our own people. Not yet. Then again, I could be wrong. Though if I am, maybe by the time you read this, it'll be accurate.
Do I sound a bit pessimistic? Testing is still just a farce. And hideously expensive, it's reported. Clusters are becoming more widely reported all through the country. They cluster in meat packing plants for some reason. (Yeah, like terrible conditions and profit grubbing owners.) They haunt jails and prisons. Who needs a shiv now? They're ignored in ICE cages. They run rampant through nursing homes, perhaps because there's an attitude out there - now here's where I'm REALLY pessimistic - that all those old folks are supposed to die anyway, and why should (______ fill in the blank) have to keep paying for their care, particularly out of (_________ 's ) taxes. It's "just culling the herd," leaving the strong, healthy, and rich folk to enjoy the world.
But it's not. Other folks are also dying. Young people. Healthy people. First responders. Doctors. Nurses. Children. A week ago on a website which compiles statistics throughout the world, before they quit posting a percentage number of those who died compared to the number of cases, it stood at 7%. Another site compares active cases (97% mild, 3% critical), and one might think the virus is not all that severe, unless you remember that most cases start mild, then progress, and the vast majority of active cases are relatively new along their journey, thanks to the miracle of exponential growth. It's like compound interest. This same site also compares cases that have had a resolution. Of those, 80% have recovered. They're over it. Done. Able to go on with their lives. That leaves 20% who are just simply done. Passed. Transitioned. Gone to "something better". Singing with the Angels. D. E. A. D.
Twenty percent.
One in five.
No doubt that number, like all numbers in this pandemic, will change by the time it's "over." More cases that were never tested will be added to the rolls, particularly once antibody testing is established so we know who was asymptomatic. More recognized cases will progress to resolution. No doubt investigative journalists will be out "after", digging through the cover-ups, figuring out who never got tested before they died and can merely be presumed to have had the virus but got listed as "heart failure", "embolism", "pneumonia", "natural causes." We may have a better idea of the truth in a few years.
Then there will be the arguments about how many of those can be counted who died because hospitals were overloaded and they couldn't get treatment for a heart attack, or they had a car accident because of the idiots who think now they can go 95 in a 45 zone with predictable results, or any of the other ancillary casualties.
So yeah, I'm pessimistic.
I'm even more so because of all the idiots out there. Take the idiots who jumped on a medicine for malaria and lupus, just because Trump had a "hunch" it might work, not caring to know that Trump also holds major shares (still rising) in Sanofi, the company which produces it, nor caring that we spent however many obscene millions of acquiring a huge supply of those pills, now known to produce worse outcomes when combined with standard treatment than when patients only had standard treatment. That money could instead have been spent on PPE for those caring for the sick. Or testing chemicals and swabs. Meanwhile those suffering with malaria and lupus are... suffering. They can't find the medications they need. Some will needlessly die.
Those idiots don't care. They're not the only idiots either.
You know, like the Floridiots who crowd the beaches, the Georgia idiots who'll be crowding the hair and nail salons, the Trumpidiots who fall for all the stupid nonsense out there about their "liberties" and go protest about opening up the economy again because they think their life isn't complete without a haircut so they can sit down in a crowded restaurant and not be shamed by wearing last season's clothes. They somehow believe if they wield "Liberty" as their magic talisman, then they will be immune, or if they get sick, it'll be mild with no lasting effects and won't take away ventilators from other patients, or even if it does, they won't share it with anybody else, because... uh... because... magic?
None of them seem to have read far enough to realize or care that the "liberty" they all claim for themselves comes right in the middle of a threesome. It's followed by "pursuit of happiness," which is important but properly last. But first of all, most important of all, that which neither of the others can exist without, is "LIFE!" Just don't try to argue that point with the lieutenant governor of Texas. He's the very epitome of a Texidiot, publicly claiming there are more important things than life as he pushed to reopen their economy.
Yes, that happened.
Hmmm, ya suppose if Texas does reopen, he'll change his tune while he sits back in his splendid protected isolation and watches his constituents start to die off?
If only it worked that way.... That would be truly culling the herd, knocking off the stupid.
Plus their families. Friends. Co-workers. Associates. Checkout clerks. Medical teams. People standing in lines. Folks downwind. Drat!
Hmmm, maybe instead, when they come up with a vaccination, they can inoculate against stupid? You know, 'cause that would be ... MAGIC?
* * * * *
Oops: correction. Now USA's case count is 829,013.
Oh, not to be misleading, that every 23 seconds rate is worldwide, I believe. I know we're #1, but maybe not that good at killing off our own people. Not yet. Then again, I could be wrong. Though if I am, maybe by the time you read this, it'll be accurate.
Do I sound a bit pessimistic? Testing is still just a farce. And hideously expensive, it's reported. Clusters are becoming more widely reported all through the country. They cluster in meat packing plants for some reason. (Yeah, like terrible conditions and profit grubbing owners.) They haunt jails and prisons. Who needs a shiv now? They're ignored in ICE cages. They run rampant through nursing homes, perhaps because there's an attitude out there - now here's where I'm REALLY pessimistic - that all those old folks are supposed to die anyway, and why should (______ fill in the blank) have to keep paying for their care, particularly out of (_________ 's ) taxes. It's "just culling the herd," leaving the strong, healthy, and rich folk to enjoy the world.
But it's not. Other folks are also dying. Young people. Healthy people. First responders. Doctors. Nurses. Children. A week ago on a website which compiles statistics throughout the world, before they quit posting a percentage number of those who died compared to the number of cases, it stood at 7%. Another site compares active cases (97% mild, 3% critical), and one might think the virus is not all that severe, unless you remember that most cases start mild, then progress, and the vast majority of active cases are relatively new along their journey, thanks to the miracle of exponential growth. It's like compound interest. This same site also compares cases that have had a resolution. Of those, 80% have recovered. They're over it. Done. Able to go on with their lives. That leaves 20% who are just simply done. Passed. Transitioned. Gone to "something better". Singing with the Angels. D. E. A. D.
Twenty percent.
One in five.
No doubt that number, like all numbers in this pandemic, will change by the time it's "over." More cases that were never tested will be added to the rolls, particularly once antibody testing is established so we know who was asymptomatic. More recognized cases will progress to resolution. No doubt investigative journalists will be out "after", digging through the cover-ups, figuring out who never got tested before they died and can merely be presumed to have had the virus but got listed as "heart failure", "embolism", "pneumonia", "natural causes." We may have a better idea of the truth in a few years.
Then there will be the arguments about how many of those can be counted who died because hospitals were overloaded and they couldn't get treatment for a heart attack, or they had a car accident because of the idiots who think now they can go 95 in a 45 zone with predictable results, or any of the other ancillary casualties.
So yeah, I'm pessimistic.
I'm even more so because of all the idiots out there. Take the idiots who jumped on a medicine for malaria and lupus, just because Trump had a "hunch" it might work, not caring to know that Trump also holds major shares (still rising) in Sanofi, the company which produces it, nor caring that we spent however many obscene millions of acquiring a huge supply of those pills, now known to produce worse outcomes when combined with standard treatment than when patients only had standard treatment. That money could instead have been spent on PPE for those caring for the sick. Or testing chemicals and swabs. Meanwhile those suffering with malaria and lupus are... suffering. They can't find the medications they need. Some will needlessly die.
Those idiots don't care. They're not the only idiots either.
You know, like the Floridiots who crowd the beaches, the Georgia idiots who'll be crowding the hair and nail salons, the Trumpidiots who fall for all the stupid nonsense out there about their "liberties" and go protest about opening up the economy again because they think their life isn't complete without a haircut so they can sit down in a crowded restaurant and not be shamed by wearing last season's clothes. They somehow believe if they wield "Liberty" as their magic talisman, then they will be immune, or if they get sick, it'll be mild with no lasting effects and won't take away ventilators from other patients, or even if it does, they won't share it with anybody else, because... uh... because... magic?
None of them seem to have read far enough to realize or care that the "liberty" they all claim for themselves comes right in the middle of a threesome. It's followed by "pursuit of happiness," which is important but properly last. But first of all, most important of all, that which neither of the others can exist without, is "LIFE!" Just don't try to argue that point with the lieutenant governor of Texas. He's the very epitome of a Texidiot, publicly claiming there are more important things than life as he pushed to reopen their economy.
Yes, that happened.
Hmmm, ya suppose if Texas does reopen, he'll change his tune while he sits back in his splendid protected isolation and watches his constituents start to die off?
If only it worked that way.... That would be truly culling the herd, knocking off the stupid.
Plus their families. Friends. Co-workers. Associates. Checkout clerks. Medical teams. People standing in lines. Folks downwind. Drat!
Hmmm, maybe instead, when they come up with a vaccination, they can inoculate against stupid? You know, 'cause that would be ... MAGIC?
* * * * *
Oops: correction. Now USA's case count is 829,013.
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
Shelter-In-Place Exercise Regimen
We all know how important exercise is in our lives . We also know, at least if we are reminded, that there are many kinds of exercise other than what happens in the gym, many different muscles which each need their turns, all of which require a variety of activities to fit the bill. Under shelter-in-place orders, one often has to become creative to accomplish it all.
I've been thinking I haven't been getting any exercise these last several weeks. So I decided to keep tracek of what I actually do, under what circumstances, and how often. Following is a compilation, as well as I can make it, considering a somewhat swiss cheese memory.
Most frequent is a trip down the hall to the bathroom. If you have to ask the reason(s), your memory is in even worse shape than mine. Nevermind. Distance is usually from my chair in the living room to the bathroom, although it can often be combined with many or most of the following exercises. Let's just call that efficiency. After all, efficiency was one of the principles making isometrics a fad. Pushing or pulling two things against each other gives twice the workout for one.
Next most frequent is the trip either to or from the kitchen. 90% of these trips are getting food, returning food either to the refrigerator or the garbage, returning used dishes. Sometimes they involve a return trip to remove something from the microwave, as there has been a return to the living room during cooking time, just to exercise those sitting/standing muscles. Occasionally these trips
involve hand washing, depending on the sloppiness of the food in question, or the amount of capsaicin remaining on fingers. Hopefully that latter issue is discovered before the fingers go in the eyes. Um, nose too.
Not that I do that, of course. Ever. Purely a hypothetical example.
Ahem.
Now that weather allows, there is a once daily trip around inside the house to open windows, followed by a later one to close them. This exercise will soon be replaced by an early trip to close windows followed by a late one to reopen them as the comfortable part of the day changes. It has been noted that this exercise is often combined with such things as a trip to the bathroom, kitchen, or even one to the den for filing paperwork or procuring stamps and envelopes. These last do not get their own slot since they are always combined with at least one other exercise, and I'm not going to cheat! They may, however, include extra hand and arm exercises, useful in providing balance to one's regimen. One must always be mindful of being well-rounded. One's exercise regimen should be also.
Three for four times a week there is an evening trip out to the garbage can. There is never more than one trip, as all that needs to go out can be carried in a single trip. A few extra steps may be added, along with a slow stretch to lean back and look at the sky in search of whatever can be found there. This of course follows the long stretching dip to ground level, the lift of the lid, swing of bag(s) over to the hole, release of bag(s) and of lid, and return to full stand. On rare occasions, there may be an extra turn-pause-turn to scope out the neighborhood, although there is never anything much in the way of a reward for that extra aside from maintaining balance.
Twice a month there is a series of trips to fill the recycle can, return the smaller containers to their spot inside the house, then return to the can, lift the lid and with a controlled but powerful series of fist impact motions, secure the lid in place. This is actually an excellent exercise, as sun and rectangular shape have combined to warp both can and lid to quite a challenging combination of bad angles. Following that, the can is walked down the end of the driveway. This particular series of exercises are finished, as are many of the others, by the lowering of the body into the living room chair, doing leg raises while controlling the lever which is the end goal for foot positioning. It is never sufficient to just walk back and forth. Legs and glutes need their own bit of cross-training.
While it has not been mentioned that the vast majority of these exercises also include the major lift out of the chair to a full stand at the start of the exercise, it should be assumed. This is hands-down the most often employed exercise available in the house!
