Wow. I’m in the single digits now. Pretty soon our cats will have to start earning their food. Our newest unexpected bundle of joy has been doing that. We’ve developed a routine whereby he allows us to pet him for about 30 seconds before he’s fed. He earns that canned stinky cat food with some subtle kneading of the rug and discreet purring while we pet him. Best of all, he hasn’t punished us for forcing him into a pet taxi so we could take him to our vet. He was one unhappy, terrified boy but I have no doubt the vet and technicians cooed over him … as we often do.
And he plays. Oh, goodness, can that boy play! He’s definitely entertainment I would pay to see. Here are some photos of him in action.
As you can see from three of these photos, he moves fast and he likes to jump. He likes to run into things.
He’s just adorable.
I’m pretty sure our other three know something’s going on in the garage, but they’re not talking. Our temperatures are getting cooler, and they’re more interested in finding a free lap than acknowledging a potential intruder.
I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday. I’m grateful to have had a few days off. Friday we went on a slow walk through the Timberlane Ravine and, for a while, went our separate ways. My husband was hunting for bugs. I was hunting for photo opportunities.
It was late morning and the light was warm and magical.
The trees and their roots seem to take on human form, like legs intertwined or a woman stretching.
As usual, I looked for tiny things whether it be a little lizard or tiny funqi.
And flowers. I have to have flowers even if it means getting down on my arthritic knees.
The image on the right is one of those lucky moments. To get that photo, I had to position my iPhone on the ground, snap the photo and hope for the best. It had started to rain lightly as we were leaving, but I didn’t know until I cropped the photo that I captured a few raindrops on the lovely, delicate flower.
I hope you all have a wonderful week. Until next time, play well and play often.
The “R” bomb meaning retirement, resignation. Gee, those words really sound kind of depressing, like I’m resigning myself to retiring into oblivion. But that’s not how I see it. I might retreat further into my bubble when I retire, but my bubble needs some serious attention.
I read recently that people who work from home find that their homes are messier, not cleaner, because of it. Think about it. When you work from home, you use your kitchen, your bathroom, all your rooms more, creating more messes. During the work week, I might do a load or two of laundry in-between meetings but I can’t do any real housework during my work day. I also notice my home’s grittiness and dustiness more since I’m here all the time.
My first day of retirement, I will sleep because I’ll need energy for my second day of retirement when the cleaning starts. I’ve warned my husband. Then, a week later, I’ll be spending more time writing and taking photos. I want to do more of this:
I don’t know what kind of plant this is. No doubt some kind of wetlands, marsh-type plant since it lives on the border of a stormwater facility. But I love doing this: taking photos and then playing with the images, trying to get an insect’s point of view. [Speaking of insects, check out a short documentary on two entomologists–Charlie and Lois O’Brien–called “Love Bugs.” It’s available on PBS.]
Below is a different plant, but no less fascinating.
I’m still undecided about when to spill the beans, to share that I’ll be moving on soon. I’m taking it one day at a time because there’s still a lot going on in my little corner of employment. I worry about people being angry at me or disappointed in me. It’s not that I don’t care about my co-workers or the work we do. It’s because I care that I took on more responsibility back in May.
My introverted, highly sensitive self is just tired, worn out, burned out, stressed. But that’s not what I want to say when I drop the “R” bomb. No, I must be honest. I’ve been given an ultimatum.
My husband said he’d leave me for an older woman if I don’t retire.
Meanwhile, Raji seems to be adapting to his confines. I can’t quite say his home because I really don’t want him living in the garage permanently. Even if he has his own outdoor playpen.
Sometimes he’ll sit just outside the pen, taking stock of the surroundings. My husband put a bird feeder near the pen so he can be entertained by birds and squirrels. Raji often sits up on his hind legs. I think he might have a bit of meerkat in him. He’s also started kneading the very soft and fluffy cushions on the shelves.
Raji still plays approach-avoidance games with us. If he’s hungry, he’ll come as close as he needs to get food. He’ll eat dry food from my hand if that’s his only choice. I have to be careful though. A couple of times he almost bit off a chunk of my palm. When we feed him wet food, he might tolerate his forehead being stroked. But as soon as he’s done eating, he backs away (sometimes literally) and keeps his distance.
