A Announcement over the school intercom on 12 March 2020, telling everyone to take everything home with them over spring break, and then the email at 4 pm announcing "extended spring break" and our realization that we weren't coming back.
Also Animal Crossing,which is keeping my daughter connected to her friends as they meet up and steal fruit from one another's islands.
B The Bouncing Ball movie watching game that my husband and I made up. We started at Birdcage and are still going. You have to choose an actor from the movie, then watch another movie they are in, selecting your next actor, and so on. And you can't double up actors unless you're stuck. For Instance Little Miss Sunshine got us Steve Carell, but Despicable Me was a dead end, so we had to watch Despicable Me 2 to get Benjamen Bratt and move to Miss Congeniality. TV shows don't count and he won't let internet stuff count. Also, we seem to land on movies he likes the majority of the time. It's like "Six Degrees To Kevin Bacon" I suppose, but we aren't using Kevin Bacon.
C Cats. None are mine, yet four live with me. They were glad I was home for about ten minutes, when they realized I was not giving them tuna 24/7, they returned to sleeping on my bed. "Covid" is too easy a word choice.
D Dogs. Also not mine, but three of them are here, hopeful that my continued presence in the house is going to translate to many walks a day and treats. Not as smart as the cats, they haven't figured out the truth yet, and still hold on to hope
E Elephant at the Denver Zoo. The first online learning opportunity I saw for kids out of school was two staff members of the zoo with the elephants. The elephants do not care about learning opportunities, or know how important they are to our collective sanity. They just are.
F Furlough if you're lucky fired if you are not.
G Gigs. Gigs are gone. Buh bye, gigs.
H Howl. 8 pm. Yes.
I Icky.
J John Krasinski "Some Good News".
K King, Stephen. Prophet. We're living one of his novels.
L Lost. Loafing. Languishing. That's it, that's the one.
M Masks. Costumers, teachers with sewing machines, it's maskapalloosa.
N Neighbors out walking and riding bikes. It's more than in the summer, it's actual traffic.
O Online teaching.
P Pay cut, for those fortunate enough to still be employed.
Q My friend the drag queen, who lost all of her gigs and started wishing people Happy Birthday online like Samuel L. Jackson. Quarantine was too easy a word choice.
R Relief, refund. Our car insurance Liberty Bibberty is refunding 15 % of our payment for two months because we are clearly not driving as much.
S School's out for summer....school may be out forever. Alice Cooper is another prophet. Also for Stimulus checks, small business. Shelter in place is too easy a phrase.
T Take out only, aka "curbside pickup", teddy bears in windows, toilet paper not on shelves.
U Umbrella. The pink umbrella sheltering our "window" teddy bear. He could not be seen from the window, in fact he looked very Emily Dickinson up there, so we moved him to he front yard in a lawn chair. As it has decided to snow and rain, I gave him an umbrella to hide under. Our neighbors now identify us as the house with the umbrella bear. Also USPS, buy stamps, sign the petition.
V Vail got hit first, possibly worst? That Florida Lt. Governor was grouchy that Polis shut down the ski areas and ruined his family vacation. Which starts with "v", and are over, too.
W Weight. Gain. Ugh.
X The look of a shuttered pub, lights off, parking lot empty. They aren't physically shuttered...yet...
Y You Tube. The old new sensation for the over achieving generation of lip syncing and dance off families that I watch from my chair.
Z The Denver Zoo was the first I saw to go live online for student learning. They're listed twice because they're cool.
Thursday, April 16, 2020
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Of ketchup and mortgages
My friends in Canada emailed today: "You started your blog again and then stopped, we wanted to check in."
I dunno what to write,everyone else is writing it.
Not everyone else is fortunate enough to be able to write because they have a job and shelter and stupid dogs and old, needy cats. All of whom I am convinced speak perfect English and are deliberately ignoring me.
Everyone else is grateful for whatever their situation is and I can't be bothered to walk the stupid dogs.
I wake up smelling like dog every day, regardless of the daily laundry, Fbreezing, Airwick plug ins and open windows until it snowed. And then the windows were open when it snowed, and at least it smelled cold and not like dog in my house.
And how hard is it to put the lighter back where you found it?
Everyone else is going to get a divorce over ketchup. I've nothing new to contribute.
Twice this month this small publisher has contacted me wanting to know if my manuscript is finished. It will never be finished, because to finish I have to relive the last four worst years of my freaking life, so never mind, I'm no longer interested in publishing it. Anybody who cares read it already, and the consequences have already been suffered, so where the fun in doing it now?
So if I'm not going to do that, I have nothing to write about.
Everyone has Blursday and Muesfreday and mine are tracked by whether or not the meeting is at 8 am or 12: 30, are my students in google hangout on video chat or via text and at least you can't smell the dog permeating my clothes through the computer.
Except that there is no ketchup, and since I'm home all day every day, but am not the one who used the last of the ketchup, maybe someone coulda told me before I made hamburgers for dinner.
Everyone is unemployed or underemployed and there are stories of bill collectors being kind, but none of them are my bill collectors. Or my mortgage company, who not only isn't allowing anyone to skip a month, but shut down our personal home refi as it was being underwritten because "since this happened", Jim's job is now suspicious, suspect...what word do I want? His company supplies hotels and condos with lotion and shampoos, so they're now susceptible to the virus, which is how I see it. Sure he took a pay cut, but they are now bottling hand sanitizer, got themselves declared necessary and received the government subsidy money, but no, fuck you guys, your job is too risky to refi your house.
