I went to my office to work. On a much needed break to …
rest my eyes and
absorb some sunshine to replenish my Vitamin D stores
… my work wife and I go to the only place that is open around the immediate office area.
Until this past weekend, we have had back-to-back rainy or at minimum dreary days. This did absolutely nothing to ease to ease the cabin fever that was beginning to sink in. Another reason I was grateful when my work wife offered a ride as she was going in as well.
Let’s see… Be in a car for 40 minutes with a person I know is not sick or spend over an hour on mass transit around who knows how many strangers who either are not able to observe the at least 6ft of social distancing being asked of us while riding the subway or who simply refuse to observe. I think you can guess which path I chose to take to work.
Three weeks ago in the New York City before Covid-19 there were scant signs heralding the early spring season; not so any more.
The very first of the tulips planted annually had begun to bloom! Even better was the sight of these…
The Cherry Blossom trees had blossomed! I had not realized how much I missed seeing these annual harbingers until I saw them. For a moment it felt like a normal spring day. Then a masked person walked into view.
Still, I smiled at the reminder that THIS is what’s normal and we will get back to it soon enough.
As always each year I participate I wonder if I will make it through. There have definitely been more just before the stroke of midnight posts than I would have liked this go around, but I made it.
Some may have picked up new people to follow. Some may have reconnected with slices not chatted with since last year’s challenge. Some have kept up with slicers who may be their constants throughout the year, not solely in March. And this year we each did it in our own bubbles of self-isolation as we work through this global COVID-19 pandemic.
👏👏 Let’s give ourselves multi rounds of applause, we deserve it 👏👏
And now it’s time to say good-bye to all our company… As the Mickey Mouse Club used to close each episode. But is it really time to say good-bye? I think it rather fitting that this year’s writing challenge ends on a Tuesday. It is an excellent reminder that we will return to our weekly Tuesday postings. I suspect many of us will appreciate the reminder.
It was a rainy day and a Monday. The Carpenters may not have been too keen on a day like today, going by the classic song. Truth be told, it’s not my least favorite cup of tea, either. Overcast skies all of the day. The pitter-pattering of rain usually soothing, but today in a discordant pattern in the wind that was not conducive to calm.
But, today was a good day.
Yes, I’m still self-isolating. Yes, today was eight hours of work from home. Yes, my phone rang with people asking stupid questions, and someone looking for someone else thought it good sport to ring my buzzer for entry in spite of my telling them twice they were wringing the wrong apartment and I was not letting them in. And had the pleasure of hearing when I was called out of my name when the person passed my door having finally rung the correct buzzer and let in.
Still, today was a good day. Today was a Hygge Day.
Hygge (pronounced “hoo-gah”), is a Danish and Norwegian word for a mood of coziness and comfortable conviviality with feelings of wellness and contentment. In short, it’s a way of living that focuses on hunkering down in the winter and creating a safe, comforting and warm place to while away cold, wet evenings, whether you’re at home solo or entertaining and defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as “to cherish oneself; to keep or make oneself snug”.
It’s officially spring, but it is a cold wet day and I could use self-snuggling. Luckily I knew no one needed to see my beautiful face today. It was a scarf, t-shirt and loose jeans type of day, be comfortable day.
It began with instead of my usual mug of coffee, I brewed tea. In a teapot loose leafed mint-ginger. Yes, a stimulant, but I was working after all. I didn’t want to self-snug myself to sleep! For lunch I went old-school with tomato soup and an gooey melty grilled cheese sandwich. Usually a staple, That was something I had yet to do this relatively mild NYC winter. It was perfect. For dinner I had left over seafood paella that could have been fine dinner fare, but I wanted classic comfort food. Thus it was my leftover meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, baked mac and cheese, and greens.
Simple fare for a simple day. It’s called comfort food for a reason. Comfort food, comfort clothes, on a made for comfort day – a perfect sense of Hygee.
