Woodsy Wandering Times Two...

For the conclusion of the D/J getaway, we planned to explore Gorges State Park, which had been recommended to me by a coworker when he heard I'd be roaming around the Asheville region. Google Maps helpfully informed us that in order to do so, we'd have to drive about an hour south of the city. So we packed up lots of agua and some portable munchies, and set off to seek adventure. (And for the second day in a row we managed to pass a Dunkin' on the way. I mean, how lucky can you get? Coffee-d up and ready to roll, y'all!)

Based on the fact that the parking lot was already overflowing and rangers were directing folks to leave their vehicles along the road, we figured it must be worth the trouble to get there. It was also shaping up to be a steamy weather scenario, so without further ado we planted our sneakers on the path along with the rest of the walking wanderers and pointed ourselves toward the (eventual) promised waterfall payoff.

Along the way we inhabited the forest with plenty of couples, family groups including some wee children, and no shortage or variety of dogs. However, we didn't find it difficult to move out of each other's way, and people seemed very cognizant of sharing the space in a respectful, safe manner,--which was not unexpected, but still pleasing. As for the actual traipsing through the woods, although the map called it a "strenuous" trail, Derek and I considered it a pretty easy ramble. A few hills, sure, but even though the environment is deemed "temperate rainforest", there was nothing, you know, "death defying" like some of our previous experiences in tropical countries.

Of course, there was the double-H nemesis to contend with, as I mentioned before--it was hot, humid, and downright icky* out there, even with the blessed shade providing a modicum of protection. (*Trust me, it's an accepted meteorological term. Or...I could just be making stuff up as usual...yeah, that's the one...) Fortunately, the reward of "dramatic water views" did turn out to be true, as the first scenic stop on the hike afforded us the opportunity to climb out onto enormous boulders, bask in a breeze billowing off the river, and stick our hands into the cool liquid while resting our legs.

But the real goal still lay a bit beyond this admittedly lovely and tranquil spot. So we rallied for one more section of the path, which led us to...a spectacular sight called Turtleback Falls. Here you could actually stand in the spray and get as wet as you wanted (um...Derek), without having to dip into the pools at the base (although you could do that too, if you wished, as evidenced by several other intrepid visitors who'd come prepared with swimming gear). Or you could just pause there, gaping at the beauty and power of the thundering cascade as it crashed over the rock face. (That would be...me...)

It absolutely paid us back for the tired legs and extra 2 hours on the road--since we learned that the quickest route home apparently involved backtracking the entire portion we'd covered that morning, making our return jaunt a cool...4.5 hours. (Siiighhhh...) Eh, I guess that's what we get for the privilege of enjoying all that remote...splendor...and whatnot? Also, plenty of mother/son bonding and chat time? Yeah, we'll most definitely take it, and check off another gorgeous North Carolina nature destination. Win!

Next up: once we heard back from UNC (in about 36 hours--impressive!) that Husband did NOT in fact appear to be harboring the deadly virus currently running amok in our nation, we were able to move forward with a substitute day trip, to replace the original full-fledged multi-state extravaganza we'd been forced to cancel. Thus we loaded up the (other) car with copious amounts of hydration (in light of the warnings for an obnoxiously uncomfortable triple-digit heat index), edible fuel (because...adolescent males), and sturdy shoes (since Husband had gleefully selected a 6-mile loop for our...forced march...I mean "charming trek amongst the trees").

For this outing we headed about 90 miles northwest to Pilot Mountain, where the first thing we discovered upon arrival was that...all of the amenities were unavailable. You know what I'm talking about, right? Ahem...the bathrooms were locked up tight. Which, you know, whatever, it's a Tuesday during a pandemic, so I guess I get it. But there were also no Porta-Potty-type structures, either. As in, anywhere. So one of the first things I got to do was also one of my least favorite: leaving the trail in search of privacy...and peeing behind a big-ass rock. Fortunately, there were very few other people in the park, so the chances of being caught were minuscule. I'm just sayin', this is why I don't camp, folks! Two words: INDOOR PLUMBING.

Anyway, it was a good thing we arrived when we did, because the overcast skies--while admittedly not providing the cheerful aura of a brilliantly sunny day--at least helped keep the temperature in check while we plodded through our long circular route. While it wasn't a particularly challenging course, the kids did find huge stacks of rubble to climb on periodically, which afforded them mild amusement and allowed them to commune with their...inner mountain goat spirit animals...or what have you.


