Sheltering – A Date Afternoon

~ Linda ~ Leave a comment

Movie? Romantic Restaurant Meal? Friends Over? The options have narrowed; all but essential businesses are shut down and restaurants are curbside and takeout only.

Stay home. Hunker down. Self-isolate. But a drive and a walk in the country? Allowed and when you live in rural Alberta, there are places where chances of running into another soul are slight. Yesterday we did just that and it was a date afternoon that the dogs could take part in, too. A quiet walk in the country.

Sounds romantic, doesn’t it? Not to discourage anyone but the excuse for the walk was to scout a possible wilderness site for a lunch when the weather at last warms up. Yesterday the wind was strong and bitter. Even the 0 to +1 temperature felt cold. We wore out winter coats and were glad of them.

Our drive took us into an area of “heritage rangeland.” It is an arid place where trees are twisted and dwarfed. The wind has scoured the land, scooping out depressions in the sandy soil. The snow and ice persist and the ground is rough. We park and head out, Gary scanning for the best lunch spot that might be out of the wind and exposed to the sun.

The road in…

Our Jack Russell runs eagerly over the rugged terrain, casting for the scent of gophers or mice. There are none but she is not discouraged. My little guy (under 10 pounds) picks his way gamely through the ground cedar, short shrubs, and dead burr plants. Gary spies 2 or three possible sites for our next date afternoon and asks which I prefer. In all honestly, they’re equally bleak. We get back to the truck and the decision is left for another day.

Scruff checks it out.
Excitement….

Glamourous? No. Exciting? No. Costly? No. Date afternoon despite the chill, the desolate landscape, and the wet feet (mine), was still a success. That bitter wind? Cleared the cobwebs and made the cab of the truck warm by comparison. Brown, depressed scenery? Made you appreciate the tenacity of the wildlife that survives; there was plenty of tracks. Sooo… no movie, no candlelit dinner, no visits – but one day soon, a romantic al fresco date lunch. A simple outing to anticipate.

Sheltering: the Quarantine Fifteen

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Obese and alcoholic. If you don’t get the corona virus, “experts” warn you could come out of the pandemic with a few extra pounds and a big thirst. It shouldn’t be a surprise.

Many of us are working from home or are self-isolating with time on our hands. We aren’t used to staying inside, no matter how spacious and comfortable our residences are. We can go out for walks but that’s not the same as picking up a latte, meeting someone for lunch, or even following the routine of work.

So tempting!

We’re inside with all that food we stocked up on. With the best of intentions, we made sure the supplies of flour, yeast, and other non-perishables were topped up. Vegetables and fruits occupy fridge shelves and yet, the siren call of snacks is hard to resist. And I don’t mean the carrot and celery sticks that provide a satisfying crunch. I mean the Cheezies, the chips, the hickory sticks. They crunch and they are made with the optimum fat and salt for that flavour explosion. Suddenly, a person working from home can mosey out and munch away as he/she contemplates these new challenges. The self-isolators know they’d be having ‘something’ with friends.

If you have a sweet tooth, there are the chocolate bars, the Smarties, the cookies and doughnuts. You’re working, right? It is important to maintain energy and the brain runs on sugar. The self isolator needs a reward for cleaning that cupboard or just clearing the snack plates from the night before.

The whole pandemic thing is stressful. Some people have elderly parents, grandchildren in other places, or relatives and friends sick with the virus. Some are front-line workers, some are married to front-line workers, some have friends who are. There is the background level of concern as the media reports on one thing. The latest numbers- how many have died, how many new cases there are, how long this pandemic will last. A lot of the questions the news media raises don’t have answers and the absence of answers only adds to stress.

Be easy on yourself. Eating soothes you right now. Indulge a little and be kind to yourself if you succumb and as someone said on Twitter, “I just ate a whole apple pie.” Times right now are tough so don’t add to the stress by beating yourself up over a ho-ho or ding-dong. And when the sun shines, go for a walk.

Sheltering and…Hoarding?

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Toilet Paper tycoons? Hand Sanitizer moguls? Yeast Millionaires? Suddenly everyday items and even obscure products are eagerly sought after.