Small muscle exercises are also useful for maintaining conditioning these days. Throughout the day there are the finger strengthening exercises employed while managing the TV remote, pulling the lamp chain, using the cell phone, surfing or posting on the web. Larger muscles are also employed, such as lifting the laptop from its table onto the lap and back again. While much less frequent than the accompanying finger exercises, they must not be undervalued, as they are a necessary part of the process. There are also the frequent stretches required to accomplish locating and reaching for the proper charging cables, nail clippers, blood pressure cuff, pen and paper, and - neither last nor least - miscellaneous items which might be covering and hiding Steve's phone. In fact, in his role of encouraging exercise, his phone is often employed in such activity. He's really a big help.
Once a week or so, there is an actual daylight trip around the yard. Because it is daylight, another exercise precedes it: a shower. This is one of the few exercises which requires frequent lifting of the arms above the shoulders, another necessary stretch. In turn, it is followed by a series of grooming and dressing exercises. During this process one can manage a whole series of facial exercises as one looks in the mirror and practices reacting to what one sees, or imagine one sees, reflected there.
Grooming rarely requires more than a single trip to the closet, but always more arm lifting. Combined with puling our and pushing in drawers, ones arms can get a really valuable workout! Often this also requires reaching down to the floor to grab discarded items of clothing, followed by the lift to place them into the clothes hamper. Occasionally arm lifts are so extreme that they involve an extra walk down the hall to include Steve in the process of turning the back of a collar to its appropriate position. This can actually involve several tries, enabling both partners to get some unanticipated exercise, often followed by more facial exercise, particularly in the lips.
Once one is prepared for the appearance in public, there are more exercises. These involve stretches to locate the camera case and bring it into useful range, then manipulating both zippers into position where the lid can be lifted and the camera removed, then using those same zippers to close the case before the final stretch to replace the case. These keep fingertips in shape for the more frequent keyboarding uses, which i turn keep the fingertips in shape for manipulating zippers. It becomes a very productive feedback loop.
Now one of the big exercises begins.
There is walking around the yard to locate subjects suitable for shooting, repositioning to enable various positions from which to capture the desired images. and occasional pushes against the house to facilitate the previous activities without losing one's balance and falling into something very omnipresent and stabby. Balance exercises also come into play simply as one walks across the rocks covering the yard. It's fabulous for that. There is the occasional rock relocation and weed pulling to enable a satisfactory photo. Occasionally, though rarely, there is even a repeat of this whole cycle of exercises, justified merely by the claim of needing better light.
For variety, after one's shower, there can be an actual outing! While car doors are extremely heavy, they are generally well enough balanced that it rarely pulls a muscle in the process of opening or closing. Deep knee bends allow one to enter the car, and the process can be reversed with a full body workout. Neck swivels, eye positional shifts, and various arm and leg movements are all employed in getting to the destination and locating an open parking slot. A long hike often follows, though if one thinks it hasn't quite done the trick, one can always pretend lack of memory of the location of several list items and wind up panting after a pleasant cardio workout by the time the check-out is in sight.
Much lifting is involved once there, collection items, removing them from cart to conveyor belt, placing bags back in the cart, and after the hike out to the car, placing them inside. If that's not enough, one can also refuse offers of help to empty the car once home and make several trips in and out. Items can also be sorted, placed in a variety of locations at a variety of heights, opening and closing a variety of doors. This is truly the major exercise of the week.
But one is still not done. Those bags can now be distributed to the various garbage and trash collection receptacles around the house, replacing the full ones needing to go out curbside, thus completing a full cycle.
The use of these purchased items employ more exercises, often involved in other trips around the house previously mentioned. If by some miracle there were TP, it could involve a trip to the bathroom, a deep bend to place said fictional TP under the sink, and the opening and closing of the doors involved. However, this is often also used as a regular bathroom trip, so only the storage exercises count here. Same for prescriptions, toiletries, and other neverminds. Remember: no cheating in the count!
There are also all the exercises needed in preparing food items for consumption, whether scooping through frozen ice cream, opening boxes and microwaving the contents, spreading toppings on toast, pouring beverages from their bottles or by pushing the bar on the freezer for cold water. one of the most delicate series of exercises is transporting these items without spillage into the living room as each is ready. Note that all the above include opening and closing of often heavy doors, often multiple times.
Exercise even happens in the depth of sleep. Blankets get moved up or down, depending on temperature changes. There are all the whole body rolls throughout the night, depending on how uncomfortable pressure on any given point becomes, or how cool/warm the pillow has become. All this seems to be in aid of that supreme exercise of the day: lifting one full human body from a low horizontal position, first to a full sit-up, then to a full stand. This last also serves as a full rapid start of the first trek to the bathroom of the day, and the next cycle of exercising.
There is also the option many mornings of a strong cardio workout, but this cannot be planned ahead of time as it requires waking suddenly out of a nightmare. It can be debated whether one wishes for the benefits of that particular workout or desire to fill in for it by substituting other exercises. Again, I remind you it is not often an actual choice, and one quickly realizes upon fully waking that the car is not actually lost and life is not as scary as one's unconscious would have you believe.
Oh, didn't I mention cleaning? You're very observant.
I've been thinking I haven't been getting any exercise these last several weeks. So I decided to keep tracek of what I actually do, under what circumstances, and how often. Following is a compilation, as well as I can make it, considering a somewhat swiss cheese memory.
Most frequent is a trip down the hall to the bathroom. If you have to ask the reason(s), your memory is in even worse shape than mine. Nevermind. Distance is usually from my chair in the living room to the bathroom, although it can often be combined with many or most of the following exercises. Let's just call that efficiency. After all, efficiency was one of the principles making isometrics a fad. Pushing or pulling two things against each other gives twice the workout for one.
Next most frequent is the trip either to or from the kitchen. 90% of these trips are getting food, returning food either to the refrigerator or the garbage, returning used dishes. Sometimes they involve a return trip to remove something from the microwave, as there has been a return to the living room during cooking time, just to exercise those sitting/standing muscles. Occasionally these trips
involve hand washing, depending on the sloppiness of the food in question, or the amount of capsaicin remaining on fingers. Hopefully that latter issue is discovered before the fingers go in the eyes. Um, nose too.
Not that I do that, of course. Ever. Purely a hypothetical example.
Ahem.
Now that weather allows, there is a once daily trip around inside the house to open windows, followed by a later one to close them. This exercise will soon be replaced by an early trip to close windows followed by a late one to reopen them as the comfortable part of the day changes. It has been noted that this exercise is often combined with such things as a trip to the bathroom, kitchen, or even one to the den for filing paperwork or procuring stamps and envelopes. These last do not get their own slot since they are always combined with at least one other exercise, and I'm not going to cheat! They may, however, include extra hand and arm exercises, useful in providing balance to one's regimen. One must always be mindful of being well-rounded. One's exercise regimen should be also.
Three for four times a week there is an evening trip out to the garbage can. There is never more than one trip, as all that needs to go out can be carried in a single trip. A few extra steps may be added, along with a slow stretch to lean back and look at the sky in search of whatever can be found there. This of course follows the long stretching dip to ground level, the lift of the lid, swing of bag(s) over to the hole, release of bag(s) and of lid, and return to full stand. On rare occasions, there may be an extra turn-pause-turn to scope out the neighborhood, although there is never anything much in the way of a reward for that extra aside from maintaining balance.
Twice a month there is a series of trips to fill the recycle can, return the smaller containers to their spot inside the house, then return to the can, lift the lid and with a controlled but powerful series of fist impact motions, secure the lid in place. This is actually an excellent exercise, as sun and rectangular shape have combined to warp both can and lid to quite a challenging combination of bad angles. Following that, the can is walked down the end of the driveway. This particular series of exercises are finished, as are many of the others, by the lowering of the body into the living room chair, doing leg raises while controlling the lever which is the end goal for foot positioning. It is never sufficient to just walk back and forth. Legs and glutes need their own bit of cross-training.
While it has not been mentioned that the vast majority of these exercises also include the major lift out of the chair to a full stand at the start of the exercise, it should be assumed. This is hands-down the most often employed exercise available in the house!
Small muscle exercises are also useful for maintaining conditioning these days. Throughout the day there are the finger strengthening exercises employed while managing the TV remote, pulling the lamp chain, using the cell phone, surfing or posting on the web. Larger muscles are also employed, such as lifting the laptop from its table onto the lap and back again. While much less frequent than the accompanying finger exercises, they must not be undervalued, as they are a necessary part of the process. There are also the frequent stretches required to accomplish locating and reaching for the proper charging cables, nail clippers, blood pressure cuff, pen and paper, and - neither last nor least - miscellaneous items which might be covering and hiding Steve's phone. In fact, in his role of encouraging exercise, his phone is often employed in such activity. He's really a big help.
Once a week or so, there is an actual daylight trip around the yard. Because it is daylight, another exercise precedes it: a shower. This is one of the few exercises which requires frequent lifting of the arms above the shoulders, another necessary stretch. In turn, it is followed by a series of grooming and dressing exercises. During this process one can manage a whole series of facial exercises as one looks in the mirror and practices reacting to what one sees, or imagine one sees, reflected there.
Grooming rarely requires more than a single trip to the closet, but always more arm lifting. Combined with puling our and pushing in drawers, ones arms can get a really valuable workout! Often this also requires reaching down to the floor to grab discarded items of clothing, followed by the lift to place them into the clothes hamper. Occasionally arm lifts are so extreme that they involve an extra walk down the hall to include Steve in the process of turning the back of a collar to its appropriate position. This can actually involve several tries, enabling both partners to get some unanticipated exercise, often followed by more facial exercise, particularly in the lips.
Once one is prepared for the appearance in public, there are more exercises. These involve stretches to locate the camera case and bring it into useful range, then manipulating both zippers into position where the lid can be lifted and the camera removed, then using those same zippers to close the case before the final stretch to replace the case. These keep fingertips in shape for the more frequent keyboarding uses, which i turn keep the fingertips in shape for manipulating zippers. It becomes a very productive feedback loop.
Now one of the big exercises begins.
There is walking around the yard to locate subjects suitable for shooting, repositioning to enable various positions from which to capture the desired images. and occasional pushes against the house to facilitate the previous activities without losing one's balance and falling into something very omnipresent and stabby. Balance exercises also come into play simply as one walks across the rocks covering the yard. It's fabulous for that. There is the occasional rock relocation and weed pulling to enable a satisfactory photo. Occasionally, though rarely, there is even a repeat of this whole cycle of exercises, justified merely by the claim of needing better light.
For variety, after one's shower, there can be an actual outing! While car doors are extremely heavy, they are generally well enough balanced that it rarely pulls a muscle in the process of opening or closing. Deep knee bends allow one to enter the car, and the process can be reversed with a full body workout. Neck swivels, eye positional shifts, and various arm and leg movements are all employed in getting to the destination and locating an open parking slot. A long hike often follows, though if one thinks it hasn't quite done the trick, one can always pretend lack of memory of the location of several list items and wind up panting after a pleasant cardio workout by the time the check-out is in sight.
Much lifting is involved once there, collection items, removing them from cart to conveyor belt, placing bags back in the cart, and after the hike out to the car, placing them inside. If that's not enough, one can also refuse offers of help to empty the car once home and make several trips in and out. Items can also be sorted, placed in a variety of locations at a variety of heights, opening and closing a variety of doors. This is truly the major exercise of the week.
But one is still not done. Those bags can now be distributed to the various garbage and trash collection receptacles around the house, replacing the full ones needing to go out curbside, thus completing a full cycle.
The use of these purchased items employ more exercises, often involved in other trips around the house previously mentioned. If by some miracle there were TP, it could involve a trip to the bathroom, a deep bend to place said fictional TP under the sink, and the opening and closing of the doors involved. However, this is often also used as a regular bathroom trip, so only the storage exercises count here. Same for prescriptions, toiletries, and other neverminds. Remember: no cheating in the count!