Otherwise, we all agreed that we found the scenery in general...underwhelming. Husband lamented, "No water features! No scenic overlooks!" Buuuuut there were certainly benefits, such as A) tons of cardio and B) double my required number of steps for the day...all while frolicking in a bucolic setting...so there's that. Ohhhh, and perhaps because they weren't quite stimulated enough by their surroundings, the siblings had ample time for absurd conversations, such as the following:

Derek (jokingly): "Hey, do raptors have butt cracks?" (Now, I could back up and give you the segue that led to this comment--but really, you don't want to know. Also, I'd like it noted that I seemed to be hiking with a passel of 12 YEAR OLD BOYS.)
Riley (in a serious, reasonable manner): "They must...otherwise they'd be constipated."
Derek (cracking himself up): "Then they'd need a...veloci-laxative!" (Siiiighhhhh....I just...I mean...Life with the Dorkasaurus Brothers, my friends...)

This was eclipsed only by the lively discussion about whether any of the three had remembered to apply deodorant that morning before we left the house. And, based on proximity after several hours of sweating, my vote would have to be a strong NO. (I'm not responsible for Husband's upbringing, of course--but I swear, they were all taught these skills at some point...Corona has them reverting to their primitive selves, or something...)


Once we'd finished our long lap, we intended to motor the rest of the way up to the summit, to catch the vistas from the top. On the plus side, the clouds had begun to break up by then, improving visibility and literally shining a light on both the peak, and the countryside below. While this increased the heat factor all of a sudden, the panoramic tableau made it worth a few more minutes of roasting in the July sunshine. (Especially knowing that our first stop after leaving the mountain would be at a nearby Sheetz for additional frosty beverages and fresh post-workout nibbles.)

So, it may not have been the most exhilarating venture we've ever undertaken...but it was an enjoyable day far from the confines of our own house, in the Great Outdoors...and for that, we'll chalk it up to family time well spent! And now, after several long, active days already this week, I've earned a lazy interlude of drinking iced tea, reading a book, and lounging in the air conditioning. Summer Vacation 2020, to be continued from a sofa near you...whoo hoo!

Bumming around the Biltmore

Well, folks--in a shocking* turn of events, just days from its scheduled kickoff, Version 3.0 of the Team WestEnders vacation got blown to smithereens. (*Except that...it actually wasn't even a little bit unexpected, given the raging dumpster fire that is 20-freakin'-20, amiright? Siiiighhh....) You see, we were all set to begin preparations for a hiking adventure (the details of which I won't bother to get into now, because who cares?) when Husband revealed that he was feeling...under the weather.

He responded to my side-eye by hastening to add that the ONLY symptom he was experiencing comprised a very stuffy head, accompanied by absolutely nothing else whatsoever. But...due to the whole "pandemic" and whatnot, I immediately advised him to go ahead and get tested anyway. I mean, I figured the likelihood of it being COVID, rather than a common cold, were approximately slim-to-none--but of the household denizens, he's the one who goes out least often, so the mystery of him contracting any kind of bug at all set off warning bells that called for further investigation. Besides, better to know, yeah?


Of course, this scuttled the get-out-of-town plan, since he wouldn't get the results until AFTER we were supposed to vamoose. And yet...there was one part of the agenda that could be saved...at least for those of us fit to travel. I'm referring to the fact that I'd purchased non-refundable--and extremely expensive, mind you--tickets to the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, which we intended to tour on our way out west. While Husband obviously couldn't participate, and Riley jumped at the opportunity to, as he put it, "stay home and have some me time" (whatever the heck that means to an almost-17-year- old boy), Derek agreed to be my road trip buddy, for a brief overnight jaunt to the AVL.

So he and I set off for western NC early Saturday morning, fortified by a stop at Dunkin' for coffee and munchkins, ready for 200+ miles of open highway. We were enjoying a pleasantly smooth journey...right up until we arrived at just about our appointed entrance time, and I realized that I'd vastly underestimated the sheer scope of this endeavor. It quickly became apparent that there would be multiple steps involved, just to get to the front door of the mansion. Show your ticket at the guard gate. Navigate several miles through the grounds to a parking lot. Catch a shuttle to take you the rest of the way to the actual house. Quite the odyssey, I tell ya!

