You Can Fool Some of the People Some of the Time

 Late yesterday afternoon our younger daughter stopped by for a short visit (with social distancing and masks.) She brought sandwiches for our dinner. As usual, we talked about the grand children. The older one, a boy who will turn 13 the day after tomorrow, has had a year of distance learning and doesn't much like it. He's noticed that the teacher takes on a sugary persona when the session is being recorded, but reverts to normal off camera. When the recording stops temporarily,  she'll bark at the students. "You need to sit up straight! You need to pay attention. All eyes should be on me!"  When recording resumes, she's all sweetness again. 

Tomorrow both children (his sister is six) will return to the classroom two days a week. Our daughter is a little apprehensive about this. She's over fifty, but has not been vaccinated. She doesn't know how many, if any, teachers have been vaccinated. Her husband, who's in the US Army band, has been vaccinated. 

I Finished a 1500-Piece Puzzle

 I started this puzzle at the end of July.  Our daughter didn't want to tackle so large a puzzle, so she passed it on to me. I'd already given up on another 1500-piece puzzle several years ago. It had a ship passing through a fjord lined with thousands of identical gray rocks. Before long, fearing for my sanity,  I boxed it up and gave it away. Looking at the wisteria blossoms and thatched roof of this one, I anticipated similar trouble, estimating that I'd finish by Halloween if I stuck with it. 

The blossoms and roof came together faster than expected. To my surprise, I finished the puzzle four days ago. Maybe I'm getting better at this. However,  I think a 1500-piece puzzle is just too large for me. I really prefer the 500-piece Ravensburger puzzles with large pieces. They're challenging enough!   

Happy Birthday to Me and Two Others

 We met last weekend at our daughter's house to celebrate our family's August birthdays. We met on the back patio, maintained social distance and wore masks most of the time. We celebrated my 80th birthday, our son-in-law's 51st birthday and our grandson's 18th. I got to wear a sparkly crown with an "80" on it. It was obvious that our six-year-old grand daughter coveted the crown, so she got to take it home.

All of us have been more or less stuck in the house since mid-March because of the pandemic. My husband and I, both at high risk for bad outcomes if we catch the coronavirus, take all kinds of precautions. I would love to have short hair again, but I wouldn't feel safe going   to my salon, so I'm stuck, for now, with witch hair. I would love to go to the grocery store, wander the aisles at my leisure and pick out my own produce. Instead, we order groceries and they are delivered. Most of the time it works out fine, but I wasn't happy when we were charged the "sale price" of $2.50 for a rotting cantaloupe. I complained, but got no response.

I haven't been blogging because (1) our lives are pretty much contained within our four walls, and (2) I have been taking an online course to improve my quality of life despite having a chronic lung disease. The Pulmonary Wellness Foundation (PWF) in New York City offers a challenging 6-week pulmonary rehabilitation  course free of charge. (Donations are accepted.) The daily sessions require a commitment of close to an hour. There are two motivational talks by Noah Greenspan, the  PWF director,  a "breathing, balance, flexibility and strength session" led by a variety of practitioners (instructors in yoga, tai-chi and qigong, physical therapists, and a Bollywood dancer) and finally a daily "walk" which starts out at 4 minutes and gradually increases to 30 minutes by Day 42. I have stuck with it. Tomorrow is the beginning of the sixth week. I can honestly say I feel more energetic since starting the course and plan to maintain the habit of daily exercise once the course is over.  

81st Birthday

On Saturday, we had a porch celebration for Phil's 81st birthday.  Our younger daughter and family, including their beagle, Roscoe, came up from Burke, VA. Our older daughter came over from North Laurel. (Her husband and son were picking up the camper for next weekend's camping trip.) We sang happy birthday, he opened his presents, and we had cake. 

Dilly Dog and Roscoe were happy to see each other. It's a love match. Both refused to wear masks. 

The Dog Ate It

We worked for two or three weeks to finish this challenging 1000-piece puzzle. It's a Paris street scene. As usual, once I'd put together the border and laid out all the pieces, I was sure that there weren't nearly enough pieces. Halfway to completion, I knew there were most certainly enough. In the end, however, three pieces did turn out to be missing. 

Dilly-Dog was the suspected culprit. Since we couldn't pass this puzzle on to someone else, Phil put a piece on the floor and waited to see what would happen. Sure enough, our "starving" roly-poly dog scarfed it up. Phil had to pry it out of her mouth. From now on, no unchaperoned pieces! All unattached pieces must be sequestered in designated waiting areas (tray, box lid, plastic compartment) so that none wander afar and fall off the edge of their world.

