Who We Are

Yet another rant, a vent of frustration to try to reconcile an experience. One side of me — the spoiled, arrogant, take-everything-for-granted white male, first world side of me – continues responding to the coronavirus actions as though everything is alright with the world and is thus annoyed, I tell you, peeved, even, about things like one day delivery requiring six days. “What in the world is with that?” that side cries in anger and despair.

The other side of me replies, “Dude, you are a jackass.”

The event in focus is my pecker meds (Tamsulosin). I always get it locally, thirty day supply. But with shit going down, I thought it prudent to get a larger supply.

First, I tried ordering it ahead of time at my regular place, Ashland Drugs. Nope, it was too soon, the system said. By then, shutdowns were announced, so I shifted to Express Scripts.

Well, there were delays. My prescription was for thirty days and I was asking for a supply of ninety days. ES contacted my prescribing urologist for approval. He, they said, in updates on their website, didn’t respond. A day passed. Two. I shifted the order to one day shipping, because I could see that this was gonna take more time than planned. Then I called the urologist’s office and explained what was going on and what needed to be done.

That worked. Presto, order was being processed.

The next day, the order continued being processed.

Ship, damn it, ship, I urged.

Yes, it shipped, on 3/31. Hoorah! Here was the tracking number. They didn’t know when it would be delivered.

Have I mentioned that the requested one day shipping cost twice as much as the prescription?

For some reason, “The Wells Fargo Wagon” song from from The Music Man began providing me background music.

I faithfully tracked the shipment from Arizona to California, and then, by truck, from California up to Washington via DHL. The road from California to Washington is a little trail that we locals call I-5. It goes past my house by a few miles.

That irrational, crazy part of me screamed, “Why can’t they just pull over and toss it to me as they’re passing Ashland?” Yes, even the irrational part of me knows how dumb that suggestion is.

By April 2 I learned that my Tamsulosin would arrive on April 6. The plan was for DHL to truck it to Washington. DHL would hand it over to the USPS up there (I imagined a furtive, midnight exchange). Then the USPS would drive it down to Ashland (probably on I-5) and sneak it to a local carrier and deliver it to me.

Okay, a plan. I like having plans. Plans are good. Problem with this plan was that I’d run out of Tamsulosin on Friday, April 3. That was my last dose.

Well, damn. Not much could be done at that point. I’d tried, I consoled myself. Now my body would just need to endure without the med.

Meanwhile, the reasonable side of me said, “You prick.”

(It seems like an appropriate noun for the situation.)

“You should be thankful that there are people out there risking their health so that you can sit on your ass in the safety of your personal space. And be thankful that someone like Express Scripts exists and that you have a computer and Internet to place the order and follow the tracking information. Be thankful, you cretin, that the drugs are there, are so affordable, and that you have a urologist to help you. Stop looking at the dark side of this, you pessimistic, selfish, jerk, and think of the bigger picture and be fucking grateful.”

To which the other side of me said, “Wow. Mean.”

So, seriously, thanks to all the USPS, DHL, and Express Scripts drivers and people working and all they’re doing to help the rest of us survive. Let me not overlook all those healthcare professionals and government employees. We do appreciate it, even if some of us act like jerks.

Please forgive us for being who we are. We are trying to change. At least, one side of me is.

Somber Experiences

Some do not want to practice social distancing. Tales from Oregon and Alaska.

Guests arrive across the street at a neighbor’s house. The neighbors came out and greeted their visitors. Hugs were exchanged.

While delivering food to shut-ins, a volunteer was accosted by one shut-in who refused to recognize the six foot distance and had to be admonished several times. According to the volunteer, he seemed to be taking malicious glee approaching her.

Friends were out walking. They encountered a forty-ish woman with a teenage female. They refused to move. Both parties stopped. My friend explained, “We’re practicing social distancing.” The other woman threw her hands up. “That’s such bullshit.”

Another friend, out shopping, encountered a person in an aisle. She stopped at one end, waiting for him to finish. He noticed her. “Oh, what?” He smirked. “You waiting for me to leave?”

“Yes.”

The man proceeded to dawdle, clearly to irritate my friend. Shrugging it off, she went to another section of the store.

He followed her. More, he began trying to sneak up on her. Not wanting to give him satisfaction, she ignored him as she could and moved away. But after twenty minutes of this, she finally snapped at him in a loud voice. Her expletive loaded tirade brought store personnel to the scene. One had observed what’d been going on (so why didn’t she step in, everyone asks) and vouched for my friend and her experience. The man was ordered out of the store.

Let’s be careful out there. Some folks are stupid – and we know how dangerous stupid can be – and some are just dicks.

That is all.

