A rare solo sojourn

After several months of…either “the new normal” or “freakishly altered reality”, depending on how you choose to look at it…I remain both grateful that so far our clan has been spared from personal contact with the dreadful virus, and committed to keeping up the necessary precautions to help quash the threat. Overall, we’ve adjusted our lives as necessary, and are managing fairly well. That being said, the one thing that’s had me feeling somewhat…unsettled…lately—maybe coinciding with the arrival of Summer?—is a growing restlessness, a resurgence of my innate wanderlust, culminating in an intense longing to just…GO…somewhere.

Of course, this is not novel in any sense; it does happen to me on a regular basis. It’s just that in these times, the ability to scratch the itch, if you will, has taken on heretofore unknown layers of complexity, since we’re unable to simply pick up and gallivant away on a whim, without stopping to consider the required health and safety preparations, the potential for social distancing, and even whether things will be open for exploring. And to think, in halcyon Days of Yore (um…that would be ”pre-March 2020”) the weightiest decisions I faced were probably something along the lines of “How many snacks should I bring” and “Is there a coffee stop on the way”! Siiighhh….

Now it’s obviously more like “Did I remember a clean mask?”, “Is my hand sanitizer full?”, and “Are there things to see and do outside, and enough room to stay the heck away from other people?” (I mean, along with the food and java concerns—that goes without saying, right?) Thus I’ve been focusing my attention recently on hiking-type excursions, where I can tromp around in the Great Outdoors to my heart’s content, with a very low risk of…infectious repercussions.

But sometimes I just want to, I don’t know…learn something? Appreciate an urban view, rather than rocks and trees and whatnot? Plus, with cultural establishments and the like mostly still (understandably) shuttered, I found myself struggling to figure out something different and amusing to achieve my field trip fix. Oh, and did I forget to mention that every so often, usually without advance warning, I just yearn to hop in the car and DRIVE--which can be soothing in and of itself, but pleases me even more when I have an actual “destination” at the proverbial end of the road.

So with no clear target in mind, I consulted the Research Department (yeah: Google) to compile some viable options. Without digging too deeply for a quick jaunt, I came up with: Smithfield, a tiny burg about 60 miles southeast of Chapel Hill, boasting a “historic downtown” and also a “riverwalk”. Let’s see…the possibility of interesting architecture…the chance to be educated about a place that’s been around since the 1700s…and the opportunity to stroll along a body of water (something else I’ve been missing, incidentally)…SOLD!

I’ve gotta admit, although I didn’t think about this ahead of time, part of the fun for this adventure ended up being reestablishing my travel routine-- packing non-perishable eats and plenty of fluids; outfitting myself in light athletic gear and my sturdy trekking sneakers; grabbing my camera, sunscreen, and hat; and in this case printing the relevant maps, since I wouldn’t be able to snag them from the shuttered Visitor’s Center during a pandemic.

All of that felt comfortable and satisfying, to be sure. But what I couldn’t have predicted ahead of time was how palpably I felt my entire psyche r-e-l-a-x-i-n-g, mere minutes after I hit the highway. It was like some immense wad of tension I didn’t even realize I was carrying suddenly unraveled, loosening the pressure in my shoulders and making it easier to breathe. Huh. Who knew?

Anyway, I motored into Smithfield, parked the Subaru, and set out on foot to meander next to the Neuse River. From the direction I started, there wasn’t a whole lot to see, aside from the expected natural splendor, blah blah blah, but it was certainly a pleasant little path. However, it was also rapidly approaching Hades-hot, so I moved on to my next agenda item, which was following the self-guided pedestrian tour to take in some of the notable sights and delve into the area’s past.

One thing I quickly discovered was that the entire county is named after…a Confederate general. (Grits teeth, grimaces, attempts to suppress a frustrated scream, fails…REEEAAAALLLY? Let. It. GO, and pick someone else to commemorate, already! Sheesh…) So yes, there were numerous spots that had significance during the Civil War, as well as a couple of lovely churches, and a tranquil cemetery with headstones from as far back as 1825. (Although it was founded in 1777, earlier markers didn’t survive.) And—believe it or not—an entire museum dedicated to the life of…Ava Gardner, who was born on a farm somewhere in the surrounding countryside. (Of course it was closed…not that I would have needed to experience it, regardless!)

After several hours of happily winding my way through the park and streets, I’d clearly exhausted all the available entertainment in the tiny hamlet, at least for the present. Sweaty, craving some carbonation, and ready to rest my legs, I headed back to my ride, chalked it up to a successful endeavor…and fired up Maps to find the nearest Sheetz (1.3 miles—SCORE!). While this little foray admittedly didn’t rank up with the most exciting getaways I’ve ever planned, it was absolutely what I needed to calm the…nomadic beast? Or what have you… 

Most importantly, it will tide me over until the official Team WestEnders vacay, in a few short weeks. So to sum up: reasonably engaging activity, check. Mental stability restored (at least temporarily), you bet. Crucial peace and quiet, away from the close quarters I’ve been sharing with my beloved fam: YEEEESSSS. All adding up to a very definite WIN/WIN!

Another month bites the dust...

So, is it just me, or does it feel like we’re ending June on more of a whimper than a bang this year? Creeping toward Independence Day with stealth—like “Hey, COVID, nothing to see here, why don’t you just keep on going and leave me alone”—rather than, you know, fireworks and barbeques and pool parties and whatnot. On the bright side, it does mean that we’ve made it through another month of the pandemic, so I’m incredibly grateful for that…even if many things are still…weird.

For example, routine tasks like, say, seeing a medical professional have taken on a whole new set of rules and procedures in Corona-times. Let’s use Derek’s latest visit to illustrate. I scheduled a time for his annual physical, at which point the staff asked me the standard list of questions we’ve come to expect, about your current health, recently completed travel, known instances of possible exposure to the virus, or any red-flag symptoms you might be experiencing. (Then, because he’s over 18, they informed us they’d be contacting him the day before his appointment to go over the precautions again, just in case anything had changed.)

When we arrived for his checkup, a sign on the door of the building instructed us to call the front desk and let them know we were there. We were told to wait outside until someone called us back to indicate they were ready for us. Given the all-clear, we proceeded through the empty lobby (home to several other practices that appeared deserted), up the stairs, and into the office, where we were greeted by a thermometer-wielding nurse before being allowed to seat ourselves (gingerly, on the just-disinfected furniture).

I’m telling ya, the whole thing was pretty…surreal…including the fact that, for the first time since he was BORN, I didn’t even lay eyes on the doctor the entire time, much less get to have a conversation. (Granted, Derek is technically an adult and still going to his pediatrician, so there’s that. I did offer a long time ago to let him change, but he’s comfortable with what he knows—and who am I to shake up his world…especially now? Yeah, we’ve all got quite enough to be dealing with, I think…)

Meanwhile, in other areas of “trying to maintain a semblance of normal”, Riley recently decided that he’d like to join the cross-country squad for his final year in High School. Along with his obvious passion for running, last year was the first time he wasn’t on some kind of team, and I think he missed that to a certain degree. Although the academic term just ended a few weeks ago, this is about the time that Fall sports would authorize athletes to begin unofficial (on-your-own, without formal coaching) training.