There are also all the exercises needed in preparing food items for consumption, whether scooping through frozen ice cream, opening boxes and microwaving the contents, spreading toppings on toast, pouring beverages from their bottles or by pushing the bar on the freezer for cold water. one of the most delicate series of exercises is transporting these items without spillage into the living room as each is ready. Note that all the above include opening and closing of often heavy doors, often multiple times.
Exercise even happens in the depth of sleep. Blankets get moved up or down, depending on temperature changes. There are all the whole body rolls throughout the night, depending on how uncomfortable pressure on any given point becomes, or how cool/warm the pillow has become. All this seems to be in aid of that supreme exercise of the day: lifting one full human body from a low horizontal position, first to a full sit-up, then to a full stand. This last also serves as a full rapid start of the first trek to the bathroom of the day, and the next cycle of exercising.
There is also the option many mornings of a strong cardio workout, but this cannot be planned ahead of time as it requires waking suddenly out of a nightmare. It can be debated whether one wishes for the benefits of that particular workout or desire to fill in for it by substituting other exercises. Again, I remind you it is not often an actual choice, and one quickly realizes upon fully waking that the car is not actually lost and life is not as scary as one's unconscious would have you believe.
Oh, didn't I mention cleaning? You're very observant.
Monday, April 20, 2020
New Recipe
Are you ready for something besides covid 19 rants? You know, two minutes of thinking about something else, no matter how trivial.
First, this starts in citrus country, at the tag end of fruit picking season. A good friend brought a bag of lemons from her tree to the wedding. Nineteen days later, even though refrigerated, their age was starting to show. Bits of those bright yellow rinds were beginning to grey. Use 'em or lose 'em.
I also had three bananas left from a hand which needed to be used or frozen. As a long-time veteran of banana bread baking, I know how much lemon juice spices up the flavors. No, it's not in the recipes, other than a back-up way to add curdled milk. Since I don't keep that on hand, adding lemon juice to fresh milk does the job. Adding a little more lemon juice to the mashed bananas keeps them from browning.
But making banana bread is work. So add-water-only pancake mix is my go-to. Now if you read these regularly, you know that I'm that lazy. Perhaps we can both be kind and call me "efficient"? Because, you know, there's so much else to do these shelter-in-place days.
So here's the process. Mash ripe bananas. Wash one lemon, grate some of the peel (avoiding those grey spots if relevant) and juice the lemon, adding both. Add applesauce. Cinnamon is optional but wonderful. Mix in about 1/2/ to 2/3 box of add-water-only pancake mix. Stir/mix thoroughly. Add water to desired consistency for pancakes, cook as usual.
If you love to experiment, leave batter thicker and cook as muffins. Will be a heavy batter, not light and fluffy. Also will not need any extra sweetening so you save all those calories and can claim it's all healthy for you. Of course, you can spread peanut butter or jelly, even honey on top if you wish. I'm open to any of the above just to avoid boredom. Plus, peanuts and grains make a complete protein, so there's that.
Steve thinks adding the lemon makes these the best pancakes I've made. Perhaps, although banana/bacon/chocolate chip have always been my favorites. The bacon has to be fried to crispness and crumbled into the batter just before cooking, of course, and the bacon grease is a great way to keep them from sticking to the pan. Actually, it's great for cooking anything. Everything.
The rest of those lemons will be washed, grated, sliced, and frozen. Dried or frozen fresh peel bits have lots of uses, and frozen slices added to cool and flavor your drink are great.
The lemon flavor in the pancakes is strongest just after they are cooked. Leftovers have less of the kick, although I just munch mine cold, and reheating them may kick it up a bit again. I'll try that for lunch.
First, this starts in citrus country, at the tag end of fruit picking season. A good friend brought a bag of lemons from her tree to the wedding. Nineteen days later, even though refrigerated, their age was starting to show. Bits of those bright yellow rinds were beginning to grey. Use 'em or lose 'em.
I also had three bananas left from a hand which needed to be used or frozen. As a long-time veteran of banana bread baking, I know how much lemon juice spices up the flavors. No, it's not in the recipes, other than a back-up way to add curdled milk. Since I don't keep that on hand, adding lemon juice to fresh milk does the job. Adding a little more lemon juice to the mashed bananas keeps them from browning.
But making banana bread is work. So add-water-only pancake mix is my go-to. Now if you read these regularly, you know that I'm that lazy. Perhaps we can both be kind and call me "efficient"? Because, you know, there's so much else to do these shelter-in-place days.
So here's the process. Mash ripe bananas. Wash one lemon, grate some of the peel (avoiding those grey spots if relevant) and juice the lemon, adding both. Add applesauce. Cinnamon is optional but wonderful. Mix in about 1/2/ to 2/3 box of add-water-only pancake mix. Stir/mix thoroughly. Add water to desired consistency for pancakes, cook as usual.
If you love to experiment, leave batter thicker and cook as muffins. Will be a heavy batter, not light and fluffy. Also will not need any extra sweetening so you save all those calories and can claim it's all healthy for you. Of course, you can spread peanut butter or jelly, even honey on top if you wish. I'm open to any of the above just to avoid boredom. Plus, peanuts and grains make a complete protein, so there's that.
Steve thinks adding the lemon makes these the best pancakes I've made. Perhaps, although banana/bacon/chocolate chip have always been my favorites. The bacon has to be fried to crispness and crumbled into the batter just before cooking, of course, and the bacon grease is a great way to keep them from sticking to the pan. Actually, it's great for cooking anything. Everything.
The rest of those lemons will be washed, grated, sliced, and frozen. Dried or frozen fresh peel bits have lots of uses, and frozen slices added to cool and flavor your drink are great.
The lemon flavor in the pancakes is strongest just after they are cooked. Leftovers have less of the kick, although I just munch mine cold, and reheating them may kick it up a bit again. I'll try that for lunch.
Saturday, April 18, 2020
What Do The "Doctors" Say?
By "Doctors" I refer to those TV personalities who earned at one point their MD credentials, but either have dropped their license or just seemingly ignore any medical ethics in favor of... well, favor. Fame. The two particular ones I'm referring to today are Oz and Phil.
"Doctor" Phil actually no longer has a medical license, yet appears on TV pretending to dish out sound advice on fixing your totally screwed up life. Word from behind the scenes of his show is he manipulates vulnerable people like struggling alcoholics by providing drinks before they appear, and other nasty gimmicks to draw ratings. I will admit I have seen snippets of his shows, but only when unavoidable such as in in a real doctor's waiting room, or switching between channels for those few seconds it takes me to find something I will actually watch. I don't have to watch him. Video and Twitter capture his actions and what he says. It's out there for anybody.
Ditto with "Doctor" Oz, except with much less of my exposure to him. His reputation is of hawking all sorts of unproven remedies for everything and without care for their true impacts. I'd call him a snake oil salesman, but I have an actual fondness for the critters. Presumably substantial amounts of money are exchanged, both for the hawking supposed cures and intelligence. I found no reference to the possibility of him not still having his medical license, and since the info was so readily available for Phil, I will presume Oz does still have his.
Both are just a little more notorious and reprehensible recently. Both have been on television pushing the reopening of business-as-usual despite not having the virus testing in place to support such a move as being safe. Neither seems to care. $$$$$$$
"Doctor" Oz was on Hannity (no, I've never watched) pushing sending kids back to school. Now. Not next year. Now. He admitted that likely would increase Covid 19 deaths by 2 - 3%, but brushed it off. "Any, you know, any life is a life lost, but … that might be a tradeoff some folks would consider,” is how he dismissed the impact.
Consider that we have about 56,600,000 children in schools right now - OK, staying home from their schools right now. Somewhere around 113 to 169 thousand deaths are OK with anybody? These will not just be children, but teachers, aids, officials, janitors, cafeteria staff, security guards, bus drivers. Mostly, the covid cases will be children though. And filter through all their families as well.
Who? Really, who would even consider that as worth... what? Propping up the stock market so the 1% have less competition for their 99% of the profits? Keeping Trump's base happier, banking on their stupidity while arranging all those funerals in their communities? I can't fathom it.
"Dr." Phil had a different take on opening up the economy again. Talking with Laura Ingraham, he delved deep, deep, back beyond any possible interference by logic circuits in his brain, to come up with what he though would be an analogy. "We don't shut down the country for car accidents and swimming pool deaths." He conveniently forgot - or doesn't even comprehend - that neither of those things are even remotely contagious, not to mention how super-contagious Covid 19 is.
If they were, one car accident would spread to several others, each spreading to others, etc. Imagine "giving" a car accident, or a drowning, or whatever, to others pandemic style.
Karma is an overused word. It's tempting to overuse it some more, imagining that all these demonstrators, in ignoring all the ways to avoid getting and spreading the virus, actually do get it, and spread it within their little groups and their own families. The point - the satisfaction in such imagining - would be that they finally do get the point along with the virus. To some extent that will likely happen. But it won't stop with them. This virus doesn't work that way, and enough of them will be contagious while they're still running around that there will be new clusters of hot spots. Those hot spots will delay safety for the rest of us who are just as frustrated in wanting to get back to normal, to get out shopping, go to work, attend events, meet with friends and family, travel.
So until all of you get your acts together, YOU are violating OUR civil rights!
Get over yourselves.
Go home.
"Doctor" Phil actually no longer has a medical license, yet appears on TV pretending to dish out sound advice on fixing your totally screwed up life. Word from behind the scenes of his show is he manipulates vulnerable people like struggling alcoholics by providing drinks before they appear, and other nasty gimmicks to draw ratings. I will admit I have seen snippets of his shows, but only when unavoidable such as in in a real doctor's waiting room, or switching between channels for those few seconds it takes me to find something I will actually watch. I don't have to watch him. Video and Twitter capture his actions and what he says. It's out there for anybody.
Ditto with "Doctor" Oz, except with much less of my exposure to him. His reputation is of hawking all sorts of unproven remedies for everything and without care for their true impacts. I'd call him a snake oil salesman, but I have an actual fondness for the critters. Presumably substantial amounts of money are exchanged, both for the hawking supposed cures and intelligence. I found no reference to the possibility of him not still having his medical license, and since the info was so readily available for Phil, I will presume Oz does still have his.
Both are just a little more notorious and reprehensible recently. Both have been on television pushing the reopening of business-as-usual despite not having the virus testing in place to support such a move as being safe. Neither seems to care. $$$$$$$
"Doctor" Oz was on Hannity (no, I've never watched) pushing sending kids back to school. Now. Not next year. Now. He admitted that likely would increase Covid 19 deaths by 2 - 3%, but brushed it off. "Any, you know, any life is a life lost, but … that might be a tradeoff some folks would consider,” is how he dismissed the impact.
Consider that we have about 56,600,000 children in schools right now - OK, staying home from their schools right now. Somewhere around 113 to 169 thousand deaths are OK with anybody? These will not just be children, but teachers, aids, officials, janitors, cafeteria staff, security guards, bus drivers. Mostly, the covid cases will be children though. And filter through all their families as well.
Who? Really, who would even consider that as worth... what? Propping up the stock market so the 1% have less competition for their 99% of the profits? Keeping Trump's base happier, banking on their stupidity while arranging all those funerals in their communities? I can't fathom it.
"Dr." Phil had a different take on opening up the economy again. Talking with Laura Ingraham, he delved deep, deep, back beyond any possible interference by logic circuits in his brain, to come up with what he though would be an analogy. "We don't shut down the country for car accidents and swimming pool deaths." He conveniently forgot - or doesn't even comprehend - that neither of those things are even remotely contagious, not to mention how super-contagious Covid 19 is.
If they were, one car accident would spread to several others, each spreading to others, etc. Imagine "giving" a car accident, or a drowning, or whatever, to others pandemic style.
These two are not the only examples of the "whole lotta stupid" out there working their own selfish ideas about opening up the economy yesterday. And Trump (you didn't think I'd neglect him here, did you?) is busy egging them on. Possibly the only thing he's busy doing in regards to the virus. We are now getting demonstrations with the goal of persuading various governors to open up their states.