And then...you catch sight of the...honestly, "palace" doesn't seem like an exaggeration. Because my photos don't capture the sheer immensity of the place, here's a figure that our bus driver threw out, which stuck in my head: there are FOUR ACRES of square footage inside that thing. And it's...um...grandiose? Ostentatious? Mind-blowing? Yes, all of these. (Banquet Hall, Salon, Tapestry Gallery, Oak Sitting Room, blah blah blah!) But after we'd ogled one too many excessively ornate spaces, Derek and I were highly amused by the underground section, where we encountered such delights as the "Halloween Room" (No, I don't know why), the bowling alley, the swimming pool, and the super-old-fashioned gymnasium (wooden dumbbells--how quaint!).

Once we'd gaped at all of the indoor delights, it was time to head out to the gardens, where I was looking forward to admiring some gorgeous summertime blooms, surrounded by spectacular surrounding mountain views.  Aaannd, about that...no sooner had we stepped onto the terrace and begun drinking in the vista, than we began to hear telltale rumbles of thunder, coming from the increasingly angry-looking grey clouds wreathing the distant peaks. In about, oh, 5 minutes or so, fat, aggressive raindrops started pelting down from the sky...soaking us in no time flat, and delaying our ramble amongst the roses.

Our attempt to huddle under a woefully inadequate tree for the duration was entirely pointless in terms of protection from the elements...but we did manage to wait out the downpour. On the plus side, the thunderstorm dropped the temperature more than 15 degrees, to a much more moderate level, so we shrugged off our drippy, disheveled state and continued our quest. And as far as I'm concerned, the squishy shoes were worth it, because there was some stunning flora out there in the wilds of the Biltmore. Derek patiently traipsed around with me while I got my flower fix, at which point we decided we'd achieved the desired level of satisfaction for our one-and-only visit to George Vanderbilt's masterpiece.

The only thing left to do was obtain some, you know, "real food" to close out the evening, so we picked up dinner from a cute little joint called Asheville Sandwich Company, which I'd scoped out during my pre-excursion research, and chosen based on its lovely selection of both carnivore and vegan offerings. (My crispy cauliflower banh mi with pickled veggies and sriracha mayo was sooooo tasty, by the way...) And finally, because it would be a shame to go all that way and NOT stroll around the 'Ville, we did our own little walking tour of the hip hop happening town, to soak in the nighttime vibe, listen to the street performers, peer in shop windows, etc. It was altogether entertaining, and left us feeling like we'd hit all the high notes on our (imaginary) To Do List.

Now that we've been fed and showered, it's time to rest up for Part 2 of the mini-getaway, a 4-mile state park hike on the way home tomorrow. Yay, Plan...D?

This week's barrel of nonsense...and whatnot

Well, here we are—still standing after another week in Corona-times, so let’s get a big “Whoo hoo!” for that. And you know what that means: the latest grab-bag of Team WestEnders shenanigans:

--We’ll kick it off with Riley, who has recently constructed a detailed checklist of specific items to complete for each of the universities he intends to submit applications to, when the period officially opens at the beginning of August (because…of COURSE he has…). He already requested letters of recommendation from several teachers, has begun drafting some of the short answer responses, and enlisted me to do a preliminary edit of his Common App essay. So yeah…he’s ON IT. (And lemme tell ya…obviously I love Derek to death, but I find Riley’s organization and motivation to be a refreshing change from our first experience with this process. My supervisory role is MUCH easier this time around!)

Meanwhile out in legislative land, the governor postponed his scheduled announcement about schools reopening, because frankly things in NC still aren’t what you’d call…um…“under control”…or even “trending in the right direction” (not so much our area, which seems to be doing okay, but the state in general). However, our local school system released their own proposal, which is…complicated, to say the least.

Without getting into too much of the minutiae, it features a phased reentry onto campuses, in which everyone shows up for one day the first week, and then does remote learning anyway until the end of September, when they begin attending in-person 2 days per week, in shifts. And it goes without saying that all of this depends on what actually happens when that many people start milling about in close proximity to one another…so we’ll just have to wait and see.