So Riley’s been meeting a small gang of other guys for daily workouts, focusing on adapting to the double-edged sword that is heat/humidity, and building speed and stamina for eventually racing on the wooded course. We’re going to have to keep our fingers crossed, though, because like with all things in this plague-clouded period, restrictions on group sizes and gatherings could force the coaches to limit the number of participants, which would mean cuts on a team that usually accepts all comers, regardless of quickness or ability. Nothing we can do, so Riley will keep plugging away, and the rest of us are just gonna make sacrifices to the…sprinting gods, or what have you…and keep hoping for the best…

And catching up with the Department of Cancelled…Stuff, the short-lived second version of Team WestEnders’ vacation 2020 had to be scrapped, when the universities we’d hoped to tour all pretty much said, “Please stay away. Don’t step foot on our campus. No, we’re not kidding, ‘kaythanksbye.” This of course left us scrambling once more for yet another excursion, to avoid breaking our streak of family getaways. (Also, can you tell we’re hella restless? Yeeeahhhh…)

Thus we conferred amongst ourselves (the renowned Travel Committee), and concocted a Plan C, but honestly I’m not inclined to mention it ahead of time because I’m feeling incredibly superstitious right now and don’t want to risk jinxing it. (I swear, it’s a thing! For real!) So let’s just leave it at this: road trip, slightly westward, lots of hiking. Oh, and FINGERS CROSSED!

Finally, the boys and I had an actual retail encounter last week. You see, now that NC has been partially reopened for a while, it seemed safe enough to venture to the outlet mall where we usually get the boys’ sneakers. We brought masks, of course, and planned to stop by only the (2) stores where they know they’ll find what they prefer. Sounds like no big deal, right? WELL…first of all, I was horrified by the number of people wandering around without any kind of face covering whatsoever. And also, social distancing just…didn’t seem to be a thing that anyone was particularly invested in or concerned about.

Mind you, this was in the next county over--and while I'm not throwing them under the bus, or anything--I believe from my own observation that citizens in our more immediate area ARE for the most part following the guidelines and being safe. Having seen this for myself, however, it came as no surprise when the governor announced that we’d be remaining in Phase 2 for at least several more weeks. (Um, we’re not meeting ANY metrics for improvement. Like, Not. At. All. Science, dude…I’m so glad our fearless state leader trusts it and is holding his ground…) Bonus: having accomplished this trip, the guys won’t need any more footwear for some time, so whew, we’re done with THAT!

As for me, I’ll stick to much less scary jaunts to ye olde grocery store and Target-- places where they’ve demonstrated that they have the whole situation reasonably under control, and one can feel secure whilst procuring one’s food and household necessities…and…ahem…Starbucks. (It…um…helps with the shopping! Or it’s my reward for braving the fray, whatever…) And there you have it…sailing on toward July…and the latter half of 2020…gulp! Speaking of treating ourselves during this difficult time, at least we can face the next part of this ridiculous year with fruity frozen drinks and a good book outside on the deck—cheers!

Well, the calendar says it's Summer, so...

Ah, June…wait, it IS still June, yeah? Oh right, it must be, because we just marked the Summer Solstice this past week. Although I’ve gotta say: how meaningless is THAT designation in 2020? Don’t get me wrong, I looooove me some extra daylight to get outside and appreciate nature, but seriously, “longest day of the year”—ha! Get in line, 6/20, ‘cuz you’ve got some stiff competition…like EVERY OTHER DAY SINCE MID-MARCH, for crying out loud. Sheesh…

Okay, breezing past my mini-tantrum to the actual, you know, “updates” and whatnot. First, another calendar milestone passed with barely a blip on our collective radar. Not that it wasn’t special or that we didn’t care—but Riley’s last day of 11^th grade almost escaped our notice because, well, he’s been home for months, handling his academic load completely independently, and frankly, had already finished up all of his assignments weeks ahead of time. So yeah…adios, Junior year…hola, High School Senior. (Pause: GAH! Continue…)

As for Derek, the biggest change to his daily life came when he started a new job. After a somewhat…let’s call it a “tepid search”…he ended up accepting the only offer he received, sorting packages at a warehouse for one of the big nationwide shipping companies. This was all well and good…except that they wanted him for the (brace yourself) 10-2 slot…as in p.m. to “oh good heavens are you kidding me, that’s the middle of the night”. Needless to say, he and I discussed this in-depth, because I wanted to be as sure as possible that he thought it through completely and understood the potential pitfalls inherent in keeping such a schedule for an extended period of time.

Specifically, I stressed that sabotaging your natural circadian rhythms can in turn mess with some of the things that are most important to my son…namely “eating” (approximately 5 times a day) and “sleeping” (the boy does thrive on his 10 hours per night!). Of course, with the brimming confidence—and boundless energy--of the young, he assured me he’d be able to handle it. And then he actually went to work…and discovered that the 4-hour stint he’d signed up for was the norm in the era before COVID. Now, however, with people doing so much more of their shopping via the Internet, the facility is being absolutely overrun with orders, such that his crew (and presumably all the other ones as well) are having to stay much longer than planned, in an attempt to keep up with the volume.

And that’s why he’s been getting off (only when a supervisor releases him to leave) at more like 3:30 (UGH!), and crawling into bed (after driving home, showering, and scarfing a snack) around…5 a.m. (YIKES!) It’s…it’s just…NOT GOOD, y’all. Obviously we let him slumber as late as he wants, but after a week of this, he’s understandably exhausted, and coming up against exactly what I warned him about, with both his appetite and his fitness routines getting screwed up along with his rest. So, we’ll just have to see how long he’s able to keep this up…and hope that his bank account gets the nice fat boost that it needs from his first and (hopefully only) experience with the dreaded Graveyard Shift.

Next...hmm…business continued as usual for Husband, but he did get to try out the expanded version of our library’s curbside pickup service, to get some fresh reading material. Fortunately, he snagged my reserved novel as well, since the one time I’d tried to navigate the system, I encountered a line of cars backed up all the way down the lengthy driveway--and not perceptibly moving. I think we can all agree that I do NOT possess the patience required to wait out that kind of situation, so I U-turned and hightailed it out of there. (On the other hand, he reported that it was quick and easy-peasy when he went, so I guess it’s just a game of chance as to what day and/or time you show up? We shall see…)

He was also able to make an appointment to swim laps at the local YMCA where he’s a member. Apparently they’re booking every other lane in half-hour sessions, to enforce social distancing but let you get your, I don’t know….pool fix? All told, this probably represents more out-of-the-house time in the span of one week than he’s had in quite a while, so he must have been itching to go roam the Great Outdoors!

Finally, my big excitement for the week involved my bootcamp group. You see, they’ve been holding virtual meetings since April…but I honestly haven’t been attending, because the idea of working out via Skype—which I know many folks do in their regular lives, regardless of quarantine restrictions—does not, as they say, “spark joy” for me, personally.

BUT it was my turn to host the sweatfest, so I put together a Tabata-style thing (first testing it out on myself to see how I liked it, and then making modifications…because even with my leisure time, I’m evidently an irredeemable Type-A). Next I reviewed the instructions provided by our Fearless Leader (who’s on maternity leave with her precious baby girl—yaaay!!), created the event, emailed a reminder to members, posted in Facebook the night before….and even after following the list of directions, still stressed about whether I’d done everything correctly or forgotten anything crucial. (I mean, doesn’t my brain seem like a delight? Siiiigh….) 