I was on the phone with a friend earlier who teased that a day of rest for me is when I’m only doing three things at once. That I was changing my linens while waiting for the just mopped kitchen floor to dry before I can mop-n-go it and took a moment to jot down a couple of plot bunnies that popped into my head even as I spoke with her sort of gave her veracity, but I got her point.
After I’ve spent a couple of hours being Domestic Goddess to my humble abode I decided that a break and lunch were in order. Naturally, I do a little Facebooking while I indulge in more caffeine and think about what is going to be today’s slice. Then I come across a gem in my memories.
My flat may never featured on a home decor periodical, but today it is clean. I still have dinner to make between loads of laundry and a few other things. So, it amused me to see this eleven year old post concerning Sundays and days of rest being anything else coming full circle. And that even then a friend knew that a day of actual resting was not likely going to be the case with me.
I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not. Is my definition of rest that different from many of my friends? Do I really don’t know how to rest unless I’m exhausted? Perhaps I’ll think about it later while I start backing up my computer while configuring my laptop as I catch up on the last couple of episodes “Outlander.” See? Only three things, and one includes semi-binge TV watching – it will be restful(ish) 😁.
Last night I participated in a wonderful group where we got to share stories based on the subject “The Wild Unknown.” When I was invited to speak I had recently spoken with my youngest son. At some point in the conversation between the now very adult and I, I was reminded of when I realized he was not my baby anymore and what an oddly emotional blow it was.
I remember I was sitting on the front porch as my youngest son, then in his mid-teens, was walking up the block from school. I noticed his walk had changed. It used to be something of a bop, this bouncy gait as he used to just short of walk on his toes. This young person coming towards me now had what could only be called a swagger. This was not the walk of the carefree. This was a strong, measured stride with purpose. This was a man’s stride.
“Man! He walks hard!” My eldest son who was on the porch with me apparently noticed this change in his little brother brother as well. Though they are only eighteen months apart physically, there was a subtle, unspoken my baby brother is growing up touch of pride to his assessment. Yet, all I could think was…
What broke my baby?
Both of my sons are very much like me. It had been their chagrin most of their young lives that I was sometimes one-up on them, able to predict some of what could get them in trouble and put a stop to it. It was generally my chagrin when they did something I missed and though I knew exactly why it happened, because it was something I did or would have done as a kid, I had to disciple them regardless. Sometimes I let them make mistakes, because it really is the only way to learn some hard lessons. But this did not fall into one of those categories.
My eldest took it hard when my mother died. Very hard. I knew the loss of the woman that tried her best to spoil him rotten, had broke him and changed him. I saw it happen and did my best to guide him through it and he was much better by this point, but I was cognizant of that change. I felt I had dropped the ball with my youngest as I watched him approach.
How did I fail to protect him? Where the fuck was I, who saw him every single day, while whatever this was was going on that it hurt him, broke him, and changed him without my noticing? What the hell had happened in his young life that ripped his spirit, his innocence to the point it had changed his very walk? What else have I missed? Could I find out? Should I find out?
I found myself once again into the wild unknowns of parenthood. Yes, there are guides and plenty of people who can give advice, whether you asked for it or not. There are some givens we all go through as children and as adults raising them. In the end, each child is unique and wild unknown and how one raises that child will be unique to that child.
I realized, they both were of the ages where the shift in dynamics of how we relate to each other changes. They will always be my children, and though they were not yet men, they were not in fact children. It felt like just last year I was teaching them to tie their shoes and only last month we had the condom talk, not a few years ago. I was losing them into the men they were going to be, another wild unknown…
When he saw his brother and I sitting on the front porch, he broke into this beatific smile (both of my sons really do have great smiles), and greeted us. More perceptive to my moods, than I had been to his, he looks at me at questioningly for a moment.
“What?” “You okay, Mommie?” “I’m fine baby boy, you okay?” “I’m GREAT! I’m having a great day!”
He then proceeds to regale us on just how great his day was. Naturally, with two teenage boys, the conversation eventually segues to video games and smack talk reigns.
