Category: Uncategorized

Looking Out

Looking out the window

at the cars parked like graves

wondering who else is looking out

unseen behind distant glass

as we all look out for one another

looking out for the virus

looking out for a change.

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Out

A soft drizzle played with light and horizons outside the car windows. Across the valley, sunlight was reflected over new spring growth — wineries and fields.

We drove about. What businesses are open? How is traffic?

The Subway sandwich job was open. Yumberry Yogurt. Grocery stores (Albertson’s, Safeway, Shop n’ Kart, Market of Choice, Minute Market). Pizza places and coffee shops had open signs annotated with “Take Out”. The grocery stores were moderately busy. Didn’t see customers at the rest.

Deer were plentiful, as if they appreciated people not being around. Cars plied the roads (maybe like us, or maybe people still working), but it was about twenty percent of what we’d usually see, making it pretty empty. (No traffic knots today.) (We don’t really get ‘traffic jams’ in our small city, except when roads are closed for parades.) The schools were silent and shut. A few pedestrians walked the sidewalks. Runners (in their twenties, males). We wondered, are those runners related? They’re not six feet apart. What’s their take on the coronavirus and flattening the curve?

We’d communicated with relatives in Florida. They’d spent the previous day visiting with friends and walking the beach. Had they stayed six feet apart? No. They’d had dinner at another friend’s place. We’re shocked. Yet, more came: a friend, bored up north, had come down and was staying the night with one. SOH. 

Up Laurel, past a church. People were lined up. Backpacks were on many. Some looked like a shower or bath would be welcomed. In the church’s courtyard, a table was set up, the line’s terminus. Hundreds of stuffed brown paper bags filled the table. Two women stood behind it. Meals and supplies being given out to the needy, we assumed.

Around the corner, and then we descended into the park. More deer. One man walking. Three porta-potties had been set up, along with two wash stations.

Up to the plaza, onto the main drive. Businesses were closed and dark (except for a few restaurants). Parking was plentiful (yeah, dark humor).

The streets and sidewalks seemed clean, tidy, and expectant, as if they waited for everyone to come back. When would that happen? We wondered, driving home, the short tour ended.

Back in the car, the car’s interior and outside door handles were wiped down. Gloves, shoes, and jackets removed. We hadn’t been outside, just in the car.

Still, we hear, something could be in the air and settle on the surfaces. Better be safe.

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Six Days of Fun

We finished puzzle number seven today. It was definitely my favorite. Vivid colors and well-shaped interlocking pieces (and none missing) made it challenging but fun and satisfying.

We’ll probably take two days off (that’s our norm so far) before beginning another.

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A CBD Update

I have cats.

That’s my human POV. The cats put it, I have a human. The cats say, I make demands, play with things (because I’m booored), and show affection (sometimes offering my human a gift), and in return, the humans feed, shelter, protect, care for me, and give me a body to sleep on so I don’t get cold. As a human, I say, aren’t they sweet?

The cats, smugly, nod, their eyes hooded: yes, we know.

Some of my little felines have issues. After inquiries and research, I decided to attempt a CBD course. The inquiries didn’t do a lot to reassure me about what was going to happen; neither did the research. They’re cats; they’re as individual as humans and offer less insights (and more cryptic insights) into how they’re feeling. Eventually, I purchased Sun God CBD Heka Pet Oil. It’s available locally. Friends swear by it.

Boo’s stress and anxiety drives my feline CBD attempts. Boo, an older cat with a mysterious history, huffs, hisses, panics, and swats at everything. You never know what’ll set him off. His back fur by his rear has matted. Always a large cat (and, we suspect, arthritic), he can’t groom that area. During the consecutive years of wildfire and smoke-filled air, all the cats (except young, short-haired Papi) (aka Meep) developed matting. With everyone except Boo, we bought sprays and used those in conjunction with scissors, brushes, and combs to remove their mats and restore their gloss.

Can’t do it with Boo. He ducks hands, although he’s come to tolerate our petting and stoking. (But beware of going close to his matted fur!) Hairbrushes? No! Hiss, snap, swat, run away, run away, run away, run away. Scissors?

I dare you.

His mats are so bad, they’re like a hard hump on his back (for which we cruelly call him Humpback). You know it has to be bothering him. We have great ideas about what’s going on with his skin underneath. We’ve done research.

We’d already tried other things to calm him. We considered hiring groomers to come to the house, but until Boo calms more, we think that option is out. We have managed to groom some of it down, but not the worse, and without constant grooming, it begins expanding. Something must be done. Hence the CBD.

Knowing Boo’s condition, I knew it would take some time for me to get any quantities into him. The oil smells unusual. Boo doesn’t do unusual.

At the same time, I was trying it on two of the others: Pepper (the neighbor’s elderly cat, who treats our place as her home), and Tucker. Tucker suffers from autoimmune and inflammatory issues. Somewhere older than ten years old, he’s aging, too. He apparently lived a rough street life before reaching our door. Again, he’s a cat without a past (that we know).

