Not very creative with the blog post title, ay? But it is raining on this Sunday afternoon and I can justify sitting here to blog for a bit.
How have you all been, what’s it like in your neck o’the woods regarding pandemic living? Here in New England, many are abiding the mask wearing in public tight quarters spaces. Our town Hall is still only open by appointment and working via e-mail, phone, etc. for the most part. Businesses are open with the restrictions many of you are familiar with. Strange times. I don’t yet feel comfortable sitting indoors in a restaurant, but we have dined at a few with outside patios.
I feel sorry for the teachers who are dealing with a mess of kids wearing masks (talk about awkward and frustrating) … and the fear some of them are feeling being so exposed if they’ve been very vigilant in their own social distancing. And I feel sorry for the youth who have been so restricted in their socialization and education experience. Parents are trying to assuage their fears, balance work and home and childcare needs, a nightmare, really. Healthcare workers are now seeing the second wave, according to my friends in that field. Every sniffle, every achy muscle day (for me that’s always, damned fibromyalgia) every scratchy sore throat brings a little thread of dread – is it the virus? The bad kind, the mild kind or the no symptom kind? .. should I quarantine? Should my husband and I be sleeping in separate beds? (hey, sometimes that’s actually appealing anyway) Jeez I wore my mask, washed my hands,…. the anxiety of it all rolls on and on…. I no longer wipe down every single surface of every item I bring home from the grocery store though, as I did initially. That got old and tedious and felt like overkill. Washing the produce and washing my hands after handling feels like it’s enough.
We’ve been getting stuff done around the farm, my daughter and her significant other love their home nextdoor and it’s a joy to see them mowing lawn, weeding garden, seeing the back door light go on at night while they let the dogs go potty. And having my daughter nearby to share the barn chores again is a huge blessing. My son is building his home on a lot at the back of our farm. I may have mentioned it’s what we do for a living, home building, so this is one area where we -get stuff done- in rapid succession and at a more reasonable price than the typical homeowner.
A glimpse of my son’s home to be – the red “barn” is his garage… the interior of the home being done slowly as materials, labor and bartering come along, the upstairs will remain unfinished until they become a young family. The goal is to have as minimal a mortgage as possible (young couple and all that goes with it).
The joy these two goat girls give us are immeasurable. They are so friendly, talking to us all the time, from a distance and right up close. Truly they are like two toddlers looking for our companionship and attention whenever we are outside.
The upcoming election – oh, man. ( here’s where you skip the next two paragraphs if you still remain a 45 supporter, I’m not looking to insult anyone) – It has taken a toll on me, watching what I believe is the slow unraveling of America as we (I? I shouldn’t speak for you) believed it to be. I’m sad for us all. I’m not a huge fan of B*den but I also recognize he’s not the slow sleezy do-nothing some would have you believe. His running mate choice was his best option in my opinion. I look forward to watching K*mala debate the deadwood P*nce. I am encouraged by some of my republican friends who are now saying there is no way in hell they would vote for Tr*mp again. One dyed in the wool republican neighbor said 45 is a trainwreck he’s ashamed he voted for and he will vote B*den come November. I’m hoping there are many many more out there like him. And yet…. there’s the uncertainty of what will happen should he lose. I doubt he’ll accept the results, no matter what they are, unless he is the winner. And there are so many nuts threatening civil war, it’s frightening. We are at a crossroads, this country… and I hope and pray and beg and plead for our collective soul to rise and rid itself of all the corruption, hate and fueled divide – especially the politicians, including the current P*TUS, who feed it relentlessly. We the people deserve better.
Yesterday it was reported the P*TUS lost his younger brother, of which he was close. I would imagine that is a very tough loss for him, and even more so now. While I despise what he’s doing to our Country, I find I have empathy regardless. Although the reason for his brother’s passing has not been revealed, I suspect he may have contracted COVID-19. When he was first reported as ill was precisely the same time the P*TUS started wearing a mask occasionally in public. I don’t know if we’ll ever know the truth of it. After having dismissed initial warnings about the virus and playing it down repeatedly for a length of time, well.. the irony and indeed the tragedy of it is what comes to mind. Of course, I’m speculating only.
Stella by the sea remains a respite for all of us. We each use it together and separately when free time comes up. It does my heart good to see the kids enjoy the kayaks, the grilling of burgers and hotdogs and roasting of marshmallows in the firepit with their friends (small safe gatherings are possible outdoors). I am loving my new kayak – the one that is discontinued and I bought for a bargain price. She glides through the water easily and while a little more tippy than my old steady Ruby, she’s fairly stable regardless and is more agile, lighter to carry. I have yet to come up with a name for her that feels right- but every vessel must have a proper name…… suggestions welcome. She’s red orange and yellow.
A photo I took while kayaking – some of the Thimble Islands out in the distance..
We finally laid my father to rest thanks to the kindness of dear friends who have a lovely old 1976 Egg Harbor boat. It was a small gathering, just my sister and I, my husband, my niece, and the lovely couple who took us up the Connecticut River to the mouth of the river into LI Sound – just beyond the lighthouse at Saybrook Point. Since it’s not technically legal to dump ashes there , that’s not technically what we were doing . There was the traditional burial Psalm 23 reading, we tossed white roses out into the waves along with what wasn’t really my father’s ashes in a biodegradable urn, and read the following below as well… my tears were for several reasons, but the most important one was the overwhelming knowledge in my heart that it was exactly as my father would want it – exactly where he wanted to be in the end. I felt a sincere closure for him and for me, and that is such a blessing.
Wishing us all good health and peace of mind during these trying times –