--Moving on to Derek, whose life these days mostly consists of slogging through his painful overnight shift at his Summer job. Although he’s supposed to be off at 2 a.m., he routinely doesn’t get released until 3:30 or so, and then crashes until mid-afternoon. I don’t blame him for counting down the weeks until he can stop working and (presumably) go back to college!

About that: a few weeks ago we received a 50 PAGE (!) pdf from UofSC, describing their comprehensive plan to safely bring everyone back to Columbia. It includes things like mandatory (free) testing for all staff, faculty, and students upon their return; mask requirements; reduced class size; social distancing regulations in buildings and around the grounds; and an effort to combine online and face-to-face instruction (which is ongoing, apparently, since Derek reports that his courses are still changing). This is also going to be…interesting…to see how it unfolds…and whether it’s successful…or a spectacular train wreck. Ay yi yi…

And speaking of crashing and burning, after weeks of me bugging him to check his grades, and Derek insisting that they weren’t yet available in Blackboard, we finally were able to get a final tally for his Spring semester, and it was…mostly good. Let’s just say that he earned a handful of As (yay!), but also his very first…ahem…”barely passing” score. However, it was the notoriously dreaded and difficult Organic Chemistry, and he pointed out that “when we left for Spring Break [and then switched to the at-home model] I swear I had a B-!” Siiighhh….I do accept that it must be nearly impossible to independently teach yourself a subject like THAT, so I spared him the lecture in this case.

Then we suffered a brief heart-stopping moment, because he’d missed the deadline to utilize the special version of the Pass/Fail option they offered this semester, for just such a…GPA-mergency. But he took it upon himself to contact the appropriate department and explain the situation, and they were willing to reopen the form for him to request his “S”. (Satisfactory? I guess? We’ll absolutely take it!)  Let’s see: forgiveness with no penalty for taking advantage of it--plus preventing the offending mark from dragging down your GPA? I’d call that an offer that is definitely too good to refuse! (And also, WHEW! Transcript crisis narrowly averted…)

--Finally, I had a fairly uneventful week--working from home, running errands when necessary, blah blah blah. But then a group of my bootcamp friends started a conversation about meeting up at a nearby lake to hang out, catch up, and enjoy nature…and that sounded like probably the best thing I’d ever heard of after months of not seeing any of them. It turned out that only a couple could make it on such short notice, but the opportunity to get together and get OUT was enticing enough to draw us from our isolated bubbles. 

So I let the GPS lead me to a spot I’ve never explored before (and would not be able to find on my own in a million years—although it’s technically near Raleigh, it felt like legit wilderness by the time I’d made all the turns into the park). My buddies were already there, manning the campsite they’d reserved and tending a small fire they’d built.

After enthusiastic air-hugs, we settled in to chat about everything that’s been going on—or, you know, NOT, as it were—and bask in the forest atmosphere. A short jaunt on foot led us down to the water, where we were able to ooh and aah over the understated, pink-tinged sunset.

Aaaannd…there might even have been some…(mutters under her breath) singing…involved. First we wracked our brains trying to come up with pop tunes we all knew and could passably recreate, with varying degrees of success (She’s Lost That Lovin’ Feeling--a la Goose and Maverick’s bar serenade in Top Gun--was a dubious high point, if that helps paint the picture.) But we reeaaally hit our stride when I had a sudden brainstorm and suggested…Doe, a Deer. What followed was a rousing acapella medley of Sound of Music staples that I’m SURE were the delight* of our fellow campground denizens (*horror and/or hilarity).

As if that weren’t enough entertainment for one night, to cap it off, there were marshmallows (which I normally eschew due to their questionable content, but as I explained to my pal, I make basically ONE exception to my rule, namely, “roasting over an open flame”. Because c’mon, it must burn away the gelatin, right? Just…humor me on this, ‘kay? Thanks…) It felt so warm-and-fuzzy (and I don’t mean the mosquitos…or the damn humidity) to reconnect with other humans that don’t live under my own roof. So, an extremely satisfying interlude to finish off the week strong.

And with that, we head into…mid July? Sheesh. Anyway, here’s to another week of doing all the safe things, staying healthy, and hanging in there. Peace out, peeps!

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!