Yep, you guessed it, they are in large groups. Few to no face masks. (Perhaps their pure hearts render them immune?) No social distancing - well, except for those in cars gathering to block nonexistent traffic to make their point. Apparently they think they're invincible. Or if they get it it'll only be "like a cold." And once they get it, they won't spread it, 'cuz, you know, they just won't. And once they spread it, that person (not people) won't get all that sick anyway. And if that person dies, oh well, no issue, it'll be someone way off in the not-my-circle crowd. Nobody important. Probably sick anyway. Less of a drain on the system. Save my taxes, more income, food, resources, whatever I want to claim as mine soon as they are gone.
Oh yes, and nobody can tell them what to do, where to go, to stay home, not party, not whatever else they want. Any attempt to do so (because the virus isn't real?) is a violation of their rights (to kill people) so they bring their guns with them. Lots of them. Do you suppose they believe their bullets can shoot the virus that doesn't exist, won't hurt anybody, and they don't care about anyway?
Yep, you guessed it, they are in large groups. Few to no face masks. (Perhaps their pure hearts render them immune?) No social distancing - well, except for those in cars gathering to block nonexistent traffic to make their point. Apparently they think they're invincible. Or if they get it it'll only be "like a cold." And once they get it, they won't spread it, 'cuz, you know, they just won't. And once they spread it, that person (not people) won't get all that sick anyway. And if that person dies, oh well, no issue, it'll be someone way off in the not-my-circle crowd. Nobody important. Probably sick anyway. Less of a drain on the system. Save my taxes, more income, food, resources, whatever I want to claim as mine soon as they are gone.
Oh yes, and nobody can tell them what to do, where to go, to stay home, not party, not whatever else they want. Any attempt to do so (because the virus isn't real?) is a violation of their rights (to kill people) so they bring their guns with them. Lots of them. Do you suppose they believe their bullets can shoot the virus that doesn't exist, won't hurt anybody, and they don't care about anyway?
Karma is an overused word. It's tempting to overuse it some more, imagining that all these demonstrators, in ignoring all the ways to avoid getting and spreading the virus, actually do get it, and spread it within their little groups and their own families. The point - the satisfaction in such imagining - would be that they finally do get the point along with the virus. To some extent that will likely happen. But it won't stop with them. This virus doesn't work that way, and enough of them will be contagious while they're still running around that there will be new clusters of hot spots. Those hot spots will delay safety for the rest of us who are just as frustrated in wanting to get back to normal, to get out shopping, go to work, attend events, meet with friends and family, travel.
So until all of you get your acts together, YOU are violating OUR civil rights!
Get over yourselves.
Go home.
Thursday, April 16, 2020
Where's My $1200.00?
When I heard about the legislation, my reactions, in order, were:
- They'll never get it passed.
- Great for those working, but won't affect us since SS is secure - for now anyway.
- What? We really get it too?
- Oh, we'll have to wait a few months because we didn't (need to) file income taxes either '18 or '19. They don't know that they know our direct deposit bank info.
- Now that we filed, we didn't need to after all?
- So how long do we have to wait?
- Boy, good we don't have to wait the extra couple months for a "Trump-signed" check. The asshole.
- So... when do they start sending them out again?
- OK, they're going out, where do we fit in their priority list?
- Wait, what? Minuchin is telling the banks they can steal these checks from anybody in arrears?
- Say what now? He's known he needs to address the issue for over two weeks now, and not even started the process that was outlined to him to fix it?
- OK, ours are still not in our accounts, but we can be patient a while.
- While we wait, what might we decide to spend it on?
- Ohhh, that list is too long: what's important and what's fantasy?
- Say, has anybody noticed the check about exactly covers the current price of cremation? Might be best to just save it for now. When it comes.
- When's it coming?
- They'll never get it passed.
- Great for those working, but won't affect us since SS is secure - for now anyway.
- What? We really get it too?
- Oh, we'll have to wait a few months because we didn't (need to) file income taxes either '18 or '19. They don't know that they know our direct deposit bank info.
- Now that we filed, we didn't need to after all?
- So how long do we have to wait?
- Boy, good we don't have to wait the extra couple months for a "Trump-signed" check. The asshole.
- So... when do they start sending them out again?
- OK, they're going out, where do we fit in their priority list?
- Wait, what? Minuchin is telling the banks they can steal these checks from anybody in arrears?
- Say what now? He's known he needs to address the issue for over two weeks now, and not even started the process that was outlined to him to fix it?
- OK, ours are still not in our accounts, but we can be patient a while.
- While we wait, what might we decide to spend it on?
- Ohhh, that list is too long: what's important and what's fantasy?
- Say, has anybody noticed the check about exactly covers the current price of cremation? Might be best to just save it for now. When it comes.
- When's it coming?
Wednesday, April 15, 2020
Progress?
Last night's US statistics: 605,000+ covid 19 cases. 29,000+ deaths. Courtesy of MSNBC. CBS shows lower numbers.Either set will of course be outdated by the time this posts.
Everybody said even just last month that expected deaths would be perhaps 2 or 3%. I did the math. We're looking at 5%. (World stats show 7%.) There are caveats. Testing is way too low to be able to "count" on those figures. Local news reports often show more cases/deaths than states or the federal government provide. Additionally, they are discovering that covid 19 is way nastier in terms of how it attacks the body than we first knew. It's not "just" a respiratory bug. It's being shown to affect hearts, blood clotting (too much or too little? - they never say), kidneys, and.... Well, they haven't gone all the way there yet. And it's not just us geezers getting knocked off. We already knew not everybody gets the same symptoms or the same level of disease. It doesn't even always matter if somebody has pre-existing health conditions.
If that's not bad enough, earlier speculation that recovery equals immunity seem to be just a wish. Cases are resurging in China and Japan, leading us to believe we all are likely to see the same thing around the globe. Even in countries who are not also plagued by grift, stupidity, and lies from those "in charge". Of course, this begs the question: how would we know? We can't just assume not everybody is as idiotically obvious and Trump Inc. But still....
Meat plants are shutting down due to large numbers of cases among employees. Haven't been to the grocery store since that was announced, but will bacon be the next impossible thing to buy? Bread is still plentiful, but yesterday I spent twenty minutes searching the kitchen trying to find a loaf of bread which I'd forgotten I'd given to Steve so he wouldn't have another reason to shop right then. What I do have left will last another week with planning.
My hand sanitizer order still has not been delivered. Looks like paper towels (the GOOD ones, sturdy and perforated in half-sheets), TP, and a variety of other things will have to be ordered online. I checked out the local grocery store's website for ordering, but found it a nightmare. Might give WalMart a go for pick-up, but that still won't get me ice cream, will it? I spent time on line, eBay and Amazon, this afternoon looking for TP and paper towels. After weeding through batched of offers with shipping costs as outrageous as $90 - each pack - on top of prices double what any store could charge, I finally found one selection of each that didn't offend me mortally. By the time I put 1 of each in my cart and clicked over to pay, I watched the number of items in my cart flip from 2 to 1 to 0!
I've been trying to maintain my calm about the supply chain being gobbled up by hoarders, but now I'm actually starting to be concerned about it. The last roll of towels hangs over the kitchen counter. TP is still visible under the sink, but....
Starting to noodle around the idea of packing all food for that hoped for trip north. Way I see it, pop top cans of single meal servings could play a big part. This would be a major contrast to our usual, where everything but coffee (my special blend) involves drive-throughs at major chains. May even be just as costly. The cheap motels we use nearly never have a microwave or mini fridge, some of them actually require going to the lobby for coffee, so Steve and I are discussing upgrading our stays. Now that we're not likely hitting the national parks where everything is more expensive, I find myself reluctant to spend any extra money. Besides, I believe we would not be welcomed without bringing our own bundle of TP!
Yes, I know gas right now is much cheaper, folks, but with my 41 mpg on the highway car, it almost doesn't factor in. I filled my tank for $18 this week, just before it went dry, and am quite confident it will last until sometime in May. Unless....
Skies are clearing. We all, as a country, are polluting less. And down here there are numerous "dark sky" locations, where one could again spot those stars invisible since childhood. I still recall clearly finding 9 of the "Seven Sisters." More hinted at their existence if I just looked a bit sideways at the cluster. I'm getting an itch to head out one evening, finding a place to park, and getting out to see if I can again. Milky Way too. I just need to find one closer than the Grand Canyon. It was a plan to give it a go somewhere along the first leg of out trip north, say Monument Valley to Moab leg, but that's not looking likely and it's a two-day excursion requiring a motel visit. So thinking caps on, and some internet searching in the near future.
Now if that would only stop me from eating too. Steve read me a joke from one of his internet buddies: "When this is over, half of us are going to be pregnant. The other half is going to look like it."
Everybody said even just last month that expected deaths would be perhaps 2 or 3%. I did the math. We're looking at 5%. (World stats show 7%.) There are caveats. Testing is way too low to be able to "count" on those figures. Local news reports often show more cases/deaths than states or the federal government provide. Additionally, they are discovering that covid 19 is way nastier in terms of how it attacks the body than we first knew. It's not "just" a respiratory bug. It's being shown to affect hearts, blood clotting (too much or too little? - they never say), kidneys, and.... Well, they haven't gone all the way there yet. And it's not just us geezers getting knocked off. We already knew not everybody gets the same symptoms or the same level of disease. It doesn't even always matter if somebody has pre-existing health conditions.
If that's not bad enough, earlier speculation that recovery equals immunity seem to be just a wish. Cases are resurging in China and Japan, leading us to believe we all are likely to see the same thing around the globe. Even in countries who are not also plagued by grift, stupidity, and lies from those "in charge". Of course, this begs the question: how would we know? We can't just assume not everybody is as idiotically obvious and Trump Inc. But still....
Meat plants are shutting down due to large numbers of cases among employees. Haven't been to the grocery store since that was announced, but will bacon be the next impossible thing to buy? Bread is still plentiful, but yesterday I spent twenty minutes searching the kitchen trying to find a loaf of bread which I'd forgotten I'd given to Steve so he wouldn't have another reason to shop right then. What I do have left will last another week with planning.
My hand sanitizer order still has not been delivered. Looks like paper towels (the GOOD ones, sturdy and perforated in half-sheets), TP, and a variety of other things will have to be ordered online. I checked out the local grocery store's website for ordering, but found it a nightmare. Might give WalMart a go for pick-up, but that still won't get me ice cream, will it? I spent time on line, eBay and Amazon, this afternoon looking for TP and paper towels. After weeding through batched of offers with shipping costs as outrageous as $90 - each pack - on top of prices double what any store could charge, I finally found one selection of each that didn't offend me mortally. By the time I put 1 of each in my cart and clicked over to pay, I watched the number of items in my cart flip from 2 to 1 to 0!
I've been trying to maintain my calm about the supply chain being gobbled up by hoarders, but now I'm actually starting to be concerned about it. The last roll of towels hangs over the kitchen counter. TP is still visible under the sink, but....
Starting to noodle around the idea of packing all food for that hoped for trip north. Way I see it, pop top cans of single meal servings could play a big part. This would be a major contrast to our usual, where everything but coffee (my special blend) involves drive-throughs at major chains. May even be just as costly. The cheap motels we use nearly never have a microwave or mini fridge, some of them actually require going to the lobby for coffee, so Steve and I are discussing upgrading our stays. Now that we're not likely hitting the national parks where everything is more expensive, I find myself reluctant to spend any extra money. Besides, I believe we would not be welcomed without bringing our own bundle of TP!
Yes, I know gas right now is much cheaper, folks, but with my 41 mpg on the highway car, it almost doesn't factor in. I filled my tank for $18 this week, just before it went dry, and am quite confident it will last until sometime in May. Unless....
Skies are clearing. We all, as a country, are polluting less. And down here there are numerous "dark sky" locations, where one could again spot those stars invisible since childhood. I still recall clearly finding 9 of the "Seven Sisters." More hinted at their existence if I just looked a bit sideways at the cluster. I'm getting an itch to head out one evening, finding a place to park, and getting out to see if I can again. Milky Way too. I just need to find one closer than the Grand Canyon. It was a plan to give it a go somewhere along the first leg of out trip north, say Monument Valley to Moab leg, but that's not looking likely and it's a two-day excursion requiring a motel visit. So thinking caps on, and some internet searching in the near future.