Anyway, early in the morning of our online get-together I scurried about in the driveway, arranging my “tools”—exercise mat, a stool upon which to rest my laptop, and my phone for the timer. I fiddled with the camera until it was in the right position, tested the audio from my speakers, verified that I understood how to initiate the call…and having finished the preparations, commenced anxiously pacing until my health-buddies started joining. Whew--success! Then I was able to relax and happily lunge/squat/plank/crunch/pushup/etc. with my peeps. I can only imagine that, to the neighbors—and all the many walkers, runners, and bikers that passed my house during this half-hour circus—I must have appeared a bit…silly?...leaping around next to my garage and conversing with invisible friends on a screen.

Nevertheless, I found it an immensely satisfying interlude, in spite of the SUPER-HIGH FREAKING HUMIDITY--but the true reward, of course, (besides improving strength and cardiovascular ability, blah blah blah) came afterwards, when we continued on to the coffee chat portion of our activity. Personal training out of the way first thing in the morning…followed by java and catching up with pals? The very definition of a WIN/WIN, I tell ya…

And…there you have it: another week down, with everyone in Casa WestEnders so far managing to avoid the monster virus and maintain their sanity as best we can. Now whattya say we get out there—perhaps with one of those carefully selected books…and some ice cream to combat the swelter--and bask in those sunny Summer hours, while they last…whoo hoo!

"I believe in the church of baseball..."

In 1988, arguably the best baseball movie of all time hit theaters, and an instant classic was born. Of course I’m referring to Bull Durham (and this is not a review, so while you’re welcome to disagree, we’re not going to debate the brilliance of the film for the purposes of this post). Now, some people (ME, I’m talking about me…) might have loved it so much that they saw it on multiple separate occasions, until they could possibly quote large chunks of dialogue along with the characters while watching (to the delight—um “incredible annoyance”—of their viewing companions. Hypothetically…)

Furthermore, for some of us the allure of the fictional team on the big screen was further enhanced by the fact that we knew the Durham Bulls—and their iconic stadium--actually existed in real life. And for my family in particular, the thrill ran even deeper, since the genuine Bulls played at that time in the Single-A Carolina League, which also included our own hometown Frederick Keys. Finally, as if that weren’t enough to cause fangirl palpitations, Durham, North Carolina is only a couple hours’ drive from where I grew up, so…take my well-documented passion for exploring, mix it up with America’s pastime, and throw in (ha! sorry…) the potential for a sister road-trip. Is it any wonder the idea of a…Minor League Pilgrimage…took shape? 

That’s how, in the early ‘90s, two intrepid young women crafted their own version of a barnstorming Tour of the South, visiting the Lynchburg Red Sox and the Salem Buccaneers to go along with the aforementioned celebrity squad. Our mission took on somewhat of an urgent tone when we discovered that the storied DAP (Durham Athletic Park, which provided the cinematic backdrop for the movie ) was scheduled to be replaced by a swanky new facility, designed to draw a AAA-level Major League affiliate.

Thus we set out brimming with excitement and anticipation about setting foot in such a historic building and witnessing the Durham Bulls on their fabled field. And honestly, the whole adventure struck me as somewhat surreal—from the moment we drove up to the gates and gasped in awe as we recognized the surroundings from their motion picture fame, to taking our seats reverentially in the stands, to gazing appreciatively out at the famous scoreboard and painted bull who sternly overlooks the outfield wall. It was….a LOT of feelings, y’all.

Whew! Okay, fast forward to the present, when Team WestEnders nowadays actually resides oh, about 13.7 miles (nope, that’s exact, I looked it up…) from the sparkling DBAP (Durham Bulls Athletic Park)—gorgeous home of the AAA Tampa Bay Rays. Since moving to Chapel Hill almost 6 years ago, we’ve attended plenty of games, which are always wildly entertaining and thoroughly worth the effort.

But…folks…it was only LAST WEEK that I picked up on social media that…not only does the DAP STILL STAND…but it’s currently utilized by both a local university and High School for their home contests. I mean…I can’t…even…HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS? I guess I assumed they’d torn it down, but it never even occurred to me to check. So naturally, once I’d somewhat recovered from my shock and remorse at having missed this very important bit of information, I felt a profound sense of calling to go pay homage to it in person.

Fortunately it was a far shorter trip than the first time, all those years ago (16.7 miles, if you’re curious). Not having a clue as to where the heck I was going, I followed the GPS’s guidance to wind my way through the streets of Durham, noting as I did so the interesting combination of glittery skyscrapers, modern apartment structures, and eclectic small businesses that had—I’m assuming slowly, over time—grown up into a quirky, appealing neighborhood surrounding the park.

And then, suddenly, there it was, in all its gracefully-aged glory. Seriously, it has clearly been carefully and lovingly maintained; in fact, it looked just as I remember it…except soooo much smaller! Right off the bat (ha! sorry…eh, not really…) I was astonished to see that there were even uniformed players inside the fence, warming up for a game. But it was a super-bummer that fans (or, you know, spying tourists) weren’t allowed inside, due to the stupid COVID. And while I totally get that, in light of the social distancing restrictions and whatnot…I’m also 100% willing to come back and pay for a ticket to an NC Central vs…whoever…matchup, to wander around the venue one more time and complete my full Walk Down Memory Lane! 

As it was, I traced a few circles around the perimeter, snapping photos, drinking in the atmosphere, and reveling in nostalgia. It truly is a little gem of a ballpark, and I’m inordinately pleased that not only did the city decide not to demolish it, but also that another generation of baseball enthusiasts is getting to experience its unique charms. During my stroll, the timeless words of Crash Davis sprang to mind, “I’m just happy to be here. Hope I can help the ball club…I just want to give it my best shot, and the good Lord willing, things will work out.” 

This rings true for the DAP, where in its presence you get the sense that the baseball gods are looking out for one of their favorite places. So let’s hear it for an OG field of dreams--long may she provide a playground for athletes to “…throw the ball…hit the ball…catch the ball”…but hopefully not to be lollygaggers!

WestEnders Digest, Early June 2020

I’m going to kick off this week’s collection of random, unrelated, wandering thoughts (consider yourself warned) by sharing a couple of facts that are currently blowing my mind:

1. We’re only about 2 weeks away from the Summer solstice, and with it the official kickoff to the traditional season of fun and frolicking…sometimes including (now bear with me here) traveling and exploring other places! Remember that? Ah, those were the days, amiright? But seriously, is anyone else having difficulty remembering this year’s Spring? Did…did I miss it? And I couldn’t even say for sure that Winter happened at all, to be honest. Yeah, I know it was warmer than average, blah blah blah…but it’s also…a complete blur.

2. And while we’re on the subject, do you realize that at the end of this month we’ll be halfway through this godforsaken year? What. The. WHAT? I guess time flies when you’re…staying home and doing everything within your power to avoid an evil, deadly virus? All I can say is, let’s hope the next part of #$%@ 2020 represents a significant improvement over what’s been dealt so far.

And now, shifting gears to what’s actually been going on around here. (Spoiler alert: not that much, for obvious reasons!) First of all, the WestEnders’ celebration span continued with Husband’s birthday. Fortunately, he’s a man of simple tastes, so for his “special restaurant meal” he requested…takeout from Chipotle. Since the rest of us are fans as well, DONE.