I added CBD to the food. Boo ran away. Pepper ate it up, curled up, and went to sleep. Tucker ate some and became…mellow.

Papi did, too. Yeah, he ingested a little with food. When I visited with him afterward, I swear he acted stoned, smiling at me like he was going to say, “You know, you’re so cool. I love you, man.”

The next day, encouraged by the small amounts and reactions, I squirted a few drops directly into Pepper and Tucker’s mouths. Pepper took it in stride; ate, went away, and came back stunningly invigorated. Success. Wow.

Tucker went to sleep. Deep, deeep, deeep sleep. It was so deep and prolonged, I wondered, what the hell have I done to my cat?

Then, after twelve hours of that, he hunted me down in bed in his usual Tucker style, and all seemed fine.

Meanwhile, I bought special food for Boo. He’s partial to things with sauces, so I purchased a more expensive offering, with skipjack tuna and chicken in a delicate broth (such marketing hype, right?). Into it I dropped two drops of CBD.

Boo lapped it up. Then he went outside, found sunshine, and went to sleep, deep, deeep, deeep sleep, for hours and hours. This was in parallel to Tucker’s deep sleep. Tucker was inside sleeping; Boo was in the grass in the back yard. Usually when I open the back door, each looks up from their sleep to see what’s going on. Usually, too, Boo trots over to me.

This time, nothing. From either.

Holy crap, I’d killed the cats.

I checked both for signs of life. They stirred, like, what? But it wasn’t their usual behavior.

After a day of that deep sleeping, I worried about it. I decided not to give any cat CBD to see what happens.

You know what? All are normal, almost back to their pre-CBD form, except that I swear that all seem more relaxed. Pepper continues to be sprier.

At this point in my non-scientific testing, I consider the CBD worthwhile. I have another can of special food for Boo. I plan to administer the CBD to him in it this week. Then we’ll attempt to groom him. Just a little, mind you.

Then we’ll really see if it’s worthwhile.

 

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A Witnessing Dream

I, and another man, were rushing down the street through clear, sunny weather, eager to get to work. Each of us were on the sidewalk. He was ahead of me. The road and sidewalks were wide, and well-maintained. There was no other traffic.

Another friend, an elderly and short retired doctor who often reminds me of a garden gnome (except he never smokes a pipe, and he’s more slender than your typical garden gnome) was rushing head-on toward another friend.

Garden gnome wasn’t in a car. The other friend was in a red car, but it was like a cartoon car. I could see into it.

Watching them close on one another (with garden gnome hailing them and grinning), I thought, they’re both going too fast. They’re going to crash.

They did.

I slowed to watch, worrying and expecting many of the standard things seen in a high-speed crash. The two came together but the one in the car was ejected straight into garden gnome. They both slid down the street hundreds of feet, coming to rest in an intersection.

Oh, no, I thought. There’s traffic. They’re going to be run over.

The garden gnome stood, grinning, unfazed, astonishing me. The other was also unhurt. Collecting herself, she hurried away as the garden gnome tried to speak with her.

Reassured (but astonished) that they were okay, I carried on. Getting to work, I encountered the garden gnome. We exchanged insights about what’d happened. We were laughing about it, since he was okay. I was enthralled by the slide he’d taken. It’d been monumental. I’d never seen anything like that before. He was still interested in talking to the other person, the woman, he said, but she was avoiding him. Then, seeing her, he rushed off again, calling her as he went.

I continued on to work but then was hurrying down the sidewalk along the street again, eager to get to work. The garden gnome was racing toward another friend. She was in a car. He wasn’t. They were weirdly like a video game.

I thought, I just saw this happen. Is it going to happen again?

It did. They crashed together. She was ejected. They slid along the road together.

The crash had been greater than before, sending debris into every direction. I rued not checking on them the previous time, so this time I went back to check on them. Both were fine. Each rushed off after reassuring me of that.

Well, that baffled the hell out of me. In the dream, I thought, I witnessed the same accident twice. Do these things happen in threes? Will there be a third?

Then I was called to work, except work was over, or that phase that’d been going on. We were continuing on to another phase.

Two distinguished and accomplished people were ahead of me. Still, outside, we were all heading toward a checkpoint. We needed to get past the checkpoint to continue. Some events were planned for the other side.

Each of us was carrying a large piece of something. I’m not sure if mine was a large stained wood object or bread to look like stained-wood. It was huge, requiring me to stretch my arms out, and slowed me a little.

One of the people, tall and mustached, wore an expensive but old-fashioned trench coat. I could tell by looking at it. The other, a younger woman, treated him with diffidence. He was talking, and they were strolling.

I was catching up with them. As I neared them, I heard him make a comment to that nature. Then he saw me and stopped.

We were going up a grassy green slope toward the checkpoint. The man, while trying to be blase, said that they should hurry so that I didn’t arrive for them. He upped their pace. I upped mine. Despite my larger burden, I got there first, pleased, triumphant, and sweaty.

“Did you wash it?” I was asked by the short, plump agent, as I looked back at the others. They remained a distance away. “You’re supposed to at least rinse it off. You guys never rinse them off.”

