I was awake and asleep a couple of hours at a time all night. Of course I checked Twitter each time I was up, as I have for the past four years to see if you-know-who had blown up the planet.
I was asleep when election news exploded, thank goodness. I wouldn’t have wanted to check and double-check my sources in real time. So when I really got up some time after 9:45, it was pretty much done. Still took me some time, scanning my phone while still on my back in bed, to make sure I was reading correctly, but apparently I was.
All I could do was sigh. Breathe deeply. Feel tension flee my shoulders and neck. Inhale deeply the smell of my bed linens and pillow. They smelled fresher. Welcoming, even.
I took half an hour or so to read the news on my laptop before deciding on a celebratory breakfast from the Taco Bell drive-through. It’s what I most wanted. If someone had offered me steak and eggs, I still would have opted for Taco Bell. Don’t know why.
It went well with the sparkling wine Penny gave me for my birthday. I got drunk. It’s only the second time I can think of that I’ve been drunk. It didn’t feel as morose as I expected it. It felt like convalescing. Like recovery. Like healing.
Went back to bed for a good, long nap. Did the infinite scroll of Twitter and IG. Kinda stayed off FB, where the level of discourse tends to be not quite as thoughtful as I wanted.
I actually watched the last part of the football game between Notre Dame and Clemson. It was a rather thrilling game, even though I don’t care for college football. Notre Dame students stormed the field when it was over. It was ridiculous. Thousands of them dancing and hugging and screaming on the field. Idiots, all of them.
For dinner I had leftover Korean veggies with some hapa rice. Daikon, broccoli, and seaweed. It was good.
More good energy and interaction in the NaNo Skype. I banged out 2075 words.
The Suzanne-Julie-Cindy group text was pretty happy. I stayed out of it. Strangely, there was a little Grace-Penny-Reid group text. Reid doesn’t text much, and Grace has been a recluse all year, returning neither texts or emails. Cautious optimism. I stayed out of that too.
I’m pleased, but I’m still not at ease. It could be a very strange several weeks before January 20.
Lockdown continues. Life doesn’t suck, but the year’s been rough. If you need someone to text you through it, leave me a comment.
I slept terribly Thursday night and was stupidly tired. Getting to my desk Friday was a bit of a struggle, and I didn’t get rolling until a quarter to ten. Which is okay for Friday, because I don’t mind working late to end the week.
The big thing I did was that big-ask project. Moved the houses around, messed around with the furniture just a little, enough to cut the length down to nearly the target length. That took a few focused hours but I stuck with it and emailed it out fifteen minutes before two. My personal goal had been two. It’s nice when it works out like that. Mean’s I’m not hopeless.
I had to do a few more edits for the cancer center article. The development officer wanted the longer version, if it could fit, but part of the longer version wasn’t as graceful as in the shorter, so I fixed that section and sent it off. The rest of my day was editing little things here and there. I didn’t finish one thing that was due Friday so I’ll be doing some work Sunday. I might have anyway.
I was bleary-eyed tired that I knew I couldn’t mess around for NaNo work. Got on the group Skype, and you could tell everyone else was tired. The others weren’t quite as motivated as I was, so I did the first couple of word sprints myself, and I got my first thousand words in half an hour. I hit the daily 1667 word goal some time after but made myself keep going. So far this month, each day’s word count has been a little higher than the previous day’s, so I kinda wanted to keep that going if I could. It’s obviously unsustainable through the month.
So I guess around 11:00 or so I finally stopped at 2712 words. I have a culprit now, and maaaaybe something of a motive. I’ve already resigned myself to the unavoidable reality that the plot is going to contradict itself multiple times, but there’s no erasing in NaNoWriMo, so I’ll worry about putting the beginning, middle, and end together, then take care of inconsistencies.
Whatever, though. It’s messy while not feeling like just goofing off. Feels like a novel in progress, and my brain is happy to be hammering it together.
Tumbled into bed around midnight without Darth Vader.
I had a huge breakfast, so I skipped lunch. Eggs with corned beef hash and hapa rice. It was pretty dang yummy. For dinner I went to Sam’s in Nuuanu for Korean food. I’ve tried to stick to Kalihi for takeout during this lockdown, and I feel bad that I haven’t really explored as much — this is the perfect time for it. I couldn’t decide what I wanted, though, and time was running out. I usually get Korean food when I can’t decide, so yeah. I picked a Korean place I don’t go to very much but really like. I think it’s been at least five years since I’ve been to Sam’s. Maybe longer.