Way to be, mortgage company.
The cat won't stop stomping on my lap.
Harper's car payment was deferred back in March until April, which isn't great, but hey, at least they made an attempt. So there's one.
Every teacher misses their kids, is mumbling about technology.
Every student lost a grade, an internship, a show, prom, graduation, understanding in a content area (Immma call it and say mostly math). They've lost housing, ritual and personal connections.
Everyone has a story. Everyone has unemployment, gigs lost, careers halted, and break downs playing Mario Super Smash Bros,yet I refuse to walk the dogs because they aren't mine.
Harp just pointed out that I left the oven on with nothing in it. I said "It's making ketchup."
Nobody wants to read my personal account of the same universal story we are all living. So I'm not going to write it.
I dunno what to write,everyone else is writing it.
Not everyone else is fortunate enough to be able to write because they have a job and shelter and stupid dogs and old, needy cats. All of whom I am convinced speak perfect English and are deliberately ignoring me.
Everyone else is grateful for whatever their situation is and I can't be bothered to walk the stupid dogs.
I wake up smelling like dog every day, regardless of the daily laundry, Fbreezing, Airwick plug ins and open windows until it snowed. And then the windows were open when it snowed, and at least it smelled cold and not like dog in my house.
And how hard is it to put the lighter back where you found it?
Everyone else is going to get a divorce over ketchup. I've nothing new to contribute.
Twice this month this small publisher has contacted me wanting to know if my manuscript is finished. It will never be finished, because to finish I have to relive the last four worst years of my freaking life, so never mind, I'm no longer interested in publishing it. Anybody who cares read it already, and the consequences have already been suffered, so where the fun in doing it now?
So if I'm not going to do that, I have nothing to write about.
Everyone has Blursday and Muesfreday and mine are tracked by whether or not the meeting is at 8 am or 12: 30, are my students in google hangout on video chat or via text and at least you can't smell the dog permeating my clothes through the computer.
Except that there is no ketchup, and since I'm home all day every day, but am not the one who used the last of the ketchup, maybe someone coulda told me before I made hamburgers for dinner.
Everyone is unemployed or underemployed and there are stories of bill collectors being kind, but none of them are my bill collectors. Or my mortgage company, who not only isn't allowing anyone to skip a month, but shut down our personal home refi as it was being underwritten because "since this happened", Jim's job is now suspicious, suspect...what word do I want? His company supplies hotels and condos with lotion and shampoos, so they're now susceptible to the virus, which is how I see it. Sure he took a pay cut, but they are now bottling hand sanitizer, got themselves declared necessary and received the government subsidy money, but no, fuck you guys, your job is too risky to refi your house.
Way to be, mortgage company.
The cat won't stop stomping on my lap.
Harper's car payment was deferred back in March until April, which isn't great, but hey, at least they made an attempt. So there's one.
Every teacher misses their kids, is mumbling about technology.
Every student lost a grade, an internship, a show, prom, graduation, understanding in a content area (Immma call it and say mostly math). They've lost housing, ritual and personal connections.
Everyone has a story. Everyone has unemployment, gigs lost, careers halted, and break downs playing Mario Super Smash Bros,yet I refuse to walk the dogs because they aren't mine.
Harp just pointed out that I left the oven on with nothing in it. I said "It's making ketchup."
Nobody wants to read my personal account of the same universal story we are all living. So I'm not going to write it.
Monday, March 23, 2020
Ms. Monopoly
The Walmart Monopoly game choices were all foreign to me. "Wall Street", "Ms. Monopoly" and "World of Warcraft Monopoly". After some contemplation, I went with "Ms", figuring Monopoly is Monopoly, right? I haven't played since I was a kid, but it can't be that difficult to remember.
We ordered out from Jose O'Shea's, and then opened the game. We immediately assigned Jim the title of banker, since he's an accountant and your job in a game should match your job in life. Harper was the boss of all the "properties", which in this game are female inventions instead of real estate. Weird. I was the boss of drinking margaritas. Again: your job in the game should match your job in life.
I opened the rules, assuming I would have to just brush up. But it turns out I never really understood Monopoly. Harp immediately asked how you win, and I had no answer. Jim said "When everyone else is bankrupt," and Harp said "That'll take forever," and Jim and I just laughed. Our generation played this damned game forever, and we're not sure anyone actually knows how it ends.
I scoured the rules and discovered the bankrupt thing wasn't far off. You win when all the inventions are purchased, then you collect your rent from the bank and whoever has the most cash wins.
The "Ms" also means that women get $240 to pass go, men get $200. Also, women start off with more cash than men.
There was a white top hat, wrapped separately from the game pieces, with no explanation. Harper would not let me have it, declaring that it was special. It is not listed in the game guide or online. We don't know what it's for.
I was always the iron. It's flat and moves the best. Needless to say, in "Ms" there is no iron. There is a pen and paper, a wine goblet, watch, airplane and a hand weight---none of which are mentioned as female inventions in the game, but are clearly better than the original pieces which included a dog, an iron, a race car, a wheelbarrow, a thimble and a TOP HAT. Just saying.
Starting us off with more money and giving us more money to pass go meant nothing, as the one male in our trio still ended up owning most of the inventions, AND he got the "Get Out Of Jail Free" card. So it did us no good at all to start ahead. Because it's a board game, and it's up to chance, you can't load the odds for or against anyone. You still have to pay rent on the invention when you land, and there is no control over how many times you land. It's a silly premise.