Then there’s the small matter of gifts. The boys and I did our due diligence and asked him—on several separate occasions, mind you—what he might like. Each time our query was met with a classic “deer in the headlights” expression, and a stammered reply, something along the lines of, “Uh, well, I don’t know! I don’t really need anything!” Alrighty, then…I did manage to come up with an idea…but I confess it was only because I was thinking about the item for myself, and realized he might appreciate it as well. (A set of sheets made from some supposedly magical cooling material, to help keep one comfortable. He’s a notorious heat-producing organism who struggles nightly to regulate his temperature and sleep soundly, so this seemed like a no-brainer for sure.)

His beloved children, however…had other plans. You see, they took it upon themselves to scour Amazon for something that they deemed both hilarious, and utterly useless, to present to their father. Aaannd they came up with…the stuffed marlin pictured here. Why? I don’t know what to tell ya, folks…except that this is what happens when you have time on your hands, funds at your disposal, access to the Internet, and a goofy sense of humor. 

Husband was understandably…perplexed…by his odd package…and even more so by the accompanying sentiments they shared in their card. The first inscription involves an old inside joke that would be far too complicated (and absurd) to relay. But the second reads: “Birthdays are very cool; We forgot to bake a cake; Here is twenty cents”. Because for reasons known only to the two of them, they’re super into writing haikus whenever they’re asked to sign anything at the moment. Oh yeah, and let’s not forget that they’re 100% RIDICULOUS. (Also, I just re-counted and the first line has too many syllables, so: double dorkasauruses!)

Since we’ve moved into talking about them anyway, the other big event of this past week involved long-anticipated, much-needed haircuts for the two shaggy boys. As you can imagine, given the recent reopening of salon-type places, they had to work a bit harder than they normally do to achieve this goal. To wit: it took them 3 attempts before they were able to actually get into a chair and under a stylist’s scissors, due to extensive wait times caused by many other people wanting the same thing. After they returned home twice without having been shorn, they were determined to do whatever it took to close the deal…which turned out to be nothing more than patience and a willingness to stick it out. 

I also want to state for the record that I offered to—just this once, given the unusual circumstances—arrange actual appointments for them at a nicer establishment than they generally frequent, and even pay for it. This was greeted with a shrug and, “Eh, that’s okay. I don’t want to put that much effort into my hair” from Derek. And an emphatic, “ABSOLUTELY NOT” almost before I got the words out, from Riley. (Which when you think about it, is very on-brand, for both of them…) Anyway, they’re all nice and cleaned up for now—and hopefully the public health situation will continue to improve, so that by the next time they’re overgrown, the whole thing will be much easier!

And finally, my typical routine of the past week was broken up by donating blood at the Red Cross’s drive on UNC’s campus. It was a strange reason to visit the Dean Dome, but at least there were plenty of banners to read while I lounged on the table! Everything went smoothly, although I did wonder if the nurse who took my vitals recorded my blood pressure correctly—I know what the numbers are supposed to sound like, and the ones she told me were somewhat on the low side. 

This didn’t cause anything but a “Huh, that’s interesting” at the time…until for the next several DAYS I felt especially tired, a little lightheaded, and periodically dizzy. Sooo…now I’m thinking that this whole “giving away vital fluids for a good cause” might have to be an only-once-in-a-while thing for me! Eh, I never fainted (before, during, or after) and I got a cool shirt, so we’ll call it a win, yeah?

So there you have it, our household’s most noteworthy nonsense of the first week of June, 2020. Looking forward to enjoying long sunny days, yummy fruits and veggies, refreshing iced tea--and maybe, just maybe, planning a trip, to get the HECK OUT OF DODGE for a while? Time will tell…fingers *definitely* crossed!

Bringing tropical dreams to life (in a manner of speaking...)

Sometime during the past Winter—even before the COVID-19 crisis erupted and trapped us all in our houses—I reached the conclusion that I needed a hobby of some kind. I had trouble figuring out just what that would entail, however, due to several factors. First of all, I am not blessed with any artistic talent. Whatsoever. Secondly, I don’t have the desire to make…stuff…just for the sake of occupying my time. In other words, unless I could identify a way to turn it into at least a marginally productive endeavor (like my friend who crochets absolutely adorable wee critter-themed hats for babies!) I wasn’t interested. All of this to say: I was stuck without a brilliant idea.

And then the stupid Coronavirus happened, and all of that went right out the window as I changed my standards to “I want something to focus on besides the current state of the world, that might bring me a smidgen of joy during these dark times.” Now, here’s where my memory gets a bit fuzzy, because I don’t honestly recall HOW I settled on the project I chose. Did I begin perusing craft websites first for inspiration? Or did the idea of painting occur to me out of the blue for some reason? 

We’ll probably never know, friends. But—given the aforementioned “extreme lack of intrinsic ability”--I very realistically chose to attempt a format that A) wouldn’t tax my meager skills; B) would require a fair amount of time and attention to complete; and C) would hopefully result in an attractive final product. In short, a paint-by-numbers kit seemed the perfect outlet for my unfulfilled, pandemic-fueled creative urges.

Thus I found myself scrolling through the available offerings, looking for something at the intersection of doable and not too frustrating. Fortunately, there were ratings, so I quickly filtered out anything not classified as “Easy”, which considerably narrowed the field. After that it didn’t take long at all to settle on a beachy landscape, since that pretty much encapsulates my notion of a Happy Place.

When my purchase arrived on the doorstep, I eagerly dug into the box, admiring the array of colors (Twenty. Five.), the delicate brushes, the enticing blank canvas just begging me to apply the vibrant tints. And then I leaned down and peered more closely…at the practically invisible numbers…printed inside the oh-so-faint lines…all crowded together in a dizzying hodgepodge of “What the HELL have I gotten myself into with this?” I mean, the very first thing I had to do before even dunking a brush one of the pigments was to pull out a magnifying glass so I had even a snowball’s chance of putting things in the (reasonably) right place, and/or staying (more or less) within the boundaries. 

And then, after I took a moment to snort in disbelief, and marvel at the ridiculous enterprise ahead of me (“Easy” my you-know-what, MICHAEL…), I gave it my best “Eh, whattya gonna do?” shrug, picked a spot to start, and dove into the fray. Now, given my well-documented penchant for order and organization, it should come as no surprise that my eyes immediately gravitated first toward the top left corner, an obvious choice for where to kick off all the art-making…hoopla and whatnot.

As it turned out, this proved to be an auspicious decision, because I quickly recognized just how…demanding…and challenging…my new leisure-time undertaking would be. The process became clear very early on: employ magnifier to check the minuscule markings, dip the tiniest brush, and ever-so-carefully dab the canvas—doing my best to respect the separation of sections and not obscure parts that should receive another shade entirely.

Although I realize that it sounds…tedious…I was astonished at how, each time I sat down to tackle another part, I found it both intensely absorbing… and yet somehow soothing as well. And I wish now that I’d clocked just how much actual time I spent working on it, because I also noticed that literally HOURS would pass while I was deep in the throes of indulging my super-secret…inner Monet…or what have you.