I snacked on a lot of potato chips. A lot of them.
There’s some new music this weekend I’m pretty interested in, but thing I’ve had my eyes on for a few months is the new album by Fates Warning, Long Day Good Night. Gave it a few inattentive spins today. It’s very pleasing to my ears. So far nothing especially memorable. Gonna have to give it some better listens this weekend. The CD is on its way to my mailbox (I preordered it), so it may be better to wait until I have the lyrics and liner notes.
Crush Girl texted me to talk a litlte bit abut TV and exercise. Ali and I texted a bunch about a character in my novel based on someone we know. There was a bit of election talk in the Suzanne-Julie-Cindy group text but I stayed out of it. Sylvia and I texted a little about peripherals for her Microsoft tablet, then about options for restaurant-prepared Thanksgiving turkey.
I need some recovery time this weekend. Coincidentally, the main character in my novel needs a recharging weekend as well. It might be fun to write about it.
Stress, tension, anxiety, restlessness. Pandemic feelings. Don’t deal with them alone if you need someone to connect with. Leave a comment and I’ll send you contact info.
Laundry Thursday morning was uneventful. I had twice as much as usual, thanks to my new black tees, but twice as much as not very much is still not very much.
I spent some of the laundry time thinking about groceries. There’s a Safeway in the same strip mall as the laundry, openint at five in the morning and the couple of times I’ve stopped there to pick something up, it was basically me and the stock people. That’s what I want, minus the stock people, who tend to block exactly the spot I want to get at, and take forever to make room for me.
But by the time I was ready to roll, I really had to get to a bathroom. I should have stopped at the office, then the Safeway two blocks from the office. Instead I trucked it for home.
So now it’s been two weeks plus three days since my last visit to the grocery store. I’m thinking about stretching it out to Monday night. I’ll have to grab some Diet Pepsi somewhere, probably Long’s again in the wee hours.
I got a couple more hours of sleep before reporting for work.
Work was busy. Had a couple of Zoom meetings, started a new project (for a huge ask), and was told I’ll be working directly with the CEO on this one. It’s fine. The project looks straightforward enough with no landmines I can think of.
I worked on edits for that cancer center story. Other stuff I can’t remember now.
I guess the Big Mac combo was my breakfast. I finished off the Portuguese bean soup for lunch and dinner. Kind of scarfed a bunch of chips while working on NaNo, so maybe that was dinner.
The NaNoWriMo group Skype was well attended, chatty, and fairly productive. I didn’t work efficiently, and stayed with it until nearly one in the morning, finally packing it in at 2647 words, or 11,077 cumulative words. That’s nearly 3000 words ahead of the pace, so I’m feeling good. I could slack for two days and only be a couple of words behind.
In NaNoWriMo lingo, there are outliners and pantsers. Outliners plan what they’re going to write, sometimes for a whole year in advance of November. Panters fly by the seats of their pants as they write their novels. You can probably guess which one I am.
I’m writing a cozy mystery set in a high school. I don’t think you’re supposed to pants a mystery novel, but I’m trying. Thursday night I was seven chapters in and still hadn’t decided who killed the custodian or why, so I had my main character play a little game where she would just name people she worked with, then make up a crazy reason each person would murder the custodian. She turned into a little song, each coworker a new lyric.
It was fun, and it led me to figuring out who the killer is. I’m still tossing a coin on the motive, but I think something I wrote a couple of days ago is an accidentally well-placed clue. So my motive may have already written itself.
I have to say some of the funnest bits of writing are explaining teacher culture to people who might not be familiar. I’ve got a lot of that to mine over the next three weeks. I’ll enjoy it if nobody else does. If you’ve never snuck out of an assembly, asking the teacher whose homeroom sits in front of yours to keep an eye on your students, you’ve certainly thought about it. Hey, dental appointments are difficult to grab sometimes, or someone was making 10,000 photocopies before school and you’re giving a test tomorrow.
Yes, of course I’ve done it. But my students didn’t need my supervision — they were always super well-behaved.
Crush Girl and I texted about some shows she’s been watching. I made a few recommendation because of course whatever anyone else is watching is not as good as what I’m watching. I need to get over this need to tell people what’s good. Jenny texted me to get some help editing something related to her work. I’m always down for that, especially for Jenny.