Now if that would only stop me from eating too. Steve read me a joke from one of his internet buddies: "When this is over, half of us are going to be pregnant. The other half is going to look like it."
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
T. P. Porn
One advantage of having a DVR with your TV satellite system is the ability to pause. Wherever, whenever, for however long. It's starting to get abused.
Our satellite company is Direct TV. It's now owned by A T & T. Somebody there decided we needed an "entertaining" screen saver. At first it was delightful scenic shots, the kind that should earn the photographers some hefty change. Later, they changed into promos for movies they wanted to entice us to pay for. Then they went back to a combination of scenics and ads for movies. Their next step - always improving, those folks, eh? - was to throw in ads for A T & T themselves. Apparently even that didn't pay well enough. Now the go-to ad when the pause button is hit, is an endless loop for Charmin.
Now that, in itself, isn't all that objectionable. Nevermind that there is none available on the shelves even if we decided to head out and buy their product. True, it is a level of frustration to have somebody whet your appetite for the unavailable. But we can deal with that, possibly even managing to be out of the room to a location where their product might actually be of use. Irony, huh.
It's the ad itself that pushes itself into the boundaries of porn. T. P. porn. It's Daddy Bear again, the same character who showed Baby Bear that she doesn't need half a roll to meet her needs. Cute, at least the first 350 times. OK, maybe 3 times.
In this ad, however, Daddy is squeezing, fondling, and loving up two big packages of T. P., with what I could rudely call a shit-eating grin on his face, were I not too polite to do so. Consider it not having been done. Just in case you didn't quite get the way this one leans, the tag line seals it: "Enjoy the go."
Oh, if only we could!
Our satellite company is Direct TV. It's now owned by A T & T. Somebody there decided we needed an "entertaining" screen saver. At first it was delightful scenic shots, the kind that should earn the photographers some hefty change. Later, they changed into promos for movies they wanted to entice us to pay for. Then they went back to a combination of scenics and ads for movies. Their next step - always improving, those folks, eh? - was to throw in ads for A T & T themselves. Apparently even that didn't pay well enough. Now the go-to ad when the pause button is hit, is an endless loop for Charmin.
Now that, in itself, isn't all that objectionable. Nevermind that there is none available on the shelves even if we decided to head out and buy their product. True, it is a level of frustration to have somebody whet your appetite for the unavailable. But we can deal with that, possibly even managing to be out of the room to a location where their product might actually be of use. Irony, huh.
It's the ad itself that pushes itself into the boundaries of porn. T. P. porn. It's Daddy Bear again, the same character who showed Baby Bear that she doesn't need half a roll to meet her needs. Cute, at least the first 350 times. OK, maybe 3 times.
In this ad, however, Daddy is squeezing, fondling, and loving up two big packages of T. P., with what I could rudely call a shit-eating grin on his face, were I not too polite to do so. Consider it not having been done. Just in case you didn't quite get the way this one leans, the tag line seals it: "Enjoy the go."
Oh, if only we could!
Monday, April 13, 2020
Latest - As If It Mattered
The days, weeks, and months are all blending in to each other. Time has either stopped or is going too... what? Slow? Fast? Have we been fighting this forever or just since last week? Or is the answer to that just a geographical one? If it is, do we count by state? country? household?
They - whoever they are - have come out with maps showing where the cases are by zip code. AZ has published it online, on the local CBS station's Arizona Family website. Curious, I checked out two: Sun City, and Sun City West. If you don't know, that's 85351 and 85375, respectively. You might have thought they were quite similar, as both are retirement communities, nearly adjacent. That is, unless you remember that Sun City West shut down its rec centers a couple weeks or so before we did. Our rate is about 3 times theirs. It's hard to tell, though, because they count theirs by "between 6 and 10." Our count is 23. And people like Steve and I started shutting out the world - as much as possible - as soon as we heard what Sun City West had done.
But how are they counting, anyway? Without proper testing, it's impossible to trust the figures, other than being sure they are higher than reported. Perhaps it's per hospital? Per patient? What about those places which refuse to accurately either count or release their information?
But hey, at least there's still the full DVD set of "West Wing" !!! You know, with the president we all wished we had right now. I also hear jigsaw puzzles are in high demand. I wonder if somebody would swap ours for a pack of TP?
I made a discovery this morning: the origin of the duck tail hairstyle. It was obviously made by somebody cutting their own hair, plagued by rotator cuff injuries, and completely unable to reach the center back of their neck to finish the job. (Ask me how I know!)
I now have a sort-of face mask. It's in the laundry as I type this, because it's a hand-me-down from Steve. It turns out his men's hankies are enough bigger than my men's hankies that they actually will tie in back of my head rather than not quite meeting. Even so, it's only mine now because when Steve was in for his morning KUB x-ray, somebody offered him one of their spares. (He claims is was the old Steve charm. I don't doubt it.) So his has ear elastic and is shaped to fit a face, and mine looks like a semi-clean bank albino robber. Perhaps once it's out of the dryer, it'll look more than semi-clean.
Uh huh.
By the way, it's just not fair about that size thing. I'm used to items made for women being both more expensive and cheaper quality. We both buy our hankies in the men's department in the same store. His are for his nose, mine clean my glasses. Wouldn't you think they'd be equal?
(Brief pause here.)
My kitchen floor is clean again. I find there are at least two levels of clean. There's guy-clean. And there's my-mother's-clean. OK, three levels, since I'll never achieve Mom's standards. It's been swept, but not mopped. And the reason it's been swept, as well as the reason for the pause, can be blamed on the morning news. (Now you're curious, aren't you?) It seems there has been a national run on hair dye and clippers. Yep, now that we're all home and have nobody to impress, we're all frantic to look our very best. Or at least as well as we can do it ourselves.
We didn't need to go out for either item. We've proudly flash-blinded the rest of the world with our bright white locks for forty-some years, so no hair dye needed. I've owned and used hair scissors since my own kids were babies and too young to complain while I was learning. It didn't work that way with my own hair, but I had nobody willing to listen to me complain about how I turned out. It has only been for the last decade or so that I've been trusting (blindly!) my haircuts to the "professionals", since my shoulders rebel loudly at the positions forced into them while cutting. Plus Steve has a clippers for those delicate touch-ups on his head. He didn't even jump across the room when I announced I was going to learn today how to do that clipper-comb thing I've seen while waiting for my haircuts. And by George - whoever he was - I think I've got it! No baindaids needed. Honest!
Truth be told, there are a couple extra pairs of clippers in the house. They worked perfectly well on the dogs, so I have no reason to believe they wouldn't on Steve's head as well. I mean, after cleaning, of course. But he says "No."
How does this relate to the kitchen? I cut his hair this morning. About three inches off, all around. Perhaps a whole 1/8 cup in volume, it's so silky. (I would have said thin, but he does read this, you know.) He'd been letting it grow out, but finally decided enough was enough. Not sure what changed his mind. It's not like grandkids came down 1800 miles to rub bubblegum in it or anything. And he usually wears a cap whenever he leaves the house, so often it doesn't even get combed first.
But cut it I did. Of course, that was after I cleaned both of his combs. They not only violated Mom's standards, they violated mine! Fortunately, we have (had?) a good veggie scrubbing brush at the sink and lots of soft-soap to pour over them.
I have to think about whether that brush gets used for food again. I mean, soap is soap, right?
And, coming back to the original point for this tale, the kitchen floor got all the dropped hair swept up off it. Most of it was caught or wiped off my fingers onto the towel around his neck, but some always drops. Even trying to clean the hair off the towel by hand only got off the major clumps, so it had to be taken out the back door and shaken out. Lucky me, I planned ahead and planted enough shrubbery around the sides of the yard where houses are still occupied that I could step out in just my bra and slacks without scandalizing the neighborhood. No need to peel off too many layers to get rid of all those little prickly hairs and make more dirty laundry, eh? And the house is warm enough....
(Not-so-brief pause here.)
Back from the urologist. Steve assures me he survived, and in a few days he'll actually feel like he survived. He's glad I talked him into taking ibuprofin ahead of the visit. He compared the stent removal to them taking a piece of barbed wire, and ... OK, guys, calm down. I'm not going to describe it further. Just like Steve couldn't explain how he knew what it felt like to take a piece of barbed wire and .... OK, OK, nevermind. But he insisted it never actually happened to him.
While he was being thus entertained, I popped out for a quick trip to WalMart. The hankie was big enough that I had to retie it 3 times to get it close to staying up on my face. Never entertained the thought before that I might benefit from a larger nose. While I was there, miracle of miracles, they still had TP in stock. There were about a dozen four-packs left, and I very courteously took only one. Of course, it was small enough that they are the equivalent to 2 ordinary rolls. Still, something.
After retrieving Steve, we hit his favorite grocery store. I got gas while he shopped, and eventually noticed an open handicapped parking space while he was still inside. We should be good for another couple weeks or so. Until we decide we aren't.
Of course. Maybe 5 days? Anybody wanna lay bets?
They - whoever they are - have come out with maps showing where the cases are by zip code. AZ has published it online, on the local CBS station's Arizona Family website. Curious, I checked out two: Sun City, and Sun City West. If you don't know, that's 85351 and 85375, respectively. You might have thought they were quite similar, as both are retirement communities, nearly adjacent. That is, unless you remember that Sun City West shut down its rec centers a couple weeks or so before we did. Our rate is about 3 times theirs. It's hard to tell, though, because they count theirs by "between 6 and 10." Our count is 23. And people like Steve and I started shutting out the world - as much as possible - as soon as we heard what Sun City West had done.
But how are they counting, anyway? Without proper testing, it's impossible to trust the figures, other than being sure they are higher than reported. Perhaps it's per hospital? Per patient? What about those places which refuse to accurately either count or release their information?
But hey, at least there's still the full DVD set of "West Wing" !!! You know, with the president we all wished we had right now. I also hear jigsaw puzzles are in high demand. I wonder if somebody would swap ours for a pack of TP?
I made a discovery this morning: the origin of the duck tail hairstyle. It was obviously made by somebody cutting their own hair, plagued by rotator cuff injuries, and completely unable to reach the center back of their neck to finish the job. (Ask me how I know!)
I now have a sort-of face mask. It's in the laundry as I type this, because it's a hand-me-down from Steve. It turns out his men's hankies are enough bigger than my men's hankies that they actually will tie in back of my head rather than not quite meeting. Even so, it's only mine now because when Steve was in for his morning KUB x-ray, somebody offered him one of their spares. (He claims is was the old Steve charm. I don't doubt it.) So his has ear elastic and is shaped to fit a face, and mine looks like a semi-clean bank albino robber. Perhaps once it's out of the dryer, it'll look more than semi-clean.
Uh huh.
By the way, it's just not fair about that size thing. I'm used to items made for women being both more expensive and cheaper quality. We both buy our hankies in the men's department in the same store. His are for his nose, mine clean my glasses. Wouldn't you think they'd be equal?
(Brief pause here.)
My kitchen floor is clean again. I find there are at least two levels of clean. There's guy-clean. And there's my-mother's-clean. OK, three levels, since I'll never achieve Mom's standards. It's been swept, but not mopped. And the reason it's been swept, as well as the reason for the pause, can be blamed on the morning news. (Now you're curious, aren't you?) It seems there has been a national run on hair dye and clippers. Yep, now that we're all home and have nobody to impress, we're all frantic to look our very best. Or at least as well as we can do it ourselves.
We didn't need to go out for either item. We've proudly flash-blinded the rest of the world with our bright white locks for forty-some years, so no hair dye needed. I've owned and used hair scissors since my own kids were babies and too young to complain while I was learning. It didn't work that way with my own hair, but I had nobody willing to listen to me complain about how I turned out. It has only been for the last decade or so that I've been trusting (blindly!) my haircuts to the "professionals", since my shoulders rebel loudly at the positions forced into them while cutting. Plus Steve has a clippers for those delicate touch-ups on his head. He didn't even jump across the room when I announced I was going to learn today how to do that clipper-comb thing I've seen while waiting for my haircuts. And by George - whoever he was - I think I've got it! No baindaids needed. Honest!