As the sessions piled up—because I discovered that I wanted to return to it every day—I also was struck by a few revelations of a personal nature…such as the fact that this particular activity caused some facets of my character to clash with one another. For example, my overriding impatience and constant desire to “hurry up” vs. being forced by the nature of the task to slow down, get into a groove, and take my time. Or having to accept, make peace with—and eventually even learn to embrace—imperfection as an intrinsic part of something like this…all of which flies in the face of one of the hallmarks of my personality…that would be the deeply ingrained Type-A tendencies that typically rule my life, for better or worse. “Do your best, fix mistakes if possible, then let it go and move on” became my mantra…at least temporarily. (No promises on whether I can make it stick long-term, but I’ll give it a shot!)

So, all of this brings up the question: did this experimental foray into an uncharted pastime unlock fresh depths of heretofore unknown patience and perseverance--or was I just too dang pigheaded to allow myself to give up? Eh, maybe a touch of both? All I can tell you for sure is that I took soooo much pride in seeing the progress as areas got filled in and the picture took shape, even though I was literally rendering someone else’s vision, with the help of pre-selected colors!

Overall, I found my initiation into the paint-by-number realm to be eminently satisfying…if also a tad grueling! Yet the eyestrain and neck kinks paled in comparison to the feeling when my efforts matched up to the printed picture of what the finished scene was supposed to look like. And even in the brief moments when it felt like a grind to keep plugging away at a particularly fussy part… I couldn’t have predicted how much I would enjoy it.

To sum up: taking something sort of chaotic and transforming it into an object of beauty, neatness, and perhaps most of all, joyful hues proved to be its own intoxicating reward! Hmm, note to self when searching for future entertainment of this nature: seek the rainbow! (Whatever that means…to be determined…look out, Michael, I’m coming back for you!)

Away with May (yay?)

So, Memorial Day has arrived, and…wait, what? Well %#$@, there’s another month gone in Coronayear. Anyway, at least the world didn’t actually end when NC lifted restrictions on 5/8, so there’s that. Then after 2 weeks of apparently meeting enough criteria to consider it moderately successful, this past Friday we moved to Phase 2, with businesses such as restaurants, salons, non-essential retail, and…tattoo parlors being allowed to operate at 50% capacity. (And not a moment too soon, as you all know I’ve been desperately waiting for the moment I could rush out and get some ink! Stop laughing—it could happen! Yeah, you’re right: maybe in another lifetime…)

Aaand within 24-hours the state health department reported the highest number of single-day positive tests since this whole thing began, so we’ll have to see how this goes. (I realize that part of this is due to more people being screened, which represents a step in the right direction, blah blah blah…I’m still not rushing out to…gallivant in public…just yet…) 

Meanwhile, here at Casa WestEnders, the crew has been carrying on, fortunately safe and well. In probably the biggest news of the week, Riley finished the last of his (four!) AP exams, and with that, effectively wrapped up his academic year. Because the remote learning situation forced the assessments to take place online at home, Riley thoughtfully posted signs on his bedroom door to alert the rest of us that he was busy with an important task and shouldn’t be disturbed. Except, you know, for the fact that Derek and I stood in the hallway checking them out and giggling each day--but the way I look at it, he brought that upon himself by being too clever for his own good.

Now all that remains is the one regular class in his schedule, and his teacher is so on top of things that she’s posted the content for the rest of the quarter. Basically, he can tackle it whenever he wants, at which point he’ll be totally done. When that happens, it’ll be “bye bye Junior year…hello, college application season?” Ay yi yi…at least we have a Summer hiatus before all those…shenanigans! 

And speaking of intellectual pursuits of a sort, while we’ve always been a family of bibliophiles, (yeah, I just like that word. So what?) with extra time on our hands during the Stay at Home period, we’ve turned to books even more, both for entertainment and to help pass the time. The only glitch in this scenario is that, of course, the libraries aren’t open for browsing or borrowing materials in person. Lucky for me, I’ve been able to snag a couple of titles on my Kindle, both through the ebook catalog and Amazon lending policy, but everyone else has kind of been scrounging for stuff to get them through, until we can happily peruse the aisles in one of our favorite local buildings once more.

As a result, in the interim I’ve probably purchased more actual novels in 2 months than I have in the past, oh, at least 5 years or so. Honestly, it’s become almost a problem behavior—I pass by the literature section in Target, spot something recommended by a favorite author, and impulsively toss it in my shopping bag. Or, a blogger I follow on social media helpfully reminds her audience that the prequel to The Hunger Games is coming out…and mentions that if you order it from [this website], some proceeds will go to support the independent bookstore she’s opening soon in her hometown. Click, done! Then there’s a trio of writers whose work I’ve appreciated in the past, who each provided a novella for a collection, and who one day announced on Twitter that signed copies were on sale at this [small publishing company] for a limited time. Ahem…add to cart, enter payment information: GIMME! But…it’s okay, I can stop at any time, I promise! (I’ll let you know if I need an intervention…)

Oh, and the point of all this--before I went off on a meandering tangent--is that one day Derek was lamenting not having anything to read, so I began passionately trying to sell him on one of my absolute most-beloved series from recent years. I described how the author weaves an intricate storyline, creates imaginative settings, and fills her pages with fascinating characters you can’t help but care about—whether you love or hate them. I concluded my enthusiastic spiel with what I thought would be an utterly irresistible hook: “And besides, it features on of my favorite warlocks of all time!” Which stopped the conversation dead as he threw up a “whoa” hand and commented, “I’m gonna stop you right there…that has to be one of the nerdiest things you’ve EVER said.” (Eh, I own that. Incidentally, he’s in the middle of Book 1, and reports that he’s enjoying it so far, so I feel like I rest my case. Also, I won…) 

In further evidence of living up to the aforementioned label, I may as well go ahead and confess that for Mother’s Day, I asked for one thing: a crossword puzzle book. I was very transparent with the Male Trio, to avoid confusion or mis-ordering: NY Times is too hard; USA Today is too easy; Washington Post Sunday is juuussst about right. (I also answer to “Goldilocks” on occasion…) And whattya know, they nailed it. One down, 149 to go…and I didn’t even have to peek at the answer key. So to sum up: amusing myself while keeping my brain from atrophying during the pandemic means COVID 0, Johna 1. (Ha! Take that, stupid virus…)

Next, we move along to the Goofball Brothers, who luckily have been a pretty reliable source of laughter while we’re all stuck in the house together. For example, one morning last week Derek blearily emerged from his bedroom and bumped into his sibling, who immediately began to make fun of him for his late rising, his disheveled appearance, his general lack of purpose in life, whatever. Derek of course grinned and took all of this good-naturedly, but after he’d woken up enough to fight back, he jokingly demanded that Riley go away…and make him breakfast.

Specifically, he requested waffles (the frozen kind, ‘cuz let’s not get all crazy here)…with fresh berries. Well…you send your younger brother, who’s just left off mercilessly mocking you, by the way—downstairs to the kitchen to prepare you a meal, with no oversight whatsoever…what could possibly go wrong?