One of my friends has been in self-isolation because she was feeling suddenly terrible and had herself tested. She messaged me to say she tested negative, like six days after her test. What a ridiculous turnaround. But I’m glad she’s feeling better and doesn’t have it.
It’s been a crazy November so far and it’s going to get crazier. Especially if you’re doing NaNoWriMo. But even if you’re not and would like someone to connect with in the craziness, leave a comment and I’ll send you some contact info. Don’t self-isolate needlessly.
Aaaaaarrrrrrrrr. I’m writing about Wednesday at 1:02 a.m. Friday. With very bleary eyes.
Very late Tuesday night is my usual laundry time, but because of NaNoWriMo and election stress, I did decide to push it off to Wednesday night. So after not nearly enough sleep (but more than I would have gotten) I got to my desk Wednesday morning and wrote a story for the cancer center’s annual report. It wasn’t especially difficult but it took time. Most of my day, in fact.
I’m fairly pleased with how it came out. It took some amount of finesse I think most readers won’t recognize, but I know what I had to do and I admit I’m kind of impressed with myself. And I’m difficult to impress.
I also proofed a thing we’re printing in a local publication.
I didn’t waste any time when I was done with work. Did some chores, brushed my teeth, packed up the laundry, and loaded the car with my empty water jugs. The nightly NaNo Skype session began at 9:00, but I started writing at about 8:00. By the time we got rolling, I was more than halfway to my daily goal.
It was a nice time, hanging with other NaNoers. The energy was really, really positive. I got a few hundred words past the daily 1,667 goal and called it a night. I was in bed by 10:00, but didn’t get to sleep until about 10:30.
Woke up in the middle of the night, just past 12:00, and ugh. Took a while to get back to sleep. At 2:30 I got up and headed for the supermarket to get drinking water. Then the McD’s drive-through for a Big Mac Combo and then to the laundry.
I’m speeding through this because I’m ridiculously tired.
I got a text from Sharon asking for some help with wording on an announcement. That’s my job. Crush Girl texted to talk a little about her job. My friend Wendy in Manila asked me on FB messenger how the election was going and I told her I can’t talk about it until it’s over.
Breakfast was leftover Portuguese bean soup. So was lunch. I kind of skipped dinner so I could get to bed early.
That’s it. Speed version of my lockdown journal. Leave a comment if you want someone to connect with. Pandemic isolation sucks, and you don’t have to go through it alone. Zip. Zap. Zoom.
David Letterman took some time off from The Late Show in March 2003. I was nearing completion of my first year teaching at Assets, still young enough to stay up for Letterman and be among the first teachers on campus early the next morning.
Letterman had a stye or a cyst or one of those eye ailments I only know the names of from doing crossword puzzles. While he was out, he had different fill-in hosts each night, something he did a few times. I thought it was best when Paul Shaffer was the host, and Bruce Willis did a great job on almost no notice the night Letterman’s son was born.
Second best fill-in (sorry Bruce) was Elvis Costello. He was the host and the musical guest on March 11.
We were in the run-up to the Iraq invasion, a military action I was opposed to from the beginning. I swear I took this position long before Farenheit 9/11. I could sense it on September 12, actually, that America was gunning for a war when I was still teaching at HBA, and changed my voicemail greeting at work to “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.”
We talked about the impending invasion of Iraq in my tenth-grade homeroom. There were a few pro-invasion students, a few anti-invasion students, and a few who didn’t care much. They were high-schoolers. I tried to allow as much free exchange as possible. I made my position clear, as did my MIT-grad homeroom co-teacher, but we let students have most of the conversation.
The United States invaded Iraq on March 20.
On March 11, Elvis Costello introduced himself as the musical guest on Letterman. I thought it was pretty cute, the intro. Look at the first minute or so of the video.
“Please play ‘What’s So Funny ‘Bout Peace, Love and Understanding,'” I said aloud to my television.
And he played it.
He was at a different place in March 2003. That month, he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and in May, he would announce his engagement to Diana Krall (tangent: nicely done, Elvis). He was no longer the young, skinny, irony-spitting, racist punk he was in the 70s. He released his cover of “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding” in 1978 (a B-side, believe it or not), half his life before.
I needed Elvis to bring it back. I wanted to be assured that under the years of success and the nice suit and straight teeth was still the punk. Not the racist; thank God he grew out of that.
