Week 2: wait, we have to keep doing this?

As the coronavirus scenario continues to unfold with updated information every day (much of it terrifying and panic-inducing), Team WestEnders had been striving to establish and maintain a healthy routine, whilst simultaneously doing our best to comply with the ever-expanding stay-at-home decrees.

For Husband...well, nothing much has changed, frankly. Each morning he still logs into his company computer, conducts meetings with his distantly-located colleagues, and appears to be engaging in business as usual amidst the global chaos. The only thing that really differs from his typical work-from-home experience is that whenever he steps away from his desk...there are people around him to commune with...sort of like his own personal catch-up-at-the-water cooler situation, which he hasn't had since we moved to NC and he stopped driving to an office 5 days a week. 

Then there's Derek, for whom this was the first week of the new "online learning" model he's going to be using for the remainder of the semester. Although details were sketchy at first, it turns out that this will involve a variety of different techniques, depending on the class. For example, he'll complete modules for Stats and Speech, at his own pace and on his own time, as long as he makes sure to submit the assignments by the deadlines the professors set. In contrast, his Chem and History instructors are incorporating an interactive component, for which he'll have to actually join a discussion or lecture at an appointed time, and participate like he would if he were on campus. Not surprisingly, given his personality, he seems to be just...rolling with it. Of course, a plethora of questions still remain, such as how they're going to handle grading...finals...advising and registering for next year's courses...completion of his last Capstone Scholarship requirements...but presumably these wrinkles will be ironed out in the weeks to come...fingers crossed...

Meanwhile Riley's STILL on his Bonus Spring Break and won't officially have to get back into the swing of things...such as it is...until next Monday. As he understands it, at that point he'll have a similar setup to his brother's, with tasks he'll have to access through the school system's portal, tackle whenever he wants, and "turn in" for his teachers to evaluate. Oh, and before this is even off the ground, the governor weighed in this week and informed us that he's taking the initiative to keep K-12 schools shut down until at least May 15th. So let's hope this whole "virtual education whosawhatchit runs smoothly, yeah. Ay yi yi...

Speaking of executive decisions and whatnot, Orange county (where we live) just today followed others in our area (Wake, Durham, etc.) and issued a Stay at Home order. Honestly, though, the towns of Chapel Hill and Carrboro--as well as local entities acting on their own-- had already taken measures to limit in-person shopping and congregating. Many "non-essential" establishments had gone ahead and voluntarily closed, while stores that were able had moved to a curbside pickup arrangement, and restaurants had begun offering only takeout and delivery options. So I don't think this will affect much that hasn't previously been put in place to try to keep people safe. (Except of course that no one's getting a haircut anytime soon--yikes!)

Finally, yours truly spent my job-hours at in the house this week for the first time as well, which was...kind of weird. I did have a couple of video chats with coworkers, to touch base on how everyone was faring, what needed to get done...and creative ideas for maintaining this scenario for the foreseeable future. It was in my leisure time, however, that I began to feel a rising sense of...restlessness...and the desire to, I don't know...DO something tangible to prevent myself from wasting too much time, maybe? So I brainstormed...with myself...to figure out just one thing--even the smallest accomplishment--every day that I could document, as kind of a pandemic diary, or whatever. 

--So, first, I dug out a coloring book given to me by a former work buddy. And you know what? It was super-soothing to consider and select hues, and to fill in the lines. When I'd finished, I was startled by how long it had actually taken...but during that time, I felt both serene and entertained, so I'd call it a success.

--Next I realized there was a serious danger that I might miss out on my favorite flower this year: tulips. You see, I never miss the chance to make a pilgrimage to Duke Gardens and get my fill, but of course it's closed for who knows how long. So in an extremely uncharacteristic move, I went to a nearby nursery and purchased bulbs to plant in front of the house. Now we'll have to see whether they can overcome both my notoriously black thumb (I  mean, I have literally NO IDEA if I even stuck them in the ground correctly, people) and the voracious packs of deer to bloom for me. Let's face it, the odds are definitely NOT "ever in my favor" for this, but we'll try to stay positive for the wee buds, 'kay?

--Then it was time for a puzzle, because...hey, why not? We have a couple lying around, so I picked one of the smaller ones as a warmup, and got into it. After several hours of alternating euphoric trash-talking ("Aha! I found you! I win, you stupid piece!) and whining despair ("Whhhhhy do all the $#@%& lion parts look exactly the same? Aaarrrghhh!") I remembered that....I'm not actually as skilled at assembling puzzles as I always somehow think I should be. Huh...valuable lesson (again). And yet, my innate, irrepressible stubbornness refuses to allow me to rage-quit, so I did persevere and finish the dang thing...which yeah, turned out to be rewarding, so there's that. Might not do another one for a while, though...

--Last but not least, since Spring has deigned to grace us with her presence, if all else fails I try to escape the house and get into nature for some much needed fresh air, movement, and appreciation of the Great Outdoors. Staying 6-feet away from all the humans, obviously...but not the trees! The warmer weather and burgeoning greenery absolutely help with my mood, and allow me to return home and treat my fellow self-isolating family members with renewed patience and good humor (Eh, mostly. This IS me we're talking about...let's just agree that we're all doing our best...) 

And there you have it: the weekly report from our little corner of Quarantine Land. I'll sign off by sending umbrella wishes out into the universe, for everyone to stay safe and well, so we can get through this and come out the other side. For now, peace out, peeps!

Week 1 of..."the new normal"?

For Team WestEnders--as I think is true for many, if not the majority of us weathering this damn global pandemic of 2020--the past 7 days brought a series of seismic shifts in the landscape of our lives, ranging from the fairly catastrophic, to the mildly notable aftershock variety.

I for one began my week by showing up in person at my office, since the unspoken agreement at the time was to keep coming in until given explicit permission to transition to the "working remotely" model. (Although there had been LOTS of updates about what was happening with students--for faculty and staff? Crickets...).

By Monday afternoon, however, my supervisor and I sat down for a conversation about that very thing, since the Powers That Be had finally succumbed to the inevitable, jumped on the bandwagon, and decided we should follow the current "social distancing" recommendations and avoid other humans as much as possible for the time being. So we drafted a plan by which I'll log in during my normal hours and be available via cell phone/Skype/email/etc. for 3 of my usual blocks, and spend one day physically on-site to catch up with whoever needs to touch base face-to-face.

I don't have to tell you that this was a HUGE relief, not only from the standpoint of doing my part to help slow the spread of the %#$@ virus...but also because of the tacit understanding that I 100% intend to take full advantage of being freed from the burdens of makeup...and confining professional clothing...until further notice. (To clarify: this does NOT mean I'll be performing my duties naked! Pajamas and/or workout gear will be the apparel of choice. It probably goes without saying...but I just wanted to short-circuit anyone's brain from going down that path!) Sure enough, the first day of the new regime I participated in a Zoom meeting in which most of us appeared a lot more...let's say casually put-together....than usual--but it was utterly delightful to see everyone's smiling faces, hear their voices...and enjoy whatever form of modified interaction is deemed safe and appropriate for the moment.