Every time Harp landed on an invention she would declare "YES, I WANT IT." The rules state that you must buy it when you land, but I let her think she was winning something by spending her money. She was drunk, anyway, and we were having fun.
I also cannot read dice after three margaritas, and began to declare loudly that a five and a four equaled eight. Instead I would count spaces for each die, one at a time, as adding them became too amusing for my family.
Thirty minutes and several margaritas into the game, Harper declared "This game is too long." This again prompted looks from Jim and I. Yes. Yes it is.
To appease Harp who was quickly losing interest, we decided the game would be won by whoever had a property in each color scheme. It was looking like Jim for a long time, but then Harp rolled a four and got the last pink invention, "winning" the game.
Which was fine. We had fun.
It's still Monopoly, drunk or sober, "Ms" or not. Monopoly is monopoly, guys. Whoever has the most money wins. But playing drunk makes it infinitely more fun, that is a true statement.
We ordered out from Jose O'Shea's, and then opened the game. We immediately assigned Jim the title of banker, since he's an accountant and your job in a game should match your job in life. Harper was the boss of all the "properties", which in this game are female inventions instead of real estate. Weird. I was the boss of drinking margaritas. Again: your job in the game should match your job in life.
I opened the rules, assuming I would have to just brush up. But it turns out I never really understood Monopoly. Harp immediately asked how you win, and I had no answer. Jim said "When everyone else is bankrupt," and Harp said "That'll take forever," and Jim and I just laughed. Our generation played this damned game forever, and we're not sure anyone actually knows how it ends.
I scoured the rules and discovered the bankrupt thing wasn't far off. You win when all the inventions are purchased, then you collect your rent from the bank and whoever has the most cash wins.
The "Ms" also means that women get $240 to pass go, men get $200. Also, women start off with more cash than men.
There was a white top hat, wrapped separately from the game pieces, with no explanation. Harper would not let me have it, declaring that it was special. It is not listed in the game guide or online. We don't know what it's for.
I was always the iron. It's flat and moves the best. Needless to say, in "Ms" there is no iron. There is a pen and paper, a wine goblet, watch, airplane and a hand weight---none of which are mentioned as female inventions in the game, but are clearly better than the original pieces which included a dog, an iron, a race car, a wheelbarrow, a thimble and a TOP HAT. Just saying.
Starting us off with more money and giving us more money to pass go meant nothing, as the one male in our trio still ended up owning most of the inventions, AND he got the "Get Out Of Jail Free" card. So it did us no good at all to start ahead. Because it's a board game, and it's up to chance, you can't load the odds for or against anyone. You still have to pay rent on the invention when you land, and there is no control over how many times you land. It's a silly premise.
Every time Harp landed on an invention she would declare "YES, I WANT IT." The rules state that you must buy it when you land, but I let her think she was winning something by spending her money. She was drunk, anyway, and we were having fun.
I also cannot read dice after three margaritas, and began to declare loudly that a five and a four equaled eight. Instead I would count spaces for each die, one at a time, as adding them became too amusing for my family.
Thirty minutes and several margaritas into the game, Harper declared "This game is too long." This again prompted looks from Jim and I. Yes. Yes it is.
To appease Harp who was quickly losing interest, we decided the game would be won by whoever had a property in each color scheme. It was looking like Jim for a long time, but then Harp rolled a four and got the last pink invention, "winning" the game.
Which was fine. We had fun.
It's still Monopoly, drunk or sober, "Ms" or not. Monopoly is monopoly, guys. Whoever has the most money wins. But playing drunk makes it infinitely more fun, that is a true statement.
12 March to 22 March 2020 WEEK ONE (ish)
12 March 2020.
We are at school, contemplating the virus and what we are hearing. During fifth period, my Theaco, the announcement comes that all after school activities are cancelled until 6 April. Being who I am, the information indicated that not only was our musical canceled, but the district was going to allow the rental to continue. I spent the last hours in my building with the music teacher trying to get info out of the Athletic Director, who was waiting to hear from the rental, not the district. This annoys me. The rental called and cancelled an hour later. Well, good, 'cause I was getting pretty mohawk-y.
Announcement after school: district says pack your stuff, unclear what will happen after spring break. Teachers, pack up everything you may need, we dunno how long this will be. Students, clean out your lockers, take your chrome books.
District sends email at 4 pm announcing extended spring break.
Shit Just Got Real.
13 Friday:Work day. Sleep late, go in because I need to do online training for the district and I don't know how to enable popups on my laptop.I need a person. Rehearse song with building "teacher choir". Our choir teacher is too cute for color TV, trying to get everyone to Do A Thing. I'm on board 'cause she's my colleague, and why not.
I leave school, go buy some groceries. No toilet paper. Have weird panic attack in the grocery store. Toilet paper is wiped out, what is going on? Why is that a thing? There's plenty of Tylenol Cold and Flu. I get a few things 'cause I can't really focus and I'm starting to feel dizzy. I begin to say things using my ouside voice that are hilarious to me, like reciting the portion of Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy when he doesn't grasp the fact that the earth is gone until he thinks "There are no more McDonalds" and passes out cold. I chortle and quote and realize I'm being stared out. I consider feigning loss of consciousness to make the story better when I tell it later, but instead I just laugh and continue to stand in the frozen food aisle, chanting "There is no more toilet paper" and not comprehending what I am looking at or knowing what I am looking for.