Mothers' Day

On Sunday, we had a surprise visit from our younger daughter and her family. My husband was in on the surprise.  In the late afternoon, he said, "Go to the front door." There stood Nate, Mariel, Becky and Tom beside their home-made "Happy Mother's Day" poster.  They also brought us home-made enchiladas, the first meal we have not cooked ourselves since the pandemic shut everything down. 

We maintained proper social distancing. I would have liked to have gotten closer to take the photo, but of course I was too distracted to use the close-up feature on the camera. (As you can see, I have not yet figured out how to change the date.  I think I might have to remove the battery first.)

Anyway, they drove up from Northern Virginia, about 45 minutes away.  Tom said traffic was light. We haven't seen them since Christmas. Becky mentioned that before I came to the door, they had seen a man walking up our street, wearing a mask and lugging an accordion. He was part of the Mariachi band that was just tuning up for a backyard fiesta across the street.  We could hear joyful yipping.  It was probably a belated Cinco de Mayo celebration. I can only hope that the guests were maintaining social distancing.

Our older daughter, who lives ten miles away, sent flowers and a box of chocolates on Saturday.  She sent them via our son-in-law, Michael. Although at high-risk himself for serious complications if he catches the virus, he nevertheless picks up extra items for us when he does grocery shopping for his family.  He's one of those intrepid types who hates being stuck in the house and is determined to be helpful to others. 

So funny!!

https://www.google.com/search?q=roy%20zimmerman%20the%20liar%20tweets%20tonight

An Eco-haiku

Many neighbors' yards,

Dotted with dandelions,

Help to "Save the Bay".

This is a salute to neighbors who allow weeds and wildflowers to take up space in their yards.  "The Bay" is the Chesapeake Bay, a National Treasure that's in danger of dying from pollution and "dead zones", brought on in part by the over use of herbicides and pesticides in pursuit of lush-looking, weedless, green shag-carpet lawns.  The Chesapeake Bay Foundation has tried for years to educate Marylanders about the dangers lawn chemicals pose to the health of the Bahy. 

My mother unknowingly hit upon a truth about lawn care back in the seventies, when she hired a lawn service called, of all things,  "Chem Lawn."  Several large maples died. One hot and dry July, her lawn looked parched and withered.  So did the lawns of other lawn service clients on Maple Lane. "Only one yard is still green on this street, and it''s full of weeds!" she complained. 

Love of Puzzles in a Time of Coronavirus

Yes, it's another puzzle. Other people are performing random acts of kindness. While they're delivering groceries to housebound neighbors, donating blood, and running up cloth masks on their sewing machines, I'm joining together the pieces of yet another jigsaw puzzle. 

This one will be much easier than the last, which had all those teensy-weensy villas on an Italian hill side. This one is called "Cat Nap". It shows eight sleeping felines in a bedroom decorated by a Crazy Cat Woman. It is full of cat stuff--cat lamp, cat clock, cat figurines, cat bedroom slippers, cat portraits, cat bookends, books about cats, stuffed-animal cats, paw-print wallpaper and a potted plant labeled "catnip." This puzzle also seems to have one missing piece and another from a different puzzle. How did the piece with the angry rooster get into the box?

Reading is another hobby that I'm doing more intensively these days. We've collected too many books over the years. I can't go to the library, which is closed anyway, so I'm methodically reading through our collection. I'm going to donate a bunch of them when this is over. Why hang onto them? Right now, I'm reading Ron Chernow's Titan: the Life of John D. Rockefeller.  I bought it at a church book sale five years ago for 75 cents. The book is in near mint condition because the original owner bailed out on page 49. So far, it's held my interest. Chernow is a lively writer. If it turns boring, I will just put it in the donations box and choose another. 

Puzzle Me This

This week I've been working on a puzzle. The first day or two,  I am always totally convinced that I have bought a defective puzzle with quite a few missing pieces. As I struggle, I mentally compose an angry letter of complaint to send to the manufacturer, together with a photo of the "completed" puzzle with missing pieces.

 This puzzle was supposed to be easy!  It has only 500 pieces. It is a "large-piece-format" puzzle, with pieces that are "easy to see and handle." But why are so many pieces missing???  This puzzle was not cheap, so there should be better quality control!

