The other day I contemplated a list of some of the things I’ve done to eat up the day while all of this Covid swirls around. It may also be a preview of some things I want to write about but here are some of the things that have kept me busy:
make up some stories
find a change of venue (around the house)
try not to snack (too much)
consider ordering new pants because all the snacking make the old ones obsolete
get on a video call or 7
enjoy having your college kid at home
go to the dump
there’s always laundry
make elaborate dinners
eat hummus for dinner
get take-out for dinner
wage war on squirrels at the bird feeder
read some good books (because every book is a good book)
Yoga with Adriene — aspire to be stretchy!
eat all the Reese’s
stay on social media way too long, even though you know better.
This is one of those, “Golly, things are different here!” posts.
In Covid-time in Wirtz, it’s pretty easy to socially distance yourself. Fewer people = easier to spread out. But once in a while, you need to get out of the house to get groceries or, like today, get an oil change. (That light has been on in my car for a more time than I’d like to admit.)
Our local oil change place is not a Jiffy Lube franchise like you might see in Northern Virginia, but is called Liquid Lube.
Not gonna lie, when we first moved here I thought it was a restaurant and I got excited.
But it’s where you get your oil changed. This morning as I wrote this, I was little prickly because I had made the effort to get there before they opened and at 8:40 my car was still sitting there waiting.
And despite the nice reading area outside, I am in a busy time at work and was feeling my Northern VA roots kick in and getting a little impatient.
When it’s not a socially- distanced time, you can hang out in the waiting area during an oil change and have amazing chats with the folks in there. I have met a retired coal miner who loves his pontoon boat because he enjoys taking his in-laws out for boat rides. I’ve met a woman who occupies herself on long drives by holding a hardback book up on the steering wheel. I’ve met the athletic director for the local Christian school (he told me to have a blessed day, of course).
But today we are all spread out.
It’s kind of funny to think of your oil change place as a place you miss hanging out. Just like everywhere else, I guess.
I can do it for my 9-to-5, more or less, but I have to almost tie myself down (in the form of promising a deadline) to do it. But I can’t seem to write here.
I thought, wow, won’t it be fun to tell folks about how we’re spending the Covid days, out here in the country? But then it just never seems to happen. I told you about going for socially distanced walks, and I told you about making beer bread, and I know we’re doing other things but it is just so hard to start something, work on it, and finish it.
But today I got a bit of hope from another writer who is kind of going through the same thing in her own way. Check out this post on Sanctuary, from the Brevity blog, and in the meantime, I’ll be over here trying to start myself a list of the things I’ve been doing. And a list of the things I should be working on. And a list of the things I should be grateful for…
I’ve been writing about how the pandemic is affecting my immediate environs, and social media is a rich resource for learning about how everyone is trying to stay healthy and mentally checked-in while quarantined. But there are two groups of folks who would love to hear what YOU are going through!
I’ve mentioned that I do some work with George Mason University in Fairfax, VA. A couple of teams I know are working on projects that study how people are getting along in these challenging times. They would love your input.
Personal Coping Strategies
The Anxiety, Stress, and Relationships Lab (part of the clinical psychology program) has an online survey about Covid-19’s effect on interpersonal relationships. Do you have extra people living in your house right now? Are the stresses of the news and changing circumstances impacting how you might be getting along with them? These folks want to know how you are coping. The survey is completely confidential so you can be totally honest about how you might have been eating more cheese, bourbon, or ice cream over the past month. They will not judge you. The survey form also offers resource information to help you out if you need it, and the information they learn will help other people find positive ways to be resilient in the future.
Faith Communities’ Response
Another group at Mason, the Roy Rosenzweig Center for History and New Media, is conducting a survey of how religious communities are adapting in the face of the pandemic. The religious studies department is teaming up with the digital history folks to gather input from churches, synagogues, mosques (tell your own community!), as well as from individuals to learn how they are making due when they can’t get to services. If you go to the Pandemic Religion: A Digital Archive site, you can also read about the experiences of a variety of religious communities. And then add your own experience. It’s not only interesting as heck but is also a solid reminder that we are all in this mess together.
And if that doesn’t make for a community, I don’t know what does.
When you are quarantined because of a worldwide pandemic, you really appreciate your resources.
For my birthday back in November, my sister got for me a whole new experience: a custom paint-by-number set. She sent a photo to a company that sent back a detailed canvas, twenty-five little tubs of paint, and some brushes.
We had some quiet time before family FaceTime calls on Easter Sunday so it was the perfect opportunity to get to work!
I was really surprised that it was so INVOLVED. It took me quite a few evenings of work to get all those little shapes filled in. Also, I found that painting those little shapes with a tiny brush is extremely relaxing.
And I was very pleased with the finished result!
I’m really appreciative of Sarah’s gift, which not only gave me some serious fun but also resulted in a piece of art that is truly one of a kind!
I am doing some work with the Smith Mountain Arts Council — just press releases, but that’s enough that they invite me to monthly board meetings — and it’s a sad time for the arts council because we are having to cancel all of our events, of course. This was the subject of some conversation at our last meeting (on Zoom); the council comprises many talented and energetic people (mostly retired) who want to offer some kind of outlet for performance and give their neighbors a chance to get out for an evening.
One of the guys in the group finally spoke out, confessing that he and his wife would absolutely not be going out until they were completely comfortable that it was safe. There was much agreement.