And yet …
He’s playful. He has a favorite wand toy. The wand has a long ribbon of colorful fleece attached and Raji will leap over and under boxes and buckets to get to it. I gave him one of my husband’s old socks stuffed with catnip and he rolls around with that, rubbing it over his face. He’s also taken ownership of a purple yoga towel of mine, curling up on it with the catnip sock.
He makes direct eye contact with us, and “talks” quite a bit. He seems calm and settled for the most part. Saturday I worked out in the garage for about an hour, something I hadn’t done since we brought him in. He curled up on a fluffy cat bed and watched me.
It might be the weather–it’s gotten a bit warmer the last few days–but he’s also spending more time in the pen. So we are hopeful. Next Saturday we’ll take him to our favorite vet for a physical. I expect our progress will take several steps back after that.
To all my friends in the U.S., may you have a wonderful holiday. Don’t overindulge or you might wind up like these two (ha, ha, ha).
First, let me talk about flowers. As some of you know, I’ve developed an interest in photography, an interest I hope to indulge a lot more in about 11 weeks. Macro-photography fascinates me, and a few weeks ago I bought flowering plants to challenge my photographic skills. Following are photos of an Purple Aster, bought before it started to bloom. These photos were taken over four days.
It’s fun watching flowers bloom on your own back deck, trying to find the right light and the right moment. During the work week, that isn’t as easy as I’d like, even though I do work from home. Blame it on meetings.
And now, a Raji update:
For those of you who missed the excitement of my last post, you can read it here. In the week since I wrote that post, we managed to get Raji confined to our garage. Poor little guy had hurt his right front leg jumping down from the roof of our shed. We didn’t want him gallivanting around, making it worse so we coaxed him in with food (of course!) one evening and shut the cat door.
Oh, was he pissed about that! I had never heard a cat complain so much. He has quite the repertoire as well. Not just the usual meows for Raji, but howls, trills, pips and peeps. And he kept us busy playing hide-and-seek, except he was the one always hiding. One of his favorite hiding places is our canoe which hangs against a wall. Watching him climb boxes and books and then slip into the gap is much like watching a kid climbing the stairs to his room, loudly complaining the whole way.
We had arranged to take him to our vet, but the appointment was a few days off. We were worried about his leg, the fact that we were expecting heavy rain, and the lack of sunshine and fresh air in the garage. So more or less spontaneously, we took him up to a spay/neuter clinic and got his pom-poms snipped. He also got his rabies and distemper shots, tested for HIV and feline leukemia (both negative), and his claws clipped. His leg wasn’t swollen and the clinic vet said the pain meds would probably help with that. After we brought him home, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with us.
Then our worries changed to whether he would eat (and through eating, take his pain medication), whether he would use the litter box, or whether he would just curl up in the canoe and die.
Happily, within 24 hours, his appetite was back and he had peed in the litter box. I’m sure you can imagine my delight when, another day later, I found an impressive pile of poop in the box too. And so we go. He has a great appetite, and the more I study him, the younger I think he is, perhaps not yet a year old. He still does not like us to touch him, but he tolerates our furtive pets and strokes while he eats. Although he insists on social distancing, he’s become comfortable enough with us to groom and play while we watch like doting parents.
We want to keep him confined at least until he sees our favorite vet at the end of this month. Because of his apparent youth, however, I’m loath to release him to the wilds of our neighborhood … ever. To make his current confinement tolerable (at least to our conscience), we bought him a playpen and fastened it to the side entrance into our garage.
We have this luxurious penthouse set up so when the side door is opened, he can go in and enjoy the fresh air and sunshine while still being held prisoner. No surprise that he has a lot of complaints about this.
Raji has inspected every possible flaw in this setup, searching for any gap big enough to squeeze through, and giving us a piece of his mind while he does it. We’ve bolted, strapped, and twist-tied the pen in place, and secured wood panels where a kitty’s head might stick through. We were not only afraid of Raji getting away, but of him getting stuck. So this is a daytime playpen, to be used only when we are up and about and available to check on him frequently.
I guess you could say the adventure has begun in earnest now. The slow, thoughtful and patient process of getting Raji used to us, comfortable with us, and then (fingers crossed) integrated into the household.
For now our three indoor kids are in denial. They do hear Raji chattering away in the garage, but pretend not to. Their ears, however, give them away. In the meantime, Junior still claims my sandals.