I text my Jeffco colleague Eric to see what they're doing,he's going to remote teaching starting Monday. We ponder how this "online learning" will go for me. We conclude it will not go well, and laugh and cancel our plans next week.
Laundry.
Vacuum. Mop floors.
Go to the liquor store, get a six pack.
14 Saturday. I hear restaurants may close. Mayor Hancock has intimated as much. If Denver closes, Lakewood will follow.
Mayor Hancock seems to mumble things in front of a microphone that are what he wishes would happen. Polis is governor, he's the boss of the state. Hancock, you're the boss of Denver, you do you. Stop mumbling.
Go to the liquor store, get a six pack. Not sure why I won't just buy a twelve pack, but I won't do it.
Vacuum. Mop floors.
Make blueberry muffins.
The neighborhood St. Patrick's party is cancelled as the hosts have ten pounds of corned beef and "limited" toilet paper. Hoooorah.
Try to take G out for a drink for her birthday cause she works tomorrow, but she is crestfallen. She and her boyfriend have been working toward getting a place ever since returning from Durango. They found a house with a yard, a roommate, and all three are solidly employed. But yesterday the roommate returned from Iceland and was put in isolation due to a cough. Unclear if he has CoVid, but his dad is at risk, so he cannot work this week. There goes moving out. She's devastated and there's nothing anyone can do.
15 Sun: Last night at Westrail. Six feet apart from each of the ten of us who are there. Bartender says she thinks they're closing. She says she's fine, she bought 3 bags of dog food and she and her boyfriend know they'll likely blow through their savings, but she believes they will be fine for a few weeks. A few weeks. Everyone is saying a few weeks.
Our friend Alyson arrives, after harassing me on Facebook for being at the pub and threatening to call the governor on me. She is toting her Lysol wipes and thoroughly cleansing the bar stool and her bar area before ordering a drink. I do not mock her, her dad is one of the last surviving Tuskegee airmen and she sees him daily. She's being responsible.
16 Polis closes all restaurants and bars except for take out and delivery.
Grocery run. No toilet paper at Safeway or King Soopers. I thought all the stuff on social media was panicked hyperbole. My friend in Highlands Ranch tells me Target has some if you get there first thing in the morning, but if I need any she has some she will bring me.
Harp and I decide to do the family thing we've done since she was little, "Let's drive to Evergreen for no reason." The three of us made this journey for years when money was tight. We'd listen to John Denver, and upon arrival stop to visit Ted and Tina, two marmots near the stream, get an ice cream, or later a coffee. She's now 22, so we stop at the Conifer bar called The Well At Bradford Junction. There is a cute general store next door, but it's closed. The bar owner and two regulars are present. We have a couple of beers and chat with the owner, Leslie, asking if she's going to be able to stay open. "As long as they let me, this is all I have. My husband passed this year." We tip her well and promise to return if she's able to stay open.
Online district SEL training modules 1-2. Whoot.
I make Guinness stew for dinner, after visiting the liquor store for Guinness...and a six pack of Beck's.
17 Monday, maybe Tuesday. St. Patrick's day. Look at photos from trip to Dublin last year when we got to see the parade. SIGH.
8 am, as I ventured out on my daily quest for toilet paper, I entered Target to discover three, twelve pack rolls. But between myself and the treasure were two women, one with a cart, chatting at the aisle entrance.
Polis closes schools until 17 April.
Sheesh.
Laundry. Vacuum. Mop floors.
Make banana nut muffins.
I make potato soup for dinner.
18 Days no longer matter.
We contemplate the take out options. I am not a cook by any stretch, but I'm trying.
Go to the liquor store.
Days of the week become meaningless. I'm on regular spring break, Harp is still in school at Metro, via remote.
Somewhere in here Genoa's spa closed. She's now unemployed.
Launder all bedding. Vacuum. Mop floors.
19 Today's quest is eggs. At least the egg shortage makes more sense than toilet paper. But still...up two mornings on my quest. Each depleted item comes with rumors: "I got eggs at Walgreens....I heard Safeway got a shipment....I hear there are no zombies at Pacific Playland". It’s funny and sad and I feel like an addict, listening to the word on the street to learn where to search next for my fix.
Michelle, who has cut our family's hair for more than ten years, calls to close her salon for the time being. She is devastated, but can't in good conscience remain open and possibly spread the virus.
Launder all blankets, couch and chair covers. Vacuum. Mop floors.
Finish online SEL learning modules. Whoot.
Liquor store.
Grocery store. At this point we go to see what there is,not get what we need.
On Facebook unknown author: Two households both alike in quarantine,
In fair Corona, where we lay our scene.
20 My day in bullet points:
20 dates have no meaning
Jim off, 'snow day".
Polis closes all hair salons.
Supplies, liquor store. Supply runs are no longer what we need, but "what do they have?"I said that already. Realize I'm repeating myself a lot. More of a concern is that it took me 30 minutes to complete a 49 piece Lion King puzzle. I was sober.
Launder things I find around the house. Will dog fit in washing machine? Vacuum. Mop floors.Make cranberry muffins.No more order to bullet points, need structure though, but what's the point?
Stephanie texts: From ancient germ break new immunity,
Where civil coughs make civil hands unclean.