This is not to imply that there weren't tiny hiccups in the process, of course. Such as the fact that my "workspace" (as shown) lies in the spare bedroom, which is connected to our bonus room over the garage...aka the"Team WestEnders Gym"...where one individual ("Riley") incorporates the punching bag into his daily fitness activities. What, doesn't everyone have to be very careful to remain muted, due to the sounds of a simulated boxing match happening in the background? Fortunately my colleagues--some of whom were busy feeding/distracting/shushing/shooing away small children of their own during our chat--didn't even raise an eyebrow or comment...even when the sweaty teenager sheepishly snuck behind me to get to the shower after finishing his set. I mean, we're all doing our best to adapt during these wacky times, right folks?

As for the other denizens of our household, the boys' schedules have obviously undergone a cataclysmic transformation this month as the COVID story has unfolded. Riley is now halfway through his early-and-also-extended Spring Break, so he hasn't had to meet any school demands yet...although  he tells me his APUSH teacher has been communicating with the class through some kind of video format every day, presumably to try to keep up with the content they're supposed to be covering during a normal academic period. And since he recently started his own job at a supermarket...and now finds himself with unexpected, extensive free time...he offered to pick up extra shifts to accommodate the general populace, who continue to freak the heck out over stockpiling enough groceries for the apocalypse. This made his employer super-happy--so they get willing labor, and Riley brings in more moolah...it's a weird win/win, but we can roll with it.


Meanwhile, Derek's status with UofSC went through several progressive steps as they tried to figure out the endgame...but finally seems to have solidified. You see, at first they announced they would be conducting classes online on a very temporary basis while they waited for all this to hopefully blow over soon. (Um...yeah, about that...) At that point, Derek was pushing to travel back to Columbia, arguing that he could go about his business by logging into his courses from his apartment or the student library facilities.

But then, the university moved to closing the campus for several weeks, which was absolutely the right thing to do, but also (on a selfish note) reinforced my claim that it would be better for him to stay here rather than try and  navigate the crisis on his own 300 miles away. Given the new information, he grudgingly agreed that--without the rec center or places to study, and with limited dining options--there was "no reason for me to be there". (Yessss!)

This of course meant that he still had to make at least a brief jaunt back down, to pick up the textbooks and materials he'd need to complete his distance-learning assignments. So he lobbied for a compromise: drive down, get his supplies, and spend a little bit of time with his (small group of ) other Carolina buddies, since he wouldn't be seeing them for a while after that. (I know, I know, this isn't strictly playing by the rules, but we reiterated all of the anti-viral, pro-mega-hygiene precautions and procedures...and it felt like a relatively minor concession to make the best of a sucky situation.)

Aaaand, wouldn't you know...seemingly right on the heels of THAT dust settling, they turned around and--following the lead of so many colleges around the country--shut it down for the remainder of the Spring semester. So his excursion expanded from "grab my school stuff and hang out with the guys for a while" into "and also vacate my off-campus apartment and return home 2 months ahead of schedule". (Siiighhhh....don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to have him back...but also soooo disappointed for him--and all the other kids whose lives are being disrupted right now, in myriad ways...)

Even with the prevailing atmosphere of "stay home" and "everything's canceled", people are trying to maintain some semblance of routine. Such as the weekly running group I attend on a regular basis, who suspended the "exercising together" portion of the program, but encouraged everyone to go for their own solo jog and post photos on social media so we could give each other a virtual shoutout. Or when Derek and I mutually agreed it was high time to re-watch Frozen 2--since Disney had so graciously gone ahead and released it for streaming--so we could cheer ourselves up with some high-quality singing princess content to combat these dark and scary times.

And finally, I'm thrilled to report that one issue which had me extremely tense and upset for the past week or so has been resolved in a satisfactory fashion. I'm referring of course to the Great Toilet Paper Hoarding scandal. Lest you believe I'm exaggerating (perish the thought) I swear I was checking multiple types of stores every day, besides scouring the interwebs, and coming up with nada.

It got to the point that I would feel my stress levels rising as I simply walked into the front door of an establishment, before the bare shelves brought me to a screeching halt yet again, and I was forced to shuffle away in defeat. But at long last, once some of the furor had died down, I concocted what I prayed was a foolproof scheme: I'd roll out of bed one morning, throw on some sweats, and rush straight to Target. The desperate wish was that they would have restocked overnight, and that I'd beat the bathroom-tissue-starved crowds by showing up so early.

And whattya know...SUCCESS. I was able to lay hands on not only the aforementioned mega-important personal care item, but also paper towels and hand soap, which I'd previously struck out on as well. Plus, they have a Starbucks, so I was able to reward myself with a delicious iced beverage in celebration of my hard-earned victory...and all before 9 a.m. And if my...household goods triumph....isn't a fitting metaphor for the bizarre state of our planet at the moment, well, I don't know what is. On that note, be safe and well, mis amigos. Let's keep watching out for each other...and facing this whole ball of nonsense one conference call/online meetup/cup of coffee/day at a time...

The Corona-siege continues...

Folks, while I so very much wish I had anything else to write about, unfortunately--and I cannot stress this enough--there's only one game in town right now. And since this is meant to be a snapshot of  (cue upbeat, catchy tune) "What's Happening with Team WestEnders!" I feel obligated to attempt to capture current events--and mood--for posterity...or whatever. So, now that everyone's new nemesis, Covid, has officially shoved its unwelcome, obnoxious presence into our lives, here's an update on how that's going: (Spoiler alert for those who might be nervous: overall we're hanging in there, despite some minor inconveniences and mild disgruntlement...so now we can all relax--and I can beg your patience--while I vent a little...)

Last Friday, before the you-know-what really hit the fan around here, Derek and I went ahead with our planned activities, which included a brief stop at Kohl's to replace his one-and-only polo shirt, a much more involved expedition to Target for household edibles and supplies, and as a reward for our labors, a pleasant interlude of cinema escapism...just for the fun of it. The clothes shopping went fabulously smoothly--perhaps aided in part by the fact that there were far fewer customers than one might expect on an average day, for obvious reasons. Next up was our delightful Date with Disney, in which we were very much enchanted by the magic of Onward (again, in the non-proximal company of only a few other patrons).

But the T-store, y'all...that one damn near killed me. First there were the swarms of stressed-out humans, all vying for the limited supplies available. That leads us to--and full disclosure right here, this is something that is making my blood pressure rise on a daily basis at this point--the echoes of profoundly empty shelves. Seriously, good luck finding items like beans, soup, peanut butter, oatmeal...I could go on and on, but you catch my drift. Okay, FINE, we don't actually NEED these things immediately or desperately...although they'd be nice to have in the pantry during this type of, you know, "national emergency" and whatnot.

But WHAT. THE. HELL. with the toilet paper? I mean, we're not out yet, thank the Saint of Paper Products, whoever that may be...but eventually we're going to have to restock, and you can't find the stuff either in person or even online. I'm finding this makes me both furious and anxious, which is a lovely combination, so...yeah, that's pretty much the biggest problem for us right now. And I know--I'm not at all discounting or minimalizing the very real blessing that we're all healthy, and together, at the moment. This situation is just pushing my buttons, probably because I'm a bit (!) of a control freak by nature, and it pains me that I can't "fix" this issue. (But let's not go down THAT particular rabbit hole today, whattya say?)

Whew! On a happier note, once we received the notice that the local library had decided to shut down for the foreseeable future, I managed to slip in and pick up a book I'd had on hold that had just become available--and also curate a stack of...pandemic reading...while I was there. On the way home, I stopped by CVS to purchase over-the-counter remedies that were mentioned as handy to have around, in a common-sense article written by a nurse, that I'd come across on social media. To my great astonishment, I was actually able to obtain these...in appropriate, non-panic quantities for my immediate family, should any of us come down with the virus. However...hand soap...cleaning wipes? Big fat NOPE. How about that "keeping things sanitary" edict, right? Siiiighhhhh....