Now, Derek doesn’t always--how can I put this delicately--“think things through”, until after he’s said (or done) them. So as Riley gave him a sly smile and trooped off to (maybe?) comply with his wishes, Derek’s mental process caught up with him, causing him to suddenly yelp and call, “Um…please toast them?” Yes, he was just starting to recognize the many, many ways this could turn into an unmitigated disaster. Yet when he joined us at the table a few minutes later and cautiously inspected his plate, he discovered…a lovely serving of multigrain waffles, topped with syrup and artistically covered with sliced strawberries. It was only after he’d taken a bite that Riley admitted his one unauthorized modification: apparently he’d added a drizzle of my honey underneath the fruit (which doesn’t sound bad to me, but prompted Derek to throw a faux tantrum--probably the intended goal, frankly…).

And finally, even though hair styling places are now permitted to welcome clients back, I personally am in no hurry to book an appointment. That being said…my bangs were sooo out of control that something needed to be done. Thus I brushed off my trusty scissors, tried to remember what my stylist showed me months ago when I told her I sometimes cut my own fringe, held my breath…and snipped. 

And you know what? For an emergency, temporary job, it’ll do. It buys me about a month before they start driving me nuts again, so by then, I believe things will have settled down enough for me to feel comfortable going to see a professional. The shaggy boys, on the other hand, are going to brave Great Clips sometime this week before they have to get updated passport photos taken…which will immortalize this pandemic look for the next ten years! So yeah, sending them to those who are trained and know what they’re doing, for sure!

So that wraps another episode of the Evolving Quarantine Gazette, my friends. Let’s all keep our fingers crossed that the coming weeks bring an increase in positive news, as well as continued health and safety to you all. Until then, I plan to carry on with the reading…crosswording…mediating of adolescent nonsense…and perhaps grooming (whenever necessary). Peace out!

Moving forward...with baby steps...

When NC moved to Phase I of the reopening process on May 8th, what promised to be in theory the most heralded--and potentially impactful--event of this past week turned out to be...largely underwhelming in reality. However, it did stir up a host of conflicting emotions, at least for me. One the one hand, it felt long-awaited and much-anticipated after approximately 2-1/2 years of lockdown.* (*Suspects this can't possibly be right...checks calendar to confirm...counts...SIX. WEEKS? Are you freakin' KIDDING me? Holy guacamole, the time/space continuum is all the way messed up right now, yeah? Sorry...back on topic...)

So there was palpable relief at some of the restrictions easing--if only because it implies a shift toward "normal", whatever that may mean (more on that later). However, the announcement also seemed to cause a not insubstantial amount of (understandable and appropriate, in my opinion) nervousness about the possible repercussions to public health and safety.

And what, you may wonder, actually happened when the governor officially modified the Stay-at-Home order? The short answer, for Team WestEnders anyway, turned out to be: not a whole heck of a lot, to be honest. I mean, the only retail outlets I've been frequenting during all this...nonsense...are supermarkets and Target, which were always accessible anyway. And seriously, who needs to buy clothes during a pandemic, amiright? (With the exception of obvious necessities like socks and underwear....which can be obtained online. Because we may be chill on the majority of the rules, but let's not go complete nudist, 'kay? Your colleagues/fam/friends on Zoom are supremely grateful...)

Like many other of my fellow humans, I've leapt wholeheartedly into the "24/7 leisurewear culture" and have no plans to transition back to...um..."dress-up apparel"...until absolutely required (and then, only grudgingly. I've gotten used to being soooo comfortable. Can we just agree that this will remain as part of the "improved 2020"? That'd be AWESOME...)

We did get to celebrate a belated Mother's Day by picking up dinner from one of my favorite local eateries, which as a small independent entity had chosen to shut down entirely for a while during the crisis, until they felt it was worthwhile to resume service. Pretty much as soon as they started cooking again, I was able to fulfill my 2-month craving for their super-yummy nachos, so muchas gracias to Carrburritos for the comida deliciosa!

Next on the To Do List, the only thing that we jumped to take advantage of was the fact that the T-Mobile store was allowed to return to seeing customers, albeit with the updated sanitization and distancing protocols in place. This came at a very fortunate time for us, since we'd been pushing our 2-3/4 year old phones to continue functioning for as long as possible before spending money for upgrades...but the boys' and mine had been growing more and more rebellious, until I'd finally had enough and was ready to make the switch.

Of course, this involved a trip to the actual brick-and-mortar building, so we could meet with a representative in person to discuss our options and facilitate the transfer to the new models. Now...in truth, three of us could have done this remotely, and been completely fine. But Husband...well, let's just lump this in the category of "fears change" (which he freely admits, and is utterly unrepentant about)...so rather than having to be his tech support staff, we dragged him along to talk to an expert. (I even offered him a pass--since he doesn't use his phone nearly as much or as intensely as the rest of us, and he wasn't having any issues with it--but he was afraid of having to go back alone at a later time and pick one by himself. Siiighhh....I almost got away with it....)

So I secured an appointment via their online portal, and at our pre-arranged time, we pulled up to the door, were greeted by a friendly employee...and informed we'd have to wait outside until the people currently being assisted finished up and left. Okay, we get it--until an HOUR later, when we were still hanging out on the sidewalk, and I was ready to raise a ruckus. (Memo to T-Mobile: are you aware of how scheduling works? Because trust me, this is NOT a good example. Signed, Disgruntled Client.)

Frankly, if I'd been there solo, I would have left long before that ridiculous amount of time had passed, but since I had the Male Trio to entertain me, it was bearable. (See "Mask 101, What Not to Do".) It also gave us a chance to address a subject that called for some group input: what to do about our planned Summer getaway. You see, I'd gotten an email from Expedia earlier in the week, letting me know that the carrier had cancelled the flight I booked in January (before the viral apocalypse), and moved us arbitrarily to a much earlier departure (which I had specifically ignored when searching, because, you know, getting up at 5 a.m. to rush to an airport does not put us in our happy zone).

I wasn't thrilled with the alteration, but I noticed (in the wee tiny print below the much more prominent red updates) that due to the global....situation...they were allowing refunds...which NEVER happens. This provided some interesting food for thought, since for once we'd have a zero-penalty escape clause, to reshape our vacation in whatever form felt right during this (I'm gonna say it) unprecedented period.

When I broached the topic with my gang, it came as no surprise that they very quickly expressed a unanimous desire to cancel our original expedition. Because this is how their scientifically-leaning brains operate, they backed up their subjective statements by citing reasonable concerns (that I share, incidentally), such as uncertainty about whether the things we want to see and do will even be open for sightseeing, and "being trapped for multiple hours with hordes of other travelers inside a flying germ box" (I...the token dramatic member of the group...MAY be paraphrasing...).

Thus it was concluded that we'd postpone Arizona for now--but I also asserted that, especially given the stress and anxiety and aggravation and...all the other stuff this year has dumped on us so far--we needed to substitute SOMETHING for our family jaunt. "Even a road trip," I commented encouragingly, "We haven't done one of those in a while!" Riley instantly jumped on this and exclaimed, "College visits! What have I been saying all along?"

Well whattya know...he's not wrong, folks. He'll be a Senior next year (chokes), filling out  applications in a matter of months (gasps), and is considering a couple of schools he wants to either see for the first time, or re-tour now that he's closer to the point where it actually matters to him (Ooh, now we're talking about the FUN part--count me in!). Once the committee--er "family"--put our minds to it, an itinerary formed fairly easily...with obvious question marks such as "exact dates they'll allow prospective students on campus" to be filled in when such information is determined.