And he did, and while the performance is not as ironic as Elvis’s original recording, something took irony’s place: desperation. Listen to him sing it here. The punk is still there, screaming to get out, right around the 3:06 mark. I sang it with him, with as much desperation as Elvis seemed to communicate.
Elvis performed with the Honolulu Symphony Orchestra on March 31 and April 1, 2005. I bought two tickets to each show. It was a pops concert, and Elvis alone was singing with the orchestra, not playing his guitar, and not accompanied by his band. He was in kind of a jazzy standards period.
I tried to convince R to go with me. I think she was offended. She was dating that guy, or possibly engaged already; I can’t remember which. I was stupid enough to think we could still do things as friends, and I knew she’d love an Elvis concert.
I was working on my master’s then, and I took a woman from my cohort, Willow, to the first show. Then Penny, my reliable concert buddy, to the second.
The shows were great. Nearly identical sets. He didn’t do his rockers, explaining he was “in a different place,” as if I didn’t already know. He did sing “Alison” and “Watching the Detectives,” which fit perfectly into the format.
But I could see it, because of his Letterman performance. The punk. It was still in there. And he was ready to unleash it if he needed it.
I write all this to say that “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding” is bringing me some amount of peace on this Wednesday morning as I write about my Tuesday. I encourage you to hit PLAY on the video if you could use a little bit of comfort.
As I walk through this wicked world Searching for light in the darkness of insanity I ask myself Is all hope lost? Is there only pain and hatred And misery? And each time I feel like this inside There’s one thing I wanna know What’s so funny ’bout peace, love, and understanding? What’s so funny ’bout peace, love, and understanding?
I woke up after just a couple of hours of sleep and took advantage of the hour to make a run to Long’s. I would have hit the supermarket but the first two hours after opening at five are for seniors and other people needing time and space. Grabbed enough Diet Pepsi to tide me over and picked up a few other supplies. Strangely, I bought some cookware. From the drugstore. It was there. A small non-stick frypan, an 8×8 Pyrex baking pan, and an 8-inch Pyrex pie pan. Not for pie. For eating. I love the rimmed edge for regular dining. I have another such pan somewhere else but I can’t find it.
I struggled to get up for work Tuesday morning, but I got rolling as soon as I got to my desk. Returned emails. Took notes. Set myself up to write one of my stories, based on the emails I received overnight. Posted a story on the website. The web posting is going much more quickly now, and I’m sticking to a certain standard I’ve set for myself. The social media stuff takes as long as it always has.
Then I asked for the second half of the day off. I was more sleep-deprived than I could handle. And stressed. So I took a nap, left the TV off, stayed off social media (mostly), and did a few chores. Met with the NaNo Skype group and banged out 2100+ words. I decided sometime in the evening to take advantage of one of my built-in laundry cushions, pushing the chore off until Wednesday night.
This let me take care of some stuff without rushing to bed, including making some kind of abbreviated grocery list. Which I’ve yet to do as I type this.
And as I walk on Through troubled times My spirit gets so downhearted Sometimes So where are the strong? And who are the trusted? And where is the harmony, Sweet harmony? ‘Cause each time I feel it slippin’ away It just makes me wanna cry What’s so funny ’bout peace, love, and understanding? What’s so funny ’bout peace, love, and understanding?
In addition to the Skype time with fello NaNoers, I texted with Sylvia about her old position no longer being listed on our website. Too late to turn back now! I sorta taunted. There was brief election talk in the Suzanne-Cindy-Julie group text. Melody texted for the first time in years to ask if I knew who won the mayoral race. It was only 8:30, and although I had only peeked in on social media, I knew that people were still in line to vote, so the printout would be delayed. Jennifer sent me a link to an article about the Oxford comma. I’ve seen most of them but I hadn’t seen this one. I only skimmed it because I was still working on my NaNo goal.
Oh yeah. Breakfast was McD’s. On my way home from Long’s (and just before a short return to bed) I had a Local Deluxe platter AND an Egg McMuffin AND a hash browns. Eating my feelings again.
Lunch was leftover Portuguese bean soup. I skipped dinner but I did have a slice of apple pie and more than a generous helping of Lay’s kettle-cooked jalapeno chips while I wrote. Writing is so fattening.
