Staying Home

Despite my ungrounded fears of closed airports forcing me to stay in California, I was able to return home without a hitch earlier this week.

The trip home was a lot surreal. We made it from Kate's house to LAX in record time; the roads were uncrowded - practically unheard of in Los Angeles. There was just one person ahead of me at the security checkpoint; I made it through in less than ten minutes, including the time it took to swig my water and rescan my bag because I forgot to empty the bottle before heading through the scanners. (oops...) The concourses were nearly deserted; I didn't even need to wait in line to get my morning latte. My flight had seven passengers on it.  Seven. It made for easy traveling, but uneasy nerves.  LAX is supposed to be bustling and crowded; the quiet heightened my sense of "WRONG!" Despite my anxiety, the trip home was uneventful; the nearly empty plane made it easy to practice our social distancing.

It was easy for me to find silver linings in the disruption of my vacation plans. Since Kate wasn't spending any time commuting, we had more time to just be together and talk - major bonus! I'd originally planned to while away my days in Malibu on the beach while Kate worked; instead, I spent my time helping her and Lexi transition to working and learning from home.

Fortunately for Kate's work productivity, Lexi is one self-motivated third grader. We found a learn-from-home schedule online, and tweaked it to match what they needed.  The schedule worked for all of us. It had screen and non-screen learning times, creative time, move times, some time to rest, and yes, some time to just watch videos; one of Lexi's favorite ways to unwind.

I tend to be a bit introverted, so you know I've had plenty of alone time when I happily volunteer to do the grocery store runs. Kate and I tend to eat a lot of fresh fruits and vegetables. Fortunately for our diets, the rest of the world does not, and since the items are not hoardable, we found a steady supply of good food despite the overall shortages.

We did have to (get to?) expand our horizons a bit, since they were out of rice, shelf-stable staple that it is.  There was still some Ferro on the shelf, which we'd both heard of but never tried, so we brought some home.  It was delicious, and is now on the list of my favorite grains.

And, we did manage to get to the beach for one afternoon before things were completely locked down. The morning rain had moved on, leaving sunshine, wispy clouds, and temps in the lower sixties. There were a few people there, but not many, so we walked down to one end of the beach, and I sat down to watch the waves, while Kate walked with the dog and Lexi tried her hand at clambering up rocks.

As soon as I sat down and focused my eyes on the horizon, I felt all my tension slipping away. My heartbeat and breathing slowed to come into sync with the primal rhythm and sound of the waves.

Beauty Is, they told me.
Breathe with us, you are of the water, and the water is of you.

This, too, shall pass.

COVID-19 Craziness!

The world has turned upside down with dizzying speed, leaving me both bemused and off-balance. I have always had a vivid imagination, and have spent many an hour while driving the interstate musing about how I thought I would react in case of total social disruption.

My musings never came close to today's reality. I never imagined a world where I would have access to the internet, but not toilet paper; where I would be healthy, but asked to stay away from all other people. A world where an entire semester of school would be cancelled - those poor college kids - how will they be able to finish their semester's work???. A world where work-at-home would be mandated for most, but where medical workers and trash truck drivers and supermarket checkout people would somehow rally and carry on and do their jobs despite the danger of infection, so I can continue to buy food and get rid of waste, and be cared for should I fall ill.

I feel like I've stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone. It's all normal on the surface; the heat and lights work, I have food in the fridge and water freely available from the tap. But underneath, I feel a sense of impending calamity; the world has shifted beneath my feet and won't easily find even an uneasy balance any time soon.

I can't imagine the scope of the economic fallout which will surely accompany the closing of so many businesses. I know many people in our country have less than a month's expenses in reserve - when they are unable to work, how will they be able to live once the bills come due? And for those essential workers who do fall sick - who will replace them while they recover from their illness?

So much anxiety, so few answers. Several times this week, I've found myself on a downward spiral of fear and uncertainty. But, so far, I've managed to stop the spiral; the hard-learned lessons of my last decade halting my descent into fear.

Today, I still have. Tomorrow is guaranteed to no one.
Look for beauty in each day - so far, I've ALWAYS found it when I remembered to seek it out.
Stop.  Breathe.  Try to Relax. (this part is escaping me today, but I'm working on it...)

This, too, shall pass.

Bronchitis in a time of Covid

The last couple of weeks have been a blur.

I managed to pick up a major case of bronchitis helping Joe move boxes into his new house the last weekend in February. (There's some mold in the place, and carrying boxes upstairs triggered my asthma and irritated my lungs, so when I got home picked up the petri dish (aka, the baby), I picked up his latest respiratory ailment at the same time. That'll be the last time I stress my lungs if there is black mold around; believe it or not, I am capable of being trained. The baby gets a pass for being a little petri dish. That's what babies are.)

I was a week in, my fever had broken, and in the olden days, I'd not have thought twice about taking my scheduled flight to California earlier this week. This time, I thought twice about it, but got on the plane anyways. I took all the proper precautions around sanitizing myself and my surroundings; figured I could safely remain tucked in my window seat for the flight and thus avoid either infecting others or getting infected with something new myself. I had me drugged to the gills, so I could avoid advertising my remaining cough. My theory worked for most of the flight until the dry air took its toll, and...  If looks could kill, the one my seatmate sent me would've done the trick. Probably a good thing where was an empty buffer seat between us. (Yes, I safely coughed into a kleenex, and it was a dry cough at that. I can only imagine the daggers he'd have sent if I'd actually coughed up some gold.)

It's been good for me to finish recovering out here in California. I know myself well enough to know that if I was at home, I'd be outside pushing the limits of my battered bronchial tubes. Here, I haven't dared to poke my nose out the front door, which means I've actually been giving my lungs the rest they need to recover fully from their viral bout.

I've been watching the Covid-19 pandemic unfold with a sense of unease and wonder. From zero to 100. Schools closing, major public gatherings canceled. My granddaughter's school is going to hold remote learning sessions for them next week.  (For 3rd graders?  Really?  Should be interesting...)
No Final Four, no St. Pat's parades. European travel bans. Sick leave for hourly workers. Something new is clearly underfoot.

I understand the reasoning behind the tumult - to slow the speed of transmission of Covid-19 and give our health care system the ghost of a chance to have the capacity to take in those whom the virus lays low. The genie is out of the bottle, this virus is not going to be held locally - our only hope is to flatten the infection bell curve.

I'm out here for another two weeks - it'll be interesting to see if the planes will still be flying when it's time for me to go home. If not, I'll do my best to roll with the flow. I'll get home eventually...

and from now until then, I plan to enjoy each of these precious days with my daughter and granddaughter.