Meanwhile, in the interest of #SocialDistancing and #FlattenTheCurve (just two of the newly coined terms with which we've all become all too familiar....and also are already beginning to hate, to be honest) bootcamp group is canceled for a while. On the other hand, to #NotLoseOurEverlovingMinds, #GetSomeExercise, and #EnjoyTheFreshAir, a couple of us met up for a walk...on a wide trail, maintaining space between us, not touching, etc. We followed this up with coffee (of course)--which we imbibed outside, after scrubbing and sanitizing our hands.  Oy...brave new world is pretty much...a pain in the patootie, isn't it, friends? (Although necessary, blah, blah blah, I get it, and I'm following the program as much as possible...)

Later that evening, the Male Trio and I had to scramble to formulate a Plan B for our originally scheduled programming. You see, when Derek initially found out he'd be home an extra week (ah, the simpler, more innocent Good Old Days) his very first thought was, "Last year I was away at school, and NO ONE filled out a[n NCAA Tourney] bracket. Well, there are no excuses this year, so everyone's doing it!" We figured that since he'd be here for Selection Sunday, we'd get takeout for dinner, watch the broadcast live on ESPN, and make our choices for the field of 64. Ahem...and then collegiate athletics were basically disbanded until the Fall, soooo.....it quickly morphed into "order food and watch a movie instead". Eh, it's still a family bonding opportunity, even without the sports, so I'm gonna call that at least a (purposefully lower-case) win, in these troubled times. We'll take what we can get!

And that carries us up through the weekend, which seems like as good a stopping point as any, so I'm gonna blow the whistle, call time out, stop the clock, and pick back up later. Now let's all get out there and...practice your best separated-by-6-feet sportsmanship! Avoid committing any personal fouls! Let's work together to crush the 2020 National Championship of Hand Washing, and thereby defeat our collective opponent, International Coronavirus! (See, we CAN live without grown men running around in uniforms chasing each other...even if it's making us just a wee bit wackier than usual...or that might just be MEEEEE...catch up with you guys soon!)

2020: you just can't make this stuff up...

Okay…raise your hand if it’s been a WEEK, y’all. I mean…I can’t even…with this damn virus and…all the other, assorted whatnot. So in an effort to preserve (what’s left of) my sanity, I thought I’d cobble together an mid-March update, only SOME of which has to do with the Rampaging Germs of Doom.

Let’s begin with exercise, shall we? Following what has become my own little tradition, last weekend I ran my first 5K of 2020 after the self-imposed “off-season” of January/February. This is always a bit of a gamble, given March’s typically fickle weather ways…and this year was no exception. Lemme tell ya, it was one chilly, WINDY endeavor—which didn’t make for particularly pleasant workout conditions…but perhaps not coincidentally did result in me logging unprecedented 9-minute miles (to get it the heck over with? Yeah, probably…) And then, just to demonstrate what a difference a couple of days makes in this topsy-turvy month, the Wednesday pub runners’ group got out and enjoyed the hard-earned extra daylight on a pristine 70* evening. Go figure.

Next, in Riley news, after sooooo much searching, interviewing, near-missing, and frustration, he finally was able to secure a job that actually STUCK this time—without being ghosted by employers, or being offered positions that, after further reflection, he decided didn’t really seem like a good fit for him. I feel like it’s safe to talk about now, since he’s gone through the training, completed several shifts…and received a paycheck! Holy guacamole—driving…working…What. Is. Happening to my BABY? (Deep breaths…it’s fine, it’s all fine…)

Then there’s Derek, who came home for his Spring Break as planned…with none of us honestly thinking ahead as to how the global…maelstrom of chaos…might affect his semester. For example, he brought only the books he needed, based on his homework and study load during the hiatus. But slowly the institutions of higher learning began reacting to the developing situation, and it was only a matter of time before UofSC followed suit, by extending student “vacations” by a week…and setting up the expectation for online learning after that, at least until April 3^rd. On the one hand, Bonus Derek Time—yay!

And yet…it’s unclear at this point how this whole…process…will be managed. For science majors like Derek, who have a significant portion of their schedule devoted to labs…what will replace them? And of course, he’ll need the rest of his materials that he left in his apartment. So, does he return to Columbia and brave the Covid-pocalypse on his own? Or remain in the care of his family, who can help him through the illness if and when it strikes? I mean, he’s never really been that sick before (knocking on wood, etc.), so I hate to think of him trying to navigate a serious malady without our support. Yes, he’s technically an adult, but this is a much more complicated health issue than your basic cold, and who knows whether he’d be able to get the supplies or assistance he needs…so many questions!

(Ay yi yi. This will definitely require some discussion amongst Team WestEnders as to how this is going to transpire for our collegian. Further details to follow, as they are determined…)

Meanwhile, at least some things are proceeding as normal, for the time being. At UNC, we haven’t been ordered to work remotely—yet. I attended part of a regularly scheduled Family Medicine conference last weekend, and once again, the population of doctors appears to be taking the situation in stride, eschewing panic for common sense hygiene practices and an extra dose of caution. Likewise, those in charge of the K-12 decisions in our school district remain mum on their contingency plans, in case they feel the need to suspend in-person teaching—or are required to by the state government.

However, in the Department of the Surreal, large meetings and festivals are being postponed or eliminated all over the country, which feels like a completely appropriate action in the current climate and didn’t even faze me. But for reasons I can’t actually explain, it seemed a lot more…dire?...to me when the sports leagues followed suit. First the NCAA, in the midst of conference basketball tournaments, decreed that games would be held without fans—again, reasonable, albeit…somber. But then the dominoes kept falling: some conferences went ahead and canceled all of their Spring sports; a couple of them suspended those hoops tournaments (and more are sure to follow, I think); and finally, the NBA quit, when players started testing positive for the super-bug (and the other professional leagues will be right behind them, if they have any idea of what’s good for them…and, well, everyone…)

(Update: yeah, yeah, you know by now that all contests of any kind are shelved for the foreseeable future. I swear I started this…paddle down my stream of consciousness…just TWO DAYS AGO, and it becomes more obsolete by the hour…I’m trying to wrangle my wayward thoughts and keep up, but I’m afraid it’s a losing battle, friends…siiiighhhhh…)

Anyway, here’s yet another illustration of how rapidly-changing, unpredictable, and downright…cuckoo bananapants…this whole scenario is: while I was composing the first part of this rambling missive, the proclamation came in from Riley’s school district that they’re going to be moving Spring Break up to this coming Monday (from its regularly slotted time in April), stretching it to March 27th, and following it up with a week of what they’re adorably calling “Learning at Home”.

