We finished puzzle number 6 about twenty-four hours after we began it…almost.
Six pieces are missing.
Six!
It’s an outrage, I tell youse, an outrage.
My wife suggested that we need to pace ourselves. We only have two jigsaw puzzles left.
Puzzle #6 Is Begun
“This will be an easy one,” my wife assures me. On our personal JS (Jigsaw Scale), she thought that “Casablanca” (our last puzzle) was a nine on the JS. (I thought it was a seven, as I’ve seen puzzles with thousands and thousands of pieces, but never mind.) She believes “Cats in the Bag” is a four. We’ll see.
“Cats in the Bag” was loaned to us by a friend. The pieces are large, and have quirky shapes. There aren’t many small pieces. Progress has been swift, so far. Our local cats are showing less interest in this puzzle. Each visited it, but have not stayed.
I think they believe the puzzle is floofcist, continuing a stereotype that cats like bags. Their opinion would hold more water if they weren’t so interested in the bag that the puzzle was in.
A Dream of Cans and Cars
It began with an urge to go check on my car. It was my old Mazda RX7. A cover protected it. I decided to lift the cover up some and start the car.
My old car
Sitting inside, listening to it idle, I decided to take it around the block. I didn’t take the cover off, though. I figured I could peek around it to see. It was almost twilight, and I didn’t think anyone would be out, and I wasn’t going far. All of it was a ludicrous idea; in the dream, the neighborhood was full of narrow alleys. They were barely wide enough for the car if you could see, but I was certain that I couldn’t do it.
Gosh, things didn’t work out. I couldn’t turn the car as expected. Exiting the car, I discovered that I wasn’t even on the road.
I blamed the car, of course. I pulled the cover off, balled it up, and set it aside. Then I decided to change the car. Laying my hands on its fenders, hood, trunk, bumpers, etc., I changed it into a new vehicle.
This was much better. Driving off, I arrived at my destination and sought parking. I had a usual space. It was available, so I parked there. But then I heard a small noise and felt a bump. Getting out of my car, I discovered that a woman in a blue Volvo was trying to squeeze by. She didn’t look at me or my car at all. Her hands had tight grip on the stirring wheel, and she was staring straight ahead.
Well, be a nice guy, I though, move your car so she could get by (even though she was in the wrong). It’s the proper thing to do. I jumped into the car and backed it out of her way. She passed on without a look. “Not even a thanks,” I exclaimed to myself.
My parking spot was now gone. Exasperated, I drove further in. I discovered that I was driving through an upscale clothing boutique. I found a parking space between a rack of clothes. Then I decided, well, I shouldn’t park in the store. Backing out, I drove into the streets, circling until I found new parking.
I was at a cafe. It was dark. Going in, I stepped through from one dimension, where this cafe was dark and quiet, to another, where it was light and bustling. Lousy with customers, my table was free for me. The cafe folk knew me and had my coffee drink and a croissant waiting for me at the table. Happy greetings were exchanged.
A short, dark-haired, white woman at another table had a bag full of canned cat food. Talking to me, she spilled the bag onto the ground. She and I laughed about that, and regaled one another with tales of feeding cats.
She announced, “I have to go.” She left, leaving her cans on the ground. I couldn’t believe that. The cans were “Fancy Feast” and “Friskies”. I decided to collect them for her and give them to her later.
People kicked the cans around, though. Cars drove over a few. I thought, this isn’t right. Collecting the cans in a bag, I went through the cafe. I wanted to return to my dimension but I didn’t want others to see me do it.
I slipped around the corner into a private space. Part of the cafe, it was a windowed hallway. Curtains, floors, and walls were all white. The windows were open, and the curtains were fluttering with a breeze.
I had expected to go through to the other dimension. When that didn’t happen, I blamed the bag of cans. I had to get rid of them to go back, I thought, because they don’t belong to the other dimension, but also thinking, going back means going forward, but I didn’t want to leave the cans behind.
I’d need to find another way.
The dream ended.
Measures
The coronavirus is creeping into our area (Ashland, southern Oregon). A case was confirmed in the county a few days ago. Friends forwarded information to us early Friday morning. Medical professionals, they’re sharing stories from the hospitals.
“…saw 6 cases of bilateral pneumonia in folks 60-80. All had to be
admitted…have NEVER seen 6 cases in one shift.
Absolutely no way to test them for Covid-19. All negative for regular flu.
One woman 60 yr. on Methotrexate. Very sick. (Asante ER)”
Testing kits aren’t available. We’re over sixty years old. My wife suffers RA. She decided to self-isolate and skipped her exercise class at the Family Y. With the chain as it is, that requires me to self-isolate with her.
We’re people who generally stay stocked up on supplies. We have a freezer chest to support our approach, and a pantry. A case of bottled water is kept on hand. We don’t use bottled water; this is for emergencies.
Portions of our philosophy can be ascribed to our parents’ attitudes, but we also went through typhoons and lived in earthquake-prone areas, and now live in a wildfire area. We want to always be prepared. Besides those factors, I’m a guy that always thinks that you should never run out of staples. You know you use it, you see your use rate, buy more before it’s gone, if you have the means and it’s available. Just common sense to me.