Several days pass and I begin to clam down.  Half the puzzle has been completed and all the "missing" pieces have been hunted down and put in place. But now comes the real test of my patience.  Have I told you that patience is not my long suit?  See all those Italian villas on the hillside?  "Large" though the pieces may be, making out the architectural details--itty-bitty shutters, miniature door ways, tiny plants, miniscule windows, barely-visible balcony furniture--is going to be a challenge. It may take me more than a week to conquer the hillside. I have time, plenty of time. 

Keeping Busy

We're in the age group that's been told to stay home no matter what. This sounded like fun on Monday, but it's Wednesday and it's already getting old. 

The weather had been beautiful and the neighborhood is a riot of blooms, so we've gone on walks every day this week. I'm happy to say that, despite my recently diagnosed chronic lung disease,  I can still climb a rather steep hill without undue distress. The hill comes at the beginning of our 1.8 mile walk. Actually, my husband avoids the hill. He and Dilly-Dog meet me down at the corner. He's still recovering from knee-replacement surgery three months ago.  He has a tendency to overdo it, and so he's overdone the walking and bike riding recently and his knee has told him about it. So, for now, he's skipping the hill.

Yesterday we filled out the 2020 census form on line. It took less than 10 minutes. Our ever-nosy government originally tried to include a question on citizenship, but the courts wouldn't have it. Still, the form asked way too many questions to my way of thinking about various racial and national origins--especially Hispanic. 

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Today's walk took us through a mile of pink or white blossoming trees and clusters of yellow forsythia and daffodils.

The occasional pink-blossoming tree is probably a flowering cherry. Or maybe a flowering plum. The ubiquitous white-blossoming trees arching their malevolent arms over the streets are the loathsome Bradford Pears. The arms are "malevolent" because the trees are brittle and fragile. The older they get, the more likely it is that one of their clunky branches could flatten you or your car. Windy weather brings down branches all over the neighborhood. They are a junk tree, a "Frankentree", according to my husband. They stink. Literally. Walk beneath them and you get an unpleasant whiff of something fishy. The county has recognized its error in the wholesale planting of this tree 50 years ago and is gradually cutting them all down.

Before the coronavirus made us all afraid, my husband and I used a "grabber" to pick up trash along our route. We started collecting just cans and bottles for the recycling bin, but after awhile, we began collecting trash--paper napkins, fast food containers, sales slips, etc--for the trash can as well. (I love the Spanish translation of the "trash only" phrase that's on the cans provided by the county:  "basura solamente." This is a phrase melodious for something malodorous, wouldn't you agree?)   Anyway, since the country is in crisis mode, we have stopped our two-person effort to keep Maryland beautiful. Like the coronavirus outbreak, the trash pileup will get worse before it gets better. Someday, when life returns to normal, perhaps we can restart our beautification project.  Hope springs eternal.

QUARANTINED

My husband is 80; I am 79. We are elderly and we both have an  "underlying condition" that makes us vulnerable to the coronavirus. What elderly person doesn't?  Mine is IPF, a chronic lung disease.  

We have decided to self-isolate for at least the next two weeks. How hard can this be? We are both introverts, although I must say my husband is becoming more like his gregarious dad these days--striking up conversations with strangers he encounters here and there. Still, being confined to the house should be a minor problem for both of us. We can still take walks around the neighborhood, we like to read, we have Netflix. He does an online Spanish lesson every day and I'm thinking of getting back to my on-line Algebra 1 course.

One thing I could do more is blog. I've gotten out of the habit.  The past year has been difficult, not only because I lost my claim to be a healthy geezerette but also because we have a couple of close family members who suffer from chronic anxiety and depression. Unfortunately, I let their problems--about which I can do nothing--take up too much room in my brain, leaving little energy for anything else. This is a bad habit. I need to blog more and fret less. 

Tomorrow there was to have been a memorial service at our church for two lovely ladies, former parishioners, who moved to Tennessee and whose ashes have now come back to us in a couple of small boxes. They were an 89-year-old British war bride and her daughter, who had Downs Syndrome and lived at home her whole life. She was either in her late 50's or early 60's. I would have learned her age tomorrow from the service bulletin, but the service will have to be rescheduled.  This past Thursday, the bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington closed all the churches for the next two weeks. 

Maryland schools have also been closed for a couple of weeks. Our younger daughter, who lives in Virginia, fully expects to have the kids home with her the next two weeks as well.