dual personalities

The rollercoaster continues! This week I have had middle-of-the-night tears as well as big sunshine-y smiles. Yikes. But here’s the big news from our corner of quarantine…

The other evening, this owl visited a tree behind our balcony. We became fully invested in tracking its every move — lots of shuffling, crouching, and finally, dive-bombing what we can only assume was backyard prey. I subjected my family to a series of live updates via text. Quelle excitement!

I planted some tiny succulents (party favors from the weekend’s baby shower). They finally got some sun on Wednesday, so DN tried out the new-photographer’s-classic: a super macro shot! (Or is it a micro shot? A close up.) Will they survive? I don’t have a great track record with succulents.

Finally, I posted a very candid photo of myself wearing a dress my mother sent me — her favorite maternity-wear from 1990! — and Instagram went nuts for it. It is a genuinely great dress! Here’s hoping the temperature cooperates and I can keep it in constant wardrobe rotation.

Well, here we are. I forgot I had to blog tonight and was reminded at 9:30. Insert the eyeroll emoji. Or better yet:

In my defense, I think we all exist in a state of being confused about which day it is. My tip off should have been the rage-inducing day I had. It was truly another Tuesday that felt like it should be the end of the week. Co-workers that make simple things way more complicated than necessary. Emails that go ignored. And to top it off, a Zoom call with eight friends that required half an hour of audio tinkering only for everyone to decide I was the problem. Yeah, no thanks.

The good news is that tomorrow is a new day. And I ordered a mason jar of to-go margarita from a restaurant up the street and I’ve got leftovers.

*Matthew 6:34

Aside from the sheer relief of not working, the big news from my weekend was that one of my friends hosted a virtual baby shower for me on Zoom. It was intended to be in person, but the coronavirus took off just before invitations went out, so we adjusted. All of my friends still “attended” and sent gifts, and it was really quite a lovely afternoon, if truly surreal.

Here you can see that I put a lot of thought into arranging the laptop to set our own scene on-screen. I thought hooking up to the TV was a brilliant idea, but it turns out it is still very hard to focus on 11 separate squares of faces. There was a lot of adjusting throughout. And I was probably not using my inside voice.

DN and the host collaborated on party favors for the socially distant guests, so of course DN made a “mix-your-own-cocktail” box. We delivered a number of them on Friday, which was a welcome excuse to drive around town. I think my Subaru passenger seat might be the most comfortable chair we own, so there were no complaints from me.

As bizarre as it was to try to socialize from all of our separate couches, it was a nice opportunity for people to see each other. And actually, the Zoom setting allowed me to invite a few of my out-of-state friends, so that was nice. And in addition to sending registry gifts, a couple of friends also packed up large bins of hand-me-down equipment, clothes, and toys. I am beginning to feel — dare I say it — a lot closer to prepared!

April has entered its 350th day and the powers that be here in my state are enjoying lock-down too much to countenance any relaxation of restrictions, even in remote areas that have had a whopping eight hospitalizations (down from 9 at the peak).

We are the largest, least populated county in the state and one of the poorest, but the Governor doesn’t seem aware of that. Well, whatever.  I just stay home and try to figure out what day it is. I’m not the only one that’s confused. My Christmas cactus thinks it is time to bloom,

and someone forgot to inform the weather gods that it’s spring.

Yes, that’s snow on my poor green growing things. It didn’t last long but we have had lows in the 20s for several days. No wonder the cactus is blooming!

Still, I’ve been putting my quarantine to good use. I made naan bread to go with the DH’s yummy beef curry. Naan is actually very easy to make and it turned out well.

When we ran out of ice-cream, I made brownies — one can’t survive on naan bread alone. Otherwise, I have left most of the cooking to the DH, who likes his hot, meaty meals. It’s a good thing for both of us that he’s willing to cook, otherwise we’d eat bagels and cereal all the time.

While not working hard on classes, I’ve been playing word games (try this one. I’m terrible at it but it’s addictive) and reading Alistair MacLean’s  The Last Frontier on Kindle.  First published in 1959, this classic Cold War thriller reminds us of a time when everyone knew who the bad guys were and it was legit to depict them as evil. Sometimes it’s a real pleasure to read something unambiguous. I’m now deep into season three of The Mentalist. All is well.

Over the course of the week I came across a few things on the Internet to share. I think we can all relate to this story:

And I bet we all know someone like this…

This one is clever, although I must say that lock-down has had absolutely no effect on how much or what type of clothing I wear!

And finally, one I’d really like to implement…

Hang in there and have a great weekend — whatever that means.

