Month: May 2021

More thoughts in the time of COVID-19 …

This will be the last post with the COVID heading.  Masks are an option now and the death rate has slowed.  Everyone I know and with whom I interact has been vaccinated and it is on my calendar to renew in a year.

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Woke up last thursday to snow on the ground and near freezing temperatures.  Also has rather severe wind, but snow was only above about 3,500’ and was light and gone by 1000.

Friday was overcast with less wind and only snow skiffs before noon.

Saturday morning rain and chilly.

Sunday, monday, tuesday … more of the same in differing amounts.

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The wild-ranging Scotch broom is in full bloom (much to the dismay of some since it is becoming invasive).  For botanists … broom is native to central and western Europe and probably got to England during the English/French alliances and wars and from there to the North American continent with the early immigrants.  For history buffs (and maybe genealogy folks) … the name Plantagenet traditionally means “sprig of broom” dating back to 1605 when Geoffrey Plante Genest wore a sprig of broom (the planta genista) in his bonnet and included both Lancasters and Yorks (the Battle of the Roses) and through them Tudors.  Interesting English history.

The wisteria is displaying.  

The lilac is nearly done.

The locust trees all over the south country are in full bloom.  I learned a bit ago that son Mark never knew why the police social and bargaining group in Rochester NY was called the “Locust Club”.  Then we learned together that nightsticks were traditionally made out of locust wood.  Another tidbit for your next trivia challenge.

It seems that, in spite of the late frosts, there may be a good apple crop this year.

In addition, the catalpa has decided it is time to leaf out.

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Spent some time last week reading the next Dorothy Sayers mystery.  I remember seeing a tv series some time ago (must have been a Brit production) and enjoying her effete Brit Lord with his monocle.

Sherlock, Poirot, Wimsey … each so different and each good reads.

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I’m going through everything for the third time and still weeding out.  Trading space for memories.

In conversations with relatives and others, the consensus seems to be that there comes a time when Depression kids have to let go of the but-there-might-come-a-time-when-I’ll-need-that mind frame and just let it go.  

Latest decision is to take only genealogy stuff, spinning stuff, and a minimum of kitchen stuff with me.  The stack of books that must go has been whittled down to a very short stack.  I will soon have access to the Los Angeles Public Library which has the largest population of any publicly funded library system in the United States so the available book list should be enormous.

I’ve passed along most of the unspun fiber in my stash so I’ll still be part of the spinning group for a time as others use it. 

I will be offering the herbal books and prep tools to the new lady of this land as well as all the canning stuff.   

Also found my“old” Shirley Temple doll (circa “Stand Up and Cheer” 1934) … (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cFJWmqMzvJU&ab_channel=ShirleyTemple)

My granddaughter isn’t into dolls and so some doll collector is going to be over the top.

So far I haven’t found my Sonja Henie doll.  

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Several years ago, a Brit friend introduced me to brown sugar cubes.  They are not simply pressed brown sugar but have a subtle taste and contain minerals white sugar doesn’t have.  I use La Perruche cubes. I like them in hot cereal along with milk, butter, and raisins.

I introduced them to Paul and he became a convert.  Guess it’s time to send off another order since there are only five left in the jar.

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Sunday, before the dog was let outdoors, there were three mule deer grazing near the front door … two very gravid does and a yearling.  They were moving east to west.  Another yearling went across the section of the meadow I can see from my south window.  I did see a forked horn a few days ago, but haven’t seen him since.  And saw a larger buck as well, still in the velvet.

Watching them graze made me think of folks who have begun keeping a goat as a lawnmower.  I wonder what cities would think if more folks tried that.  There would be someone who would object by saying all goats smell rank.  But that’s not true.  Nannies aren’t smelly.  Only the randy bucks.  

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I’ve been reading books in a series by Laurie King (who says she lives in NORTHERN California, but seems to actually be in the Santa Cruz area which to us Northerners is part of the middle of the state).  They are fun books, and in the current read there was an idea, a great idea, for a costume when you can’t avoid going to a dress-up party … muss up your hair and go in your pajamas and slippers (ladies – no makeup).  When you’re asked who you are, just look grumpy and tell them you are the  “The neighbor from downstairs/upstairs/next door! and can you please tone it down?”

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 The recent short, but oh so deadly, war between Israel and Gaza (talk about David and Goliath) left me weeping.  I have Jewish friends and Muslim friends.  Why must friends of my friends try to kill each other?  As my Another Mother For Peace medallion says … “War is not healthy for children and other living things.”

Why is it so hard to remember that basically we are all the same …

Every infant is born in the natural state.  It is the parents who make him into a Jew or a Christian or a Muslin or a Hindu or a Pagan or a …

     The Muqaddimah of Ibn Khaldun

So ‘til next week …

More thoughts in the time of COVID-19 …

Guidelines are now masks are no longer needed for those who are vaccinated.   

My first thought was “How do you tell if the person not wearing a mask has been vaccinated or is just protesting?” 