This Day
Polis says restaurants can deliver alcohol. We kinda knew that,Jose O'Sheas was running a take out quarantine special with margaritas and one roll of toilet paper
We hear we may be on lockdown Monday. Get to Jose Osheas, order take out. Doing our part to help local businesses.
We decide to play the Ms. Monopoly procured at Walmart. "Ms". apparently means that all women start with more money than the men, and instead of properties the stops are inventions by women. We ate our Mexican food and slurped margaritas and learned that women invented a lot of stuff. Harp declares "This game is too long," thirty minutes in. Jim and I laugh and roll our eyes, as 70's and 80's kids played this thing for hours with no complaints and no alcohol.
kryssi texts: From forth the fatal bug-brought pandemos,
The segregation feels like it's for life.
Today
Polis says liquor stores can deliver.
Doubtful we're going on lockdown if he's making these decrees.
Facetime my sister until the wifi glitches, then just talk. She's out of a job starting Monday.
Harp keeps us updated with conspiracy theories.
And The Band Played On...
.....
Can we talk about how well I'm sleeping? Deeply, great, powerful, vivid dreams that are so realistic I wake up convinced they happened. I feel physically well, even though I haven't made a schedule and I still haven't started yoga again. Man, I feel invigorated.
We are at school, contemplating the virus and what we are hearing. During fifth period, my Theaco, the announcement comes that all after school activities are cancelled until 6 April. Being who I am, the information indicated that not only was our musical canceled, but the district was going to allow the rental to continue. I spent the last hours in my building with the music teacher trying to get info out of the Athletic Director, who was waiting to hear from the rental, not the district. This annoys me. The rental called and cancelled an hour later. Well, good, 'cause I was getting pretty mohawk-y.
Announcement after school: district says pack your stuff, unclear what will happen after spring break. Teachers, pack up everything you may need, we dunno how long this will be. Students, clean out your lockers, take your chrome books.
District sends email at 4 pm announcing extended spring break.
Shit Just Got Real.
13 Friday:Work day. Sleep late, go in because I need to do online training for the district and I don't know how to enable popups on my laptop.I need a person. Rehearse song with building "teacher choir". Our choir teacher is too cute for color TV, trying to get everyone to Do A Thing. I'm on board 'cause she's my colleague, and why not.
I leave school, go buy some groceries. No toilet paper. Have weird panic attack in the grocery store. Toilet paper is wiped out, what is going on? Why is that a thing? There's plenty of Tylenol Cold and Flu. I get a few things 'cause I can't really focus and I'm starting to feel dizzy. I begin to say things using my ouside voice that are hilarious to me, like reciting the portion of Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy when he doesn't grasp the fact that the earth is gone until he thinks "There are no more McDonalds" and passes out cold. I chortle and quote and realize I'm being stared out. I consider feigning loss of consciousness to make the story better when I tell it later, but instead I just laugh and continue to stand in the frozen food aisle, chanting "There is no more toilet paper" and not comprehending what I am looking at or knowing what I am looking for.
I text my Jeffco colleague Eric to see what they're doing,he's going to remote teaching starting Monday. We ponder how this "online learning" will go for me. We conclude it will not go well, and laugh and cancel our plans next week.
Laundry.
Vacuum. Mop floors.
Go to the liquor store, get a six pack.
14 Saturday. I hear restaurants may close. Mayor Hancock has intimated as much. If Denver closes, Lakewood will follow.
Mayor Hancock seems to mumble things in front of a microphone that are what he wishes would happen. Polis is governor, he's the boss of the state. Hancock, you're the boss of Denver, you do you. Stop mumbling.
Go to the liquor store, get a six pack. Not sure why I won't just buy a twelve pack, but I won't do it.
Vacuum. Mop floors.
Make blueberry muffins.
The neighborhood St. Patrick's party is cancelled as the hosts have ten pounds of corned beef and "limited" toilet paper. Hoooorah.
Try to take G out for a drink for her birthday cause she works tomorrow, but she is crestfallen. She and her boyfriend have been working toward getting a place ever since returning from Durango. They found a house with a yard, a roommate, and all three are solidly employed. But yesterday the roommate returned from Iceland and was put in isolation due to a cough. Unclear if he has CoVid, but his dad is at risk, so he cannot work this week. There goes moving out. She's devastated and there's nothing anyone can do.
15 Sun: Last night at Westrail. Six feet apart from each of the ten of us who are there. Bartender says she thinks they're closing. She says she's fine, she bought 3 bags of dog food and she and her boyfriend know they'll likely blow through their savings, but she believes they will be fine for a few weeks. A few weeks. Everyone is saying a few weeks.
Our friend Alyson arrives, after harassing me on Facebook for being at the pub and threatening to call the governor on me. She is toting her Lysol wipes and thoroughly cleansing the bar stool and her bar area before ordering a drink. I do not mock her, her dad is one of the last surviving Tuskegee airmen and she sees him daily. She's being responsible.
16 Polis closes all restaurants and bars except for take out and delivery.
Grocery run. No toilet paper at Safeway or King Soopers. I thought all the stuff on social media was panicked hyperbole. My friend in Highlands Ranch tells me Target has some if you get there first thing in the morning, but if I need any she has some she will bring me.