Late breaking news! Just in case you are confused by the Coronavirus rules, here’s a great clarification:

I very much agree with daughter #1.

I, too, am over this. Here’s how I felt about the week by Tuesday:

And there’s always this classic:

Looking up that gif reminded me of another highly relevant Liz Lemon moment:
Or, what fresh university decree will force us to recalibrate our entire jobs with a day’s notice?

Well anyway. We’re still hanging in there. I have Reese’s eggs and fizzing bath bombs and the joy of stretch pants to keep me going. And this week I tried out coloring to see if it soothed the old nerves…

You would think some KJV verses would do the trick, but really I’m feeling too much pressure to stay in the lines and pattern my colors consistently. I haven’t made it very far yet.

In other news, we started watching the show Broadchurch, which lends some anticipation to our evenings. Broadchurch is a British crime series from about five years ago that centers on the murder of an 11-year-old boy in a small town in Dorset. It is pretty engrossing (at least 3 episodes in) without being gory or creepy. I feel like crime is just about the best genre for me right now — I need something that isn’t too challenging, but that has at least a little gravitas.

So far, so good.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve had just about enough of this. I was about to write that I’ve had a rough week and then I remembered that it is Tuesday. I’ve almost reached this level:

I know I’m not alone in this. You know the feeling when everything puts you irrationally on the brink of an outburst. Oh, the Rice Krispies aren’t on an eye level shelf so I passed them? AND OMG if another motorcycle or car with a thumping base drives by GRRRR. Things like that are really putting me close to the edge. You throw in some work stuff and kablamo Howard Beale is in the house.

I did have to laugh though because while walking to my car this afternoon (I’ve been parking my rental car in the garage at work since I only use it once a week), I passed one of my least favorite reporters in the Missouri press corps.  But I guess my leggings, lack of makeup, and big sunglasses threw him off because he didn’t recognize me. Small joys, am I right?

So, how to come down from the brink of an outburst? Well this song helped me this afternoon.

I was remarking to a co-worker this morning that I feel like all of my conversations with her end with me saying “I just need to accept that I can’t control it.” Of course, we were talking about media narrative, but that sentiment is the crux of this, right? We all feel very out of control. We can’t control where we go. We can’t control what will be on the shelves at the grocery store and what won’t. We can’t even control whether we go to work.

So what are we to do when the chaos in our minds starts taking control? Well, turn our eyes to Jesus. Play some music that brings you joy. Loudly. Do a little dancing. Have a glass of wine. Breathe. And pray about it.

I’m feeling better already.

Happy Birthday to one of our dual personalities, my dear mother! For the past several years, we have celebrated together as I got in the habit of flying home for an April visit. The baby shower in March had already prevented such a plan, but now with a full-blown quarantine, it turns out no one will be able to visit and celebrate together, which is too bad. Let’s at least all comment our happy wishes for the birthday lady, a superlative mother and someone who has had quite a year. Now let’s see if we can turn this one around, shall we?

I had a very low-key weekend. The lowest of keys, truly. I mostly lounged about, moving between bed and the couch (and at one point, a different bed for a change of scenery). I guess I need the rest. I am learning to be less hard on myself when this happens. I didn’t make a to do list this weekend, let alone complete one, and that is OK.

DN has sandwich skills

I did eat a delicious BLT, which is just about the most excitement I had all weekend.

We also watched Notting Hill, a movie I haven’t seen since 2007, right around the start of the last national panic. I can’t remember the exact circumstances, but for some reason, I got to choose a movie to rent, a rare occasion for the youngest child, and I believe my father was having a mental breakdown about the economy. Well, everyone knows that watching a romantic comedy with your father in your teens is horrifying enough. Imagine the horror when my sister and I later realized he had re-watched the DVD several more times over the course of the weekend. Apparently something struck a cord.

We streamed Notting Hill on HBO, where we came across it in a category HBO Go has newly created: the “Comfort Watch.” Remembering that it had clearly comforted the OM in 2007, we thought, well sure. Let’s see if this is pandemic-appropriate.

It was neither good nor bad. Julia Roberts wasn’t all that convincing as a bombshell movie star and Hugh Grant really wasn’t convincing as someone with whom a bombshell movie star would fall in love. (The floppy hair — ye gods!! Then again, DN will look like this in approximately 2 weeks, so I should get used to it.)

We did appreciate the surprise appearance of young Alec Baldwin playing (of course) the jerk-boyfriend for one scene. And in a way, the movie was well-written. It moved swiftly, it wasn’t overly indulgent, and it wrapped up nicely. Maybe there really isn’t anything more comforting than a nineties rom com?