Loss of control can trigger illogical behaviour. We face an uncertain future but we can buy toilet paper. Who wants to run out of such an essential product and even though covid 19 seldom causes diarrhea, toilet paper flew from the shelves. The supply chain for tp is “just in time” which means retailers don’t stock a whole bunch of it. New supplies arrive just in time. It makes sense not to waste storage space on such bulky commodity. The supply chain is a good one so there is no reason to hoard toilet paper.

Hand sanitizer makes sense only if you have to be outside of the home where soap and water aren’t available. Health care workers need it because of its convenience but if you’re working from home or sheltering at home, ordinary soap and water and 20 seconds of hand washing are the best bet. The hoarding triggered some distilleries to switch production of spirits to using the ethyl alcohol to make hand sanitizer.

Yeast is in short supply. People who have never baked bread are stocking up on yeast and flour. Google YouTube videos and you can make bread. Millennials are into sourdough. I question how much of the yeast and flour will be used. I am not judging others; I am assuming that there are those like myself out there who are bigger on the concept of something than they are on actually doing it. A friend dug out her bread maker because she wanted to fill the house with the scent of bread baking. The appliance was so excited to be in use again, it skittered across the counter.

Even though hoarding is a response to regain control, we have to resist. I admit to buying an extra package of tp, resisted getting any hand sanitizer, and had yeast in the cupboard . I have made bread and I wash my hands with soap and water a lot more. We are trying not to hoard but it’s tempting in these frightening times to try and prepare for eventualities. The pandemic will end.

Easter Sunday- Sheltering Version

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Stay home. No family gatherings. No big Easter meal. Corona virus and unseasonable cold combined to make it possible to descend into deep funk.

Instead, I decided those of us sheltering alone (me, Gary and the two dogs) should have a nice meal anyway.

“I’ll roast that other chicken,” I said.

“We ate it. There’s no chicken in the freezer. I can get another one.”

“No. There’s a pork roast. We’ll have that.”

So yesterday the menu was pork roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, cole slaw, peas and carrots. As I mentioned to my son (who made a spectacular meal for his kids), “Your Dad likes boiled vegetables. The peas and carrots will be a hit and I can’t handle a lot of spice and heat myself.”

The apple pie featuring our own backyard variety was labelled 2017 but I baked it anyway. It looked good and smelled good.

Time to eat. And of course, the critique.

“The roast is dry,” said Gary.

Well, yes, it was. We tend to overcook pork. A hold over from the days when trichinosis was a danger. But the meat was still tasty.

The peas and carrots? (Boiled and buttered)- pronounced “Delicious.” Can I call it???

And the pie? It may have been less juicy, but honestly, there was nothing wrong with it. I was glad the three year old label didn’t put me off. As you can see, I dug out a candle that had resided in a cupboard for years, too.

So we stayed home and there was no family gathering. We did have a more simple meal but I paid more attention to its preparation than I would for an ordinary supper. It made Easter a bit more normal in this serious new reality. And the dogs?? No they didn’t get to sit at the table. That’s something I’m contemplating but I’m not there yet.

Happy Easter.

Still Sheltering…

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News reports are no less disturbing. The numbers of people affected or killed by the corona virus continues to rise. In New York City, unclaimed bodies have had to be buried in a mass grave. A bright spot suggests that the curve may be flattening.

The reports can be overwhelming and no one needs to hear my amateur recounting. This blog is to describe the minutiae of a retired woman and perhaps bring a little levity to readers.

In Alberta, hunting for deer, moose and antler sheds is a ‘thing.’ You get on your quad or you walk and look for antlers that have recently been dropped. There is even a market for them, though I doubt anyone has become an antler tycoon. Yesterday Gary was out for an early ‘hunt.’ He came home, quite chuffed, with some ‘nice’ white tail and mule deer horns.

Our Jack Russell loves chewing an antler and the one she had last year has been gnawed to a nub. If you don’t know, antlers are tough and it takes determination to get one to the point where some of it can be bitten off.

Taz, when she was a puppy.

Taz was beyond excited to get a fresh one, until Gary sat too close to her and her antler, catching a paw under it. For a Jack, she’s timid about weird things and suddenly she was terrified of her treat. She ran off and I had to hunt her down. She was quivering on the bed in the spare room.

I admit to anthropomorphism, especially with my dogs. I had to hug her tightly to calm down. All evening she eyed the antler with suspicion and when I tried to introduce it back to her, Gary accused me of adding to her trauma. I only brought it near and might have stroked her with it.