Truth be told, there are a couple extra pairs of clippers in the house. They worked perfectly well on the dogs, so I have no reason to believe they wouldn't on Steve's head as well. I mean, after cleaning, of course. But he says "No."
How does this relate to the kitchen? I cut his hair this morning. About three inches off, all around. Perhaps a whole 1/8 cup in volume, it's so silky. (I would have said thin, but he does read this, you know.) He'd been letting it grow out, but finally decided enough was enough. Not sure what changed his mind. It's not like grandkids came down 1800 miles to rub bubblegum in it or anything. And he usually wears a cap whenever he leaves the house, so often it doesn't even get combed first.
But cut it I did. Of course, that was after I cleaned both of his combs. They not only violated Mom's standards, they violated mine! Fortunately, we have (had?) a good veggie scrubbing brush at the sink and lots of soft-soap to pour over them.
I have to think about whether that brush gets used for food again. I mean, soap is soap, right?
And, coming back to the original point for this tale, the kitchen floor got all the dropped hair swept up off it. Most of it was caught or wiped off my fingers onto the towel around his neck, but some always drops. Even trying to clean the hair off the towel by hand only got off the major clumps, so it had to be taken out the back door and shaken out. Lucky me, I planned ahead and planted enough shrubbery around the sides of the yard where houses are still occupied that I could step out in just my bra and slacks without scandalizing the neighborhood. No need to peel off too many layers to get rid of all those little prickly hairs and make more dirty laundry, eh? And the house is warm enough....
(Not-so-brief pause here.)
Back from the urologist. Steve assures me he survived, and in a few days he'll actually feel like he survived. He's glad I talked him into taking ibuprofin ahead of the visit. He compared the stent removal to them taking a piece of barbed wire, and ... OK, guys, calm down. I'm not going to describe it further. Just like Steve couldn't explain how he knew what it felt like to take a piece of barbed wire and .... OK, OK, nevermind. But he insisted it never actually happened to him.
While he was being thus entertained, I popped out for a quick trip to WalMart. The hankie was big enough that I had to retie it 3 times to get it close to staying up on my face. Never entertained the thought before that I might benefit from a larger nose. While I was there, miracle of miracles, they still had TP in stock. There were about a dozen four-packs left, and I very courteously took only one. Of course, it was small enough that they are the equivalent to 2 ordinary rolls. Still, something.
After retrieving Steve, we hit his favorite grocery store. I got gas while he shopped, and eventually noticed an open handicapped parking space while he was still inside. We should be good for another couple weeks or so. Until we decide we aren't.
Of course. Maybe 5 days? Anybody wanna lay bets?
Saturday, April 11, 2020
Another Saturday - I Think?
Hard to tell, except for the TV. Even that, with so many things recorded on the DVR in hopes they will sometime in the future become interesting, can leave you guessing. There's almost nothing on the calendar requiring attention, other than which twice-a-month day we put out the recycling, that we have to actually find a reason to ask which day it is. No protests, no club responsibilities, nearly no doctor visits. All those regular type checkups, and follow-ups where you know all is well because whatever the cure was, it worked, are cancelled. The exception is the pair of visits Steve needs in order to get his stent removed. Monday. So we'll keep track of that.
It seems the only change is whether it might rain... somewhere else. Even the weeds seem to have caught a dose of ennervation.
The eternal constant is the rise in Covid 19 cases and deaths. We're number one in something, we are. None of those things we wish to be number one in, or get told we are are by those wishing to curry favor (votes), but number one in having the number one worst record in dealing with it.
To those left worrying about my last post, we are both doing well. Steve's shivering finally left him hours after his miniscule temperature did, meaning supper time. Indeed he felt so well that he spent part of his evening doing dishes. We agreed that next time he gets chilled, he should give himself a nice hot shower. Just bundling up doesn't do it for him, and he's not active enough to go out for a nice run or something to kick up the metabolism.
The mail is slow. I sent a check up to Minnesota to my credit union. Normally 3 business days gets it showing up as a deposit. This time, mailed Friday, deposited next Friday. Good thing I could wait it out those extra days. I understand them being both over and under-worked these days. We get fewer shoppers' circulars, but some of the nonsense is still being sent out. Bills arrive. Magazines arrive. Likely there are covid cases among their employees. I've never seen a mask or gloves on any of our "regular" mail carriers, and I put it that way because we haven't had one single regular one for a couple years now, not since the original old guy quit bringing it around 5:00. We figure he retired, because even if the speculations about him having a few favorite hanky-panky stop-offs during his route were accurate, it was going on so long nobody must have cared. Now, though, mail usually arrives 3-4 hours earlier.
Our biggest concern about the post office is whether it'll continue and how long, amid threats of under-financing and speculations about thwarting all plans for mail-in voting during the pandemic. Too many Republicons (sic) have actually said aloud and on camera that only smaller turnouts will allow their party to win in the future. Considering how many of us are actually paying attention these days, they well may be finally telling the truth. But for right now, right here, the post office is one of our lifelines.
And we're waiting for our orders of hand sanitizer and face masks to show up.
One story on last night's news really caught my attention. A farmer - industrial sized, not your old fashioned 160 acres kind - was "having to" mow down his tomatoes. Rows of them stretched out across the screen. They were perfectly healthy, some beautifully ripe, some starting, most green. There was no bug infestation, no tobacco mosaic rust, no drought or hail storm. No, what infested his fields was the lack of orders. He marketed to restaurants, mostly now not operating. And since he wasn't getting any money, his "solution" was to destroy his crop.
But people haven't stopped eating (willingly) just because restaurants are closed. Those who have stopped eating are the ones in the same situation he's in. Their businesses have shut down too. Their appetites haven't. Their need to feed nutritious food to their families hasn't.
Do you note there was no attempt to reach out to food banks? Open his field for just this season to pick-your-own customers who'd likely happily spend what little they had right now in order to feel like they were doing an honest bit of work again to put food directly on their own family tables or those of others, in a field well large enough for everybody to maintain social distance? Is he the kind of person immured in the concept "if I can't get something, nobody can?" Or does he perhaps just need somebody to connect a farmer with a produce overflow with a charity more than happy to find a needed use for it?
And hey, does anybody have the kind of networks to be a middleman for that kind of connection? Anybody? Even on a Saturday?
It seems the only change is whether it might rain... somewhere else. Even the weeds seem to have caught a dose of ennervation.
The eternal constant is the rise in Covid 19 cases and deaths. We're number one in something, we are. None of those things we wish to be number one in, or get told we are are by those wishing to curry favor (votes), but number one in having the number one worst record in dealing with it.
To those left worrying about my last post, we are both doing well. Steve's shivering finally left him hours after his miniscule temperature did, meaning supper time. Indeed he felt so well that he spent part of his evening doing dishes. We agreed that next time he gets chilled, he should give himself a nice hot shower. Just bundling up doesn't do it for him, and he's not active enough to go out for a nice run or something to kick up the metabolism.
The mail is slow. I sent a check up to Minnesota to my credit union. Normally 3 business days gets it showing up as a deposit. This time, mailed Friday, deposited next Friday. Good thing I could wait it out those extra days. I understand them being both over and under-worked these days. We get fewer shoppers' circulars, but some of the nonsense is still being sent out. Bills arrive. Magazines arrive. Likely there are covid cases among their employees. I've never seen a mask or gloves on any of our "regular" mail carriers, and I put it that way because we haven't had one single regular one for a couple years now, not since the original old guy quit bringing it around 5:00. We figure he retired, because even if the speculations about him having a few favorite hanky-panky stop-offs during his route were accurate, it was going on so long nobody must have cared. Now, though, mail usually arrives 3-4 hours earlier.
Our biggest concern about the post office is whether it'll continue and how long, amid threats of under-financing and speculations about thwarting all plans for mail-in voting during the pandemic. Too many Republicons (sic) have actually said aloud and on camera that only smaller turnouts will allow their party to win in the future. Considering how many of us are actually paying attention these days, they well may be finally telling the truth. But for right now, right here, the post office is one of our lifelines.
And we're waiting for our orders of hand sanitizer and face masks to show up.
One story on last night's news really caught my attention. A farmer - industrial sized, not your old fashioned 160 acres kind - was "having to" mow down his tomatoes. Rows of them stretched out across the screen. They were perfectly healthy, some beautifully ripe, some starting, most green. There was no bug infestation, no tobacco mosaic rust, no drought or hail storm. No, what infested his fields was the lack of orders. He marketed to restaurants, mostly now not operating. And since he wasn't getting any money, his "solution" was to destroy his crop.
But people haven't stopped eating (willingly) just because restaurants are closed. Those who have stopped eating are the ones in the same situation he's in. Their businesses have shut down too. Their appetites haven't. Their need to feed nutritious food to their families hasn't.
Do you note there was no attempt to reach out to food banks? Open his field for just this season to pick-your-own customers who'd likely happily spend what little they had right now in order to feel like they were doing an honest bit of work again to put food directly on their own family tables or those of others, in a field well large enough for everybody to maintain social distance? Is he the kind of person immured in the concept "if I can't get something, nobody can?" Or does he perhaps just need somebody to connect a farmer with a produce overflow with a charity more than happy to find a needed use for it?
And hey, does anybody have the kind of networks to be a middleman for that kind of connection? Anybody? Even on a Saturday?
Thursday, April 9, 2020
Worry Time?
It's a pity we can't really stay home. We emerge rarely, taking precaution as possible, primarily for groceries. There was even a plan to go to the local Walgreens for some TP today. Steve went there yesterday to avoid lines and multitudes because he was out of milk, one of his necessities. When asked, they informed him the truck with their TP delivery was due today - no time known - and they would then distribute it to those who asked for it, otherwise leaving their shelves bare.
So there was one plan to go out again.
When I got up this morning he informed me he'd driven up to Fry's, our main grocery store, before 6:00 AM, when they open. He had a small list, not the huge one he'd written out a couple days ago until I reminded him the fridge didn't have room for even half of his list. I'd been telling him that their parking lot was jam packed every morning I'd gone by around 7:00 AM, and had expectations their customers all figured out that the TP and other necessities ran out first thing.
Recall right here that the morning temperature was around 50 degrees, and the car barely warms up by the time he gets there. I'm trying to keep that in mind as I write this.
Seeing the line coming out the front door, down the front of the building, around its corner to the back road where delivery trucks unload, he changed his mind about his early morning run. He sensibly came straight home, no half hour warm-up in the store, no rise in ambient outside temperature, slight heating in the car. When I woke shortly after, he was huddled in his chair, shivering and miserable, asking about turning on the heat.
The thermostat registered one degree below where it's set. I proposed he put his sweatshirt back on, add socks and blanket, and check in an hour or so later on how he was feeling. If he was still chilled, I would turn on the heat. (It's been off for a week, with inside temps ranging from 72 to 78 regardless.) He agreed. And pulled up his blanket. An hour later, he finally got socks, put on his sweatshirt, declared he was still miserable, shivering, and going to bed - just as soon as we finished watching last night's Rachel Maddow Show.
WOW! He's a fan now! No wonder, it's the best news coverage around these days, but he's been avoiding "politics" for a long time. Gets enough rage from Facebook.
Just before he left the room, I laid my wrist across his forehead. It was warm. Not neutral, as usual. Warm. While he was on his way down the hall, I was on the phone cancelling his afternoon doctor's appointment due to possible fever. (I think I detected a pinch of gratitude on their part over the phone.)
While he tries to sleep, or just quit shivering, I'm waiting. Trying to keep in mind this could be a simple reaction to having gotten chilled. Trying to believe all his/our precautions have been foolproof. Knowing we keep no precautions between us, counting on social isolation to do what we don't. And, because it's a particular talent of mine, worrying.