Thank you for reading! If the news is getting you down, find a good distraction, like adopting a semi-feral stray cat. Believe me, it helps :)
I’m continuing my countdown in perhaps a more upbeat tone that I had when I started. The next 70-some days will be rough for this country, no doubt. I’m no Pollyanna, but I can be optimistic. I’m old enough to know that staying calm, being patient, and holding on to hope can see me (us) through all kinds of hell. Forgive me for the tired cliche, but the light at the end of the tunnel has gotten brighter. For the first time in a long time, I feel that my country and I might actually be going in the same direction.
But you’re wondering about this new man in my life, aren’t you? Well, he’s not an adult, more like a teenager. But, oh, is he handsome!
This is Raji, an orange tabby that has been hanging out in my neighborhood the last couple of months. We originally thought he belonged to a family a couple of houses up from us. They have an orange cat but, after doing a bit of math, I realized their cat would be a lot older than this youngster drinking out of our water fountain. At first he’d run away if we approached him, but over time, he got used to us.
Finally, my husband put some food out by the water fountain. He was starving, so hungry that he tolerated my husband’s presence although he didn’t want to be touched.
In times like these, I turned to my neighbors across the street. They know everything about the hood. They used to have dogs that they would walk around the hood and, according to M, dog people always talk to each other when they’re out and about. They no longer have dogs. They now have a cat that used to live with someone else but decided she liked these two ladies better so she (the cat) adopted them (my neighbors). That’s usually how it works.
I texted M about the orange tabby and learned that he had frequented their backyard too. They had named him Raji, which M said means “hope.” They could tell me who he did not belong to. We all agreed he was likely homeless. I reached out to the hood and beyond through the NextDoor app and received a lot of supportive comments but no one stepping forward to say, “Hey, that’s my boy!”
My husband and I mobilized at that point because it was getting cold (well, cold for Florida). I outfitted a pet taxi with fleecy blankets and stationed it on the back deck where he sometimes appeared. He had also made appearances in our garage if we had the side door or garage door open, so we set up a feeding station there, with some soft bedding.
Raji was a very hungry cat and it took little coaxing to get him into our garage for his meals. Although he was skittish around us (“you can look, but don’t touch”), I hand-fed him treats a couple of times, stopping only because he mistook my fingers for food once too often. Our neighbors brought over some food that their cat didn’t like.
And now here we are.
To say my husband and I are smitten by this handsome fellow is an understatement. Just look at that tail! We expect he’s quite young. His teeth look very white and sharp compared to our old geezers.
He hasn’t been neutered. He’s packing a pair of pom-poms large enough for cheerleading. But he’s sweet. Our boy kitty–Junior–sometimes goes into a frenzy when Raji is on the back deck, howling like the Werewolf of London. Raji doesn’t pay him any mind, just sits and looks around at the birds and any other bright shiny object. [While Raji’s presence annoys the birds and squirrels that visit our yard, thankfully he’s an awful hunter.]
So next steps are to set up an appointment with our vet so Raji can be poked, prodded and scanned for a chip. We plan to “trap” Raji in our garage (i.e., close the cat door) and entice him into a pet taxi with food. We already know this works … heh, heh, heh.
I didn’t want another cat. We have three indoor, one of whom is now nicknamed Million-Dollar Maxine as her vet bills continue to climb. They are a huge responsibility, and they have created a rhythm in our lives that I don’t want to ruin. My husband calls them “anchor kitties” because we can’t do much traveling as long as they’re with us. And Raji will be a difficult experience because of Junior.
Junior can be a bully and has already demonstrated that he does not care for this interloper. He picks on Maxine and Wendy when he’s feeling hungry or just plain feisty. But he’s my boy and all I can do is tell him that over and over …. as well as let him sleep on my sandals.
But Raji has decided that he likes us enough to hang out after he’s had a meal. He could just leave but he doesn’t. He hangs out with us, sometimes playing with the catnip-stuffed sock I made for him. He’s making himself at home in our garage and in our hearts. It’s been 7 1/2 years since we last took in a kitty–Wendy. I guess it’s time :)
This is Junior’s reaction to the idea of a new cat in the household.
I love the number thirteen. That and the fact that I got an extra hour’s sleep this weekend made me feel quite chippy on Sunday. Monday (today) starts week #13 in my countdown, so for once I actually looked forward to Monday.