Then I ran into a neighbor this morning who expressed some exasperation that businesses aren’t opening back up quickly enough. I was a little surprised by her reaction, and I’ll admit that was because she is well into her sixties, in a demographic that I assumed would be more on the side of keeping things locked down a little longer.
But that’s just my oversimplified thinking, obviously.
I do a lot of thinking about the people who are “From Here’s” — whose families have lived in Franklin County for hundreds of years, who have Confederate soldiers in their family trees, and who have seen the fortunes of this place rise and fall with manufacturing, tobacco, the railroads, and farming. On the other hand, a lot of us folks around the lake are “Come Here’s” — people who are mostly retired, and who have moved from places in North Carolina and Virginia, certainly, but many of whom are from New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin (where my neighbor mentioned above originated).
I fall into the trap of thinking that the Come Here’s think one way, and the From Here’s think another. But my conversations over the last couple of days once again illustrate that that’s more than a little naive. Then I default to thinking, gee, I wish I was a historian or sociologist, just to try to make sense of it all.
Tomorrow, I promise, I will lighten up and talk more about fun quarantine activities and pondering if our college son will ever get out of bed before mid-afternoon.
I think I’ve mentioned that where we live is fairly rural.
As with some rural communities, there may be some sense of insulation from the effects of Covid-19 as it sweeps around the world. In fact, someone I know was teased a few weeks ago at a local gardening store when he told the cashier that he would load his own mulch in order to maintain some social distance. “A CUSTOMER IS COMING TO THE LOADING AREA,” she announced over the store’s loudspeaker. “BUT HE DOESN’T NEED HELP BECAUSE HE WANTS TO SOCIAL DISTANCE!” There was chuckling. This person now buys his mulch from the Lowe’s in Rocky Mount.
(About ten days after this interaction this same establishment went to curbside-only service. No more loitering in the garden store, y’all!)
And indeed, today’s Roanoke Times reports only 16 cases of Covid-19 in Franklin County, with 19 in Bedford County just across the lake.
However, a large population of our neighbors are retired and are very respectful of the threat that the coronavirus presents. You see some folks wearing masks in the stores, and appreciate businesses’ attempts to distance their customers.
We are supporting our small businesses with take-out orders and only venturing out when we need to. But if we went to our windows to bang pots at 7 pm in support of health care workers, I don’t think anyone would hear us.
When I talk to friends in the DC area or our daughter in New York, it is clear that they are living in a world that seems very different, even if I suspect strongly that it is not.
I started a series of posts yesterday about what we’re doing with our quarantine time out here in the country. And I mentioned how I’ve been enjoying walking.
Well, that exercise is important, because I’ve also been baking beer bread.
I got the recipe from a friend, Deb, and it is absolutely delicious. Side note: this is the same friend who introduced me to the Facebook group of mostly Australians who are dressing up to take their trash cans to the curb, so I really have to commend her social media savvy. (The group is called Bin Isolation Outing and the posts really are amazing,)
The recipe is very easy and calls for no exotic ingredients (if you can get your hands on flour LOL):
I’ve been using our son’s Pabst Blue Ribbon for this delicacy, along with a couple of shakes of dried Italian herbs. I go a little scant on the sugar. It’s great right out of the oven and even marvelous the next day, either toasted or simply scarfed down during a group phone call.
It even makes your house smell amazing. I hope you get a chance to whip some of this up!
Here’s a news article that was in yesterday’s Roanoke Times about how regular walking might even help you survive a bout with the ‘rona! Yes, please!
I hope that whatever your situation, you’re able to exercise, even in (or especially in) a low-key way. I’m reading a book, Keep Going, by artist Austin Kelon, who sees walking as an antidote to the barrage of information flying at us every day: “you get outside and you start walking and you come to your senses … people smiling, birds chirping, clouds flying overhead … all that stuff. There’s possibility. Walking is a way to find possibility in your life when there doesn’t seem to be any left.”
A friend of mine posted on Facebook Saturday, “Just realized that this is the first time in 66 years that I have not been in church building on Easter. What a stark reminder of our times and the need for prayer.”
For me, that kind of summed up the mourning that we’re all doing right now, missing everything (small and not so small) that has made our lives our lives. It was also a reminder of the old saying, “Be kind, for everyone is fighting a hard battle.” (That’s a quote from Ian Maclaren, not Plato, in case you were wondering.) I don’t have to tell you that this covid/quarantine stuff stinks for everyone — it actually blows my mind to think about the commonality of our world-wide bad experience right now.
I give credit to the folks who had their very nuclear Seder dinners last week, and who Zoomed Easter meet-ups with friends and family. We were lucky over the weekend: some friends stopped by in a socially-distanced way by resting on their boat while Jim and I sat on the dock. I had a beautiful walk on Sunday morning where I picked up this ugly-looking nail by a construction site, which I was going to throw away but instead decided was a good Easter memento.
Jim and I helped our college guy out with a coronavirus haircut. We talked with family members far away (one with a successful Zoom meet-up, one with a less-successful FaceTime experience). We picked up take-out from a local place for Easter dinner, then got sufficiently stressed out that we didn’t eat it and ended up going to bed early.
I appreciate seeing friends doing the best they can with these unusal times, and appreciate the kindnesses that I get to see, too, as we plunk through this season one day at a time. One writer I saw referred to Easter/Passover (and I’m going to fold in Ramadan, too, because it starts next week) as a “season of renewal and liberation.” Despite all of the bad news, I get a little hope in the signs of beauty that are still out there.