Hoo boy, that has the potential to be a fascinating experiment—whether wildly successful or epically crashing and burning--amiright? My High Schooler should, theoretically, be able to make that happen (as long as our home WiFi, as well as the relevant websites and cloud docs he’d need to access, remain operational, it goes without saying)…but my goodness, I can’t even wrap my head around how you’d apply this to the littler kids? Eventually we might have to accept that the…Real World Education…they’re inadvertently receiving this academic year…might not resemble anything close to what was originally in the curriculum. Lessons on epidemiology, statistics, medical best practices, and social implications of a planetary crisis, anyone? Whew…buckle up, buttercups…

And, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY, during the course of my writing…”career”…I’ve never before felt like a journalist, trying to keep abreast and provide at least a minimum degree of coverage for breaking news…until now. I obviously can’t even finish the dang thing without having to amend or add details, so here’s the latest footnote: the worldwide offices of Husband’s employer will now be closed for what seems to have become the de facto “accepted self-isolation period” (also known as “a fortnight” in The Queen’s English, his HQ’s “mother tongue”). Presumably folks will continue to apply themselves to their tasks in the comfort and safety of their own homes—which Husband already does anyway—but the implications for how to conduct business under these circumstances is one of those nebulous TBD factors that are piling up at an increasingly alarming rate.

Now, please don’t misunderstand me: I’m ecstatic that some measures are finally being taken, and that they seem to be rational, well-thought-out, and in everyone’s best interests. At last it seems like the message is being conveyed: hey, we get it, this stuff is serious…and, um…what’s the other one? Oh, right, dangerous!

It’s just that the logistics are still kind of, well…sketchy at best, and potentially a gigantic flaming pit of disaster at worst. But let’s keep our fingers crossed (separately, 6 feet away from each other), and hope for the former, yeah? On that note, I’m off to hydrate, eat a healthy snack…and wash my hands (before, during, and after). Signing off with a virtual…namaste to all of you. (Sharing peace, harmony, and solidarity in these troubled times, with NO perilous contact—WIN WIN!)

Ay yi yi with 2020, y'all...amiright?

Never having experienced a global pandemic before, I’ve gotta admit this whole Coronavirus…situation…has me feeling a bit…on edge. I mean, when it first hit the news, from a country located on the other side of the planet, I remember thinking something along the lines of, “Oof, that sounds bad. How awful for them. I hope they get it under control before too many people get sick.” And then, as we discovered, they…didn’t. Rather, the illness began to spread, with increasing numbers of people not only being infected, but some of them actually dying, and…the previously mild, vague entity lurking in the background of our collective consciousness suddenly leaped into the spotlight and demanded attention as a real, and somewhat terrifying, threat.

Of course, I’d be completely remiss if I didn’t mention right upfront how lucky (and infinitely grateful) I am to live in a developed nation, with 21^st century hygiene-- and a partner whose job provides access to health care. (Regardless of how the current…idiotic…administration is catastrophically botching this whole issue. But that’s a can of worms I’m leaving firmly closed for the purposes of this post. *Restrains self from commencing rant.* You’re welcome…)

Even better, a recent social media post served as a palpable reminder of how incredibly fortunate I am to reside in my specific little corner of the world. It was just a brief notice on Twitter, announcing that UNC researchers had created a test for the disease, and as soon as it cleared FDA approval, they’d be able to use it to screen folks who might have been exposed and/or are displaying symptoms. Wow. Plus, that other university a couple of miles away (mutter mutter rhymes with Puke—ha!) is evidently working on one as well. Science, y’all: it’s the BEST!

In Casa WestEnders, I’d characterize our approach as…cautious…informed…and (in my case, at least) trying to avoid unnecessary panic. Sure, we always wash our hands, but maybe we’re ramping up the frequency a bit? And using more sanitizer? Basically, whatever preventive steps lie within our reach. Now, Husband spends his days right here in the home office, so he obviously isn’t out there “amongst the teeming germ-laden masses”, if you will. But his company did the prudent thing and canceled all international travel for the time being--smart and careful being the recommended order of the day--so kudos to them for being proactive and protecting their employees’ well-being.

Even the local school system has not only addressed the evolving story but, according to a disgruntled Riley, is preparing plans for how to continue educating students in the event that everyone has to stay home and learn remotely. (Yeah, he’s soooo NOT thrilled by this prospect. Frankly, I can’t blame him, because neither am I! So please join me in taking a moment to send a quick thought out into the universe that this doesn’t come to pass. Thanks…carry on…) In the meantime, he wryly noted, “Well, I guess I’ll stop doing my daily fistbump with B. at the beginning of Math.” (I told him a friendly shoulder-check could take its place, but he gave me the side-eye and proclaimed that was “weird”. Eh, I tried…)

And really, as things stand right now, that’s the biggest fear for me, personally: the notion that I’d have to hole up in my house for several weeks, either quarantined because I’d caught it, or isolated due to an outbreak in our area. Once again, knocking on wood (throwing salt over my shoulder, ALL the good luck things) that I happen to be employed not only by a renowned academic institution, but also in the Family Medicine Department. This translates to: surrounded by intelligent, capable medical professionals all the time…who share their insights on the topic, which tend to be fact-filled and include sensible advice.

Honestly, this is all I needed hear: one of my colleagues asked a faculty member/MD, “Look, am I gonna die?” To which the physician laughingly responded, “Um…NO!” And there you have it—the DOCTORS say we’re going to be fine (those of us who happen to enjoy generally robust health to begin with, at least), so that’s what I’m choosing to believe (whilst continuing to diligently follow all the precautions, it goes without saying, right? Side note: because of all this nonsense, I also went through a period where I felt it necessary to announce, every time I sneezed, “Pollen! It’s just allergies; I’m not contagious, I swear!” Mercifully, I think we’re past that now…and they’re not going to send me home.)

Meanwhile I’ve noticed—and keep in mind this is a very small-scale, anecdotal observation from one human’s point of view--that we who do have to venture out into the…Earthly Petri Dish…can be described as reacting on a scale of…let’s call it Studiously Noncommittal…all the way up to Doomsday Freakout. Hence the sudden, irritating shortages occurring in stores these days, where one might find it ridiculously difficult to lay hands on such modern everyday conveniences as, say, toilet paper…or the aforementioned hand sanitizer. Siiighhhh…

However, on the other side of the spectrum, this week UNC went ahead with its annual Huntley Lecture, which is a talk given by an invited speaker, attended by many people from the School of Medicine as well as other distinguished guests. It was held at an off-campus venue, and I went along as one of the advance guard, to set up and greet visitors. One of the first things our small committee noticed was the distinct absence of Purell, which in our opinion should have been stationed approximately every 5 feet, prominently displayed, to encourage generous application. Well, within oh, about an hour, guess what magically appeared all around us, as if summoned by…I don’t know…Antibacterial Elves, or something? That’s right, enough alcohol-based cleanser for the entire local population to BATHE in, should they so desire. Bugs, begone!

Furthermore, we witnessed an astonishing phenomenon from our vantage point at the registration table, in the middle of all the hoopla: the housekeeping staff unobtrusively made rounds of the building, disinfecting surfaces like the bathroom door handles, on a continuous loop. Trust me when I tell you that they never seemed to stop; once they finished a circle, they started the process over again, wiping things down thoroughly. It was…reassuring, to say the least.

And finally, to add a much-needed touch of lightness to a very somber topic, there was the behavior of the very dignified conference-goers themselves. For example, I saw more than one suited gentleman offer a cheeky grin…and an extended ELBOW to a peer, for what amounted to a rather whimsical, but also much safer and wiser, token of greeting than a handshake would have been in these uncertain circumstances. I actually found it kind of adorable to behold. Gotta love docs that don’t take themselves too seriously, yeah?

There you have it…here’s to keeping calm, avoiding hysteria, and lathering our digits in soap and sanitizer. And, all joking aside: fingers crossed that we all come through on the other side of the Great Coronavirus Scare of 2020!