But the tentative format will include stops in Greenville (Clemson), Atlanta (Georgia Tech), and Gainesville (University of Florida)...with other cities and/or attractions thrown in along the way to keep us amused as we see fit. Now all we have to do is wait for things to calm down, COVID-wise, so we can get out there and, I don't know, invade the South, or whatever! (Wait--in a totally friendly fashion! You know what I mean...)

And there you have it...even if nothing else happens during this somewhat unsettled Phase I, at least we should have fresh, well-behaved phones...and a get-the-heck-outta-Dodge excursion to look forward to in a few months or so. Yay for....rolling with the punches? Sure...and don't we all deserve a big old cookie for getting to this point? Resilient...and sugared up--now that's what I call a Win/Win!

My circus....my monkeys

For today’s Quarantine Report, I’ve selected a few choice tidbits from the Male Trio’s highlight reel--focusing on some of the preposterous ways they’ve been lightening the mood and dispersing the gloom around here…simply by being their (mostly lovable) goofy selves.

For example, now that the college kid is home from SC and back with us 24/7, Riley has volunteered himself as an...interactive alarm clock, if you will. You see, left to his own devices, and with remote learning mostly being “on your own time”, Derek defaults to getting out of bed somewhere in the neighborhood of 11:30…or so. On the other hand, the high schooler—who typically rises before 6 to commence his first workout of the day--deems this unacceptable behavior which must be fixed...by whatever means necessary.

Thus the following ritual has slowly been honed over the past month, until it’s become the standard by which you can set your watch: no later than 10:45, Riley barrels through his brother’s bedroom door, bellows a greeting (more Drill Sergeant “rise and shine you lazy slug” than friendly “good morning wake-up call”), and flings open the curtains to brighten Derek’s hibernation cave. Oh, and if these measures don’t provoke enough of a response to satisfy him, Riley will even resort to the drastic extra step of yanking off Derek’s covers. So to sum up: he’s startled out of sleep…suddenly chilly…blinded by the unexpected burst of light flooding his space…and insulted, on top of all the other indignities.

Now, you might think being roughly dragged from slumber like this would spark some kind of vicious (and perhaps deserved) retaliation…and in most cases, it probably would. (Ahem…like ME, for instance. If anyone ever tried that s…tuff, consequences would be swift and merciless. Just sayin’…) But Derek…just blinks sleepily, yawns, stretches, and starts talking to his sibling, as though this were a completely natural way to kick off one’s day. (Once again, thank all the stars above for my one super-laid-back child!) Then, once he feels that Derek’s thoroughly roused enough to leave his cozy lair, Riley returns to his own activities and allows him to carry on in peace.

Meanwhile, in my “office”, which happens to be situated right next door to all the… hullabaloo…I glance at the clock and go, “Huh. It’s already that time again? Alrighty, then--seems like a good point to step away from the computer and take a quick coffee break.” I’m telling you, it’s that predictable…and if you really think about it, a public service as well! (Not entirely sure Derek would see it that way, but whatever…)

If I’m being honest, many of the boys’ exchanges these days involve some level of good-natured taunting—even if they don’t usually start out that way. Such as the other day, when they were in the kitchen chatting with one another while Derek foraged for a nosh (every 2 hours, also something you could set your watch by, if you were so inclined). In the middle of the conversation, Derek jokingly lobbed a pretzel rod over to Riley. Since he hadn’t requested this and didn’t want it, Riley gently tossed it back. But rather than just, you know, catching it and either eating it or replacing it in the container, Derek opted to try batting it sideways into the sink instead.

Well…you can only imagine how spectacularly this FAILED…resulting in an impressive explosion of crumbs and shattered pieces that spread and landed all over the floor.

Of course, the dorkasauruses instantly erupted into hysterical laughter. After my initial shock in which I stood paralyzed gaping at the…shrapnel…I marched over, snatched the bin of pretzels away from Derek, firmly replaced the lid, stowed it in the pantry…and ordered him to his room, AFTER he picked up each and every stray bit of food from his mess. (Hey, if you’re gonna impersonate a 4-year old…)

He at least had the grace to hang his head and attempt to appear contrite—although the smirk he couldn’t quite wipe off his face somewhat negated the effect. However, as soon as I turned my back he tried to fake-stealthily sneak a few more, to take upstairs with him during his banishment. When called out, he protested that he needed the…pocket pretzels*…to get him through. (*NOT. A. THING.) I wasn’t going to permit the crumbly snack in his carpeted domicile anyway, but this became an absolute taboo when, as Derek was passing his sibling to make his way to his time-out, Riley shot his hand out to smack him...and in a stunning display of pinpoint accuracy...scored a direct hit on the hidden treats... thereby reducing his not-so-secret stash to powder. (And to top it all off, Husband wandered in after hearing the uproar, settled himself against the counter and brightly inquired, “Ooh, family meeting? Did I miss anything?” Siiiighhhh….Bless. Their. Hearts…)

That brings us to what we’re going to call the Great Breakfast Debate of 2020. For background, 

Derek has been eating Dinosaur Egg oatmeal every morning for years.  (I know, I know, 20-going-on-toddler. What can I say? It makes him happy…) However, I recently noticed that he wasn’t going through his current box very quickly, so I asked if he wanted me to get more. He considered for a second, then replied, “Nah, I need to branch out.” So when he was picking up a few things at the store for us, he got himself some frozen waffles.

When he was almost done with these, I offered to replenish his supply, but asked if he’d mind the multigrain version, rather than the less nutritious kind he’d bought. He gave me a slight side-eye and huffed, “Ugh. You’re gonna make me eat healthy?” Then his expression took on a sly cast as he added, “Okay, then…can you also get me Nutella?”

Mind you, this is by far not a new debate, and he’s well aware of why I stopped purchasing the hazelnut spread a looong time ago: A) because it’s a sugar-bomb and B) um…I was incapable of staying away from it when we kept it within reach. So I groaned inwardly at the potential impending controversy, but countered with what I thought was a perfectly reasonable alternative, “How about I find you some chocolate…peanut butter?” Frankly, he probably recognized that was the best he was going to get out of me, because he considered only a beat before agreeing to the terms. (And when he tasted what I purchased for him, he proclaimed it a worthy substitute…even if not a...blood-glucose-spiking thrill ride. [I'm paraphrasing, obviously.] So…we’ll call that a Win?)

This was not the end of the story, though—the next thing I knew, Husband had jumped feet-first into the…Battle of the Morning Meal. I entered the kitchen one afternoon unprepared for the 2-pronged assault led by Derek, who cheerfully decreed that he and his father “wanted control of the cereal decision.” Given the fact that I do approximately, oh, 98% of the grocery shopping for our little band of….well, mostly ravenous dudes…I didn’t even pause before shooting back, “Fine! You’re welcome to be in charge of everything you guys eat; I couldn’t care less!” (Hmm...overreaction? Yeeeaahh…perhaps the ongoing pandemic is taking more of a toll on me than I realized…deep breaths in and out…phewwwww….)

This seemed to alarm Derek, who threw up his hands in a placating gesture and rapidly backpedaled, “Hey, whoa, let’s not get too crazy there. We’d just like some sweeter kinds mixed in once in a while.” When I turned to glare at him he grinned, spread his arms wide apart and added, “You know, a big old box of…Crunch Berries!” He knew this would push my buttons, which of course is exactly why he said it, but I couldn’t help myself from snapping, “Aaargh! So what you’re really telling me is that you want JUNK first thing in the day?”