Harp and I decide to do the family thing we've done since she was little, "Let's drive to Evergreen for no reason." The three of us made this journey for years when money was tight. We'd listen to John Denver, and upon arrival stop to visit Ted and Tina, two marmots near the stream, get an ice cream, or later a coffee. She's now 22, so we stop at the Conifer bar called The Well At Bradford Junction. There is a cute general store next door, but it's closed. The bar owner and two regulars are present. We have a couple of beers and chat with the owner, Leslie, asking if she's going to be able to stay open. "As long as they let me, this is all I have. My husband passed this year." We tip her well and promise to return if she's able to stay open.
Online district SEL training modules 1-2. Whoot.
I make Guinness stew for dinner, after visiting the liquor store for Guinness...and a six pack of Beck's.
17 Monday, maybe Tuesday. St. Patrick's day. Look at photos from trip to Dublin last year when we got to see the parade. SIGH.
8 am, as I ventured out on my daily quest for toilet paper, I entered Target to discover three, twelve pack rolls. But between myself and the treasure were two women, one with a cart, chatting at the aisle entrance.
Blocking my way.
I imagined they asked my favorite color, shouted “blue... no green”into their vacuous faces, and lept over the cart, securing my grail. I snapped a photo as I exited, as proof of my adventure.
And that’s how I’m doing.Sheesh.
Laundry. Vacuum. Mop floors.
Make banana nut muffins.
I make potato soup for dinner.
We contemplate the take out options. I am not a cook by any stretch, but I'm trying.
Go to the liquor store.
Days of the week become meaningless. I'm on regular spring break, Harp is still in school at Metro, via remote.
Somewhere in here Genoa's spa closed. She's now unemployed.
Launder all bedding. Vacuum. Mop floors.
19 Today's quest is eggs. At least the egg shortage makes more sense than toilet paper. But still...up two mornings on my quest. Each depleted item comes with rumors: "I got eggs at Walgreens....I heard Safeway got a shipment....I hear there are no zombies at Pacific Playland". It’s funny and sad and I feel like an addict, listening to the word on the street to learn where to search next for my fix.
Michelle, who has cut our family's hair for more than ten years, calls to close her salon for the time being. She is devastated, but can't in good conscience remain open and possibly spread the virus.
Launder all blankets, couch and chair covers. Vacuum. Mop floors.
Finish online SEL learning modules. Whoot.
Liquor store.
Grocery store. At this point we go to see what there is,not get what we need.
On Facebook unknown author: Two households both alike in quarantine,
In fair Corona, where we lay our scene.
20 My day in bullet points:
• 12.30 began the supply quest. Late but needed to sleep. Loudly loved the take out restaurants for being open and NOT price gouging while driving all over town.
•Found eggs at the King Soopers at Kipling and Belleview( thank you Rachel Herring Finley).•No TP or eggs: Lakewood Kings,Vitamin Cottage or Safeway, Ken Caryl Walmart, Aurora Walmart.• Puzzles and Monopoly at Walmart.•As we are driving and I pontificate on the goodness of humans who don’t gouge , Harp pipes in that Door Dash and Uber Eats are using “Surge” pricing, aka gouging. I am momentarily saddened but not surprised. Ass Hats.•Drop Kleenex at my mom’s House in Lakewood.•H Mart Asian Market in Aurora has toilet paper. It is not good toilet paper,it is restaurant/Office one ply. One per customer. $14 for a 12 pack. Ass Gnomes.• I am now officially disappointed in humanity for gouging, and more annoyed that the ASIAN market has toilet paper AND are over charging. You get me.•Drive the TP to Castle Pines for my in laws.
* Stop at liquor store on way home.•5 pm arrive home. Hate greed. Make stir fry and watch Dumb and Dumber.
Scene.
Jim off, 'snow day".
Polis closes all hair salons.
Supplies, liquor store. Supply runs are no longer what we need, but "what do they have?"I said that already. Realize I'm repeating myself a lot. More of a concern is that it took me 30 minutes to complete a 49 piece Lion King puzzle. I was sober.
Launder things I find around the house. Will dog fit in washing machine? Vacuum. Mop floors.Make cranberry muffins.No more order to bullet points, need structure though, but what's the point?
Stephanie texts: From ancient germ break new immunity,
Where civil coughs make civil hands unclean.
This Day
Polis says restaurants can deliver alcohol. We kinda knew that,Jose O'Sheas was running a take out quarantine special with margaritas and one roll of toilet paper
We hear we may be on lockdown Monday. Get to Jose Osheas, order take out. Doing our part to help local businesses.
We decide to play the Ms. Monopoly procured at Walmart. "Ms". apparently means that all women start with more money than the men, and instead of properties the stops are inventions by women. We ate our Mexican food and slurped margaritas and learned that women invented a lot of stuff. Harp declares "This game is too long," thirty minutes in. Jim and I laugh and roll our eyes, as 70's and 80's kids played this thing for hours with no complaints and no alcohol.
kryssi texts: From forth the fatal bug-brought pandemos,
The segregation feels like it's for life.
Today
Polis says liquor stores can deliver.
Doubtful we're going on lockdown if he's making these decrees.
Facetime my sister until the wifi glitches, then just talk. She's out of a job starting Monday.
Harp keeps us updated with conspiracy theories.
And The Band Played On...
.....
Can we talk about how well I'm sleeping? Deeply, great, powerful, vivid dreams that are so realistic I wake up convinced they happened. I feel physically well, even though I haven't made a schedule and I still haven't started yoga again. Man, I feel invigorated.