An inventory was conducted. Have thirty-six rolls of toilet paper on hand. There are two of us. Don’t need more, thanks. Several boxes of tissues, and cough drops. Enough coffee for about six weeks (yeah, we’re Costco shoppers).
We have personal hygiene products, and no need for more. Cleaning supplies are aplenty. Cheese. Tortillas. Guacamole. Romaine lettuce, onion, carrots, and celery. We also have frozen pizzas with cauliflower crusts on hand from Costco. Frozen blueberries and mangoes. So far, so good.
Lots of pasta (could use some sauce), rice, soup, wine and beer (a few bottles of each), black beans, lentils, bread (several loaves frozen as reserves), peanut butter (three extra large jars on hand), potatoes, jelly, oatmeal, flour, brown sugar, cane sugar.
I ended up buying more fresh fruits and veggies (like potatoes, sweet potatoes, broccoli, asparagus, bananas, pears, spinach, grapes), doughnuts (comfort food) (just a small pack), more frozen fruits for smoothies (my wife makes them for us several times a week), cat food, and eggs. (Seems like we can never have enough cat food on hand.)
Entertainment shouldn’t be an issue. We have the ‘net, broadcast and streaming TV, books, and jigsaw puzzles. We also bought painting supplies for a new project, and have yard work to do.
I can go for walks for exercise, we agreed, as long as I don’t contact others and clean up when I arrive back home.
The stores weren’t bad. I was worried as the parking lot was full. Cars were parked anywhere that was possible. As a man finished putting everything in his car, I made a deal with him; I’ll take his cart back for him, since I required one, and I’ll take his parking space. Yeah, wiped down his cart handles.
Inside the store (local place, Shop n’ Kart) everything was well-stocked. Not many shoppers. I did my thing without issue. All check-out islands were open. A cashier was immediately available. She was using disinfectant on everything.
She told me that I’d just missed the rush. When she’d come into work for the eight AM shift, it’d been a madhouse. My timing was golden.
Back home, we settled down to read the news and talk about new developments.
Here we go, life in the time of COVID-19. Be safe out there.
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She preferred wearing blinds, looking straight ahead, sidestepping the dangers.
Her friend turned a microscope on every danger, and never blinked.
Inspirational Quote # 1669
Must share this one. Should be a poster. ‘Write for yourself and celebrate writing.’
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The Cat(s) & the CBD
We have three cats. We seem to always have at least three, as they show up seeking shelter and food, and we oblige. We look for the owners but the cats seemed to have been cast aside. Sad, but not surprising, because we live not far from an apartment complex, and we think cats are left behind there. We also take care of the neighbor’s cat, Pepper. This isn’t because our neighbor doesn’t take care of her, but because Pepper enjoys visiting us for food and comfort.
One of our cats, Boo, suffers from PTSD. We don’t know what happened to this big Grizzly of a beast (twenty-four pounds) but he’s afraid and stressed by everything from noises to movements to smells. Other cats bother him, too, especially males.
Pepper, the oldest of the group (fourteen plus years) is a female; my cats, Tucker (a big black and white dude) and Papi (aka Meep), are males who are too damn territorial and adversarial. 
We’ve gotten them all under control (we’ve only had one fight this year, when Boo went to jump onto the bed where Tucker was sleeping, and Tucker, arising from slumber and startled, attacked), more or less, but we can’t give Boo the treatment and care he needs due to his PTSD. His beautiful black fur has become matted on the back, and he won’t permit grooming, reacting by hissing, swatting and nipping at hands and brushes. He’s come to tolerate us stroking him, but he can turn in a snap.
He needs to be groomed.
Enter the CBD.
Friends have used CBD with their animals, found success, and recommended that we try it. A local floof shop sells several options. Selecting a product that’s made to relax cats, I purchased a small bottle of CBD oils ($40). Knowing that Boo is leery of new smells and tastes, I resigned myself to a long introduction process to get him familiar with the smell and taste. Just two drops in whatever wet food we’re serving.
That’s where Pepper comes back into this. Boo will take a few nibbles and run away. Pepper wolves down whatever is left. Stiff and arthritic, the poor little callie often seems in pain to us. I groom her a few times a week; she relaxes most, then, but still seems stiff with pain. That is, until she had the CBD yesterday.
After eating, she curled up on a rug and deeply slept. I’d not witnessed Pepper sleeping like this for over six months, and I was so happy to see that take place. Seeing the effect on her gave me hope for Boo. When she showed up this morning for breakfast, I specifically tried a larger dose on her, and she chowed that food down, and again, relaxed. My wife said that the CBD is worth it, even we only help Pepper cope with her pain and issues; I agree.
I’ve been giving the CBD for four days. Boo has taken in some. It does seem to have a calming and relaxing effect on him, too, but he’s a big cat and needs a larger dose. (Yes, patience, patience.) Little Papi and Tucker have also each had some. Papi, already a mellow fellow and the gang’s junior member, didn’t seem much different. Tucker, an older boy who enjoys sleep, slept more.
The experiment continues. I’ll let you know what happens.
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Michael Seidel, writer 