Under COVID Operation

 "There are no home tests available anywhere around here," a friend informed us when she heard we were coming home early. "maybe you should stop along the way."

She wasn't wrong. Our route from Buffalo to Arlington takes us through some rural and semi-rural towns, and, let's face it, through areas where many folks don't seem to be taking the pandemic as seriously as we, and the like-minded majority in our urban area, do. For example, there is a long stretch in our drive where, if we stop, very few are masked. 

We were less than an hour south of Buffalo when we made our first unsuccessful stop at a Rite Aid. "There is a Walmart nearby," Heidi noted, checking her phone. "Should we stop on our way out of town?"

"Why don't you call them first to see if they have any tests?" I suggested.

I could hear the conversation from the driver's seat. "Yes, we have some," the voice on the line told her. "Come to the pharmacy and we'll call back for them."

Heidi hung up frustrated and confused. "What does that even mean?" she shook her head.

"I guess we'll see when we get there," I answered.

Ten minutes later we were waiting in the prescription line. When it was our turn, Heidi approached the register and said in a low voice, "I was told you had some COVID tests."

The woman behind the counter nodded furtively. "How many do you want?"

"Two?" Heidi said. 

The woman nodded and went to the back and picked up the phone. In a moment, she returned. "They're bringing them, " she said. "Wait over there."

A little while later, Heidi came to find me in the half-price Christmas section. She had two boxes in a white paper bag. "Should we have asked for more?" she said.

"Maybe," I shrugged.

"Hold these," she told me decisively, and went back to the line. A little while later she returned with 2 more boxes. 

We were feeling pretty lucky when we approached the doors to leave the store. The greeter took a look at us and our bags. "Are those COVID tests?" she asked.

"Um, yes?" I answered.

"They're probably going to set the door alarms off, just so you know," she informed us.

"What should we do?" I asked.

"Just keep walking," she said.

And that is what we did.

The Crows Know

When I woke up in Atlanta this morning, my expectations for the day were nothing like it unfolded to be. After a COVID exposure, we are back in Buffalo, isolated in the basement, and heading home two days earlier than planned. 

So that's what my Upheaval card meant.

What Do You Know?

It may have been half an hour, but it was probably less time that had passed since our group had fractured into one hungry duo and one hungry trio looking for lunch (in two different places), another restless pair not yet content to stop walking and start shopping, and some singletons browsing different stores for post-holiday gifts and other fun stuff. As one of the latter, I carried a bright green bag filled with tiny tins of travel trivia and would you rather questions, along with a real paperback book. I imagined myself relaxing on a bench reading in the unseasonably warm weather, but I ran into Emily, and then Courtney and Treat, and so our group began to reassemble. A few sodas and chicken sandwiches later, we were mostly reunited, and it was time to open those tins. Because? Togetherness and trivia— that's how we roll.

Painting Fences

Good things that happened on Christmas Day: Tracey and Heidi's flight didn't get cancelled; it was sunny and 70 degrees in Atlanta; we were able to walk the dogs for several miles; we mastered several games in the afternoon; the solar gnome glowed in the garden at night. 

"and my hair is still purple," said Emily walking by. "So the point is the monsters are soulless beasts that can't produce their own emotions?" said Victor. "No, I said--" but "he locked me out" said Bill. Then Bill said "it would probably be very mindful for you." "So the ants are also soulless beasts?" Victor asked. "I don't eat leftovers," Annabelle said. Bill and I said "the sweaters in plastic bins" in unison. "I don't want to play yet" said Courtney. "I don't think it's really one universe," I told Victor, "but it would make sense," he said, "anyway they include enough easter eggs to encourage it." 

"solar garden gnome stake," said the box.

The new telescope is going to unfold the universe, provided its three hundred single points of failure do not fail. As we spoke it was one hundred thousand miles from Earth preparing for the first of three course-correcting rocket burns. A rocket is a rod-shaped tool associated with fire, the same as a candle or a torch, which may have animated horses and bison at Lascaux seventeen thousand years ago. A monkey is a kind of brown animal with hands which it uses to climb trees. Monkey see, monkey do.

"Hamsters are allergic to guacamole, baby whales also gain 200 pounds a day." said Richard.

I wish I was in Mexico because the water is pretty.

Wearing a borrowed mask, I waited on the cracked sidewalk for my our Christmas dinner. There was no entrance to the restaurant; the front door had been retrofitted with screens, plywood, and plexiglass to create a touchless passthrough. "15 more minutes," the woman said when I gave her my name. Behind me, a cab driver in a knit cap tapped his foot. I sighed, returned to the car.

"It's not ready yet," I groaned.

"Let's ride around and look at Christmas lights," my sister suggested.

And so we did.

(Title credit to Bill)

Reverse Giftology

"How would you like to give me one more Christmas present?" Heidi asked when I answered my phone yesterday afternoon. I was out running errands and she was shopping with her mom.

"I would love to," I replied.

"Thanks, Baby," she said and hung up.

"Do you want to see what you got me, or should I wrap it up for myself, too?" she asked when we met back at the house.

I laughed. "Maybe!" I said. "I guess someone should be surprised when you open it!"

Beware the Cul de Sac

 A tired dog is a good dog! is a precept of my wife, and so, here in Buffalo, where her parents' young dog is energetic, still in tact, and verrrry interested in Lucy, three miles is the daily minimum. The weather has been comparatively mild, 30 degrees or so, but the wind has been the wild card, and gusts have frozen our fingers and noses and ears. The dogs love it though, and I personally enjoy the challenge of finding a three mile circuit through the winding labyrinth of Heidi's parents' subdivision's streets. 

As we walk in the daylight, we examine the holiday light displays in their off-position. Some are promising-- all those lights! Some are intriguing-- how does that pvc arcade over the sidewalk look when fully lit? Some are classic-- those big molded candles, lamp posts, sleighs and reindeer make me want to jump on eBay. And some are simply baffling-- what could they possibly be going for with those unicorns and that inflatable Oogie Boogie?

Oh, we always vow to walk again after dark, but family commitments and fatigue trump those plans almost every time. So this evening, as I drove home alone from the last of my holiday errands in the gathering dusk, I took a quick left instead of my usual right and rolled through the maze of streets to see all the lights. It was well worth the detour, especially when those tiny flakes of snow brushed my windshield. As they danced in the beam of my headlights, I made that last right turn and drove down our street, which, if I may say, was one of the best.

Santa Baby

"What did you get D for Christmas?" I asked Heidi's brother about his longtime partner.

"Nothing yet," he shrugged. "She can't decide what she wants."

"What are the options?" I said.

"Well, I asked her if she wanted me to surprise her, and that was a definite no" he laughed. "We'll probably get something over New Years when I see her."

"What about you?" I asked. "Do you like to be surprised?"

"Absolutely not!" he answered.

"Well, at least you have that common!" I told him.