Life is just a bowl of cherries

Not really, but a cherry pie doesn't hurt.  A birthday pie, to be exact. We woke yesterday to the sound of rain beating against the windows. My first thought was, there's been some sort of mistake.

Aren't we supposed to be in the Napa Valley now on vacation?  And yet, in the greater scheme of things, our little changes of plans and minor disappointments are so trivial in this big world of suffering. 

Soon I was too busy anyway to feel sorry for myself. It turned out to be a truly memorable day, lovely really, with happy calls, flowers, cards, emails and text messages from family and friends.

And all this:

Amanda mailed a packet of yeast, apparently still available in the Methow Valley. You can't get it for love nor money in Seattle. Oh happy day, I can make more bread.

I strummed a few songs over FaceTime with my friend Chic from The Ukes.

Then I took a nap.

At 4 o'clock, we put an old Eddy Howard CD on and opened a nice bottle of champagne
Thanks, Dave, that was your Christmas present!

And presents to open from John, including a beautiful necklace (will we ever go out again?) He also gave me a book containing the entire New York Times, published on my birthday, way in back in the middle of the last century.  If that doesn't make a person feel old, nothing will.  Ha!

Then I fried a steak.

And instead of the evening news, we watched a Rock Hudson and Doris Day comedy.

We have home, health, family, friends, good food. Nothing else really matters.

Nature

"And for all this, nature is never spent;
   There lives the dearest freshness deep down things..."

Gerald Manley Hopkins
From, God's Grandeur 

The Star Azalea bloomed, and the Bleeding Hearts popped out of the bare ground, literally overnight.

Speaking of hearts, when ours are so very heavy, there's comfort knowing that it's business as usual with Mother Nature. In fact, maybe better than ever, with pollution levels dropping to unheard of levels around the world. 

And here's a happy sight.  It looks like we didn't kill the plum tree-- tiny sprouts are starting to grow out of the amputated branches and trunk. By the end of summer, it will probably be a bushy old thing again. There won't be plums for at least 2 years, but hopefully the aphids are gone with the diseased branches.

The sun came out early yesterday morning, and hit the the Mason Bee Condo perfectly.  The central heating is on and the vacancy sign is up.

In the last two weeks, the little cocoons all hatched, not a dud in the bunch. Thank you, Nancy, if you're reading this.

I had the nursery jar in the kitchen window planter, right under their new home.

Yesterday, I saw a couple of small bees tangled together in the coir fiber on the bottom. A fight to the death? It's kinda hard to tell with such small critters, but hopefully this Mr. and Mrs. Mason during a private moment.

The resilient old

Mr. Puzzle-Smarty-Pants finished that immense 750 piece birds in a couple of days.  I started a little puzzle of my own, sent from my sister. If you're not familiar with this English brand Wentworth, the solid wood pieces are intricately laser cut, some in cute novelty shapes.  They are real heirlooms.

Doing a Wnetworth is so fun and meditative, a person kind of wants to stretch out the pleasure. So I posted it "by invitation only."   The person I live with simply cannot leave a puzzle alone until it's finished!

Sure enough, every time I left the room, there he was, back again, sneaking in another piece or two.  (Psychologists have a name for that kind of behavior. )

When I got up in the morning, I saw he had kindly left me the very last piece. Thanks a bunch.

The resilient young

Nova and Maya

Methow Valley

On my walks, sometimes I'll go by a house and it sounds like the kids are bouncing off the walls.
They are. Poor parents.

Our granddaughters live in a small town in central Washington. Being in a rural area has advantages. They can't go to school or play with their friends, but there's plenty of space to spread out in nature.

Amanda and Tom also own acreage a few miles outside the town where they live. It has a beautiful view of the valley below. It's a great place for Amanda to de-stress after work, and for the kids to run off excess energy.

And hats off to the local school district. The school bus comes around daily with free lunches for those in need, and the teachers are starting to distribute work packets.

Nova was excited because she got a free Chromebook this week. (Just like yours, Dad.)

I think she's chatting with her teacher here.  Amanda said there's some bugs to work out with the distance learning thing, but at least it's getting started.

Look at Maya, what a spunky little pioneer girl.  She went to archery camp last summer and loved it.  Amanda takes them up to their property to shoot arrows at the hillside.

Better beware rattlesnakes, with those gals on patrol!

Methow Valley strong and tough.