That always goes with planning. What if....? Then....? For myself, I figure my weak spot, virus-wise, is my history of cardiac arrhythmia. The pacemaker takes care of part, and the ablation has done a decent job of the rest, so long as I don't overdo the caffeine. Yesterday, thanks to my Watchman, was even my very last blood thinner pill! But... I don't trust the ablation to "hold" in critical circumstances. So my 1st reaction, if I suspect the virus, will be increasing my vitamin C, the second requesting a short-term refill of amiodarone. It worked perfectly while I was taking it, only quitting due to early indications of toxicity, but I figure short term use won't do much harm, certainly not as much as relapse of arrhythmia.
For Steve, I work on trying to figure out how he can still get his stent removed. It's gotten painful for several days now. Just like mine did back when, it seems to have shifted to find the pokiest spot possible within the bladder. He's supposed to have both the imaging and removal appointments Monday. Today's appointment was for something else, easily rescheduled ... if he's not sick. He also - again if he's not sick - needs to go back to the ENT who fixed his vertigo in five minutes a couple years ago to get it fixed again. The hardest part of that last one is waiting for the insurance approval after his doctor gives a referral. They seem to be a little busy these days....
Oh, how I love my regular old Medicare!
The neighborhood still remains quiet. Over the last month, I've counted a total of 5 fire/rescue vehicles, about 10% of normal. The walkers are still out getting their exercise, but neighbors aren't poking their heads out much. Across the street the car sits in the driveway, indicating her job may have finally closed. I got out in the yard yesterday for a bit, pulling weeds growing among plants I can't spray, and taking the next in the sequence of pictures I'm taking to document the flowering of the neighbors' - on both sides - palms, my octopus agave, and the orange bells in the back yard. Bonuses include bees and the resident hummingbird. Other critters are getting sparse, probably meaning neighbors have quit feeding them, aka quit shopping for non-necessities. I miss the quail, but you can't feed them without also feeding pigeons and rabbits.
The cleaning out of cupboards led to finally putting out roach bait and a re-application of 20 mule team borax around gaps between counter and walls. Immediate results provided a dead roach on the counter the next morning. I can only assume hidden results are equally effective. Since Rich saw a "roof rat" last summer, I'd picked up mouse bait a while back. I finally opened that and put some out last night. It was gone this morning. Think I'll give it another go in a week or so, see it it's still being taken.
One of the RCSC employees that I've gotten contact with over several years, due to being an officer in the club, just sent out an email reminding us of forms which need filling out and deadlines. Knowing we likely have them locked up inside the rec centers, she helpfully sent copies of the forms. I responded by thanking her/them for keeping the centers closed, to which she replied they were grateful for such. It seems - predictably - that plenty of "entitled" folk are heaping criticism and abuse upon them for keeping us all safer, adding her "uninformed" estimate that the centers would likely reopen June 1. Pools again!!!!
Ancillary to that, our Governor has finally closed golf curses (and barbershops, nail salons, etc.) as being non-essential businesses. We happened to drive past the nearest course yesterday. The expected grounds crews were out. No biggie. But we also counted half a dozen golf carts on the paths. The carts were noted as keeping a 6-foot distance. Of course, they were parked, and their owners collecting around the tees.
Sigh.
It's going to be a long haul.
Rich is going through the paperwork for a new job! It'll be doing security, much like he did for several years in Minnesota. He'll be assigned a regular location, not going from venue to venue, and regular hours, as opposed to super loads part of the year and barely any other times. He anticipates starting Monday. I alternate between rejoicing for him and worrying that this job will require occasional close contact.
As for the other kids, this was to be the week Steph came down for a visit. Cancelled, obviously. And Paul, being Paul, is no doubt playing his video games. I'll know something is wrong only by his not paying the mortgage on the house. He does not answer phones or reply to voice- or emails. I have no idea whether his company is considered essential. Last time I actually talked to him was around a month ago... because the internet was down!
Yeah, that's my guy.
I have two friends in Minnesota who've recovered from what they think was Covid 19, but because they didn't register high fevers, they couldn't get tested. They've never felt more miserable while sick, but have no clue whether it's not safe for them to be out and about. Without testing, they can choose to either huddle or ignore possible risks. She has long had medical assistants come to the house, and they do still come wearing masks, possibly using them up where not needed. Minnesota is doing a relatively good job, but it's still FUBAR out there.
Hell of a job, Donnie. Emphasis on HELL!
Our Mango Mussolini insists that his signature stamp be on all outgoing checks for small business loans. This is expected to slow the distribution of those checks by about 4 weeks. This begs the question: does he insist on having control/oversight over those relief funds in order to put his name out there as if he were actually accomplishing something? Kinda like on those CDC postcards offering information and recommendations? Or is it "just" a simple grift, money going to his friends and supporters, especially ones he has financial interests in, yet another way of lining his pockets? Or is the delay meant to distract us from finding out that he has other designations in mind for the funds?
Then again, why not all three? We do know this guy, right?
So there was one plan to go out again.
When I got up this morning he informed me he'd driven up to Fry's, our main grocery store, before 6:00 AM, when they open. He had a small list, not the huge one he'd written out a couple days ago until I reminded him the fridge didn't have room for even half of his list. I'd been telling him that their parking lot was jam packed every morning I'd gone by around 7:00 AM, and had expectations their customers all figured out that the TP and other necessities ran out first thing.
Recall right here that the morning temperature was around 50 degrees, and the car barely warms up by the time he gets there. I'm trying to keep that in mind as I write this.
Seeing the line coming out the front door, down the front of the building, around its corner to the back road where delivery trucks unload, he changed his mind about his early morning run. He sensibly came straight home, no half hour warm-up in the store, no rise in ambient outside temperature, slight heating in the car. When I woke shortly after, he was huddled in his chair, shivering and miserable, asking about turning on the heat.
The thermostat registered one degree below where it's set. I proposed he put his sweatshirt back on, add socks and blanket, and check in an hour or so later on how he was feeling. If he was still chilled, I would turn on the heat. (It's been off for a week, with inside temps ranging from 72 to 78 regardless.) He agreed. And pulled up his blanket. An hour later, he finally got socks, put on his sweatshirt, declared he was still miserable, shivering, and going to bed - just as soon as we finished watching last night's Rachel Maddow Show.
WOW! He's a fan now! No wonder, it's the best news coverage around these days, but he's been avoiding "politics" for a long time. Gets enough rage from Facebook.
Just before he left the room, I laid my wrist across his forehead. It was warm. Not neutral, as usual. Warm. While he was on his way down the hall, I was on the phone cancelling his afternoon doctor's appointment due to possible fever. (I think I detected a pinch of gratitude on their part over the phone.)
While he tries to sleep, or just quit shivering, I'm waiting. Trying to keep in mind this could be a simple reaction to having gotten chilled. Trying to believe all his/our precautions have been foolproof. Knowing we keep no precautions between us, counting on social isolation to do what we don't. And, because it's a particular talent of mine, worrying.
That always goes with planning. What if....? Then....? For myself, I figure my weak spot, virus-wise, is my history of cardiac arrhythmia. The pacemaker takes care of part, and the ablation has done a decent job of the rest, so long as I don't overdo the caffeine. Yesterday, thanks to my Watchman, was even my very last blood thinner pill! But... I don't trust the ablation to "hold" in critical circumstances. So my 1st reaction, if I suspect the virus, will be increasing my vitamin C, the second requesting a short-term refill of amiodarone. It worked perfectly while I was taking it, only quitting due to early indications of toxicity, but I figure short term use won't do much harm, certainly not as much as relapse of arrhythmia.
For Steve, I work on trying to figure out how he can still get his stent removed. It's gotten painful for several days now. Just like mine did back when, it seems to have shifted to find the pokiest spot possible within the bladder. He's supposed to have both the imaging and removal appointments Monday. Today's appointment was for something else, easily rescheduled ... if he's not sick. He also - again if he's not sick - needs to go back to the ENT who fixed his vertigo in five minutes a couple years ago to get it fixed again. The hardest part of that last one is waiting for the insurance approval after his doctor gives a referral. They seem to be a little busy these days....
Oh, how I love my regular old Medicare!
The neighborhood still remains quiet. Over the last month, I've counted a total of 5 fire/rescue vehicles, about 10% of normal. The walkers are still out getting their exercise, but neighbors aren't poking their heads out much. Across the street the car sits in the driveway, indicating her job may have finally closed. I got out in the yard yesterday for a bit, pulling weeds growing among plants I can't spray, and taking the next in the sequence of pictures I'm taking to document the flowering of the neighbors' - on both sides - palms, my octopus agave, and the orange bells in the back yard. Bonuses include bees and the resident hummingbird. Other critters are getting sparse, probably meaning neighbors have quit feeding them, aka quit shopping for non-necessities. I miss the quail, but you can't feed them without also feeding pigeons and rabbits.
The cleaning out of cupboards led to finally putting out roach bait and a re-application of 20 mule team borax around gaps between counter and walls. Immediate results provided a dead roach on the counter the next morning. I can only assume hidden results are equally effective. Since Rich saw a "roof rat" last summer, I'd picked up mouse bait a while back. I finally opened that and put some out last night. It was gone this morning. Think I'll give it another go in a week or so, see it it's still being taken.
One of the RCSC employees that I've gotten contact with over several years, due to being an officer in the club, just sent out an email reminding us of forms which need filling out and deadlines. Knowing we likely have them locked up inside the rec centers, she helpfully sent copies of the forms. I responded by thanking her/them for keeping the centers closed, to which she replied they were grateful for such. It seems - predictably - that plenty of "entitled" folk are heaping criticism and abuse upon them for keeping us all safer, adding her "uninformed" estimate that the centers would likely reopen June 1. Pools again!!!!
Ancillary to that, our Governor has finally closed golf curses (and barbershops, nail salons, etc.) as being non-essential businesses. We happened to drive past the nearest course yesterday. The expected grounds crews were out. No biggie. But we also counted half a dozen golf carts on the paths. The carts were noted as keeping a 6-foot distance. Of course, they were parked, and their owners collecting around the tees.
Sigh.
It's going to be a long haul.
Rich is going through the paperwork for a new job! It'll be doing security, much like he did for several years in Minnesota. He'll be assigned a regular location, not going from venue to venue, and regular hours, as opposed to super loads part of the year and barely any other times. He anticipates starting Monday. I alternate between rejoicing for him and worrying that this job will require occasional close contact.
As for the other kids, this was to be the week Steph came down for a visit. Cancelled, obviously. And Paul, being Paul, is no doubt playing his video games. I'll know something is wrong only by his not paying the mortgage on the house. He does not answer phones or reply to voice- or emails. I have no idea whether his company is considered essential. Last time I actually talked to him was around a month ago... because the internet was down!
Yeah, that's my guy.
I have two friends in Minnesota who've recovered from what they think was Covid 19, but because they didn't register high fevers, they couldn't get tested. They've never felt more miserable while sick, but have no clue whether it's not safe for them to be out and about. Without testing, they can choose to either huddle or ignore possible risks. She has long had medical assistants come to the house, and they do still come wearing masks, possibly using them up where not needed. Minnesota is doing a relatively good job, but it's still FUBAR out there.
Hell of a job, Donnie. Emphasis on HELL!
Our Mango Mussolini insists that his signature stamp be on all outgoing checks for small business loans. This is expected to slow the distribution of those checks by about 4 weeks. This begs the question: does he insist on having control/oversight over those relief funds in order to put his name out there as if he were actually accomplishing something? Kinda like on those CDC postcards offering information and recommendations? Or is it "just" a simple grift, money going to his friends and supporters, especially ones he has financial interests in, yet another way of lining his pockets? Or is the delay meant to distract us from finding out that he has other designations in mind for the funds?
Then again, why not all three? We do know this guy, right?
Monday, April 6, 2020
Let God Sort It Out?
Actual human justice would mandate that those who are spreading Covid 19 would be the ones also taking the worst hits from it. Ahhh, if only.