I seldom drink alcohol when I’m doing creative writing. The depressive effect on my already morose personality doesn’t lend itself well to the energy required for putting sentences together quickly. So far in these first three days of NaNoWriMo, however, I’ve been stirring little mixed cocktails between bursts of writing, and they’ve actually done the job. I have too many nearly-finished bottles of spirits in my cabinet and I need to make room, so I’m trying to retire these soldiers and lay them to rest.
The first night I had some Suntory Toki, which I’ve written about. The second night it was Monkey Shoulder, a Scotch whisky I really don’t care for on its own and am not too impressed with as a mixer. It was decent, though, for writing. I added bitters, simple syrup, and lots of ice. Last night I finished off a rather old bottle of Jonny Walker Black, with ginger beer, bitters, and lots of ice. It was sort of a horsefeathers cocktail without the citrus. I had a lemon in the fridge. Wish I’d thought of it. It was nice to toss the bottle!
If mitigation anxiety or election anxiety have you feeling a bit disconnected, I’m here for it. Leave a comment and I’ll send you my info. I don’t know if I can text you down off the ledge, but I’ll keep you company up there.
I’m writing about Monday at 11:26 in the evening Tuesday, so the details may be fuzzy. My vision certainly is, as I type through bleary eyes.
I didn’t get to work until about 9:45, tired as heck. This is going to be a long NaNoWriMo.
I was pretty productive, though, emailing several people to set up interviews or to actually send interview questions. I multitasked the heck out of my day. I had a phone call with my supervisor to talk about one of the donors I was interviewing. At 3:30 I put the football game on the radio, and it was good accompaniment as I went through my tasks.
I hit 2088 words for the day, slightly ahead of the 1667 needed daily to hit 50K by the end of the month. I’m enjoying the writing, mostly, and think the characters are developing nicely, but I haven’t decided yet who the murderer is, and I need to decide on a character flaw for my narrator very, very soon.
It’s a cozy mystery set on a public school campus in Honolulu. Kind of fun to write. I had a little whisky cocktail, a kind of impromptu old-fashioned, with Suntory Toki, bitters, simple syrup, and ice. It was pretty yummy. The Toki is a thin, insipid whisky that drinks really easily, so it mixes well. I played my six-song Pearl Jam playlist on repeat for my soundtrack.
Then I did a stupid thing and stayed up kind of late reading. I think I was trying to put off going to bed, where I knew I wasn’t going to sleep well. I think I got to bed at 2:30 or so.
I had leftover Portuguese bean soup for breakfast and lunch. A slice of apple pie for a snack. A couple of hot dogs and the last of my manapuas for dinner.
There was very little texting Monday, and I barely noticed it. Sylvia asked if I have any advice for brown gravy and I told her I’m terrible at gravy, so my advice was to purchase some gravy mix. I sent Crush Girl a text to see how her weekend was, and got a short reply. And that was it!
It was fine. I was a bit absorbed in work and my NaNo activities. The Skype session probably helped a lot, too. Very good connection there with people I like a great deal.
I didn’t do any serious decluttering this week, a huge disappointment. It would have taken more planning ahead, with all the NaNo stuff I’ve added to my day, and I didn’t have it in me. I did throw a few things into the trash before I wheeled the bin to the curb, some things I knew I was going to get rid of and were just taking up space in my kitchen, so I felt good about that, but it was a token effort. I didn’t put a dent in the stuff I really want to get through, and this is not good.
I don’t have time to write a novel, as you can plainly see. This is the whole reason NaNoWriMo exists, and it’s why I’m here for it. Nobody has time to write a novel. So we may as well write one in November.
Hang in there, wherever and whoever you are. Things don’t seem to be getting better, but as long as you’re not contributing to their getting worse, you should feel okay. And if you need some connection, leave a comment. I have bandwidth. Let’s connect.
I slept a little better than usual Saturday night but it still wasn’t very good. I set my alarm early, not to hit the beach this time (I think I’m just going to avoid weekends there altogether) but to hit the swap meet.
It’s probably the most juvenile thing I do, but I realized some years ago that I like wearing black t-shirts, so much that when I’m not wearing a black t-shirt, I wish I were. I feel weird not wearing black. So I have some nicer black t-shirts I save for certain occasions (most of my concert tees are black, so of course I wear them to concerts) and some cheapo — but not necessarily unattractive — black tees I wear every day. The everyday shirts I get at the swap meet.