To a point anyway. This will no doubt be a stressful week because of the election. I am going to do my best to avoid reading the news until Wednesday … if I can. I’ve always been a bit of news junkie so it’s an effort, but I’ll have plenty of distractions (as in, meetings, meetings, and more meetings!).
Meanwhile. We went for a walk on Sunday, a gorgeous day with sunshine and coolish temperatures.
Here are a few scenes.
Talk about hanging in there! This tree doesn’t want to let go and I don’t blame it. It’s a lovely environment, full of dappled sunlight and rich vegetation. Worst case scenario: it’ll become a home and food for critters and birds so life will continue.
How’s this for a still life? I did not stage the fern, sticks and fungi. The composition caught my eye, and I took photos from several angles, but this is my favorite.
Aren’t these so pretty? I see patterns like this and I immediately think of knitting, of all things, imagining myself knitting up sweaters or shawls in these colors and lines.
And some more. They also make me think of full skirts that swirl when you dance.
Now this is something I wouldn’t want to blindly grab. Greg says it’s a “devil’s walking stick.” It can be quite beautiful when it’s in flower, but it’s November so no blooms.
Ah, that’s it for today. In just over three months, I’ll have more time to regale you with my photos and chatter. For now, I’m just counting down and enjoying the start of some real fall weather.
Even our cats are starting to assume their winter behavior.
You only see Maxine tolerating Junior’s butt in her face when the temperatures start to drop and she’ll take any body heat she can find. Junior was soaking up the sun, silly boy. If you look really close, you can see that Maxine actually has a paw draped over Junior’s feet. Like children, they are so adorable when they are sleeping.
Thanks for visiting! Hope you are all well and safe and happy. My friends in the U.S.: Remember to vote on November 3 if you haven’t already voted, and hang on to your sanity. I think it’s going to be a bumpy ride.
Hello, friends. You may (or may not) have noticed changes to my blog. When I downgraded to the Premium plan, my WP theme reverted to its original theme, and so I’ve been searching for a new one. There are so many! I’m keen on the “Responsive Layout” which means it should look good whether you’re reading on your phone, a tablet or desktop computer.
This theme is called Notebook. Initially I didn’t like all the white space, and I wanted to showcase my photos more. For a few days I sported Cerauno, but today, after mucking about with the social media widgets which never quite want to work for me, I decided to switch again. For the moment, I’m enamored with this side image that Notebook offers and the ability to change it whenever I want. By the way, the side image is one of my photos.
Photo by Marie A Bailey
I took this photo a couple of weeks ago when my husband and I were visiting the storm water facility in our neighborhood, where trash and birds and wildflowers and all kinds of insects are in abundance. I was playing with a macro lens my husband had loaned me for the excursion. The original photo was at 4x magnification. This is the original blown up and cropped. I was so excited to capture such a nice photo of this little guy on a little flower.
Made. My. Day.
So for now (all of 60 minutes), I’m happy with this theme. I can showcase my photos as I wish, but still have a nice, uncluttered site. I’ve removed the social media widgets for now. I know WP would help me, but I’ve no energy to spare today.
Let’s see … I wrote a blog post a couple of months ago about my current state of employment. The title was Work, Work, Work #MondayBlogs #WFH #writing. Well, it’s still work, work, work. We hit the ground running on Monday and keep running straight through to Friday evening. I know some people joke that Fridays for state employees are more like Saturdays, lazy days where sometimes you take off early to go fishing. Ha. Ha. Ha. I want to live in that world.
No, for me, late Friday afternoons are when we usually get the data requests that need to be done “today,” as in before you leave (or log off your computer, in my case). Of course, I and my staff never mind working another hour or two on a Friday evening to justify someone’s last minute decision for data that they probably won’t do anything with for a few days [sarcasm].
We comply. We always do. Of course, I do it with a fair amount of cursing and cussing. One of the benefits of working from home is that I no longer have to keep my words to myself. I at least have the freedom to complain out loud because no one but my cats and my husband can hear me. Such was yesterday and, of course, I worked longer than my staff because it is my responsibility. At the least, I need to be available for them while they work their magic.