A Frosty Retrospective

Well, here we are in the waning days of February, and at this point I think it’s undeniable that we’re also finishing up The Winter That…Wasn’t. I say this because in a typical year the cold period (such as it is in lovely Chapel Hill) is usually winding down right about now--as evidenced by pleasantly warming temperatures and the first brave (if somewhat reckless, depending how fickle Mother Nature behaves in these transitional weeks) flowers and buds popping out around town. But in 2020 those things began happening toward the end of JANUARY, which was super-freaky at the time, for sure, but also not quite believable, like “Yeah, yeah, daffodils and dogwoods, I see you, but don’t get used to hanging around, ‘cuz you’re gonna be awfully sorry…and frozen…when things get back to normal!” But that’s just it…the entire season was mild, which to me made it feel like some kind of weird, I don’t know…post-Fall limbo?

1983

As the odd situation dragged on through the first several months of the year, it slowly started to dawn on me that we might make it through the whole Winter without seeing even a solitary particle of white stuff to appease the Frost Giants…or what have you. And imagine my surprise when I found myself feeling…disappointed about that. I mean, this is ME we’re talking about, the person who detests being chilly…who’s struck by Spring Fever around Valentine’s Day every year (not coincidentally, when pitchers and catchers report to camp)…who moved to NC at least in part to escape the boundless freezing precipitation and endless shivering. 

And yet…I realized that if we did somehow manage to avoid the s-word, it would mark the only time in my existence—to the best of my recollection, at least—that I’d ever experienced a flake-free year. Huh. That in turn led me rambling down Memory Lane, to reminisce about some of the more noteworthy storms in my lifetime, of which 3 sprang instantly to mind. So, join me if you will for a stroll through the archives, as we examine a few snowy incidents from my past:

The first occurred in 1983. I’d gone to school as usual in the morning, and all through the day what had started out as a vague curiosity about a possible impending weather event built into excited chatter based on the prediction that we could be hit with a foot or more of accumulation. However, my biology teacher, whom we knew to be a meterological hobbyist of sorts, flatly refuted the forecast. “We’re getting 36 inches,” he stated…undeterred by the vocal skepticism of his class. And whattya know: the professionals woefully underestimated the totals…and Mr. Hoffman was bang on target.

1996

Thus blanketed by mounds of snow, our area was gifted with an unplanned week-long vacation...but the effects went much further than that. For example, my father had undergone a knee operation, and my mother was told she had to either take him home slightly ahead of schedule, or be prepared to leave him in the hospital until they dug out. (She opted to retrieve him early.) Even more…exciting…our next door neighbor evidently cut themselves with a sharp knife and called 911. But we lived on a cul-de-sac, in a rural setting, which realistically wasn’t going to glimpse a snowplow for several days, minimum. So the ambulance stopped at the top of our road, and paramedics rode a snowmobile the rest of the way to the house, then loaded the injured person onto a SLED, and dragged them back to the vehicle. I’m telling you, this was pretty wild stuff for our quiet little corner of the world, folks!

That brings us to 1996, the first time I think I heard the term “snowpocalypse” applied to a wintry scene. In this case, the story unfolded over the course of a week, in which the clouds delivered a foot of fresh powder…several different times! Given that I was living in Maryland—rather than, say, the Midwest--localities simply didn’t have the resources to launch a targeted clearing effort on the existing snowfall before the next round arrived…so it just piled up some more. I was working for a school system at the time, and you can guess that we were closed for the duration. I remember a conversation with my mother, who was sweetly concerned that I—a single woman living alone—would somehow be stranded without access to food. I reminded her that while this might be an issue for her, still living in the same house in which I grew up, in my location I could literally walk (or, you know, cross country ski, if necessary) out my front door…and stomp 50 yards across the street to the Safeway.

2009

Even better: a couple I was good friends with also were enjoying the unexpected time off, and we hatched a plan to take an impromptu trip to the nearest ski resort. While the initial excursion miiiiiight have been…um…”ill-advised”, as it involved white-knuckle navigating through blizzard conditions to reach the resort, we were abundantly rewarded by having the slopes pretty much to ourselves (yeah, yeah, because no one else was foolish enough to risk it, whatever), with pristine fluffy natural cover on the hills, the likes of which is rarely seen by East Coast skiers. We proceeded to do it again twice more during our little hiatus…thus spoiling me for any other kind of ski-bunny adventure, to be honest. Oh well, it was awesome while it lasted! 

Finally, we jump to 2009-10, which represented the first time the boys were around for significant snowy shenanigans. That season made an impression because we got socked by a major storm in December, causing everyone to dust off the “snowpocalypse” designation again—it had been a while, after all, so I guess we can forgive the newspeople for repeating themselves. But then, we got another biggie in February—and if I remember correctly it had been frigid enough that not all of the leftovers from the first go-around had melted, so it just landed on top, and inspired the journalists to scramble for an updated hyperbole…which ended up being “snowmageddon”. 

Of course, by this time it was my sons’ turn for an extended midyear break, so stop me if you’ve heard this before, the academic year was suspended for, blah blah blah, however many days it took to get us dug out. I do recall, though, how much FUN they had--riding their sleds, building snowpeople, romping with the neighbor kids, having snowball fights, etc. I also remember the less…entertaining….aspects of such an episode, like the extraordinary amount of shoveling required to clear our driveways and part of our dead-end street (the upside being that we residents all helped each other, so it ended up being somewhat social as well. Silver lining!). Not to mention the preposterous process of outfitting my little yetis with all the gear they needed to withstand their time in the tundra…several times a day with the “on again, off again” nonsense as they came in and out of the house to eat, rest, dry off, thaw out, etc.

2020

This brings us full circle back to present day. Lo and behold, no sooner had I lamented our lack of flurries, than we were lightly brushed by the…I don’t know…Ice Fairy?...who pirouetted through, waved her crystal wand, and bestowed upon us just a taste of Winter. In my opinion, it was actually perfect: picturesque drifting down from the heavens, just enough on the trees and grass to be photogenic…but not so much on the roads as to impact our daily activities very much. (And yes, of course the NC Powers That Be canceled classes…for one day before any precipitation fell at ALL, and the second day for the dusting that showed up. Having spent the last 5 years here, I can’t help but be amused by this…while also shaking my head.)

So, this fulfilled my requirements for a not-completely-lame Winter, even if just barely. It’s hard to explain, but in my mind I was beginning to feel like we hadn’t earned Spring, in some way. However, NOW we can move forward in good conscience toward the season of baseball, balmy days, and brisk breezes. (Sure, I do understand that’s not how it works…but nevertheless…) And I don’t know if you noticed, but this cycle—at least in Maryland—seems to come around every 13 years…kind of like climate clockwork! Hmm…so we’re technically still in the Mid-Atlantic region…let’s appreciate our good fortune for now, and make a mental note to brace ourselves for the next epic tempest…in 2022!

