The Fuzzy Head Prevails

I must have heard the patter of rain in my sleep last night, because I woke up thinking about foul weather gear. My rain coat, some tights under a pair of old nylon track pants, and my Bean boots were part of the plan as I jumped out of bed determined to carry on my new routine of longer dog walks in the morning. A cup of coffee, and I was good to go.

As I pulled my hood up, I noticed that my dog, Lucy, had other ideas. Rather than meeting me at the door, she was back in bed. Nature and her curiosity won her over, though, and I leashed her up and stepped out into a cold and pelting rain, ready to show what hearty stock I am, seize the day, and walk several miles through the elements.

But once she had taken care of her business, my dog balked at going any farther, literally giving me the side eye to show what she thought of my plan. When I insisted, tugging the leash, she lowered her head, willing the collar to slip loose. And so we stood in a cold, wet stand off, until I gave in and we returned to the warmth of our house.

Animal instinct has to count for something.

Trail Report

Another day, another ramble in the park. This morning we headed out pretty early to a relatively remote regional park, and although we had the trail mostly to ourselves, there were still several occasions when we politely stepped six feet over and allowed other walkers to pass. 

It may have been the socially distant thing to do, but it sure gave us an earful as groups approached and passed. For example, there was the lady hiking with about 8 other seniors and wailing "America" at the top of her lungs. God shed his grace on theeeeeeeeee! she sang off key.

Next, a man, perhaps in his sixties, passed us walking alone, but having a rather heated conversation on his phone. "Nobody gives a damn about the retirement savings of an 84 year old man! They have other things on their minds!" he scoffed as he marched away.

And then there was the little boy and his mom who we passed. The kid was up in the woods getting ready to climb on a rock. 

"Come back here!" his mom demanded.

"I can't," he insisted. "Social distance," he explained over his shoulder and kept on climbing.

"He can't stay distant forever," we laughed as we passed his scowling mom.

What We Can Do

We were doing a deep scrub of the kitchen and dining room when I took a soapy cloth to a couple of candle sticks that had been sitting on our sideboard for literally years. The silver plate polished nicely, yielding to my elbow grease. We should use these more, I thought as I replaced them, thinking then of Eleanor Roosevelt's words, It's better to light a candle than curse the darkness.

And isn't that what many of us have been doing? Long walks, a sparkling clean house, and apple pie-- that's what the eighth day of this crisis brought us. And who knows what tomorrow will be like, but tonight? There will be candlelight.

Earning their Kibble

I was giggling at my cat Tibby swatting and chasing her catnip mouse this morning when I logged in to check on my students' writing. I had asked them to share something that made them laugh this week, and I was eager to see what they posting. The mouse skidded over my socks with the cat in pursuit, but the hardwood floor was too slippery and Tibby overshot her quarry. She recovered with a nimble somersault and slapped the mouse into the living room where the chase continued.

I was still chuckling as I began to scroll through the moments of joy the kids had found in a week of uncertainty.

What do you know? Most of them? Were laughing at their crazy pets, too.

Quote of the Day

My approach to distance learning has been to maintain the daily announcement that I provide through our learning management system, and so students have worked through the agenda as usual, just at home and with no direct instruction. As part of the announcement, we always have a quote of the day, and this week has been no different in that respect either, except that I have asked the kids to respond to the QotD in writing and to post their thoughts on the class discussion board.

Here's what we've written about this week:

Monday: “She refused to be bored, chiefly because she wasn't boring.”~Zelda Fitzgerald 

Tuesday: “I find the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have." ~Thomas Jefferson 

Wednesday: “Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out." ~John Wooden 

Thursday: "A pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees opportunity in every difficulty." ~Winston Churchill

I've tried to choose aphorisms that give them the opportunity to process what's going on through a lens of optimism, but today, when I asked which one they were in response to Churchill's words, most identified as pessimists.

I was thinking about their responses as I took a walk this afternoon, and I wondered how I could lighten the mood a bit for tomorrow. I decided to use a quotation from Ben Franklin: "Trouble knocked at the door, but, hearing laughter, hurried away." and ask the students to share something that made them laugh this week.

I'm looking forward to reading what they write.

Just Doing Their Jobs

There was shouting outside our front door this morning and a heavy odor of mulch choked the air in our complex all day today. The ringing throb of a jackhammer on concrete pounded outside our windows all morning, too. I guess I'm spoiled-- usually I go to work and when I get home, all the maintenance and repair has magically been done. I never thought about the noise and disruption that accompanies such jobs.

Fortunately, the cement mixer idling and coughing in the parking lot at lunch time was a bit quieter, and the sidewalk replacement was all done by the time I got back from a short run.

I can't complain about any of it. It's good to know that some commerce goes on uninterrupted by closures, quarantines, and social distancing.

With My Own Eyes

It seemed like such a good idea. I read a piece in the NYTimes by a doctor who practiced 18 months of social distance back in 2003 in order to keep her premature babies as healthy as possible. She made it all seem so doable, especially the grocery shopping. She went late at night when the stores were nearly empty.

I knew yesterday would be a madhouse anywhere, but I thought that by early this morning some stores would be less crowded and restocked after a crazy weekend and the first Monday of widespread social distance. And so we set the alarm and armed with disinfectant wet wipes and hand sanitizer headed off optimistically at 6:30 AM for the nearest Wegmans. It almost seemed fun, like a silly lark.

Arriving 25 minutes later, we were heartened to see customers pushing carts with toilet paper to the cars. "It kind of makes me want to run," Heidi said, and we laughed as we wiped down our grocery cart and swept through the automatic doors. Our smiles turned to gasps when we turned the corner into the produce department. The giant wooden display bins were bare of nearly all the fresh fruit and vegetables.

Heidi headed to household while I turned to the bakery. A few loaves of warm bread were on a metal rack, along with some soda bread and Irish butter. The meat cases were practically empty, there was very little milk and no eggs, and the toilet paper was gone. Meanwhile the line to checkout stretched to the back of the store. Over the store's audio system Crowded House sang Hey la, hey la, don't dream it's over as we pushed our cart down aisle after empty aisle.

So this is what dystopia is like.