Another confession. The dogs sleep on the bed with me. Taz selects a ‘toy’ to take to bed but last night, her fears suddenly allayed, she chose the antler. I shared my bed with two dogs and an antler.

In some parts of Canada and the rest of the world, the pandemic is creating dire situations. I am lucky that here, if I continue to shelter in place, I can share my bed with the dogs and the antler. Does it get better? 😀

Sheltering at Home III-Covid Birthday

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No firetrucks paraded past my house, no friends showed up to dance on my lawn (social distancing, of course), and there was no cake. Had there been, the blaze from the candles might have attracted the fire department. Yesterday was my ahemmm, swallow, ahemmm, birthday. Suffice to say I’m old.

In the new pandemic reality, I was very lucky. It was a busy day and it started with a drive into the country. I had my camera and could have had pictures of a fox, a coyote, and turkey vultures. There was no card in the camera; it was at home in the laptop. The dogs had a run along a deserted road. It’s hard to believe how exciting they found an unpaved road and snowdrifts to be.

I made covid bread while answering phone calls and trying to set up an app Houseparty for later evening festivities. I talked with the grandkids on-line and I may have forgotten a cup of flour. Nevertheless, the bread did turn out. While it rose the first time, I took the dogs for their regular walk. It was brutal. The wind gusts were enough to make me appreciate how they and their leashes anchored me. It was a half distance walk but the Jack Russell chased the gopher she’s been looking for all week. It was out on the snow, likely wondering why it hadn’t stayed underground.

After supper, a friend, my son, and my daughter logged in to play Houseparty. It is quite lame but good for laughs and as it seems with online meetings, this one had its glitch, too. My daughter had to leave because she couldn’t hear or see us. It wasn’t a party like face to face but it was a good substitute.

So no firetruck parade, no family gathering, no blazing candles, yet it was a fine time and a chance to reflect on how lucky I am. My birthday wish is that in a year, this pandemic will be a memory. One that we learned lessons from, but only a memory, not an experience to be repeated.

Sheltering at Home – II

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In 1978, Stephen King published the post-apocalyptic novel, The Stand. Although it is fiction, there are disturbing similarities to our pandemic. There are big differences; King’s Captain Trip flu kills 98% of the world population and the set-up is there. Good vs. Evil

I don’t intend to go on about a fictional disaster. Our own is frightening enough and in the new reality, I have learned some things. I touch my face a lot. I don’t wash my hands for 20 seconds or scrub them sufficiently. I’m learning. My last years of substitute teaching had me sneezing and coughing into my elbow so I’m okay there. Never before, have I wiped down groceries with a bleach solution. I have now. My whole kitchen and bathroom got wiped down and cleaned with the bleach solution. And yet…

I find myself checking for symptoms. A week ago, I bit my tongue hard. Of course it hurt and the pain radiated to my throat. (I know, this is a bit dramatic.) My God. I have the virus. Even though I knew it didn’t help, I gargled with salt for a couple of nights. O, and my tongue healed and my throat wasn’t sore any longer. Twinge in my head? what? Is that the covid?? I don’t get headaches. Then there’s the coughing. Yes, I cough. I’m old and I take meds for hypertension so I cough. But is this cough dry??? I could go on but that’s sufficient. I was descending into hypochondria.

Ridiculous worry. Last night, the Premier did nothing to allay fears. The models and predictions, especially the worst case scenario are dire. I take comfort in knowing he is not an epidemiologist and that we don’t need to progress up the curve. We can flatten it.

Stephen King wrote a prescient novel of a terrible pandemic. It was fiction and by simple things, we can avoid the fate of the victims of the flu, Captain Trip. Wash our hands, physical distancing, stay home. It’s hard because we aren’t used to restrictions. It’s time to ignore minor inconveniences. I have to remember there are all kinds of people who go out to work every day, possibly putting their lives on the line. Thank you. Those of us who have to shelter in place have it easy.

Sheltering at Home

~ Linda ~ 2 Comments

April 7, 2020 and tuning into the news is like viewing another dystopian movie. Except (and I have to remind myself), it’s real.

