Staying Put

baby ducks!

Missouri has started to reopen bars and restaurants and public spaces of all sorts. Me? I'm staying the course. As Leonard Pitts said in a recent column, "I'm not about to die of stupid."

I long ago lost any illusions I had surrounding the notion I could somehow avoid bad luck, bad genetics or a combination of the two. Given that I am a cancer survivor, I am at heightened risk for a bad experience with the 'rona virus if it catches up with me before a vaccine can be developed.

So, until the curve flattens out, I'm not budging. I have not one, but three face masks I can choose between when venturing into local stores. I try to sanitize my hands as soon as I get back into the car after I'm done shopping. I will do what I can to minimize my risks.

All that said, I still need to live.

Against the rules of caution, I went to Iowa for lunch last Sunday. My niece had called partway through the week; needed a good place for a time-out from her regular life. My sister, who is also high risk and also mostly staying put, disregarded her own precautions to climb into the car with her husband and ferry the restless teen on down to Ankeny, the halfway point between our houses. Given we'd already broken quarantine, we threw caution to the winds and shared a meal in the Chipotle parking lot before going our separate ways. What the heck.

As I drove on up, it was easy to pretend nothing in the world had changed. The drive is familiar, I thoroughly enjoyed the varied spring greens adorning the trees on the way. There was some traffic, but it was fairly light; I was able to let my mind wander hither and yon as the road unfolded before me.

I had to laugh at myself when I stopped for a pit stop. As widely reported on the news, masks are few and far between in rural America. And, for a stupid second, I wanted to blend in. Since no one else was wearing a mask, I didn't want to stand out by wearing mine.

Where did THAT come from?  Since when have I minded if people look at me crossways? I mean, I used to care, but that's been more years ago than I care to count. Sometimes, old patterns of belief pop in at the oddest times... The mask went on.

My week has been spent learning to adjust to yet another person in the house. It takes time to learn to share quarters; there's been lots of wriggling on all parts as we figure out how to get along.

I think it might just be a plot on the part of the Universe to keep me from getting bored. If so, it's working.

Clearing Brush

the last stretch of brush before

Since I finished clearing off the lower patio several weeks ago, I've been spending my outdoor exercise hours clearing the hill behind the castle. The house is right next to a park, and from the park's playground, you can see it sitting perched at the top of the hill, looking as if it was grown out of the surrounding bedrock by a powerful witch in some former grand era.

Said hill doesn't belong to the castle, but no one else has taken care of it for decades, and it seemed like a good place to put my energy once I finished up clearing the patio.

It's taken several weeks of cutting bushes and dragging them down the hill to get the space cleared. I love the results. Now, when you look at the hill, instead of seeing a mass of impenetrable brush and brambles, you see a visible slope to the base of the castle. (note to self: plant some ground cover...) As I cut, I stopped to pick up the many pieces of broken glass, other pokey things, and assorted bits of trash. Many buckets later, it's now a safer place to walk, though it'll never be barefoot ready.

the last stretch, after

When I started, I wasn't sure what to do with the bushes I was cutting down, so I started a pile at the bottom of the hill, on the edge of the park. No one came to yell at me, so as I kept working, I kept piling. The pile ended up some six feet tall, and covers an area roughly 20'x20'.

Earlier this week, as I was finishing up the last stretch of the project, a couple of trucks from the parks department came and parked across the road from where I was working.

"Uh, oh", I thought. "I'm in trouble now." After all, I hadn't talked to anyone before starting work, and I'd made quite a mess.

One of the drivers motioned me over.

"You do all this?"
"Maybe. <pause> Am I in trouble if I did?"

He laughed, a full belly laugh. "No. You're not in trouble. You're doing a good job, and the whole area looks a lot better. As a bonus, with it cleared off, there's no longer a place for people to hide and get up to mischief. No, you're not in trouble; I wanted to thank you for helping out."

the slope up to the castle

"Whew!", I thought, then ventured a question. "So, about this brush pile. I didn't ask before I started, and it got bigger than I anticipated it would. I don't have a good way to get rid of it. Do I need to call someone and 'fess up that I made a mess, or will it automagically go away by itself if I pretend I have no idea how it got there?"

He laughed again. "No need to worry," said he. "It's not my job, but there's another crew who comes around to do the mowing. They'll take care of it as part of their regular maintenance."

"Whew, again!", thought I. As the pile grew, I'd been worried about that part. It was good to know I hadn't stirred up trouble for anyone (including myself) with my unasked-for community service project.

Still smiling, he wished me a good day, and drove off. I waved goodbye, and turned my attention to cutting down the last stretch of growth. As my complaining knees and I climbed the hill that afternoon after finishing up, I was tired, the good kind of tired..

It felt good to have done good.

Face Mask Madness

I was scrolling my way through comments on the Nextdoor app last week, and in the middle of a discussion surrounding someone's post about the things they've found to appreciate about this lockdown, some guy piped up that he'd 'HAD' to get into a fistfight because some other guy called his wife a dumb broad because she was wearing a mask.

Beyond the fact it was a tasteless and sexist remark, I find this wrong on so many levels. Let me try to count a few of the ways.

• the assumption that some random stranger's opinion of the things done to protect one’s health matters
• the assumption that such words deserve anything more in response than a bark of laughter and look of pity
• the assumption that throwing punches resolved anything (he didn't say if the other guy punched back...)
• projecting here - the assumption that his wife was unable to stand up and speak up for herself.

I'm guessing a few lessons on anger control would ease some pressure in the life of the guy who posted the comment.  Just sayin'.

However, It's the one who made the dumb broad comment who really has me puzzled. (Unless, perhaps, he wasn't commenting on the face mask at all, but, rather, on the lady's taste in companions. I could go down that road fairly easily.)

Dumb to wear a face mask?  Really?

I realize there's been a lot of conflicting advice out there around face masks since the pandemic settled upon our lives, but near as I can tell, that's partly because the experts have also been learning as we go about trying to understand this invader. Now we know there are a lot of asymptomatic carriers out there, doesn't it make sense to try to protect others, just in case you're one of the carriers? Not to mention the part where it makes it less likely you'll breathe the virus in.

It doesn't help that our president, VP and the governor of Missouri, among others, are convinced wearing a mask shows weakness or makes them unmanly or some such nonsense. (I haven't read reports of female leaders refusing to wear the things, though I'm sure the women are out there...)

There is a group out there who publishes Darwin Awards each year - stories of people who died doing spectacularly stupid things. (I just checked - the group still exists, though I hadn't seen the list in some years. darwinawards.com, if you're bored...) I was going to say the anti-maskers are putting themselves in line for the awards, but then I found the website, and it turns out they'd have to up their game to make the cut.

Me?  I'd rather be a dumb broad than a sick or dead one (or the one causing other people to be sick or dead).  I'll wear my mask.