After two-and-a-half months in this position, I’m already burnt out. I haven’t been reading blogs because when I have time to myself, I tend to close my eyes rather than read. It might not stay like this. I’m in the process of hiring to fill my old position and, the gods willing, I’ll have another position to fill as well. Perhaps I’ll be able to manage my time better after that. Perhaps.
Meanwhile, COVID-19 and Hurricane Isaias. My heart goes out to everyone who has to manage this double-whammy.
Bliss, according to Merriam-Webster, means “complete happiness.” Complete might be an exaggeration, unless I can add the word “fleeting” to the definition: fleeting complete happiness. Our world’s current situation makes any experience of complete happiness elusive for me, as well as it does for many others. My personal situation is not dire, and every day I am grateful for that.
During my work day, I’ll stand up away from my desk every so often and gaze out my window. My small view is of our back deck and the trees and bird feeders beyond. When I practice yoga in this room, I often gaze upward to see a blue or gray sky framed by tall pines. That connection with the natural world, even when I’m on the wrong side of the window, gives me these fleeting feelings of bliss.
My bubble is pretty much my house, sometimes extended to my neighborhood if temps are comfortable enough for walking. When we do go out, we go and come back quickly. No lingering in the gift shop at the native plant nursery. No contemplating at the produce aisle at Trader Joe’s. It’s grab and go.
But on my birthday, we expanded our bubble a bit and went to Mashes Sands Beach. I’ve written about this beach before. This visit was a bit different from the one we had four years ago. For one thing, a couple of hurricanes have come through since then. We suspect Hurricane Michael was responsible for the damage done to the otherwise impressive boardwalk and pier.
We had planned to walk the boardwalk to the beach. When we saw it was closed, we followed a path along the boardwalk that took us through some mucky territory. I almost lost a sandal when my right foot sank in muck up to my ankle, and one leg was almost flayed by thorny vines. But, hey, it was my birthday and I was outdoors!
Before Hurricane Michael:
After Hurricane Michael:
In Nature, there is death and life.
Death.
This guy met an untimely end. My theory is he was washed up on the shore during one of our recent storms. My husband’s theory is that he was caught by a fisher who didn’t bother to toss him back in the water. I like my theory better.
Life.
Not the best of pictures, but it was fun to sit near the seagulls and other wading birds as they fed.
Did I tell you I’m taking up photography … sort of? I haven’t felt like writing creatively since I’ve been working at home. The place where I do most of my creative writing is now my day job work space. I’m also writing a lot at work, although it’s not creative. So that part of me has fizzled for the time being.
I was starting to feel depressed about that until my husband encouraged me to try using our 9-year-old Canon Rebel T3i. I do take a lot of photos with my iPhone and the quality of those photos can be impressive. It has its limits, though, and I don’t feel I have as much control over how I take photos with my iPhone as I do with the T3i. Although I am on a steep learning curve with the T3i, that’s part of the appeal.
Later this month, my WP plan will revert to Premium from Business. I just can’t won’t justify the cost of a Business plan when I have no business. So, some features might change. Perhaps, with my new interest in photography, I’ll switch to a template that is less wordy and more visual.
Meanwhile …
Some of my novel writing friends have been busy!
Carrie Rubin has TWO new novels, one available now and the other soon to come in August. The first is The Cruise Ship Lost of My Daughter, a cozy mystery written on a pseudonym, and the other is the second in her Benjamin Oris series titled The Bone Hunger.
Katie Sullivan has completed her final novel in her Changelings trilogy, The Myth of Memory. Although Katie’s novels are considered Young Adult, I thoroughly enjoy them as an Old Adult. Her novels blend Ireland’s political history with its myth and magic.
Finally, or at least as much as I’m aware given how little I’ve been on the blogosphere lately, Kevin Brennan has been releasing some of his novels in paperback form. The latest to be released is Eternity Began Tomorrow. If you’re in need of a novel that will give you some hope for the future, while taking you on a crazy ride through cults, climate change, and romance, look no further than EBT.
My father was born on July 5, the day of this post’s publication. If he had lived, he would be 101. Well, Happy Birthday to you, Lenny, wherever you are.
Thanks for visiting. I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!
Junior perching his big head on a magazine, settling in for an afternoon nap.
I missed going forest bathing this weekend. Stuff happens. Mostly stuff that involves laundry and blogging. My work week is as busy as ever, if not busier. My husband noted the other day that I’m probably working more since I’ve been working at home.
