I talked to my friend Carol in Ohio while I walked this morning. We have known each other for years but have not spent many contact hours together relative to the time we have known each other. We connected when she had the classroom across the hall from me during my first year of teaching at Licking heights. She has been a wonderful friend, and sister, since then. We talked for about an hour. It's one of those relationships when you can always think of something else to talk about of mutual interest. Besides being a friend, she is a great supporter of my work. She has been one of my first readers from the beginning. I look forward to sending her my revised version of the book.
At home, after feeding Elsa, I sprayed two gallons of vinegar on the front yard. The weeds really aren't too bad. It is amazing what a job vinegar can do and do without poisoning the land.
As I sent out the May 10 blog from last year, I listened to The New Yorker Radio Hour on HRP. They had a recorded conversation between two fiction writers. They were out fishing. Their conversation veered back and forth between what was going on in the water and the writing process. One of the authors spoke about how hard it was to get back to work on a piece after abandoning it for a while. How great it felt when a book wrote itself. How that was the best but waiting for that to happen was just a form of procrastination. Their comments all made me feel better about my own procrastination. It is scary to put my ideas on paper. There are two parts to the fear: one is the fear that my ideas will be rejected, attacked. The other is that I won't find the words to communicate the ideas in the first place.
I texted Cylin and Karin, wishing them Happy Mother's Day. Karin called me back, and we spoke for a while. She was on Sam-patrol. He is up and moving, which means she is up and running after him. He can't be left on his own for a moment. He wants to sit in the adult chair. He threw the play remote he had in his hand on the floor. He cried because he wanted it picked up. Karin told him to get down from the chair and get it himself. He did. Then he needed help getting back up in the chair. Then the sequence started again.
I told Karin about my eye problem, referring to my puckered macular. She said, yes, your left eyelid looks like it's drooping." Another problem, only to be solved by cosmetic surgery. Yep. I will need an eye lift, and it will be covered by insurance. Meanwhile, a good part of my vision is obscured by the defective eyelid. I am anxious to resolve both problems, particularly the macular pucker since it threatens me with possible blindness.
I put Elsa on Facetime. That entertained Sam for a while, particularly when I played peek-a-boo with her. But then it was snack time and nap time. I love watching Karin and David, her husband, with him.
I just found out that Sam is going to daycare during the workweek. David and Karin have been working from home since March 4. Karin said if he wasn't in daycare, they would have had to quit their jobs. If that's how they feel, can you imagine all the parents who don't have a daycare option? Karin said, sending him to daycare is a calculated risk. They're all young. They have a good chance of being okay.
However, I have been hearing about the impacts of the virus on younger people. I heard the virus has already mutated. Do these mutations result in different symptoms? Is it more aggressive? Less aggressive? As it mutates, will it affect different parts of the population?
Yvette came up and left me a handmade Mother's Day Card on my front walk. She is a wonderful artist with simple materials. She made a birthday wall poster for me five years ago, which stayed up until I had to slide a mattress against that wall for storage while working on the guest room. I looked at it regularly and enjoyed the details.
Damon called to wish me Happy Mother's Day. We spent time talking about a friend of his who was adopted who has had some contact with his birth mother and aunt. His poor birth mother wants to be in touch with him but is afraid to tell her husband about her past. No one is sure what her considerations are. Is she truly afraid of her husband's reaction, or is she afraid to make this situation real for herself? It can never be easy to give up a child. The boy, who is now in his late 40s, is happy to go along with whatever she chooses to do. He is patient. He is even willing to never have their connection go any further. The' boy' has a wonderful family of his own now, a great wife and three boys.
Judy called while I was on the phone with Damon. I called her back. She is still struggling with losing her sense of taste because of her bout with the virus. Her sense of smell has returned, but not her taste. She has read all sorts of reports about this. With some people, their sense of taste returns within a week; with others, it is six weeks. For Judy, it has been two months now. This is very hard for anyone, but particularly so for Judy, who is a foodie. I wish I could help.
Judy's on team open-the-world-back-up-now before the economy is destroyed. As far as I'm concerned, no one knows what's best. All we can do is root for a team. As far as I'm concerned, I'm grateful that I'm not in a position of having to make these fateful decisions.
While I was talking to Judy, I Swiffered the walls, particularly the juncture of the wall and the ceiling. It didn't take much for the walls to look brighter. I also put away the pillows I had washed a few weeks ago and took out one of the quilts that had been sitting in the closet forever and smelled musty for a wash. All this is by way of putting off doing any work on the book, should there is any question in anyone's mind.
Yvette pulled out of the driveway, and shortly after, I got a text asking if I wanted anything from town. She said she could go wherever I wanted. She will stop at Costco for vinegar and salad. I have vinegared half the backyard and about a third of the front one. I need several more gallons. I have finally opened the two-gallon spray bottle. I avoided it because two gallons would be too heavy for me, but I just put one gallon of vinegar in it at a time. It is a much better machine than the one-gallon HD product. Of course, I bruised my thumb, holding the sprayer open.
When Yvette returned, I asked her to help me get my new vacuum cleaner out of the box. Damon convinced me to open it immediately. He advised me to leave the packing box outside; whatever was inside would be fine. The vacuum wasn't heavy; the packing material caused it to be jammed in the box. I had the strength to get it out, but I was concerned about straining myself because of my eye. Sandor had warned me: no bending down from the waist and no heavy lifting. Both of these activities could make it worse.
Dorothy and I both have this weird genetic defect; the capillaries in our fingers burst easily. A friend once observed this and expressed alarm—that's reasonable. One would think this indicated something about the whole circulatory system, but it doesn't. My mother had this problem and died at 98. Whatever this problem was about, it clearly wasn't life-threatening. Dorothy finally found some information about it on the internet. It's a genetic condition that is considered rare. Dorothy pointed out that the people who do have it aren't inclined to mention it to their doctors because it is so trivial, so who knows how common it is?
I was determined not to watch any TV or go to bed before working on the book. I read what I had already written on the new version of the Introduction and inserted sections from the new Introduction from the old one. Now I have to figure out if all these extra words improve the chapter or just make it wordy.
I was able to watch some TV. The Blue Rose has turned into a vigilante group comprised of an unlikely assortment of people. Unlike the series Hunters, The Blue Rose has a lighter tone.
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