The blender of days

I pulled out the waffle maker this morning and John said, "Wow! we're having a cooked breakfast?" (I only cook breakfast on the weekends.)  This is Friday, of course, but I thought it was Saturday.  The days have blended together. Like many people now, I have to look at the calendar in the morning to remember.

Of course, he said this one doesn't count, and he should still get a cooked breakfast tomorrow and Sunday. We'll see about that.

Our highlight this week was a trip to Metropolitan Market.   I was impressed with the care they took to protect their cashiers, and the early morning senior customers.

It works like this: you put your groceries on the belt as usual, then step back wait behind a line while everything gets rung up.  At that point, you move to the credit card terminal and let the cashier step back while you pay. We had a horrible bunched up experience at the Safeway check stands last week. I may never go back there, even when this is over.

Anyway, I'm a frugal shopper as a rule, but these are exceptional times. All sorts of good things went into the cart. I got beautiful organic produce, gourmet tidbits, crazy expensive "recycled" paper napkins and toilet paper. (Yes, they had it, if you're willing to pay the price.)   

Without so much as a blink, I bought a $12 free range whole chicken. I believe it had a name.

She was delicious with mashed red potatoes.
And there was still some carrot cake left.

Take care, dear friends and family. One day at a time. Keep your spirits up.

And in the greater scheme of things, it really doesn't matter what day of the week it is.

Let there be noise in the dark

From the Seattle Times:

"Members of Seattle’s cultural community, along with the city’s Office of Arts & Culture, are encouraging residents to open windows, go to their balconies, yards or porches at 8 p.m. tonight, Thursday, March 26, to make joyful noise (clapping, singing, raising their voices, banging pots and pans, playing instruments, etc.) in appreciation of health care and other workers battling the coronavirus pandemic."

I banged that old porch bell real good.

A hush fell

It rained most of yesterday, although the sun did peek out a few times. And quite bright it was, when I took my walk around the deserted neighborhood.

We are under a stay at home order, which means essential trips only.  Outdoor exercise is still OK, with social distancing.  Smiles carry across those six feet, but they are few and far between. Some people you encounter cross the street, duck their heads and avoid eye contact.  I walked by a friend's house on the next block, and it was nice seeing her smiling face in the window.

Our dense, busy neighborhood is suddenly and eerily quiet. Like someone flipped a switch.  On top of the stay at home order, with the West Seattle Bridge closed, no one is coming over here to visit the popular parks and beaches. The fierce traffic on the side streets and arterials instantly dropped to almost nothing.

I'm at a loss for words describing how strange this is. It feels like going back in time to the sleepy, quiet West Seattle I remember from the 1980's.

The giant blooming magnolias I walked by yesterday remind me of that time. Some are over 100 years old, real treasures now, planted when the modest little houses were first built.  A lovely, cheerful sight, covered with raindrops in the sun.

We're going to the grocery store this morning to stock up on fruit and vegetables for the next week at home.

Namaste

To the farmers and ranchers still growing our food.
To field workers who pick and pack it.
To truckers, on lonely long hauls while we sleep (or try to.)
To our frightened and tired neighborhood delivery drivers.
To checkers, pharmacists and shelf stockers.
To municipal workers, who keep water running and toilets flushing.
To mail carriers.
To trash and recycle pickup.
To the millions of people laboring behind the scenes in warehouses.
   (If you don't need it, please don't order it.)
To the researchers and scientists working in labs 24/7.
And especially, to the doctors, nurses and medical professionals leaving their families and safe homes this morning and heading to work:

We bow to you, we thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.

And the people stayed home

 On my walk yesterday, I saw a few little signs of encouragement around the neighborhood.

And good thing people are staying home, because we have a new problem in West Seattle. A very big problem, although with the pandemic dominating the news, it isn't getting much attention in Seattle at the moment.

Last night at 7 pm, with only a few hours advance notice, the West Seattle high rise bridge was shut down indefinitely.  They found cracks in the concrete where the roadway attaches to the structure. The bridge is closed to all traffic until they can figure out how and when to repair it. Best case scenario is several months.

When the bridge opened in 1984, West Seattle was just a small community, still considered somewhat remote from the rest of the city. At the time, we were amazed at our new bridge. In fact, it looked much too grand. But now the structure is breaking down under a constant load of heavy traffic. Most days, it looks more like a parking lot than a highway. 

The bridge is critical structure for 80,000 of us living on the "peninsula." We use the high rise to get downtown and connect with the freeways.  The low level bridge is not an option, now reserved for emergency vehicles, transit and freight only.  Passenger cars will have to make a long detour south through residential areas to connect with I-5, then head north again to reach downtown Seattle.
A traffic nightmare on top of nightmare.
 