Sampling Savannah (Part 2)

Unfortunately for us intrepid Savannah tourists, Sunday featured a whole lot of water falling from the sky. (Which by the way I also hadn’t packed for…sigh. You’d think I wasn’t a veteran traveler, for crying out loud…) However, the Moms on a Mission were not to be deterred from venturing forth into the city and having All. The. Fun—albeit seeking out more sheltered options to try to prevent the dreaded Drowned Rat Syndrome. (Again, lacking the proper gear, this couldn’t altogether be avoided. So, damp clothes and dripping hair became the natural order of the day…and yet, she (we) persisted…)

Just how inhospitable was the weather? Well, we even resorted to driving the van we’d rented…the one that had sat dormant while we hoofed it all over town on foot on Saturday. The party bus first stopped at the American Prohibition Museum, a site one of our group had found and suggested because it got good reviews and sounded like something that would interest us (i.e. a close-knit band of uber-nerds…or, you know, “my tribe”…).

And let me tell ya, she—and the critiques—hit this one out of the park. I realized I didn’t actually know that much about America’s dry period, and we’ve already established how much I love to learn stuff, so I found the information itself absolutely fascinating. Plus, they did a fabulous job on the presentation, using plaques you could read, videos that illustrated some of the events and personalities of the time, actual artifacts and photos from the era, lifelike wax figures that lent realism to the stories, and costumed docents who added layers of details to the exhibits.

Because I can’t help myself and am dying to share what I picked up, here are some of my favorite take-aways:

--the law was in effect for about 14 years, from 1919-1933

--Savannah’s waterways were actively employed for the smuggling trade, and the city in general tried to dodge the rules as much as they could get away with (yay, rebels!)

--Maryland was one of the holdout states that never enacted its own statute

--the unintended consequences (that eventually led to the regulation’s downfall) were staggering, including the meteoric rise of organized crime (Al Capone et.al.), detriments to public health from concocting and consuming poorly made, unregulated, and/or dangerous substitutes; the rejuvenation of the Klan, who twisted the prohibitionists’ reasons for the war against alcohol to justify and further their own anti-immigrant, white supremacist agenda

--it was basically unenforceable, due to a lack of manpower and resources in the overextended FBI

--of course, a direct result was the proliferation of secret speakeasies, some of which were…let’s say “classier than others”, but there were myriad ways people got around the ban

--based on all the previously legal activities that were now forbidden, there were more arrests and folks being brought to trial, which taxed the judicial system and led to the inception of plea bargaining and probation, to ameliorate crowding in the already jam-packed prisons

--and finally, I was highly amused by the moguls of the nation’s large beer companies, who ingeniously turned to manufacturing other products, to wait out the suspension of their primary livelihood. See if you recognize some of these: Coors (started a ceramics division, still in existence today!), Pabst (cheese, which it then sold to Kraft when Prohibition ended), Yuengling (ice cream and dairy), and the ever-visionary Anheuser-Busch (ice cream, soft drinks, truck parts (!), and the first non-alcoholic beverage).

Whew! Yes, it was a LOT to take in, but highly entertaining and well worth it. We weren’t done yet, though, as there was another tour we wanted to squeeze in, that only offered one timeslot. So we slogged a couple of blocks to the First African Baptist Church, where we settled in and prepared for a very different but equally enlightening educational experience.

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but what we got was a 45-minute interactive lecture given by a young man with a bountiful gift for storytelling. At the outset he stated, “I don’t like to see people just nodding at me, ‘cuz that means what I’m saying isn’t really making an impression.” So he left deliberate pauses in his narrative, for us to finish his sentence or answer a question. If we got too quiet for his taste, he’d prompt us to respond to his latest comment with a, “Yes, no, maybe?”  (It. Was. Awesome! I wish there’d been a test, because he was an exceptional teacher, and I was ready!)

Anyway, he told us about the institution’s founding in 1773 by a freed black man, although given the timing, all of its early attendees would have been enslaved people. At first the worshippers gathered on the banks of the Savannah River, until the congregation grew too big for this to be feasible, at which point they solicited contributions from members—who donated from their paltry earnings, sometimes meaning funds they’d been saving to buy their own freedom--and began to build an actual sanctuary.

Eventually they needed even more space, so they expanded the lower level, and added a balcony. When we trooped upstairs to see the newer section, our leader made a point of debunking a common stereotype: that enslaved people couldn’t read or write. In fact, he assured us, many were allowed to learn, if their masters leaned toward the progressive side, and those who gained the skills then taught others. He used this to preface the fact that each pew in the balcony bore symbols that at first glance could be mistaken for simple scratches, but were in reality Hebrew and Arabic characters. Amazing.

It was just one of a plethora of intriguing tidbits about the church and its followers. For example, in the main sanctuary, somehow the oak pews and floors, as well as the stained glass windows, remain in pristine condition. (I mean, they seriously look like they could have been installed, like, yesterday.) And then, for the grand finale, our guide addressed a famous highlight of the church’s background—the assumption that it acted as a stop on the Underground Railroad and assisted slaves in escaping their southern owners. He smiled enigmatically as he declared, “Now, I can’t confirm anything about that. You see, no written records of such events exist…because that could get you thrown in jail or killed. But here’s what we do know…and you can draw your own conclusions.”

So we sat, mesmerized, as his true talent for weaving a tale unfolded before us. First, he pointed out that the floorboards in the basement (where we were currently located) beneath the church proper were made of Georgia White Pine, rather than the hard oak upstairs. It’s softer, more pliable, and more moisture-prone, so it had to be treated and dried out before being used to build. However, that meant it wouldn’t creak—for instance, when someone was trying to move silently across it…perhaps to hide? Next he described the crawlspace underneath our feet, presumably designed to allow airflow for the floors to stay dry and resist warping…but also theoretically big enough for humans to hide in…if the need arose.

And finally, he drew our attention to the identical, clearly defined patterns of holes drilled into said floors at intervals around the large room. These, he explained, took the shape of the BaKongo Cosmogram, an Ethiopian religious symbol. So, if someone were to kneel down next to one, lower their head, and appear to be praying, it wouldn’t ring any alarm bells…like it would if they were actually communicating with someone concealed in the crawlspace. You see what I mean? Absolutely compelling stuff.

After that, our brains were chock-full of newfound knowledge…but our stomachs were profoundly empty. Thus we braved an annoying downpour (complete with sneaker-drenching puddles, if you weren’t alert enough) to find a suitable lunch venue. We ended up at Two Cracked Eggs, a quirky joint serving southern delicacies like shrimp and grits, corned beef hash, and biscuits that were almost as big as our heads (plus warm coffee, which at that moment for me was the true selling point).

Warmed up and sated…but still somewhat bedraggled, we headed back to our rowhome to regroup and relax. This quickly led us to a unanimous decision to just stay in that evening, throw together a meal from the varied contents of our refrigerator (homemade tapas FTW!), lounge around in pjs, and enjoy each other’s company before we all went our separate ways the next day. Since there was a temporary respite from the showers, I opted for another brief walk around our charming neighborhood to admire the dazzling architecture and delightful atmosphere one final time. 

Alas, Monday morning arrived all too quickly, and our fabulous whirlwind getaway came to an end. Even though I’ll miss these lovely ladies until our next trip, I’ll console myself by recalling the abundant laughter, special bonding, and precious memories we made together in Savannah. Another super-successful mini-vacay with some of my favorite Mom Friends…and a shoutout to Savannah for the heartwarming southern hospitality. Besides, we’re already scheming for 2022, so let the countdown commence! 

