Lockdown: Faint Patrick’s Day

I was so tired all day Tuesday I had to get to bed at a decent hour Tuesday evening, and I did, and I got about six solid, good hours of sleep, and then another hour that wasn’t quite as good, but all together it was something of a win. I thought early to bed and early to rise was a good plan, letting me bang out that cancer center story before my 10:30 weekly call with the supervisor.

It didn’t happen. The early to rise thing happened, but I just went right back to bed. Then got up and instead of getting a head start on work, I made rice and fried up some canned corned beef hash, with red cabbage and onions. I’m Irish, so I’m expected to do Irish things on St. Patrick’s, but it’s never been a social day for me, and especially not now.

It was good. Corned beef hash, even the canned stuff, is my favorite breakfast meat, ‘though I try not to have it very often. I didn’t have fresh eggs or I would have topped it with some of that.

I mostly worked on proposal revisions. The phone call with the supervisor went pretty well. I shared my frustration with myself over losing my patience, and she was very sympathetic. She said the proposal situation last week was kind nearly out of hand, so she definitely got it. I suggested we start a multi-department conversation with the person who supervises most of the development officer, my supervisor (communications), and our compliance person to see if we could find a system that met all our needs.

It was a good talk.

I took a long nap after work, then goofed off online until it was time to go to bed.

Yeah, not much of a day, but all my work days had been like this lately (I’m writing this Sunday night).

Dinner was leftover canned corned beef hash and hapa rice.

I have this favorite former student whose birthday is St. Patrick’s day. She’s a nurse in Texas now, so I texted her a happy birthday greeting. I also texted this recent new friend I made while working on the first issue of Hawaii Stories. She was interested in giving Clubhouse a try, and you have to have a person’s number in your contacts in order to invite him or her. She’s a bit younger and very energetic, and based on her social media presence, I was pretty sure she’d be a hit on Clubhouse.

I don’t know if I wrote about this here, but Monday night while the bad kulolo was steaming in the Instant Pot, I finally opened a room on Clubhouse. I wrote for its description, “I read aloud Ray Bradbury’s ‘Another Fine Mess.'” Then I just read the short story, and anyone who wanted to could have dropped in and listened. I think I did a decent job of reading it aloud, too.

Nobody joined, and I was totally okay with it. I just loved the poetic act of reading it for anyone to hear. For ten mintues, someone on this planet was reading aloud a Ray Bradbury story for anyone to hear, and then the moment was gone. Pretty cool.

I shared this on FB, which is how the recent friend got my number and how I invited her.

There was more texting related to the NCAA tournament. Sharon texted me a work-related question that would have seemed weird without context. She wanted to know if the convenience store on the first floor of our office building has club soda. I wanted to say, “They don’t even have Cool Ranch Doritos; why would you think they’d have club soda?” I didn’t, though. She was planning this online alumni event and I knew what the club soda was for, and I didn’t want to add to her stress or make light of it, if she was stressed, which she probably was.

Sylvia texted to nominate her choice for the reading discussion group. I also got into some heavy work-related text with Lauren about some local honey and a beekeeper I know. Another online alumni event. I should follow up; I’m really curious about whether they were able to work things out.

In the Julie-Suzanne-Cindy group text, Julie asked for some recommendations for Asian American literature. I made a few, and picking up a vibe, I said I was recommending the books as good books, not as a prescription. You don’t need a prescription, I wrote, at least not any more than we all do. I get we’re her Asian friends and I know how she’s feeling these days. I appreciate her conscientiousness, but I’m not recommending anything to her for wokeness.

Actually, that’s only mostly true. As I’ve written in this space before (I think), when someone asked me what book I would make the U.S. president (any U.S. president; not specifically the crook in the White House that day) read if I could, I said, “Either Weedflower by Cynthia Kadohata or Farewell to Manzanar by Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston.”

And these are two of the books I recommended for Julie. The first is a novel; the second is an autobiography. They are both about the WWII Japanese internment camps. I honestly don’t know what people know about the internments, but they could stand to read both books anyway.

Americans. Were locked behind barbed wire for years. Treated like enemies without a trial. Their property was seized and sold. Houses, businesses, boats. Boats especially, I think. Land. We’re not talking ancient history; we’re talking recently enough that some who went through it are still alive.

I texted Crush Girl just to say Wednesday felt like Friday. She didn’t get back to me until the next day, and while she wasn’t getting back to me I figured out that Prince Kuhio Day was in fact next Friday, and not the Friday I was looking forward to. Suddently, Wednesday no longer felt like Friday. Felt like Tuesday. Ugh.

Kind of a busy Wednesday. It was definitely the hump for me.

Be like my new friend on Clubhouse. Reach out if you’re in need of some connection. Don’t pandemic alone.

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