Florida

They always warned you,

the day will come,

that the way you govern

by giving others crumbs

would someday bite you in the ass.

You dismissed that with a laugh.

 

But now that day has come to pass

that the government you wanted and thought was right

isn’t up to this situation, is too fragile, too light.

So I wonder what lessons you might’ve learned

as people sicken, fall ill, and die,

and the economy burns.

 

 

 

Monday’s Theme Music

Going into week three of isolation, I start thinking about changing things up.

My wife’s Y-exercise group have done some adjusting. Using Zoom, they’ve now reverted to their Monday-Wednesday-Friday exercise routine, although one hour later than usual. My beer group is considering the same thing. Having a beer with others, via Zoom, and having a chat about the news, checking up on one another, might be the change I need.

Overall, I am slooowly adjusting. I miss my long walks and solitude, and my coffee/writing routine. My wife noticed, “I don’t think I’ve seen you writing.”

“Well, I tried but there were too many interruptions. Cats…you…my brain, the net, the coronavirus.” She made arrangements to give me some ‘me’ time for a few hours in the office. That enabled some writing.

Other than that, it’s been reading, cleaning, and playing ‘puter games. Too much of the reading has been drawn toward coronavirus news. I’ve made it a habit (or a compulsion) to check on different states and countries, along with the overall sit, several damn times a day.

So, a change would do me good. That thought introduced the Sheryl Crow song, “A Change Would Do You Good” (1997).

I’ve been thinking ’bout catching a train
Leave my phone machine by the radar range
Hello it’s me, I’m not at home
If you’d like to reach me, leave me alone

A change would do you good
A change would do you good
Hello, it’s me, I’m not at home
If you’d like to reach me, leave me alone

h/t to AZLyrics.com

FIFO

We’ve begun our third week of isolation. Our state, Oregon, has done well on containment. As of today, we stand at 538 confirmed cases and 8 fatalities. No fatalities have been reported in my city, Ashland. Nineteen cases are reported for Ashland. Our city hospital been set up as a COVID-19 county treatment center for mild to moderate cases.

The first two weeks of being sequestered at home, we cleaned, inventorying supplies on hand and reviewing recipe and meal ideas.

(Okay, when I say, ‘we’, I’m using the couple we. My wife has done 99.9% of this. My input has been almost negligible.)

My wife suggested first in, first out eating practices. The oldest stuff should be consumed first, if we agree it seems edible.

I countered: we want to use our fresh produce so that it doesn’t go to waste.

A compromise was agreed: FIFO would be employed one day, and a fresh meal the next. Whenever we do a FIFO meal, we’d add fresh produce, if it made sense. Smoothies would be consumed each day.

It’s been going well. We were well-supplied with staples. My partner baked. A can of old pumpkin was sacrificed (along with old cream cheese and an extra sweet potato) to make a pumpkin roll and pumpkin muffins. A quarter was consumed; the rest were frozen for future eating.

She slices and freezes bananas that become overly ripe (they’re used in smoothies). But when we’d had a large supply of them established, she made us banana-pecan muffins. Again, a few were consumed, but most were frozen.

Vegan split-pea soup followed, then roasted vegetable soup. Each lasted us several days.

Along the way, we’d been eating salads, which is our long-established habit. As COVID-19 practices and projections took shape, we began thinking in longer terms. While grocery stores have taken precautions and special hours set aside for people like us (over sixty years old), they also report supply chain issues. My wife has RA and is considered vulnerable. She didn’t want us going out if we could avoid it. But more supplies were needed.

Enter Instacart.

I created an Instacart account and explored it. Instacart supports four chains in our area: Safeway, Albertson’s, Fred Meyers, and Costco.

Costco! That’s our go-to place.

First I logged into Costo.com to check supplies. Out. Out. Out. Out.

I figured that resupplies would eventually arrive. I made it a daily practice to check. Finally, on Friday, bingo, several items that we wanted were now available. We also wanted fresh produce, for example, romaine, blueberries, bananas, celery, potatoes. Ah, that was available, but only if we shifted the order to Instacart.

Prices were compared. One, shopping groceries online with Costco is more expensive than shopping at the warehouse. Kind of expected, and they weren’t gouging us. Two, prices with Instacart were just a little more. Three, you tip your Instacart shopper.

Okay. We discussed it. Seeing that our supplies were going down, that cases in Ashland were going up, that the whole situation was unstable and uncertain, we put an Instacart order in last Friday.

The process itself was simple and well-organized. In fact, I consider it one of the better online shopping experiences that I’ve gone through. I was never confused about what was happening. They would tell us immediately if an item wasn’t available in our zip code. With some items, such as eggs, they warned us that they were in short supply, and brought up options. Cool.