There are a whole bunch of shirt vendors at the swap meet, spread around the permiter of the stadium, who mostly carry the same stuff at the same prices. A certain higher-quality shirt brand lately goes for $5 a shirt, or five shirts at $20. They feature Hawaii-themed, multicolor designs on the back, with a smaller identical image on the front left, where a breast pocket might go.
When you wear the same ten shirts every day, they don’t last very long. Most of them hold up well structurally, but they fade, get a little thin, and sometimes stretch. Still wearable, but slovenly-looking after six to eight months.
Since nobody sees me these days, I’ve been wearing the most recent shirts for quite a bit longer, and it looks pretty terrible. When I drove to my parents’ house Saturday, a sign in front of the stadium announced modified hours for the swap meet: open at 6:30 on Sundays.
I figured it would be pretty easy to dash in, grab ten shirts, and dash out without encountering too many people at 6:30. So I did, and I did, and I did. Ten new black tees are in my car now waiting for a first launder, and I’m quite pleased.
Then I ran a couple of errands related to paying my rent, and dropped off Penny’s birthday gift. Then went to the office for my weekly in-office work.
It all went swimmingly. Got home at about 2:00 to catch the ends of the Seahawks-Niners and Bears-Saints games, then put on the Cowboys-Eagles game, took a nap, did some chores, and thought about NaNoWriMo.
Around 9:45 I got started on the novel, a cozy mystery set in a Hawaii public high school. The working title is Finals Resting Place. I was joined on Skype by my longtime NaNo friend Jen, and we did a couple of ten-minute word sprints, both of which she beat me in. But by 11:45 I had 2023 words, a few hundred more than the 1,667 words per day one must write to meet the goal by November 30. A nice start.
I texted a bunch of people Sunday to ask if they were familar with the term “dead week,” and only Suzanne had heard of it. At HBA when I was a student, we called the week before finals week Dead Week. It was the week when no field trips or other extracurricular activities were allowed, so we could all focus on reviewing for exams. When I was a teacher at HBA, we no longer called it Dead Week.
But I Googled it, and I know it’s not specific to HBA in the 80s. It’s a thing. Just not a thing any of my friends have heard of.
I wanted to go with Dead Week for my working title, darn it. A little bit of brainstorming with Ali led me to Finals Resting Place and I think it’ll do for now.
The writing partner and I texted a little about our projects. She’s not doing NaNo, but was interested in what I’m working on. Sharon asked me for some advice on what to buy for Japanese curry. I actually had an educated answer about the cut of meat she was looking for.
Breakfast, eaten at my desk in the office, was from the Taco Bell drive-through. It was great. Lunch when I got home was a manapua left over from Saturday. For dinner I tried to eat leftover Korean veggies from last Sunday but they tasted a little strange to me so I ate several bites and threw them out. Took me that long to decide I just didnt’ know what I was eating. Sometimes with certain sour foods you can’t tell if the sourness is normal or spoilage. It’s too bad because I could have used some veggies.
So I just had another leftover manapua and a couple of hot dogs with sauerkraut, ketchup, and mustard.
I’m due for a trip to the grocery store Monday night, but if I don’t make decent progress on leftovers, I may have to just go in for a week’s worth of stuff. Fridge is getting a little cramped but I’m down to my last two Diet Pepsis.
One problem with trying to make new dishes is you end up with opened, unfinished bottles of oyster sauce and mirin which are too useful to throw out but which you never used much before you made the one dish. I may give myself two weeks off from new dishes and just work my way through some of these half-consumed ingredients in some way.
NaNo’s going to be a challenge this year, but I’m interested in seeing if I can put something decent together with stuff I learned from previous attempts at cozy mysteries.
It’s freaking November. This is insanity. Madness. I can’t believe it.
If you need someone to connect with, leave a comment and I’ll send you my contact info. Don’t go into this month of crazy alone, because you don’t have to.
Despite loosening restrictions on Oahu, I’m keeping myself away from friends and strangers for two reasons, which I am grateful to say are common among many of my friends and acquaintances: I don’t want to contribute to the spread and if my parents need me, I want to be available without putting them at greater than necessary risk.
Since the start of the lockdown March 19, I’ve seen my parents three times: mothers day, fathers day, and my mom’s birthday. All three times I stayed downstairs, wearing a mask, while they stayed upstairs. We called to each other. The dog came down to say hi.
I saw Penny once. She came out to my car and took half a pie out of the back seat of my car, reaching through the window.