Time

"Days of social isolation have told us things about ourselves that we don’t want to know. Instead of using the time to read Tolstoy or listen to Beethoven, we watched a video of a cat sitting on a whoopee cushion."
Garrison Keillor

My sister and were talking about how easy it is to waste time, when you have too much on your hands.  The hours in the day remain the same, but why is the day suddenly so long?

And time at home doesn't translate into getting things getting done at home. What's the hurry? Why tackle that file cabinet or dirty laundry room when weeks and probably months of social isolation stretch into the future.

I've noticed as the days pass, the tendency is inertia.  Not making an effort to get showered and dressed, becoming a couch puddle dozing in the middle of the day, reading cheesy detective novels, listening to greatest hits of the 70's on your iPod, and thinking back on all the fun you had. 

Contemplating how fast our lives go by. Lumped into this "high risk group," endlessly hearing the rather patronizing view that when it comes to the elderly, we are all the same. Weak, frail, and ready to succumb at any moment.  One size fits all.  Maybe, maybe not.

Yes, I'm afraid too, and we have to be careful, but most of us will come through this just fine, thank you.

Instead of obsessing about mortality, others occupy their brains with healthier things, like sharpening knives and puzzles.
 :-)

Motivational coaches say that productivity is all about routine. And our daily routines have gone to hell in a hand-basket.

I sure miss my early morning gym. I never liked yoga, but try and do some stretches each morning.  Then I sit on my new cushion and pretend to meditate for 15 minutes. Then I walk around the neighborhood when it isn't raining (avoiding other people, of course) to get in my 7,000 steps a day.

For once, I feel lucky having garden chores. Many folks are stuck in apartments. Outdoor work is a distraction and the yard has never looked this good so early in the season, hardly a weed.

But here's the thing, other than some lazy plinking, I haven't practiced my ukulele. It seems sad playing without the Ukes but that's no excuse.  My drawing stuff is just sitting on my desk, I haven't even picked up a pencil.

Those things require mental focus, hard when you're just numb from the constant, background fear/anxiety.

Anyway, enough about me. We're all in the same boat.

More daily discipline. End of story.

And we can't wallow in Beethoven and Tolstoy all day.

Remember to smile now and then.

Oh my, blueberry pie

When John and I were team-shopping at Safeway on Thursday, a jar of gourmet blueberry filling mysteriously fell into my cart.  Hum, how did that happen?  Probably a divine hint from above to make a homemade pie. With all the time in the world these days, why not?

Learning to slow down is another hard lesson in this strange, isolating experience. All that busy rushing around seems like a lifetime ago. As do all our normal routines. No one in living memory can recall anything like this.  So let there be pie.

People are hard-wired social creatures and they will always find ways to connect. This is good. I talk to my sister every day, instead of once a week or so. They are fine. Marji is the enduring optimist, and Dad, the 96-year old philosopher, always says "one day at a time, and see what happens."  What else can we do? Everything is out of our control, except for how we react to it.

I text and email with old friends more which is comforting. A coworker from at the Stop n' Shop called me yesterday out of the blue (we never did that before!) I found out she lives just around the corner. We might chat over the social distancing fence sometimes.

All of us miss our social circles, especially the seniors who live alone. My heart goes out to people with mental health issues. This is testing the very strongest of us. In this dense and rather isolating city,  where few people know their neighbors even a block away, more connection is a good thing.  

The weather was so lovely in yesterday, it was hard to believe there could be a single problem in the world. I opened the windows to let in the fresh, sweet air.

Thar she blows.

I talked to Amanda, and she said work was tiring and stressful yesterday but it felt good to be doing something.  God bless them. They are in uncharted territory, without much guidance from "above" to get protocols in place to protect themselves and help the frightened community. Their little family clinic is the only place to go for many miles. Can you imagine, now they must deal with a pandemic. There is such goodness in the world.

A dark, sunny day

Spring is here, the yard is mowed, the sun is out. And I'm at a loss to put a happy spin on anything this morning.

We are concerned of course about our beautiful daughter Amanda, and the health of her family.  As you know, she's a nurse at a clinic in the small town where they live in central Washington.  She called last night and described how poorly equipped they were to screen and test the cases coming in.  Their basic supplies are so low, kind community members have dropped off extra masks.