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Theatres And Closures Briefly
I believe in the ghost light in theatres on a spiritual level. Of course, it is for safety, but it is also to remind us that we shall prevail. We are not shuttered forever. I realized while thinking of this blog that the reason theatre and I are so close is that we both have two middle fingers and a mohawk. That image represents my favorite movie phrase "Never give up, never surrender". Here is what occurred to me this morning, to prove that it takes a strong will to endure as a theatre person: The ghost light is the spirit of theatre, our collective mohawk that shines as a beacon to our souls. It is a symbol of our strength.
The Greek theatre survived being conquered by Rome, who then stole the Greek gods and theatre.The Greeks infected their conquering nation with their own culture.That's so punk rock.
In 1592 the Globe theatre was closed by plague. No biggie, they reopened afterwords and kept on going. Never mind that the players themselves then burned the place to the ground by firing a cannon during a show in 1613, they rebuilt it. Again with the mohawk, you can't stop theatre even with your own stupidity. Of course it was then closed by uptight Puritans in 1642 for "lascivious mirth and levity". Yep, that's us. How dare we have a good time. Partying like the punks we are, and holding a mirror up to society to force them to see how they are is usually misinterpreted and twisted into "lascivious mirth and levity." We enjoy mocking society, and watching society not comprehend that they are being mocked. Until they do, and then they shut us down.
The Globe still stands, by the way, even if it is in a different location.
The Russian theatres were closed by Bubonic plague in 1771, and also stood witness to the riots that ensued. Yet Chekov's Moscow Arts Theatre -founded a hundred years later, granted- is still standing. I may not be able to line up Russian theatre exactly with plagues and mohawks at this red hot moment, but I am also not wrong.
I'm just sayin', you cannot stop theatre.
I just jumped on google to check on my dates, and found this on SparkNotes: Aside from the city authorities, the chief enemies of the theaters were Puritan reformers, who believed that theatrical entertainment in itself represented a blight on the moral life of the city. One preacher, Thomas White, went so far as to make a direct link between plays and the plague: “The cause of plague is sinne . . . and the cause of sinne are playes: therefore the cause of plagues are playes.”
That was written regarding the shuttering of the Globe.See how we are?
Remember the black out last year in NYC? The cast of Hadestown took the show to the street. Mohawk. Two middle fingers. "The Show Must Go On", etc etc.
As I try to get my thoughts out here, with a fat fluffy cat pounding her head on my hand, I realize I've made my point. Theatre is not buildings. Theatre is people. Which I'm pretty sure is grammatically incorrect, or at least sounds it. As I chanted for four years as I was being bullied out of my own theatre: You can shove me out of my theatre, but you'll never take theatre out of me. I'm a theatre kid. Always have been.
Theatre people are the ones who endure. We adjust, change schedules, switch venues, move outdoors, hop districts, or, in the case of a plague, we sit and write and prepare for the buildings to reopen. Yes, This Sucks. This is costing millions in revenue, and lost wages,and putting insurance and car payments and mortgage payments at risk. It. Sucks. Ass.
But it will end. And we'll be ready.
'Cause the building may be closed, but the ghost light is still burning.
Thursday, January 23, 2020
Things Fall Apart.
I have taught this poem before, sometimes on its own, and sometimes with the novel that borrowed the line. I know the poem because Stephen King used it in The Stand, and everything I know about literature I learned from Stephen King. Here is Yeats' poem for your reference.
The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
I have, over the years, pondered this piece. from every angle. In 2008, and for a few years, I contemplated "What rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?" I found it to be a chilling omen, a warning to politicians and countries who worship their leaders.
This piece, coupled with "I Am Waiting" by Ferlinghetti and The Zoo Story by Edward Albee, have infused and educated and buoyed and vexed and depressed me, sometimes like waves kissing the shore, sometimes like a high wind blowing my lawn chairs into the fence at two a.m., but always present. I am waiting. For what, I had no idea, but I was waiting.
I believe that I still am.
I believe that I still am.
Things fall apart. The center does not hold.
2016-2019 were a shit show, a time of great googley change, exhaustion and finally, 2019 was over. I believed that it couldn't last forever, that I/we/world were being broken, and that 2020, based on nothing more than the balance of the numbers, would be when it was put back together again. But first, it has to finish a burn. There is something else coming. And then the pieces will be collected and reformed into something new. The center will hold, because it's the center. Even if the Super Flu kills 99.9% of the population, the center holds. Humanity endures, good triumphs and in the battle you lose a beloved character.
It depends on what you define as "the center". In The Stand, a general is using the poem to reference the power of the military and bio-warfare. The center cannot hold, there is always a glitch, a leak, a mistake. The center of military science, the center of the military industrial complex cannot hold-not when a biological flu is unleashed on the world. But the center---humanity---holds. The .001% core left behind must choose up sides and fight for their beliefs. Nobody is allowed to be a bystander. You must participate in your own salvation. You must participate in your own survival. There is no stadium seating, no audience. You are in the coliseum and you must face the enemy. Your true center will hold, but the military complex or public education system will not. Things fall apart. You will not. Your center will hold.
That is how the center holds. When you realize it's just you and your demons.
No spectators.
No Facebook. No You Tube. No Cell phone.
No Blog.
You must allow yourself to travel a great distance in the wrong direction in order to come back a short distance correctly. (Regular readers know my reference, my beloved Mr. Albee.)