Next were delivery instructions. Well, we didn’t want to break them directly into the house. We couldn’t leave them outside, either. I came up with an option: move one of the cars out of the garage and set up a table in there. When they were in route, we’d open the garage. They’d put the stuff in there.

The garage usually runs 48 – 52 degrees F at this time of year. We were only ordering one frozen item and a few refrigerated items. We’d put ice on those things and let everything stay out there overnight. Then, we’d clean it off and put it away.

Once the plan was established, we entered those instructions into our order and selected a delivery time. Delivery times were two hour windows on Saturday. They began at 2 PM. Well, we weren’t going anywhere… We selected two to four PM.

The order was received and processed within minutes. The system told us that we could change it, removing or adding things, until shopping was underway. After considering it overnight, we decided some of the stuff we’d ordered was too much, and removed them.

Next came our first ‘issue’, and it as small one. Our delivery window was moved to Sunday morning, 11 AM. Bummer. We were looking forward to it coming on Saturday. With little else to do, we were sort of focused on that happening. Oh, well, though.

Time passed. On a whim, I checked on the order.

Gadzooks! It was on the way. According to the email, it’d be arriving in about ten minutes.

Scramble, scramble, scramble! We were dressed, but had to follow up on our receiving plan. That done, a few minutes later, the delivery arrived.

Alicia P was our shopper and delivery person. She had an assistant with her (he was driving, citing the changing weather conditions as his reason for being). Everything went off without a hitch. Only one item didn’t make it: pasta. We have some pasta. I’ll do another order for Albertson’s via Instacart this week to see if that can be ordered.

Instacart recommended a five percent tip, which worked out to just under nine dollars. I upped it to fifteen. I figured Alicia P deserved it, and it was cheap at that. I acknowledge, yeah, we’re lucky. We have the financial wherewithal to do this, a Costco is in range, and people like Alicia P are willing to work for Instagram under these conditions. And, yes, part of my reason for pushing my wife to do an order on Friday night was that Instacart drivers were talking about striking on Monday, 3/30. The other reason was that stuff was at Costco, but how much longer would it be there?

So, we’re set again.

I slipped outside for a few minutes, taking out the recycle and getting the mail. We decided we’d pick up the mail every Sunday morning.

It was balmy and drizzly, a lovely day for a walk, except for the hidden killer that could be lurking in the air. Sadly, I returned to the house via the garage and followed sanitizing precautions.

Hope you’re all doing well out there in webland. Good luck, and stay well.

Cheers

Floofvest

Floofvest (floofinition) – 1. Another word for floof jacket. 2. A caring animal who provides the emotional support to remain uplifted.

In use: “Were it not for her floofvest, Snoopy, and his warm, furry attentions, she would have been crazy within four days of self-isolation.”

Sunday’s Theme Music

Back with an old Kinks favorite. It popped into my head as I saw myself in the mirror as I began shaving.

Hello you, hello me, hello people we used to be
Isn’t it strange, we never change
We’ve been through it all yet we’re still the same
And I know it’s a miracle, we still go, and for all we know
We might still have a way to go

h/t to Genius.com

This 1978 song was about the changes the Kinks were going through so far as lineup, but tells in parallel about a man influenced by their music. Each, in a way, is going through a rock and roll fantasy, from coping with being musicians making the music, to fans listening to the music and taking solace.

In writing, we always talk about how characters change. Yet, how many times have we experienced people in our lives and realized that they haven’t changed, and probably never will?

As we’re going through this global pandemic, I wonder what changes are being wrought, and how many will last? We already see that some people aren’t changing, and won’t change.

We might still have a way to go before we know.

Saturday’s Theme Music

Today is Saturday, March 28, 2020, day fifteen of our self-isolation (yeah, we jumped on it early).

I realized this morning that I didn’t see anyone’s face except my wife (with exceptions via technology). This isolation and watchfulness brought an old song up into the mental music stream this morning. Part of it were lines brought up by news of people who refused to follow guidance.

All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants too

Outside, in the distance
A wildcat did growl

Two riders were approaching
The wind began to howl

h/t to Genius.com

Here’s the Jimi Hendrix Experience covering Bob Dylan’s “All Along the Watchtower” (1968).

 

Floofrobics

Floofrobics (floofinition) – Exercise done by chasing or interacting with an animal.

In use: “Although she had an hour commute and first needed to shower, dress, and put on a face (she was a bank director, after all), and take care care of the children (well, they were of an age when they were mostly taking care of themselves, getting ready for school, eating, etc.), she always took a few minutes at the beginning for floofrobics with the puppies, Borg and Seven. It lifted her energy like two cups of coffee. And then she made coffee.”

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