Recent deep diving into the statistics is showing an appalling trend. It's hitting hardest in our minority populations. You can't take the racist viewpoint on this, thinking they are weak, inferior stock, or deserving somehow. But you must take the race-informed view that acknowledges these are the communities with the least economic resources, the most need to work despite the risks, the least able to afford good healthcare coupled with being the last to consider how necessary the expense of a doctor's visit is. They have been pushed into the worst housing, given the worst education, and are taken the most advantage of. WE have made them the most vulnerable to a pandemic.
Were there true human justice, we would be the ones hit hardest instead. But when has there been true justice? No wonder religion plays such a part in so many daily lives, particularly those with an afterlife for the "worthy." It's the revenge of the faithful victim against the evil oppressor, and it lasts forever. It has its appeal.
Ever heard of Pastor Tony Spell, of Life Tabernacle Church in Baton Rouge, Louisiana? Perhaps you just don't recognize the name, but have heard the story. He got arrested for holding a church service defying the Governor's order to not meet in large groups due to the virus. When he was released, he went ahead and held another service, this time attracting over 1,200 people. Couldn't do it over You Tube or something, or released a digital sermon, prayed with members of his flock over the phone, don'cha know. Nope. None of those bring in the bucks. He's complained about the government violating his 1st amendment rights of freedoms of religion and assembly. He's threatened to sue. Oh my!
Of course, what he is really doing is spreading the virus even worse than Louisiana has it now.
Here's a really radical idea. Let him hold his services. Sure, why not? Just never let any members of his flock back out into the community, not till the virus has run its full course through the congregation, and everybody has either died, recovered, or remained immune. Lock and chain the doors, board over the windows except to let fresh air filter through, keep the water and electricity going, deliver food, and, if you can locate some, toilet paper. In a pinch, maybe all those paper dollars they brought will wipe butts just fine. Might clog the pipes, though....
Let them worship their God as a community. And let their God sort it out. Who lives? Who dies? Who's left so sick they wish they'd died?
We might have to argue afterwards, of course, on whether this is human justice or God's justice. Maybe just plain old injustice. But they don't get the opportunity to kill the rest of us.
Now, what can we do about those Governors who insist their populations must violate social distancing by opening their businesses back up, letting everybody cluster in parks and on beaches...?
Recent deep diving into the statistics is showing an appalling trend. It's hitting hardest in our minority populations. You can't take the racist viewpoint on this, thinking they are weak, inferior stock, or deserving somehow. But you must take the race-informed view that acknowledges these are the communities with the least economic resources, the most need to work despite the risks, the least able to afford good healthcare coupled with being the last to consider how necessary the expense of a doctor's visit is. They have been pushed into the worst housing, given the worst education, and are taken the most advantage of. WE have made them the most vulnerable to a pandemic.
Were there true human justice, we would be the ones hit hardest instead. But when has there been true justice? No wonder religion plays such a part in so many daily lives, particularly those with an afterlife for the "worthy." It's the revenge of the faithful victim against the evil oppressor, and it lasts forever. It has its appeal.
Ever heard of Pastor Tony Spell, of Life Tabernacle Church in Baton Rouge, Louisiana? Perhaps you just don't recognize the name, but have heard the story. He got arrested for holding a church service defying the Governor's order to not meet in large groups due to the virus. When he was released, he went ahead and held another service, this time attracting over 1,200 people. Couldn't do it over You Tube or something, or released a digital sermon, prayed with members of his flock over the phone, don'cha know. Nope. None of those bring in the bucks. He's complained about the government violating his 1st amendment rights of freedoms of religion and assembly. He's threatened to sue. Oh my!
Of course, what he is really doing is spreading the virus even worse than Louisiana has it now.
Here's a really radical idea. Let him hold his services. Sure, why not? Just never let any members of his flock back out into the community, not till the virus has run its full course through the congregation, and everybody has either died, recovered, or remained immune. Lock and chain the doors, board over the windows except to let fresh air filter through, keep the water and electricity going, deliver food, and, if you can locate some, toilet paper. In a pinch, maybe all those paper dollars they brought will wipe butts just fine. Might clog the pipes, though....
Let them worship their God as a community. And let their God sort it out. Who lives? Who dies? Who's left so sick they wish they'd died?
We might have to argue afterwards, of course, on whether this is human justice or God's justice. Maybe just plain old injustice. But they don't get the opportunity to kill the rest of us.
Now, what can we do about those Governors who insist their populations must violate social distancing by opening their businesses back up, letting everybody cluster in parks and on beaches...?
A New/Old Solution
Remember that broken wicker loveseat?
Yeah, that really happened. All of it. No April Fooling, if anybody was confused.
It got dragged down the driveway for the next morning's garbage pickup. And - I bet you won't be surprised - the truck left without taking it. I wasn't totally surprised, even though they had taken our broken wicker chair a few weeks earlier. So it was probably time to call up the company and find out what was necessary for the loveseat to be hauled away.
Think $$$$$.
I just never got around to calling their office. There wasn't a lot of spare in the budget, after all. Even the simplest weddings put a drain on it. I'm trying not to raise the amount on the magic credit card these days, and Social Security payments have their schedule that do not always match our wish lists. Nobody ever heard of "overtime retirement" at time-and-a-half, did they? So the call just hadn't gotten around to being made.
Steve and I had discussed how to demolish the thing into littler pieces. A saw? Lots of work. An axe? Both too dangerous and we'd have to go to the store to get one, meaning I'd have to make a face mask, something else that was getting postponed. Pruners? More work and even more mess. So it sat, down at the end of the driveway, next to our buried garbage can, as Sun City does them. Saves us from having to haul anything down on a regular basis other than the bin for recyclables.
Steve came up with an idea last night. He'd been online, and reading that Corona Beer was ceasing production due to its unfortunate name and the idiocy of their former customer base had prompted it for him. How about if he took his own remaining few Corona beers, popped them in the fridge to cool, and sat down at the end of the driveway around 6 AM when the truck came by, offering them to the crew as a bribe to remove the loveseat? I made it even simpler for him, reminding him that they couldn't consume them while on the job, and the beer would be warm anyway by the end of shift, so he might as well not bother chilling the beers.
I also recalled a conversation from the club. A regular fellow named Earl used to use beer or water, depending on the heat, to keep in the good graces of his garbage collectors when he had something extra needing to be hauled away, and on some days "just because." "A little appreciation never hurts," Earl would say, chuckling.
This morning I looked out when I came into the living room. The loveseat was gone. Steve was grinning. It had worked. He informed me he hadn't even gotten back up the driveway before that eyesore was in the truck and it was on its way.
Yeah, that really happened. All of it. No April Fooling, if anybody was confused.
It got dragged down the driveway for the next morning's garbage pickup. And - I bet you won't be surprised - the truck left without taking it. I wasn't totally surprised, even though they had taken our broken wicker chair a few weeks earlier. So it was probably time to call up the company and find out what was necessary for the loveseat to be hauled away.
Think $$$$$.
I just never got around to calling their office. There wasn't a lot of spare in the budget, after all. Even the simplest weddings put a drain on it. I'm trying not to raise the amount on the magic credit card these days, and Social Security payments have their schedule that do not always match our wish lists. Nobody ever heard of "overtime retirement" at time-and-a-half, did they? So the call just hadn't gotten around to being made.
Steve and I had discussed how to demolish the thing into littler pieces. A saw? Lots of work. An axe? Both too dangerous and we'd have to go to the store to get one, meaning I'd have to make a face mask, something else that was getting postponed. Pruners? More work and even more mess. So it sat, down at the end of the driveway, next to our buried garbage can, as Sun City does them. Saves us from having to haul anything down on a regular basis other than the bin for recyclables.
Steve came up with an idea last night. He'd been online, and reading that Corona Beer was ceasing production due to its unfortunate name and the idiocy of their former customer base had prompted it for him. How about if he took his own remaining few Corona beers, popped them in the fridge to cool, and sat down at the end of the driveway around 6 AM when the truck came by, offering them to the crew as a bribe to remove the loveseat? I made it even simpler for him, reminding him that they couldn't consume them while on the job, and the beer would be warm anyway by the end of shift, so he might as well not bother chilling the beers.
I also recalled a conversation from the club. A regular fellow named Earl used to use beer or water, depending on the heat, to keep in the good graces of his garbage collectors when he had something extra needing to be hauled away, and on some days "just because." "A little appreciation never hurts," Earl would say, chuckling.
This morning I looked out when I came into the living room. The loveseat was gone. Steve was grinning. It had worked. He informed me he hadn't even gotten back up the driveway before that eyesore was in the truck and it was on its way.
Wednesday, April 1, 2020
April 1, 2020
Love In The Time Of Chole... uhh...Covid 19.
There is a morning trip to the courthouse to procure the license. Rules are well followed here. A security guard sits outside the doors, checking everybody's bona fides for getting in. Do they have a court case? Are they an employee? Official? Or have they gotten their appointment online for this time slot to be the only ones in their particular line? April Fools Day was the first open appointment, and gratefully accepted.
A code from their confirming email must be entered before they can proceed, armed with not just that code but also a filled-in form, IDs (only from a particular list which qualify) and funds to pay for the license and certified copies of proof the ceremony was properly performed and witnessed.
Precautions must be followed during the afternoon ceremony itself. A qualified officiant has been procured along with the requisite two witnesses. The latter has been a challenge due to loss of friends ... due to migrations, fortunately, not the pandemic.
For both shade on a hot day, and space for distancing, the carport has been emptied of its vehicle, swept, and filled with carefully spaced chairs, seating for the five. A small table holds a bowl of ice and bottled water, and a plate of (gluten free) cookies. Napkins and a vase of pussy willows have been relocated from the house to complete the set-up, preventing further need to head out for more shopping. Attire of all is suited to the weather, something that might be called backyard barbeque casual were there a backyard barbeque in progress.
During the reception, the couple fell for each other again. One suggested it was due to the extra weight of the cookies. Regardless, they had been planning to replace that particular wicker loveseat soon anyway, so no real damage ensued. Both were easily extracted.
No hands are shaken, no hugs exchanged, just two rings and a kiss are physically exchanged during a brief ceremony. A document is signed. Smiles, good wishes and thanks are expressed, and the participants return to their previous plans for social distancing.
Hopefully spirits have been lifted for all, at least for a time. Otherwise, no lives have been changed, except in the eyes of the State, noted once a particular envelope arrives in their mailroom and is processed.
We lovers may be fools. April foolishness doesn't have to be a prank. But you can decide.
There is a morning trip to the courthouse to procure the license. Rules are well followed here. A security guard sits outside the doors, checking everybody's bona fides for getting in. Do they have a court case? Are they an employee? Official? Or have they gotten their appointment online for this time slot to be the only ones in their particular line? April Fools Day was the first open appointment, and gratefully accepted.
A code from their confirming email must be entered before they can proceed, armed with not just that code but also a filled-in form, IDs (only from a particular list which qualify) and funds to pay for the license and certified copies of proof the ceremony was properly performed and witnessed.
Precautions must be followed during the afternoon ceremony itself. A qualified officiant has been procured along with the requisite two witnesses. The latter has been a challenge due to loss of friends ... due to migrations, fortunately, not the pandemic.
For both shade on a hot day, and space for distancing, the carport has been emptied of its vehicle, swept, and filled with carefully spaced chairs, seating for the five. A small table holds a bowl of ice and bottled water, and a plate of (gluten free) cookies. Napkins and a vase of pussy willows have been relocated from the house to complete the set-up, preventing further need to head out for more shopping. Attire of all is suited to the weather, something that might be called backyard barbeque casual were there a backyard barbeque in progress.
During the reception, the couple fell for each other again. One suggested it was due to the extra weight of the cookies. Regardless, they had been planning to replace that particular wicker loveseat soon anyway, so no real damage ensued. Both were easily extracted.
No hands are shaken, no hugs exchanged, just two rings and a kiss are physically exchanged during a brief ceremony. A document is signed. Smiles, good wishes and thanks are expressed, and the participants return to their previous plans for social distancing.
Hopefully spirits have been lifted for all, at least for a time. Otherwise, no lives have been changed, except in the eyes of the State, noted once a particular envelope arrives in their mailroom and is processed.
We lovers may be fools. April foolishness doesn't have to be a prank. But you can decide.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