Fortunately Husband spoke up at that point, inserting his Voice of Reason in a calming fashion, “All we’re saying is that we’d like an adjustment on the…fiber-to-flavor ratio!” Oh. Good. Grief. It’s a losing campaign here, folks: either they’re being over-the-top ridiculous…or they wield logic and science at me. Please send help ASAP…preferably in the form of another X-chromosome to join my Girl Squad! (Anyway, they haven’t been out scouting yet, so I don’t know what they’re going to come up with; but as promised, I’ve washed my hands [Ha! Sorry...] of the whole affair. So there!)

And finally, speaking of absurdity: sometime this past week Riley wandered into the kitchen and blurted, “Guess who just changed their sheets for the first time in 2 months?” With the smuggest possible expression, he dramatically used both thumbs to point at himself and answered his own rhetorical question, “THIS guy!” Which naturally cracked his brother up…and caused me to drop my forehead into my hands…as I’m sure he 100% anticipated and intended.

So in conclusion…when this whole lockdown-thingie eases, and it’s safe to resume some semblance of our previous lifestyle, I’m gonna need a different kind of recovery…one in which I self-isolate for a couple of days…ALONE. Maybe a solitary room…at a spa somewhere…for a weekend. (Right, not realistic. How about a shed in the back yard? I’d totally settle for that…) For now, I’ll continue my role as moderator of (faux) adolescent squabbles…overseer of culinary choices…and general wrangler of Team WestEnders. Yep...I’m gonna need a NAP! (Aaannd maybe some of Derek’s special cocoa/peanut butter combo….shhhhh! Let’s just keep that between us, ‘kay? Thankyouverymuch…)

Keeping calm (eh, mostly) and carrying on...

Hey, fellow humans out there on Planet Earth (waves hand in a vague but super-friendly manner towards all of you)! According to the useless cardboard indicator still hanging on my kitchen wall, it looks like we made through the first full month of the alternate-reality video game we’re all trapped in together…Pandemic World (1-star, NOT RECOMMENDED). At this point, don’t you think we deserve to be honored with a freakin’ Black Tie Gala to acknowledge how we’re maintaining our all-out assault on the vile microscopic enemy?

Hell yeah, we do! Except of course without the, you know, “proximity to other people”. Ooh, and who wants to dress up these days—or frankly, is even sure if anything still fits after 6 weeks of excessive sheltering in place—and eating? So yeah, comfy clothes only. (Fine, deck yourself out in a coordinated outfit of black sweats if you want to feel all “glam”. The rest of us will set the bar for…let’s see…yep, ”clean” should do it…) And makeup? Pshhhh, that’s sooooo 2019, amiright? Okay…where does that leave us? Right: a VERY festive global Zoom call to congratulate ourselves…probably on the couch…definitely in leisurewear…100% with snacks. Whoo hoo, who’s in!?

Anyway, speaking of celebrations that have been verrrry different in COVID-Era, like Derek a couple of weeks ago, I kicked off another year around the sun…quarantine-style. Now, I don’t usually indulge in a whole lot of hoopla on my birthday anyway, but this particular milestone obviously was even lower-key than the norm. Not that there weren’t lovely surprises—such as the completely unexpected giftbox, filled with delicious fresh fruit and trail mixes (some of which included chocolate…I mean, do they know me, or what?), sent by my fabulous northern fam.

Working hard!

Or the hilarious cards the Male Trio cooked up, filled with sentiments such as “We’ll even let you be in charge of the house today” (Riley), “Eat all of the kale chips and almond butter your heart desires (Derek), and “Here’s a ‘never been outside, untouched by other human hands, hasn’t been exposed to Coronavirus’ card to wish you a germ-free happy birthday!” (Husband) (Ahem…bless their hearts…) As for the traditional “dinner of choice”, we found ourselves in an unusual--yet fortuitous--position: all 4 of us in the mood for pizza at the same time. We will take that win, y’all…YUM! 

Next, we have several other entries in the category we’ll call…Where the HECK is the Time Going? First, I got an official email notification that, because in-person meetings are still suspended, this year’s presentation for Rising Seniors would be offered in a virtual format, with the slides and videos viewable from your very own home computer. It took me a second of staring at the screen to realize…they were talking about Riley…who is now mere weeks away from finishing 11^th grade and (GULP) moving on to his last year of High School. What. The. WHAT? I mean, I’m fully aware of this, obviously—and have for quite a while. But the processing of it is going to take… a bit longer, apparently.

And...hardly working!

Thus he and I agreed on a time to sit down and go through it together, just in case there were any new pearls of wisdom to be gained since Derek navigated these waters several years ago. And this was an admirable proposal in theory…except that what actually happened was that Riley and I settled ourselves into position near the office computer…and Derek wandered in behind us as well. Evidently he had nothing better to do at the moment than hang out with us and A) make light of the college application process (“Hey, I got in; how hard could it be?”); B) disparage the information provided (“Ha! Who cares? I never did figure out how to log into my Naviance account!”); or C) distract Riley by chatting at him on a completely unrelated topic, thereby ensuring that his attention wasn’t on the material, even a little bit. (“College football, my Stats homework, what to eat for snack, blah blah blah” Siiiighhhhh…)

Oh well--while this session didn’t turn out to be particularly…educational…I can always go back and watch/read stuff later if necessary. Or better yet, if questions crop up, I’ll assign the Junior to figure stuff out and report back to me—now that’s a plan!

And then, there’s the college dude, who’s been managing his messed up Spring semester in online-remote-learning fashion—accessing his instruction modules, recorded lessons, and live lectures when required, submitting assignments, taking tests, and whatnot. In this novel setup, his LDOC (cool kid speak for Last Day of Classes. Or maybe only Moms use it…I’m not really sure, to be honest…) came and went without fanfare.

Now he’s in the midst of Final Exam Week…albeit in its modified format. But here’s the truly astonishing part—to me at least: on Tuesday, when he finishes his last assessment…he’ll be halfway through his stint at the university. I…can’t even begin to understand how this happened. (Yeah, yeah—I’m speaking metaphorically. Because trust me, I have the receipts to demonstrate his progress through each of the first 4 semesters, but I’d rather not dwell too much on that, thankyouverymuch…)

Even more mind-blowing, according to his transcript, he’s technically a semester ahead of his scheduled graduation date, since he came in with some credits from AP classes, carries a little extra in his major due to the labs associated with science courses, and hasn’t had to drop anything so far (knocking on wood, etc.). Not that we’re pushing him to finish up early, or anything crazy like that, but Jeez, Louise! 

It’s all just…a bit overwhelming, is all I’m saying. So I think what I’m gonna do to cope with all this…emotional distress…is put all that aside for the time being, step away from the Disney+, change into some Outside Pants (elastic waist soccer-type gear—very practical right about now!), and go for a nice, long stroll in nature. Besides, that way when I get back I will have earned some of that nuts-and-cocoa trail mix I mentioned (It’s…um…chock full of antioxidants! Therefore it’s definitely health food. This logic is infallible--fight me…) Uh-huh, that’s what we’re going with…can we all agree that sometimes denial…and its equally esteemed cousin, avoidance…really are the BEST self-care? Yay!