Second thought was “It doesn’t matter because, since I am vaccinated, I’m protected and am protecting others.  Their masklessness (is that a real word?) is their choice and responsibility.”  

When I started thinking about it as being akin to all the other vaccinations … I’m okay.  I’ll make the choice to wear or not to wear depending on the situation and the requests of those I meet, stores, and other vendors.

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Weather has been of bit of everything.  Cool with rain a couple of days last week.. it then turned clear and warmer until this morning.  Today we have clouds, light wind, and a bit of chill.

Variety is the spice ,,, right?

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I turned 91 last week and in celebration, the firs have all put on their bright, light green growth tips.  I do love this time of year and the fir display.

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The senior lunch program is getting off to a rather slow start.  I missed the first one after the restrictions were lifted so don’t know what that attendance was.  But the last two mondays it has been around 30 at each serving session.  That seems empty.  Before covid there were always between 90 and 100 each week.  Maybe fear of covid is still a factor.  Maybe the fact that there is no longer a bingo game following might have something to do with it as well.

This week my favorite (the HiLo) was the caterer and we had chicken strips, a very nice potato salad including veggies on greens, slices of oranges, and a good sized chocolate chip cookie. 

Make your mouth water?

Two of my table mates were folks I haven’t seen in months.  Jose must have really missed having the social time because he was very voluble.  But it was really interesting.  He had been an “illegal” for several years before he met and began working with Cesar Chavez.  He talked about working conditions before and after … such as working as long as 20 hours a day during harvest time with no overtime pay.  His youngest child was born here after Jose was able to bring his wife and two older children to the US. They are all now citizens.  All the children finished basic schooling and some extra and all are now working at good jobs.  Jose is retired and volunteers at some of the same places I do.

I’m glad he felt like talking.

I forgot to mention that someone tattled and told it was my birthday week.  During cookie time they all sang to me.

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I’ve been having a bit of a go with grief caused depression.  My Grief counselor says it has a name … pre-grief.  It’s what you feel when you are anticipating a loss of something or someone meaningful.  My Health care provider called it situational depression and listed it as mild and resolving.

I am holding onto the trust that both of them, as well as the mental health counselor with whom I have been in contact, are correct.

So the thought for this week is …

When it causes you pain, pay attention.  Life is trying to teach you something.

It has been difficult.  I made some bad decisions during this period of entering a new life.  I am trusting I have begun to understand the lessons, am making better decisions in my own interest as well as the interest of others involved, and the seas will begin to calm.  

So ‘til next week …

More thoughts in the time of COVID-19 …

Last week began with a fire … just half a mile away … to the north. 

A neighbor had been clearing his land as per CalFire directions and had a couple of men, who were supposed to be knowledgeable about fires, burning the slash in small piles.  Mark had just picked me up to go out for Mexican food, since it was Cinco de Mayo, and as we went past we could see that Shasta-Trinity USFS crews were on the scene.  There is no longer a local “fire company” due to lack of cooperation as well as no volunteers, so it could have been a disaster.  Luck was with us because the wind was out of the south and the fire was northwest of us.

When we got home the fire was under control, had been limited to 1 acre, and most of the out-of-area help had been released leaving only an overnight mop-up crew.

Thursday morning the wind was out of the east.

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My first time back to the senior luncheons at the Weed Community Center was monday.  There are changes from the last time we were there over four hundred days ago.  

You have to produce your vaccination proof (the first time only) and wear a mask when entering or leaving the dining area.  You can be unmasked at the table but the table is limited to four persons (used to be eight).  Drinks and food are delivered to you (no more lines).

It used to be close to a hundred people at each luncheon.  Now limited to forty at a session and there are two sessions, 1130 and 1230, so no time to just socialize.  There were fewer than thirty at our session today.

Food was good … from the Mt Shasta Supermarket … two teriyaki meatballs (huge), two slices of buttered and cheesed sourdough, rice (interesting it wasn’t pasta but maybe to avoid a problem for GF folks or maybe rice since the meatballs were teriyaki rather than Italian), a nice serving of salad, and two small chocolate chip cookies.  I brought one of the meatballs home for lunch on tuesday. 

Next week food will be from the HiLo.

One really nice side event was two hugs from a young man (mid-fifties) who went to school with my middle son.

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 The Granny Smith apple tree is in glorious full bloom.  

It is a blessing every time I go out the back door making me think of the old song “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White”.  Instead of the “Last Rose of Summer”, it is doing its best to go out as the “Last Blaze of Spring”.  Most of the other Springtime blossoms are past their glory days, with the exception of the Granny Smith and the front door lilac which is showing tight, dark purple buds.  Another week and the apple blossoms will be over and the lilacs will be in full, fragrant bloom.  

While going out to close the hens in for the night I found the crabapple in a beautiful, bright pink bloom.  Maybe a good crop this year.

There are glorious greens everywhere, and still a few daffodils, but the plum and other beauties have turned their flash over to the small beginnings of fruit and seeds.

