Busy Quarantine

before

Home, Sweet Home!

But it's not the quiet, ordered dwelling I was teaching myself to love this past winter. Joe, Rita-Marie, JoeB, the three cats and the dog are staying here until their new home is habitable. The castle will need a new roof, new plumbing and new wiring before they can even think about moving in. The wiring is underway, the plumbing will start as soon as there's power, but we're still gathering bids on the roof, trying to come up with the optimal affordable solution. Some things cannot be rushed.

We've all been wriggling around as we adjust to fitting in together. We're working hard not to step on one another's toes, trying to respect what each needs to thrive in this new space. Such good adults we are!

It's been going well, and suddenly, despite the cancellation of all the activities I thought I had planned, my life is busy. Rita-Marie is busy finishing her last grad school course and simultaneously figuring out how to remotely teach her group of fifth graders as she completes her first year of teaching; a heavy load. It's a little hard to type with one hand, though she's getting quite good at it, so I've been helping her out by watching the baby most mornings. (Joe's job is considered essential, so he's gone all day.)

So, instead of a quiet session with coffee and paper, my mornings are now spent on helping JoeB practice learning important things, such as rolling over (he's got this one!), rolling back (still working on it), sitting up (almost there!), eating mashed peas (he's ALMOST convinced the solid stuff is food), and how to soothe himself to sleep at nap time with the help of his comfort diaper. He needs no assistance with baby giggles and sidelong smiles. Not a bad gig; not bad at all.

Most afternoons, I've spent at least a few hours working on my self-assigned task of clearing the lower patio at the castle. While I'm not normally an anxious person, it turns out I'm not immune to the pervasive air of general anxiety surrounding the quarantine, and have had a lot of restless nights. The key to a good night's sleep has turned out to be spending a few hours a day shoveling dirt. The weather's been beautiful, the trees are just starting to turn green, and the task is going slowly which means I have plenty of time to enjoy the fresh air. (There is a lot of trash and broken glass in the dirt which I'm trying to pick out before tossing it over the wall to the wooded hillside below.)

I'm getting close to done. I've found several of the lines of the original stonework beneath the 18" of extra dirt. It'll need to be repaired, and I'm sure Joe will want to add his own stamp to the space, but it was once beautiful and will be so again. That's our watch phrase on this project:  It will be beautiful again; it'll just take a little elbow grease to get it there...

Fortunately, once I finish digging, I'm in no danger of losing access to my new gym. There are plenty more areas for me to turn my attention to; ivy needs to be pulled from the walls, and it looks like my newfound tuck pointing experience from last summer will be put to good use repairing the walls supporting the front porch. If I don't want to do that, there are weed trees to cut down, invasive honeysuckle bushes to clear out, trash on the hillside to pick up. It's a good long list; guaranteed to keep me moving long after COVID has passed us by.

I am well aware of how fortunate I am in this time of turmoil. My April bills are in no danger of not being paid, I have plenty of ways to occupy mind and body. My heart aches for those who have lost their jobs; for those who have become severely ill from the virus; for the families of those it has laid low. I pray for the medical people, putting their own health at risk each day. For the utility workers, the trash picker uppers, the store clerks and shelf stockers, the shipping clerks - all those who are out there working so most of us can stay home to try to slow the spread of disease.

May God's Strength be with them.

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On another note:  Yesterday marked two weeks home after traveling through airports, and it was Kevin's (my formerly homeless friend) birthday, so I ventured out to see him and bring him some birthday cookies. I hadn't seen him in over a month, but he's been doing well. Stir-crazy like all apartment dwellers, but healthy. He's found himself a rocking chair, a small table and some plants to make the place his. Does my heart good to see him well.