Since my commute is only from my living room couch to my bedroom office, I definitely start work earlier. Back when I had to drive to my office, work wouldn’t start until:
I drove 25-30 minutes to my building,
parked the car and walked half a block,
got into the building,
walked up the stairs and down the hall,
turned on my computer,
gone to the ladies’ room,
filled my water bottle and my kettle,
put the kettle on for tea,
logged into my computer,
pulled out my peanut-butter-on-toast breakfast,
steeped the before-mentioned tea,
and opened Outlook.
Thanks to my current commute, most of those steps are omitted. So work starts earlier and now ends later too with documentation to complete at the end of each day. Plus, I often find myself thinking, “Oh, I’ll just respond to this one last email before I close out.” or “Oops, I need to put a reminder on that task.” or “While I’m still logged in, let me do just one more thing.” When I worked in a building that was nine miles away, I rarely had a problem leaving on time. I need to work on that.
Last weekend, we did engage in some forest bathing. Actually it was a double win since the forest includes a swamp.
Beginning of our hike.
Green!
Trees!
Roots! Watch your step!
Trees and light.
If there were water …
A river might run through it.
Although my husband and I have been to this particular park numerous times over the last 30 years, new entrances and trails have been added.
A couple of days before, a fierce storm including a tornado came through this area.
Oops … a downed tree.
Double oops … a very big downed tree.
Other side of very big downed tree.
1–This is one tree, in sequence.
2
3
4
Trail crews had been out after the storm, taping off areas that were dangerous. For the most part, the trees were left where they fell and we easily navigated around them. Still, it gave me a thrill to imagine a storm so intense it could bring down these impressive trees.
But didn’t I promise you a swamp?
Yes, indeed, you can’t have Florida forest bathing without a swamp. The afternoon light was perfect, giving this swamp an ethereal feel. I half expected fairies to peek out from the trees. My husband said the only thing missing was a water moccasin but that was fine with me.
As much as I love the varied hues of green, I always look for and often find a bit of color.
I’m so glad you came along with me on this virtual revisiting of a favorite hike.
On our way out.
I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! Here’s your reward:
Wendy says, “Talk to the paw!”
Postscript: The next couple of weeks might be a bit intense for me (understatement). My supervisor is retiring after 30+ years with the department, and she has nine work days left. Nine work days left for me and the rest of the staff to mind-meld with her … I wish (where is Mr. Spock when you need him). The day after her last day, I’m supposed to be appointed to her position and start acting like I know things. (Keep in mind, I work for a bureaucracy so anything or nothing can happen.)
On the surface this will appear to be a promotion but it’s really just a necessary restructuring of our little section. No, I’m not being falsely modest. The plan is to maintain continuity while we “grow” our section and provide more opportunities for our (relatively) younger, brighter and more ambitious staff.
My point in saying writing all this is just to let you know what’s up with me.
The remote life is not so bad. Not as long as you have plenty of food, you’re not sick, none of your family are sick, your cats are healthy, and you’re able to work at home and maintain your income (alternatively, you could be retired like my husband in which case the remote life is a bit better than not-so-bad). It helps to be a homebody who doesn’t really care for traveling, to be someone who, for a long time, just wanted to stay home.
But I sense everyone else’s restlessness, the growing irritation with the shops all being closed, no restaurants or bars to hang out at, police breaking up parties, infringements on one’s individual right to move freely and congregate. What perplexes me is that, on the rare times when I do leave my neighborhood, I see a fair amount of free movement and congregating. It’s the congregating that scares me.
Some Florida beaches opened this weekend and two things happened: the beaches quickly became crowded with few if any face masks in sight, and a new hashtag was born. #FloridaMorons. My governor takes his orders from the president so Florida no doubt will go through much more heartache before (if) this is done.
I haven’t done much writing lately. I haven’t really felt like it. Who knew that spending eight hours a day on a computer working for my employer would effectively kill any desire to stay on the computer after hours and write? Honestly, I didn’t know until it happened.
People are writing, though, and if you’re one of them and you’re writing about the pandemic, then think about submitting to The Disappointed Housewife, a special place for offbeat literature. Call for submissions is here: https://thedisappointedhousewife.com/2020/04/17/call-for-pandemic-submissions/. Tell them Marie sent you.