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 Brace yourself … here is the current lesson for Opera 101.

The past week, leading up to Mothers’ Day, the Met’s roster of free streaming operas had a theme … Mothers and Death.

The series began with Electra (Strauss), followed by Rodelinda (Handel) then Hamlet (Thomas) and on thursday Norma (Bellini).  Friday it was Wozzeck (Berg), saturday Madama Butterfly (Puccini), ending on sunday with another Handel Agrippina.  

What a line up. And quite appropriate, right?

Opera is dull and difficult, right?

Well … this line up was a bit difficult, but no way could it be considered “boring”.

Electra and her brother kill their mother after the murder of their father by Mother and her lover.

Rodelinda must make a choice between a new marriage following the death of her husband, the King (her new husband is the new King) and the sacrifice of her son in order to ensure the new husband’s line will be heirs to the throne.

Hamlet is faced with unending tragedy when his mother marries his father’s brother who had murdered his father.

Norma, a Druid Priestess who has taken a vow of chastity which she broke and had two sons by a roman soldier, offers to either kill the boys or herself when she and the Roman are sentenced to death after their affair is discovered.

Wozzeck kills the mother of his bastard son after he goes mad with guilt.

Madama Butterfly kills herself after giving her bastard son to the wife of her lover.

… and finally …

Agrippina plots to have her son from a previous marriage named as her husband’s heir (her current husband is the Emperor) by promising sexual favors to two of the Emperor’s men , then betrays her son because the woman he loves is also involved with the Emperor’s chosen heir.  She is then successful in having her son named Emperor-in-waiting when she reveals the love between the man previously chosen by the Emperor as his successor and the woman which somehow makes way for her son to become Emperor (a bit convoluted, even without anyone dying, but no one ever insisted Handel was straight forward).

So much for nice, gentle, fluffy, sweet mother stories.  

Really boring … 

I wonder what they have in store for Fathers’ Day?  Probably won’t be half as interesting since operas are nearly all written by men.

~~~

Interesting times … Winter all but over … Spring in bloom … general chaos of changing times.

 Don’t hesitate … just jump and build your wings on the way down.

So ‘til next week

More thoughts in the time of COVID-19 …

Well, my birthday month is here and following an old adage about reversing your age when it seems fit … I will soon be 19.

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I saw the dentist last thursday and had a tooth pulled.  It was a tooth which had broken off several years ago after an 80 year old filling fell out. It had developed an abscess … a rather massive abscess complete with PAIN and some swelling.  

Fortunately, I am rather healthy, even for a 19-year-old, so pulling the tooth, draining the abscess as much as possible, and seven days on Amoxicillin seems to have done the trick.  I see the dentist for a follow-up and a full exam in a couple of weeks.

That final day had been a real doozy.  I’ve gone through childbirth three times and they were nothing compared to this.

One side effect I hadn’t expected was that when I finally looked at myself in a mirror I was surprised at the external bruising.  My chin went through the full panoply of colours.  The purple was rather eye catching.

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Because of the tooth problem, I missed the return of the local senior luncheons.  COVID restrictions have made it a requirement that we sign up so they can control the number of folks they feed at a time.  The young man in charge of registration went to school with my middle son (which means he’s in his mid-fifties … wow) and always greets me with a hug, so called I him as soon as I could talk well enough to be understood and said “Don’t drop me from the list!”

I haven’t talked with either of my lunch buddies yet to learn how it went, but that’s on the to-do list for later today.  

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Last week I sort of drowned you in opera.  I’d apologize but it was just me sharing events that gave me joy.

All that time spent thinking about Philip Glass’s opera got me thinking about his easily identifiable musical style and I came to understand that what is initially heard as a monotonous, repetitious three or four note phrase is actual a repeating chord progression where the notes which are usually played together are played one at a time, most of the time rising but sometimes descending and even occasionally out of order.

What a discovery.

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 Another musical discovery came when I switched the Sirius channel from Symphony Hall to 40s Junction.  I am not a musician.  I don’t know a 5th whatever from any other chord or how to tell key designations. And if that sounds incredibly stupid to those of you who do know these things, well … I am a good ear and I discovered that a lot of the girl and boy singers of that era didn’t always hit the note intended.  I know it isn’t something wrong with the recordings or intentional style since the oops moments aren’t consistent.

There were a few singers I have yet to hear hit an incorrect note … Miss Peggy Lee for one … and Sinatra, but then he studied voice with an opera teacher so his pitch, breathing, timing, etc. was right on.

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Weather isn’t warm yet, but the chill doesn’t last too long in the morning and days are getting to be quite pleasant.  There are more and more blossoms, both “wild” and cultivated. 

The lupins will be showing soon as will the fir tips.  

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 To close out the week, here’s a note based on words written by Issac Azimov …

Genuinely smart people look for answers from people who are smarter, in reference to the subject in question, than they are.  Only ignorant people believe their guess is as good as anyone else’s.

So ‘til next week