Savannah Saga (Part 1)

At long last, after much parleying, planning, and preparing, the highly anticipated Playgroup Moms' Getaway II arrived. This year's version would have us uniting in Savannah, coming from our various compass points in several different modes of transportation. To wit: the gang from Maryland booked a flight together; one pal from Wisconsin had her own airplane odyssey (including a bummer missed connection); the Atlantan opted to Greyhound over for the "sit back and relax" factor...and as for me, I chose to motor the 5+ hours from North Carolina because...well, in retrospect, I'm not totally sure why...but that's how just how I roll? Sure, I do love traveling, and driving doesn't bother me. But I'm gonna be honest, after about the 3-hour mark I was like "Ugh, are we there yet?" (Stop me if you've heard this before: Diet Pepsi saves the day...)

Eventually, of course, we all convened at our (gorgeous, incidentally) AirBnB rowhouse, at which point it hit us...we're all heeeeere! After two years, we were finally together again, and sooooo excited to see each other. To get the party started, we toasted with some chocolates that one of the thoughtful husbands had sent--so that was an appropriate and delicious beginning to our long weekend o'fun. Then the wheels started turning...specifically "Now that we're settled, where should we eat dinner?" (Yeah, we're nothing if not practical...and food-driven...)

After agreeing on a local establishment that sounded yummy--and seemed to be close by, according to the ever faithful Google Maps--we set out on foot to attempt to actually locate it. Which ended up being a comedy show in and of itself, as a small cohort of very intelligent, competent, and generally street savvy women literally wandered in circles, staring at the screen, wondering why the mystical eatery wasn't appearing to us. Seriously, it got so silly that we even stopped to ask a group of GIRL SCOUTS if they knew where it was. (They didn't, sadly...or just didn't want to assist us because we didn't have cash for cookies? Sigh...)

Of course, we did eventually stumble onto the correct block (mumble mumble...right around the corner from our accommodations),...but we'd forgotten to take into account the fact that it was Valentine's Day, meaning there was no room for our sizable band that evening. However, those treat-hawking young ladies had been stationed right in front of a Kroger's grocery store, so the backup plan quickly became "buy food and eat in". Done, and done!

And it worked out beautifully, since that allowed us to hang out, chat, and catch up all in the comfort of our own kitchen...right up until we took ourselves off to bed...because believe me, we had a BIG DAY of activities coming up, so we figured we'd need our rest.

In fact, the next morning--after partaking of some of our supermarket delicacies for breakfast--we hit the ground running...or, you know, "strolling", as our first order of entertainment was a walking tour of the downtown historical district. We meandered under the soaring canopy of trees lining the quaint streets, listening to the engaging guide tell stories about Savannah's past, including its involvement in both the Revolutionary and Civil wars--all of which was utterly fascinating. As a first-timer to this picturesque city, it seemed to me like every building was an architectural work of art, and every block boasted either its own grandiose church, or a charming park, complete with a significant statue commemorating one famous person or another.

Not to mention the edifices that were actually important, such as Juliet Gordon Low's house (founder of those non-helpful Girl Scouts...just kidding about that last part!) and General Sherman's headquarters (we northerners nodded politely and kept our mouths shut about that one!). It was my favorite kind of thing: both educational and amusing. I mean, how could you possibly miss with a leader who--upon spotting an apparently familiar local man, who wears a flowered jumpsuit and George Washington-type wig and offers to take selfies with tourists--dryly commented, "In Savannah, we don't hide crazy....we put it out on the porch and hand it a cocktail!" Priceless, I tell ya!

At the conclusion of our wonderful excursion, we moved on to the next endeavor...lunch...and preferably inside! You see, despite the weather forecast promising us a sunny 60*, the reality turned out to be much nippier than that...and quite blustery to boot. We were...honestly somewhat miffed; after all, we came to the SOUTH, for crying out loud, so what gives, Savannah? Anyway, suffice it to say that several of us...me included....had packed slightly more....optimistically than conditions warranted. (Yeah, yeah, I was freezing--are we surprised? But we shivered...and sucked it up...) Luckily we found a quirky little joint called Kayak Kafe where we enjoyed a tasty meal full of organic, freshly made goodness. But then we went and undid all our hard-earned toastiness by standing in a fairly extensive line for Leopold's, a beloved ice cream parlor we'd been told was a must-sample. (Also incredible hot cocoa, so I was able to re-warm. Win!)


Thus fortified (again) we continued our pedestrian spree by visiting the breathtakingly beautiful St. John's Cathedral and bustling, scenic Forsyth Park. Whew--that was a chock-full day of sightseeing, folks! We hoofed it back to our rental to regroup and spend a bit of downtime...before we had to eat again, of course. This time we'd managed to secure a reservation at the tiny Tulum Cantina, where we noshed on excellent Mexican fare to finish off our Saturday.

Happy-but-tired campers, we now find ourselves ready and yes, eager to repeat the sleep portion of our agenda...so we can get up and do some more cool stuff tomorrow. Whoo hoo! Or, good night, Savannah...zzzz

Working on my chill (spoiler alert: I have a loooong way to go!)

So, it's been a minute (or, you know, "5 years"…yikes!) since I showed my face--or the rest of my creaky middle-aged body, for that matter--in a yoga studio. Initially I had to stop going when my left hand started acting up, such that putting any weight on it, like in the downward dog pose, for example, caused me agonizing pain. (Very much NOT what you’re seeking in an activity that’s supposed to enhance one’s overall sense of calm, centeredness, and physical well-being, amiright?) And unfortunately, right on the heels of that issue, other body parts started clamoring for attention…luckily only one at a time, but it was still enough…internal complaining…that I didn’t feel like I was going to benefit from trying to go back.

But hey, for whatever reason, the new year ushered in a fresh burst of optimism. So even though I’ve accepted that at my age there will probably always be some random joint or muscle or whatever giving me grief, I figured what the heck, let's give it another shot. (I mean, what’s the worst that could happen--it hurts and I need to quietly excuse myself? Eh, I’m also old enough to be beyond embarrassment about these kinds of things, so can live with that…)

Now, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t prepared to do anything crazy-pants, like sign up for an entire series of classes. (Because that’s me: breezy, plan-less, no-commitment chick, right? Ha! Never mind…) Instead I checked local businesses for drop-in prices. (And let me tell ya, folks, there are a plethora of options around here. Sheesh, you can’t swing the proverbial stick without hitting a wellness-related establishment of some kind…’cuz apparently, that’s just how we roll in Chapelboro, y’all…)

I found a couple of intriguing sessions, where you either paid a flat $5 fee (perfect for “testing the waters”, so to speak), or offered a donation of your choosing, with the suggested amount being $5-$20. I registered for the less expensive Community Class, which according to the website would be taught by an instructor-in-training (hence the reduced cost, I’m sure). I decided that, given my own potential…complications…that could crop up during the lesson, I was totally okay being a guinea pig for someone else to hone their technique on…or what have you. After all, it’s yoga, for crying out loud—how bad could it be?

 So I dusted off my mat (literally, since it’s been spending the long interval away from its true purpose by acting as a…tushie cushioner…during bootcamp, outside on the grass or a gritty basketball court) and showed up for the evening hour of zen. Our leader first shared that her theme for the practice would be: showing some love for…your feet! Seriously….could it BE more perfect? (Thanks, universe, I get it--I’m supposed to be here…)  

We began by sitting cross-legged....weeeeell, in theory, at least, because I quickly discovered that was gonna be a HARD PASS, as the hips were vehemently making it known that they were having none of it. Ohhhhkaaay, then…not such an auspicious start, but moving on to the next…oh, hello, knees, how YOU doin’? They, also, had many things to say, which went something along the lines of, “Ow! Not cool! What is this torture? We hate this! What'd we ever do to YOU?" (I swear, they're sooooo melodramatic...) Aaannnnnd, this was quickly followed by "A pleasant good evening to you, shoulders!" who replied in a similar vein "What. Is. The. Meaning of This? Dislike, Dislike! Cut it out right now!"