I didn’t know what she was talking about. I tried telling her, “It looks fine to me.” Waving that off, she escorted me to one of the tables set up for inspection as this transpired. Three tables were set up. Two other agents were present. So, they should be able to handle us in parallel, I thought as the other two arrived with their loads. I tried and failed to see what they carried.

My agent diddled and fussed without seeming to do anything. I knew, oh, they’re deliberately slowing me down. I wasn’t affronted nor outraged, but accepting, okay, slow me down here, others have more urgent needs (read, egos), and I can burst ahead once I get past these gatekeepers. I tried looking ahead to see what was next so that I could plan my actions. While I did, the other two slipped by me and went on, barely scrutinized, confirming my impression of what was going on.

The dream ended.

 

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Measures Learned

We’ve been in coro self-isolation for a week. Not really isolation, but coupling. (Yeah, it’s not as sexual as that sounds; we’ve been married over forty something years.) I’ve gone out for walks; my wife and I shopped together twice in that period (keeping six feet away from others, not touching our faces, wiping down the shopping cart handle, wearing gloves), replenishing products and adding new items as we map out a longer term strategy and sort what we have. Some small matters have been learned.

I struggle to write fiction at home. I’m married to my walking-coffee shop-writing process. Like an old married couple, I feel it when the other isn’t present. A vacuum ensues.

I need to bridge it, and I’m working on that. Interruptions are the issue (which I’ve always known): cats visiting, wanting attention (sure, just shut the door, right? Ha, ha!), and the spouse speaking to me to share news or ask questions. Besides that, I developed the WCW process, deliberately training myself to shift to the writing mode.

I’m muddling through, sorting energies and times, trying to make my writing side work. I’ve wondered, though, if the muses haven’t also gone into self-isolation.

Beyond the writing issues, things are working out well. Our place isn’t gigantic, but it’s big enough for a couple and four cats (three residents and a perpetual visitor) that we’re not always on top of one another. We also have the yard, and can escape to it.

In many ways, we’re enjoying ourselves. The coro has united us in focus and intentions, providing structure. We’re working on a jigsaw puzzle together (it’s a good one) and have fun with that. We were doing that before coro struck, though.

I reflect on how our isolation is different from other times. I’ve gone through typhoons, where we stocked up but had a general idea that it would last only a week. Tornadoes were shorter and much more intense. We prepared for earthquakes (we have a disaster kit for fleeing) and wildfires (have N95 masks on hand) (and wish we could donate them to the med professionals because of the mask shortage, but they’ve been in our home for at least a year). We went through several years of drought here where we cut water use, and stayed inside (or went out for limited periods, wearing a mask) because of wild fire smoke. We lived through water rationing on Okinawa, and gasoline rationing in America.

This period, in fact, reminds me of our early married years. I was a young, low-ranked enlisted person. With little money, we were on a strict budget. We never ate out and saved money for treats (HoHo’s could be purchased for one hundred pennies in those days). We didn’t have a television (or a telephone) in the first few months. VCRs (and DVDs, etc) and the net, with its streaming options, didn’t exist. It was just us (with one cat) in the house, entertaining one another with card games, eating simple, inexpensive meals, and reading books.

So, this situation is somewhat better, if you discount the threat of getting sick and dying. We have the net. We have a phone, and several televisions (yeah, way too many, but when you buy one, getting rid of the previous is difficult; I’ve given away many working televisions…but anyway), and streaming options.

And we have money! And an extra freezer! And rooms! And toilet paper! And coffee! (And some wine, beer, brandy, and a few other things.)

We’re damned fortunate to have these things. (Yeah, nice not being poor and having a decent cash cushion.) (Sorry, not gloating just stating facts.) We have the net to entertain us (like reading others’ posts) (and writing my own) and a multitude of news sources (and entertaining animal videos). I love the humor I can find on FB and in posts (like MyDangBlog and “Signs of the Apocalypse”.) People’s comments on my posts, especially about Floofinition and floof rock, divert and amuse me. I love that they address these matters with the same tongue-in-gravity that I apply to them, building on the ideas and adding new material.

Although, alas, there’s not much good stuff to stream right now. Going from source to source last night (Prime, with access to HBO, Showtime, STARZ, etc), Freeform, Hulu, Acorn, and Netflix), it struck me that most streaming services are just like the old cable system that we fled. Lots of old reruns and syndicated old television shows on, and not much new (that we we enjoy) (yeah, we’re picky).

We also have a phone, and email. Jokes fly on email. So does good info. We hear from our extroverted friends and relatives, trapped in their homes, looking for an outlet. My wife handles those calls, except for my family.

Not bad, so far. Yeah, it’s early days, innit it? Hunker down, children. Fingers crossed.

Cheers

 

 

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Floof Leppard

Floof Leppard (floofinition) – Floofish rock band who struck commercial success with a string of hits in the 1980s and 90s.

In use: “The song “Pour Some Kibble for Me” struck number two on the Floofboard Hot 100 for Floof Leppard in 1987.”

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