I listen to and watch the both of them, but mostly my youngest for a long moment. Tall, though still a couple of years from his eventual 6’3″ height, his once high-pitched voice now very much a tenor. My silly little boy was very much still in there, but this man-child, now bounding up the stairs with his big brother, was anything and potentially everything, but he was notmy babyanymore.
A fellow slicer posted this on his timeline and I liked it so here I am…
Age – 56 Broadway, last show seen – Cyrano with James McAvoy (technically a London: National Theatre Live (London’s Broadway) production, but seen at a theater in the Theatre District. Last live show : Oddly enough Cyrano the Musical with Peter Dinklage. Cats – 0 Dogs – 0 now, but have had 4 during my lifetime thus far. Essential start of your day – Waking up first (can’t really do mustt until then right?), then COFFEE. Favorite color – Paint it Black Grossest thing you’ve eaten – Chitlins (Southern heritage – stop eating it the when my mother fully understood I really would rather starve and take a spanking every day for a week than let that grossness cross my lips again. I was a stubborn child.) Height – 5’8” Instruments you played – Flute in middle school. (Can’t remember finger position of a single note now.) Job title– Professional P.I.T.A. (Pain in… My facebook page states Devil’s Advocate – you choose,) Kids – 2 (3 if you include still raising myself.) Longest relationship – 40+ years of hilarity with my highschool best friend. Most favorite Movie – Too many to pick just one, but I’ll say Die Hard 1 & 3 tie because they are both guilty pleasures I will watch whenever it’s on. Night owl? – Hoot yes ! Overnight Hospital Stay – Three days each for the honor to be called Mommie. Pet Peeve – Pets in restaurants. (That Chiuaua in your purse may indeed be your support animal, but I don’t support its rapping while I’m dining.) Quiet time activity – Reading/Writing Right or Left handed – Right Siblings– 0 What? My parents realized what trouble was on their hands with me, they were afraid the next might be worse. Top 5 Desserts – Key Lime Pie made with real key limes, Tres Leches Cake, Chocolate Lava Cake, Hot Apple Pie with Vanilla Ice Cream, Girl Scouts Thin Mints Cookies. University – HKU (Hard Knocks University) Vacation – Previous one – Cuba. Next one – London. (Fingers crossed for September.) Worship – No. (Though some have had the honor of worshipping me.) X box – No (There’s a dirty joke in there, but I shall refrain.) Yard – only if it involves the NFL, beer or New Scotland… Zodiac Sign – Virgo sun, Libra rising.
My work wife and I went into the office today. My first time being back at my desk since last Tuesday. After being at our respective desks for a while we decided coffee was needed, but in world of coronavirus the question then became – who is open?
Generally, there are no less than ten places within walking distance in which coffee could be procured on a normal weekday. But this is not a normal day which we quickly reminded. The kiosks were closed. The concession stand was closed. The two popular restaurant chains were closed. The three Starbucks in the immediate area were closed.
I work for an agency that provides essential services, in my area are other agencies that also provide essential services. We’re all 24/7/366 we knew someone had to be open in the area and we found it.
Unlike the chains, this is a privately owned bar/restaurant. The owner understood that essential workers were still coming in and we have to eat. Yes, a lot of the food options were trimmed from the menu, and all of it was take-out only now, but it was open for business.
In the mornings around 9am, there is always a line of workers getting their grub and the oh so necessary caffeine fix. However, knowing there is always a line is one thing. Seeing that same line with social distancing engaged is another.
Granted exactly how close/far the suggested six feet of distance between people needs to be worked by some out, but it was in place.
I got on the quickly growing line to hold a place while my work-wife went to the register to find out if we had to be on it to get coffee. Luckily, because we were only getting coffee we did not have to get on line. We were in and out of there quickly.
It’s a unique world we’re in right now. We know it’s not easy for the owners or the workers who come in to keep us caffeinated and fed. But it is appreciated.