So yeah, there was…all of THAT.  Meanwhile, I’d instigated a silent dialogue with…all of the protesting parts, in which I admonished them “Shut up, we're stretching! It's helpful and necessary for flexibility and good health, and blah blah blah. Get with the program!” (What, everyone engages in internal shouting matches with their recalcitrant appendages, right? It's totally normal! Mmm…let's go with that...thanks for playing along...)

Although this was not as distracting as you might imagine (probably because I talk to myself all the time, so I’m used to it…wait, does that make me sound weird? Oh well…) I still found myself struggling with some aspects of the poses…such as “balance”. This was disturbing to me because when I used to incorporate yoga regularly into my life, I enjoyed (but probably took for granted, to be honest) a pretty good sense of equilibrium. However, I must dejectedly report: that’s pfffft, GONE…yet hopefully only temporarily? Memo to me: start working on building it back up, stat!

And then of course there’s all the (attempted) reaching of...things. Or…ahem..not so much. (Actual translation: hahahahaha  you want me to put my hand where? Nice try, lady. Let's try something else, shall we?) In short, I'm not as limber as I believed I was...even with what I thought were realistic expectations…siiighhh (Yeah, yeah, I suppose that happens when you're lazy about incorporating the bending and whatnot into your daily routine. Who knew? Right…absolutely everyone…my bad…)

Returning to the tootsies that were meant to be the focus of this endeavor, the movements seemed to aggravate ye olde plantar fasciitis, but I'm hoping that's a transitional side effect and will fade back into the background over time if I resolve to make this a weekly event. BUT, with all that being said, I’d definitely deem it a positive experience, overall. And I strongly felt like...it could eventually lead to restoring some of that erstwhile grace and flexibility that I didn't even realize I was missing…but now am motivated to replenish!

So to sum up: tomorrow I do expect to be sore…in various hot spots. And then, I'll plan to do it all again next week, and see what happens from there. Nama…staytuned! (Sorry!)

A tangled web we weave...sort of....

Since we're currently immersed in my least favorite season, "Chilly and Dark", it seemed like a good idea to use the extra hours stuck inside to start pondering one of my...well, let's not call them Resolutions, because that implies too much commitment. So, Potential Action Items?...nah, too corporate. Self-Improvement Goals? Maybe...eh, let's just go with "stuff I want to try this year, which may or may not work out, and that's totally fine, so no pressure or judgment"...which is a terrible title, but sums it up nevertheless.

First stab, so to speak

Anyway, as I was saying before I hijacked my own train of thought, I wanted to explore some kind of hobby to occupy the longer evenings at my disposal, since all of the activities I normally like to engage in happen outside. One thing I kept coming back to was knitting, but I've never had any interest in learning this skill, primarily because you have to, you know, MAKE things like sweaters or blankets or whatnot, which doesn't really appeal to me. But then...the universe intervened...or at least the Internet. You see, an author I follow on social media started posting all of these cute projects she'd created...with crochet. First, adorable hats and scarves (which still doesn't resonate with me, since I don't wear either of them), and then even more precious wee stuffed dolls and such...until poof, she thoroughly snagged my attention with her rendition of...Baby Yoda.

Even though I still couldn't quite envision what my purpose was going to be for applying this technique, I was ready to give it a shot. (It did occur to me that perhaps I could make little beanies for newborns, and donate them to local hospitals...which actually fulfills a couple of items on my List, so...we shall see...) The next step, at least in my case, was to find and sign up for a workshop of some kind, to get the basics actually shown to me by a live person, in an interactive format. (I'm not sure if it's due to my age or just my personality, but I'm not someone who prefers watching tutorial videos online. Sure, I'll look up stuff if I need to problem-solve or whatever, but not to master something for the first time. For that, I like my instruction to be hands-on...ha! Sorry...)

It turns out that Michael's offers such sessions (no big surprise), so even though the nearest one was in the capital, I considered that "close enough for jazz". (As Husband always says, probably based on the Van Morrison song...which yes, I DID just have to look up. The things you never thought to question about someone you've known for 25 years...until you use them in a blogpost. Sheesh!) Thus I registered for the class, and dutifully purchased my recommended supplies. (Yay! Bonus field trip to craft heaven!)

Playing around at home

On the day of the big event, I headed over to the neighborhood (that would be Northwest Raleigh, for those curious) a bit early to scope it out, since it was new territory for me. And I discovered that Brier Creek is the most fabulous shopping center that I never knew about, just over 30 minutes away--and filed that for future reference. (See? Even more knowledge gained. I'm telling ya, it was an educational day, y'all!) When I showed up at the designated time, there was only one other student, which made for a cozy group. This ended up being super-helpful, since I had an inordinate amount of difficulty grasping the very first stitch the teacher showed us!

Seriously, for about a half-hour, I was frustrated enough to wonder if this was even worth it, if I simply lacked the aptitude to pick it up, if I should quit, excuse myself, and slink out in disgrace. (In such an up-close-and-personal setup this obviously would have been difficult to do without making a scene, but it's a testament to how annoyed I was that I considered it.) Fortunately, it eventually did click, and I was at least able to string together a series of the most basic stitches. Whoo hoo!

I mean, I'm not saying they were particularly pretty, or demonstrated flawless execution, or anything, but let's be honest: the bar was verrrry low at this point in the game. From there (after I think both the instructor and I breathed a shared sigh of relief) we moved on to single crochet and double crochet, both of which I was able to accomplish (again, at the Pass/Fail level) with supervision. (See photo above for the finished...product? I TOLD you it's not that attractive...or neat...or on its way to being much of anything at all. This is one of those times we must remember: baby steps, my friends...)

Making great chains! And nothing else yet...

Regardless of how hard I'd had to labor to wrangle my yarn into that one small accomplishment, when the 2 hours were up I left with a sense of pride and yes, excitement to practice, improve, and create something recognizable and even--dare I hope--useful. Therefore it felt like a success that I could build on by working on it in my free time, which was the original intent, right? So, in order to try and cement some of the lesson in my brain and fingers, I went home and attempted to replicate what I'd been taught...with mixed results. Clearly I proved I can whip off chains of those first building block stitches...which can't actually become anything without the other 2 more advanced add-ons...that I was unable to demonstrate on my own.

Siiighhh...but honestly, that's kind of what I expected. I imagined I'd have to seek out other resources to continue to progress, because let's face it, a couple of hours one time isn't likely to be enough to just run with a new skill...unless you're some kind of prodigy, which we've already established that I'm most definitely NOT. But having completed this introductory step, I now have other options available to me, such as the aforementioned YouTube, but also playdates with pals who also partake in the yarn arts, and local meetups with other crochet groups--all of which might be able to show me again how to do those pesky stitches I'm struggling with, and nudge me along when I inevitably get stuck.

So, yeah...in terms of how this fits into the Big Picture for 2020...let's say, at the moment I foresee an undetermined end...and a winding path...and no expectations about the outcome, but just enjoyment of the journey. Yep, sounds about right for the new year--okay, let's do this thing!