I saw Sylvia once. I handed her some yeast. She gave me some kale. We met in a parking lot, handing the goods to each other through our driver-side windows.
I saw Crush Girl once. We met in a parking structure so I could give her an empty one-gallon water jug. I set it down on the floor between our cars, then stepped away so she could pick it up. We spoke to each other from across our vehicles, for like three minutes.
I saw coworkers John, Alice, Patty, and Aileen in the office. John and Alice were on a Saturday afternoon. I thought I’d be the only one in, but boy was I wrong. That was a stressful couple of hours. We all worked in very distant areas of the office, with walls and doors to separate us, but it was also very early in the lockdown and I did not like being in that space one bit while others were in it too. I saw Aileen about a month ago, when I went in early on a Saturday morning rather than my usual Sunday. That was also stressful. She works in the office on a regular schedule, so she’s used to it. I vowed to avoid Saturday in the office. I saw Patty a couple of weekends ago. She needed to get in for a while and I had my usual Sunday stuff to do, so we were in there together for a few hours, in separate areas separated by walls and doors. Sliiiiightly less stressful because she’s one of my best friends in the office, but still stressful!
So it’s nine encounters with people I know in nine months of the pandemic, or something. I’m not going back up to count them. That sounds like a lot to me, considering how utterly isolated I mostly feel, but I guess one run-in with a friend or family member per month is kind of spare.
My dad emailed me a few days ago to ask for some help hanging new vertical blinds. The blinds in my parents’ house are as old as the house. That’s 35 years. I admit I was a little nervous, but I reminded myself that I keep myself safe and healthy so I can be there if they need me. I don’t consider vertical blinds very important or pressing, but I also have a job that keeps me busy five days a week. My parents are locked away with each other for company and no schedule. If they’re keeping themselves busy with house projects, I’m all for it. I’ve even ordered things from Amazon for my dad and had them delivered there so he could work on some of them.
So Saturday morning I drove over. I picked up a dozen manapuas in two boxes (one for me and one for them) on the way. We got started at about 9:30 on a project my dad predicted would take “a couple of hours.”
We killed that thing. The living room looks fricking great. These blinds are lighter and brighter, so even when they’re closed they make the living room brighter than it was. And it took pretty close to a couple of hours. We took a break midway through, during which I chatted with my mom a bit. My dad and I chatted while we worked, of course. I wore a mask. I tried to keep my distance, but you could tell my parents just weren’t worried about catching something from me. I kept edging away when they got close, but they seemed oblivious and often stepped closer. They were happy to see me.
I was happy to see them too. Seriously, this lockdown has been surprisingly rough in this respect. But dang it, I did not need them to be breathing my germs.
I was out by half past noon. Came home, took a nap, did the crossword, read the news, watched the news. Thought about NaNoWriMo. Vegged.
Strangely, I skipped breakfast (tried to get another 20 minutes of sleep before heading to the folks’ house) and had a couple of manapuas for lunch. Then one more for dinner. I had some chips in between. That was all I ate.
I texted Penny to work out dropping off her birthday gift. Then Jennifer to respond to a bunch of stuff she sent me that I was lazy to check out. But it was all interesting and I saved a couple of ideas for kitchen experiments. Ali and I texted quite a bit about the American Dirt controversy. She’s reading it now. She and someone at work recommended it to me, and I’ve been aware of it for a while because of all the librarians I know and the writers I follow in social media.
I’ve found a groove with cozies, though, so I think I’m going to stay here for a while. Reading as medication.
It’s the last day of October, ‘though you’d never be able to tell just looking up and down my street. This means NaNoWriMo is Sunday. My daily lockdown journals might necessarily be shorter for a few weeks.
But I can still DM and text. So if you want to connect some, please leave a comment. I’ll send you contact info and we can help each other get through these lousy autumn pandemic days.
I hate to say this but Thursday’s long hours and attention-focused work left me spent Friday. I attended to my work and responded to emails quickly, but I didn’t actually produce anything. I could have, too; I have a couple of web things to work on and a story to write.
First, though, I hit the beach. Lighter rains (probably) meant less runoff where I swim, and although I was too exhausted to get up early and get there at sunrise, I joined the second, post-dawn-patrol shift of swimmers, getting there around 8:30. The water was a little gross but not really gross, probably not even noticeable unless you go in the water there regularly. So I had a good swim. It wasn’t as strenuous as I was hoping, partly because my body was tired and slightly out of practice, and partly because the water was moving a bit more than usual.