Once you do that and you return: you're alone, center stage, awaiting the entrance of your foe.
What rough beast is slouching toward you?
It looks familiar. It sounds familiar.
It should. It's yours.
Your center will hold, but you have to fight. Stop giving up your power. Know the truth and wield it like a broad sword, a vorpol blade that snicker snacks. If the system is going to fall apart, you can't stop it, so you may as well move it along more quickly so you can get to the point. Like the Tootsie Pop, you'll never know how many licks it takes for the center to fall apart, because you took a huge bite out of it.
Sheesh, I need a runaway metaphor ramp. The gravel on the ramp is made of allusions and similes to help slow you down, much as you've stopped reading this rant.
The center that does not hold is not yours. It's only relevant to things like paying your bills or sustaining friendships. Your center, your true center, will hold. And the bills will get paid. And the relationships will heal or not, whatever.
Just stop that rough beast en route to Bethlehem.
Scene.
The center that does not hold is not yours. It's only relevant to things like paying your bills or sustaining friendships. Your center, your true center, will hold. And the bills will get paid. And the relationships will heal or not, whatever.
Just stop that rough beast en route to Bethlehem.
Scene.
n/a
I'M BAAAAAAAAAACK (and pretty rusty, so be patient)
Hello
Let me catch you up so we can continue:
I'm no longer teaching lang arts at a suburban high school.
I'm now teaching theatre at an urban high school.
I'm directing the musical at said urban high school.
I'm also directing a musical at an engineering college.
I'm now teaching theatre at an urban high school.
I'm directing the musical at said urban high school.
I'm also directing a musical at an engineering college.
Now you're caught up!
Today's rant is about air fryers. If one is not a person who cooks, anyway, the Keto diet is a challenge. I managed, somehow, to function on this diet for almost nine months and I lost 25 pounds. I do, however, doubt it was the food or my body "achieving Ketosis"-I never did the pee in a cup test, so I can neither confirm nor deny such a claim, but more likely it was due to my own inability to function in the kitchen. There was a lot of stuffed, baked chicken and Keto pizzas. I think of Goldie Hawn in Seems Like Old Times in her robe, hair askew, surrounded by dogs on the floor and pots on the stove trying desperately to replicate Aurora's chicken pepperoni. When asked how it's going she says "The dogs are half dead from tasting it." This is how I imagine Jim and Harper felt. They were pretty tired of stuffed, baked chicken. But they are adults, and if they didn't like it they could cook something else.
I was unable to perfect any sort of breading in Keto. Almond flour just doesn't do it, and breadcrumbs and Penko breading contain my daily quantity of carbs. My almond flour breading is lumpy and sticks to the pan. The pan, you say? Yes, oven baked because that's what I had: an oven.
Jim was gifted an air fryer at Christmas, much to my joy. I know people who swear by them and I was excited to give it a try. Of course, being off Keto meant using Penko breading for the chicken strips. The first round were a bit weird, dried out because I cooked them too long. The cookbook that came with the fryer said 14 minutes, so I did 14 minutes, but it dried out the chicken itself. So I adjusted to 11 and it was perfect, and it was cooked all the way through -stop thinking I poisoned everyone, including the dogs, I never under cook chicken.The air fryer is fantastic as long as you have something breaded, but again, I cannot manage the breading part.
I decided to try fried cheese last night. Jim bought string cheese, and I carefully egg washed and dipped them in the Penko and almond flour---Penko has crunch but no flavor, I've become fond of the flavor of almond flour. Harper says it makes everything smell like cake. I did not look at the recipe because how hard can it be? I just looked at the time. I placed the dipped cheese sticks in the basket and started the fryer. Ten minutes later I opened the flyer to a basket of melted cheese mush with a breading blanket.
The recipe clearly says to freeze the dipped cheese first.
Too bad I didn't read the recipe.
No problem, it's Saturday night and I have no other plans. I dip and freeze the cheese sticks for an hour. I then place them in the basket at the prescribed temperature and the prescribed time.
And open the basket and....at least this time, the melted cheese mush had lumps in it.
So this morning, I dipped and breaded and placed the cheese sticks in the freezer to make later tonight. My hope is that several hours of freezing will help with the issue of melted cheese lumps. If not, please feel free to come over and I'll make you some lumpage!
I dunno, every time I think I can do a cooking or baking thing it turns out that I can't do cooking or baking things. My children didn't starve, Jim cooks, and I can manage four things: meatloaf, any type of noddle and meat and cheese casserole, grilled cheese smammiches and pot roast. Nobody starved, but I also take no joy in cooking or baking things. It's frustrating because it never comes out the way it should, even if I follow the recipe exactly. It's like the recipe knows it's me and the ingredients conspire to screw me up, like band kids switching instruments on the sub.
Jim believes we can make fried cheese work with egg roll wrappers.
.....
I dunno, every time I think I can do a cooking or baking thing it turns out that I can't do cooking or baking things. My children didn't starve, Jim cooks, and I can manage four things: meatloaf, any type of noddle and meat and cheese casserole, grilled cheese smammiches and pot roast. Nobody starved, but I also take no joy in cooking or baking things. It's frustrating because it never comes out the way it should, even if I follow the recipe exactly. It's like the recipe knows it's me and the ingredients conspire to screw me up, like band kids switching instruments on the sub.
Jim believes we can make fried cheese work with egg roll wrappers.
.....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)