It was agonizing listening to this, and unfortunately a similar situation in hospitals and clinics all over the country. Even in big, rich cities like Seattle. What had once seemed inconceivable is reality.

Remind yourself today not to fret about selfish things.  Instead, send your good energy and prayers of gratitude to the people working so hard for us in the medical profession. Brave first responders in the truest sense, each day they move toward the disaster, instead of running away.

Thank you, Amanda, and so many others. 

The first day of Spring

After a long absence, my bunny was hopping around the yard again yesterday.  That lifts the heavy heart a bit.

One of our local grocery stores is offering special early hours for "old people" shopping. I'll let you know how it goes.

Oh, the things

Oh, the simple things we took for granted such a short time ago. My supermarket habit is hard to break. I enjoy thinking about food, buying food, cooking food. Most mornings on the way home from the gym (what's that?) I'd stop by Trader Joe's or Safeway to pick up something fresh or some little ingredient for a special recipe. Now food shopping is like In-N-Out burger: grab and leave.  They say my demographic shouldn't even risk that much exposure.

But this is not about me. Changing the course is everyone's burden and responsibility. For millions of people around the world, daily life is unrecognizable for the foreseeable future. We're all in this together.

On the bright side, it certainly slows time down. What's the rush to do anything?  As you notice, the blog is running late these days.

We are fortunate sheltering in place at our nice home. Still no word from Betsy and Paul stranded on the high seas. The house seems small at times, but compared to a cabin on a ship? We've staked out our little corners. Of course, I'm not used to having a retired husband under foot yet. On the plus side, he's become quite helpful around the house, especially anything to do with cutting and chopping.

We have plenty of food, although the time may come when we can't get exactly what we want. Thanks mom, for showing me how to be a resourceful and frugal cook. I didn't appreciate it at the time. There's folks who don't know what do with a bag of dried beans. 

Speaking of that, the mind does funny things if it has too much time on its brain cells.  It starts to panic if an online search shows whole wheat flour is "back ordered" at Amazon Fresh, Bob's Red Mill, Walmart and Safeway. Please don't hoard excess food that you will probably never cook.  If your food needs are small like ours, leave some for the housebound families. Three meals a day plus snacks for bored kids is a daunting thought.

When I wake up, instead of succumbing to that awful "this nightmare is still real" feeling,  I'm trying to practice simple gratitude. Along those lines, here's some happy pictures from the past 24 hours.

Nova and Maya's "Good night Nana" picture yesterday.

Getting out the big mixer for bread.

Warm from the oven with Methow Valley honey and butter.

An excellent corned beef dinner.

Leftovers tonight.

 French toast breakfast.  See what I mean by plenty of food?

And Maya, loving her home school time with Teacher Mommy.

Stay on the sunny side, dear friends and family.

 

When Irish eyes are smiling

As our wise dad always says, take life one day at a time.  It's just too overwhelming thinking about weeks and possibly months of social isolation. Everyone is in the same boat on this, or at least, they should be.

Speaking of boats, our friends Betsy and Paul should be home now from their South American cruise, instead they are sailing north toward the Panama Canal possibly into the Caribbean. The crew is searching for a port. Peru wouldn't allow them to dock as planned, even though everyone on the ship seems to be well. How and when can they get back to Kirkland?

We should count our blessings instead of complaining. I don't know anyone who hasn't had travel plans ruined, in some cases, dream vacations.

Today is St. Patrick's Day so that means corned beef and cabbage. There's pictures on the blog back to 2009. Which is funny because it always looks and tastes the same: perfect comfort food.

And to kill some time, I'm making a couple loaves of sandwich bread to go with.

Keep smiling. Stay cheerful.
That little girl with Bing sure reminds me of our Maya.

The gift of time

Chilly walks around the deserted neighborhood.

A hour of outdoor exercise, scraping off the moss and winter slime.

Isolated in the car, a drive down to stormy Alki Beach for change of scene.

Puzzle #1 bites the dust.

On to the next.

Honing those food prep skills: big knife vs little garlic.

 Knife wins.

 Shrimp, orzo pasta, basil, garlic and tomatoes.

Wine.

Online shopping. In time of plague, God Bless the FedEx drivers. A new meditation pillow can't hurt?

Stress crocheting.
"Idle hands are the devil's playthings."

And of course, books.

Jane Austin. What can you say about her novels? Nothing much happens, but so much happens. Like life during a pandemic. Time is a gift. Slow down and take notice of what really matters. Reach out to the ones you love. We're all going to be fine on toilet paper.