To backtrack, February 17 was Family Day in Alberta and although we knew there was a new virus, Wuhan, China was on the other side of the world. The first reported Canadian Case was on January 27 in Toronto. A man travelling from Wuhan had fallen ill with the virus. Still, we didn’t know the seriousness or the contagiousness of this new health threat. Optimists all, we booked a holiday in Mexico for March 20, spring break.

And sheltering in place, still means I can wander out in our April Winter Wonderland…

March 11 WHO declared that Covid 19 had become pandemic. March 16 with reluctant prudence, we cancelled our holiday. Two days later, the company cancelled so the decision had been taken out of our hands, anyway. I was disappointed; we all were but, a new reality was descending. People over 65 were at particular risk and even young people could fall fatally ill. March 20 came and went. We started to self-isolate although we’d been nowhere and our area was fortunate to have, so far, escaped confirmed cases.

The last time I stocked up on groceries was at least two weeks ago and after he realized the seriousness of the pandemic, Gary (husband) ceased his forays out for food. He’d become a “European” shopper and like going out for ‘needed’ items every day. Now he takes a walk. I still walk my two little dogs; the town has excellent trails. There are books, there is tv, there is social media. The biggest challenge for many of us ‘sheltering in place’ is that someone said, no. Forbidden fruit looks oh, so sweet. And to be denied is not the normal lifestyle. It must become the new normal where we are less spoiled. Sometimes dystopia is all too real.

Robbie Has a Friend

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Our winter robin, Robbie, is frisky and fit. He arrives for worms earlier and earlier. It was 7:30 this morning and when a second robin showed up, my husband was excited enough to cause himself a near cardiac incident.

Robbie has been coming since mid-January when an old-fashioned cold snap hit Alberta. He was weak and surviving on rock hard, frozen crabapples. The worms we provided were a bonanza and he didn’t forget. Soon a routine was established where he came to the mountain ash tree in the front yard and stared at us through the window. He answers Gary’s whistle and since I can’t whistle (never mind), I talk to him. Robbie does know us and trusts that he can swoop down close to get his meal.

Recently, he comes to the apple tree in the backyard and waits. I am comically quick in getting his worms, being sure to hold them in my hand so they warm up from fridge temperature for him. I am the same woman who dithers and takes forever to get ready to go somewhere, yet somehow Robbie inspires me to get those worms out for him.

His breakfast is gobbled down before I get back into the house. Robbie no longer comes looking for food three times a day. He is stronger and the days are getting longer. Soon he’ll find another robin, a female, and we hope he’ll nest here but know that he might not. The other robin looked like a male and there was a bit of a scuffle before he flew off. Robbie has pretty much staked us out.

Until it’s really spring and even after, we’ll look for Rob. Gary will whistle at every male robin, just in case. Keep frisky, Rob.

The Bank Machine and Me

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The farther I get into retirement, the more reluctant I am to go “downtown” to run errands. Yesterday was no exception but the dearth of vegetable choices made a trip imperative. Then I realized I needed to send valentine cards to my grandkids, return library books, and get toothpaste. The minutiae of life and so many things on my mind that I even had a list.

First stop the bank because I had no cash and I’m old-fashioned enough that I find it handy at times. Our bank branch has a new ATM with a touch screen, bright colours, and huge fonts. It should be the easiest thing to use and it is. My mind “buzzing” with ‘all the things I had to do’ and the fact that I was parked a little close to a driveway had me grab my debit card and run. Yes, I got the debit card but left the cash hanging out of the ATM.

I returned my library books, chatted with our librarian, (it is a small town), and signed out a couple of new reads. Then to the drugstore to pick out valentines. It was only when I sat down to address them, I noticed that there was no cash in my purse. Plummeting heart…what a waste of $100.

On the off-chance that an honest person returned the money to the teller and that they might be able to trace which idiot didn’t take it, I returned to the bank.

The ATM is way smarter than me. When I didn’t get my money, it sucked it back to safety. I had to wait for a teller to go and retrieve it from the “box” in the cash machine. I am not the first person and the sympathetic teller said, not likely the last to have walked off and left their money. To say I was relieved is an understatement.

I would like to have someone to blame or to say that ATMs invite mistakes. Having a human to facilitate financial transactions like this would have saved me from making such an error. A human would have called me back immediately if I left money laying on the counter. I would like to but I know it was all me. I had a few errands and in a moment of distraction, it was me who left the money hanging.