However, I hit the accustomed distance, emailed my boss to let her know I’d be getting off to a later start at my desk than usual, stopped for breakfast at Pancakes & Waffles, and got to work in much better spirits than I have in a while.
Yes. Despite a fridge full of Portuguese bean soup, I picked up a baked potato omelette with a short stack for breakfast and lunch. And a chicken katsu plate for dinner. Don’t ask me why. I didn’t love the breading on the katsu, but the chicken was well made. I’d order it again.
When work was done I just vegged. Didn’t have anything left in the tank after a busy, challenging week. I also had plans to go to my parents’ Saturday morning and had to be up early.
I texted with Sharon through most of the work day, at first about work stuff and then some of our cooking projects. Susannah texted because she published an article in the Star-Advertiser and wanted to comment on something she was peeved about. I definitely sympathized and did my best to console her. Desi sent more updates on our friend’s mom’s funeral proceedings. Ali and I texted a lot about depression, and how we respond to it. And Crush Girl and I traded texts about this place she knows that’s available to rent.
I did get to spin a few new records as I worked, though. That was fun. Still haven’t sat down with the new Bruce album. Sometime this weekend I think. I did listen to Despicable, the new Carcass album. I’ve never really been into Carcass but this impressed me for some reason. I don’t remember them being this melodic or technical. I was intrigued by reviews of May Our Chambers be Full, the collaboration of Emma Ruth Rundle and Thou. I’d never heard of Rundle but the concept was cool. Execution left me a little flat, though. I may give this another spin, in case I’m missing something.
I also revisited one of last week’s new releases, Dwellers of the Deep by Wobbler. Total late-70s prog vibe. They sound like they used to be a Yes tribute band who decided to make original music. It’s dripping with Yes influence and this is a good thing. In a year when at least two members of Yes have released solo albums, it’s interesting that a band who sounds like Yes put out the better work.
That’s it. Reach out if you need someone to connect with. The gray days of disease and dis-ease aren’t going anytime soon. I’ll do my best to be real. I probably won’t do my best to be prompt. But you never know.
I was slammed with work Thursday. Nothing urgent. The first half of my day was kind of in cruise mode. I did work, but nothing was due. Everyone else in my department was up against it, though, so I took on someone’s task and that was kind of urgent, and it was tedious and long. I didn’t hate it. But wow, did it take some time.
I did take a few breaks along the way, to rest my brain, but I didn’t really finish things until 8:00 in the evening, and I had gotten off to an early start Thursday morning hoping I might be able to clock out early and watch a movie or something.
The best laid schemes.
And I was tiiiiiiiiiired. Terrible sleep Wednesday night. Dragging past the finish line on that task late Thursday. It was a bit of a struggle.
I did the Friday NYT crossword Thursday before bed. It was challenging and I got one square wrong. Careless! If I had thought for one minute I would have known it was a bad square. It was initially an unnoticed typo, one that made a legit word. So when I did a quick check, I just read the answers to see if they were actual words I knew. It was stupid.
Then I just went to bed. I was tired. I took a while to fall asleep but finally conked out around 10:30 I think.
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were just Portuguese bean soup. I didn’t even really have a dinner; just got by on what I had for lunch, really. It was good but I’m fairly sure I’ll be tired of this dish in a few days.
Desi sent me more texts about our friend whose mom died. I feel terrible, and I know Desi feels terrible. She was so close to that family while we were in school at Hilo. Ali texted to tell me the regular Kindle is $60 now. Useful to know but once I’ve had a Paperwhite I really don’t think I can ever go to a Kindle, except as an inexpensive backup. But then that’s what I’ve got a phone and tablet for, you know? Not the same thing, but neither is the regular Kindle.
Crush Girl had a little bit of work stress Thursday so I texted to check on her. The stress thing went well, so that was nice to hear. Then we talked a little about her next baking project. I’m a little concerned about her peace of mind lately, but then I’m concerned about my own as well, and as I’ve privately messaged other friends, I’m hearing the same from them. We’re all hanging on with gritted teeth.
That was my Thursday. Not much to talk about, really. And I’m glad I got through it.
If your teeth are gritted too and you don’t have someone to connect with over it, leave a comment. I’m here.