The upside of not writing is I’ve been walking.
I see trees! They’re everywhere …
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A couple of weeks ago we went walking at one of the few nature trails opened to the public. We were initially dismayed by the number of cars parked at the entrance but, to our relief, no congregating was going on. I saw no more than three people together at one time, and we all gave each other ample space to pass, even on the narrow trails. People smiled and said hello. Imagine that.
I hadn’t been to this trail in a long while so I got a little camera-happy.
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It was exciting to see such variety of color. I love all the shades of green that a good nature trail provides, but some yellow, blue, and red is always welcome.
Although I still have a spider phobia (somewhat mitigated after thirty years in Florida), I am fascinated by the very tiny spiders that make these delicate hammock-like webs. My husband referred to this group of webs as the spider condominium.
Best of all for me was the dragonfly that graciously rested long enough for me to get this photo.
Nature can be accommodating when she wants to be. Especially when I’m willing to be patient.
I hope you enjoyed this walk through one of our favorite trails. I hope you are staying safe and well.
I’ve debated whether to post, given the 24/7 cycle of COVID-19 news that makes me want to curl up under a fleecy blanket with Wendy.
Here she is getting ready to nod off, while draped across my legs.
After my entertaining (at times) and insightful (always) experience in the COVID-19 call center (click here and here if you haven’t yet read those stories), I feel rather full up with all things corona. It’s enough that I check my state’s stats twice a day, increasingly alarmed at the rise in positive cases and the obviously ineffective mitigation of community spread. Watching COVID-19 take over Florida is like watching a slow-motion train wreck as it picks up speed.
As an introvert, I’ve come to embrace social distancing. Finally, I can claim my personal space and people cannot judge me for it. It’s been sanctioned by the governor’s Executive Order, no less. I am also working from home now. I was very resistant at first, knowing that the boundary between work and home would become blurred, my and my husband’s privacy invaded by conference calls and Skype meetings.
But aren’t I lucky to be able to work from home? To still have a job? Yes, I am, I am. Will I complain about it? Yes, I will. It’s what I do.
Still, I am grateful for a lot of things right now. I’m deeply grateful for being able to connect with friends and family in multiple ways, to stay in touch and check on each other, to try and shore each other up. I’m also grateful for having a cat who likes to snuggle against my toes while I work.
Still … I plan to do some death-cleaning of my social media accounts. Nothing like a global crisis to make me realize that some of these accounts have gotten a bit out of hand. [Not to worry: If you’re reading this, you’re safe.] Whenever in a crisis, I always want to pare down, live a simpler life, stop trying to be some kind of social (media) butterfly. It’s how I cope. Remember, I’m an introvert.
I’d rather take walks and remind myself that there’s still Nature, although some might say, it is Nature that is doling out this latest public health crisis. Well, Nature has bits of the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Fortunately my walks in my neighborhood are graced with plenty of the Good.
On my latest walk around one of our larger stormwater facilities, irises (or Blue Flags as my husbands calls them) were in full display. I considered them a reward since I was picking up trash, and the icing was a lovely white blossom I do not know the name of. A neighbor had the kindness to plant gorgeous Amaryllis next to a sidewalk, making a perfect photo opportunity on my way back to my house. More Amaryllis plants were bordering driveways or houses, too far away for good photos, too close to private property not to be considered trespassing.
As for my writing life, I have the pleasure of announcing a recent publication. You can read about it here, on Merril Smith’s blog, Yesterday and today. Last year Merril sent out a request for essays on sexual harassment so I wrote one and now it’s been published in Sexual Harassment: A Reference Handbook. Dear Reader, I’m even in the Index. Just goes to show that when you are inspired, you must act on it. If I had paused for a second, I wouldn’t be crowing now.
Of course, for any publication to happen again, I need to be writing, and I haven’t really been doing much of that lately. Working at home has only given me an extra hour a day to play with since my commute is now from my bed to my computer in the corner. Still, it’s only been a week and a-half, and I’m just starting to acclimate to my new routine. I will say, though, our cats are getting so spoiled with both me and my husband to pester all day long. And pester they do!
Wendy and I (and Junior and Maxine) hope you all are staying safe and healthy. We will get through this because we must. I send virtual hugs and real love to each and every one of you.
Marie at 1 Write Way 