Shared Hospital Room; Maple Tree

I have two things bothering me so much I can’t think about anything else right now. I don’t mean that literally. I am also thinking about the snack-cake I am going to eat after lunch or possibly mid-morning, and I am thinking about what I will have for lunch, and I am thinking about various chores I want to get done today, and I am thinking about taking a walk, and I am thinking about sending some postcards. But when I try to think about writing a post, I am thinking about only the two things. But I don’t want to write at length about either one of them, so I will just say them briefly:

1. At Edward’s infusion yesterday, they put us in a double room. That is, we were in a hospital room for 3.5 hours with another patient/parent. Last time we were there, the policy was one patient per room per DAY, with intensive cleaning each night, and I did not know the policy had changed. And the hospital’s overall policy is still that adult patients may not have anyone with them, and children may have only one accompanying adult, so I don’t see how that works with putting two patients and two adults in one room together. The nurse said not to worry about it, because we were all wearing masks and we could be 6 feet apart. I know I am not a medical expert, but what I have been seeing from actual medical experts makes me think this was not at all a safe idea, and that “6 feet apart” does not apply when you’re sharing the same room’s worth of air for hours. Also, the other patient/parent kept taking their masks off to eat snacks or have a drink of water, and then putting the masks back on. Again, I am not a medical expert, but my impression is if you take off your mask, the mask is no longer working. I felt trapped and panicky, and powerless to do anything: they didn’t HAVE more rooms, so I couldn’t ask to be moved.

2. At our old house, we had a maple tree my parents bought for us when Henry was born; when he was younger, we took his photo with the tree each year on his birthday. Coincidentally, the property across the street put in several of the same type/age tree at about the same distance from the street, which made our whole end of the street prettier and more coordinated. Also, before we got the tree, the living room was almost impossible to keep reasonably cool in the summer; the tree helped hugely with this. When we moved, we thought about transplanting the tree to the new house for sentimental reasons, but (1) we didn’t want to do that to the old property/neighborhood/livingroom and (2) when we looked into it, we saw there was a fair risk the tree wouldn’t survive, and we didn’t want to move it and end up killing it. Anyway, I drove by the old house a few days ago and saw that the new owner had cut down the tree.

Polydactyl Paws

ANOTHER pandemic dream last night. I dreamed I kept leaving the grocery store with my bags and then realizing I’d forgotten another crucial thing and would have to go back in. Oh no, I only did half the store the first time!! Oh no, now I have somehow forgotten the bread! Oh no the eggs!!

Sarah! commented that it is not fair to say a cat is polydactyl and then just take off without any pictures of the paws. I completely agree.

This is the cat who’s twitchy and fearful even after years and years of gentle treatment, so His Mother (Elizabeth) and I worked to capture pictures as humanely as possible. We did not manage to get the truly spectacular beans photo we’d hoped for, because he was being protective of his beans and did not want to display them; but we will bide our time and wait for a moment when he has them outstretched naturally, and then add that photo to this incomplete collection.


Here he rests comfortably in his mother’s arms as I zoom up on the front paws. Notice there is also an incomplete glimpse of the back paws supported by Elizabeth’s hand.

 


This is not only a pretty good shot of his front mitts, but also I think it gives a feeling for how plush and soft he is. Part of a back paw is somewhat visible as well.

 


If this pose does not look quite natural to you, you are correct: I am holding him in that odd position from off-screen. This is just a teaser for a later better beans shot, but you can see he has one single pink bean on this paw, while the rest are grey. The pink bean matches his nose, and we praise him for that.

Unnecessary Appointments; Pandemic Dreams; Mask Recommendations

This morning I am wondering if I should take the cats the vet for their annual physicals/shots or nah. It feels to me that many businesses are (understandably, considering their own desire to stay in business) putting pressure on customers to behave as if there isn’t a pandemic: like, “Look, we have face masks, we have Pandemic Policies in place, and your cat is !!!!!OVERDUE!!!!! for an appointment that, until recent history, would not have existed because people did not bring housecats in for annual physicals and preventative bloodwork as if they were well-insured humans.” I’m not saying we SHOULDN’T take pets for preventative care, and in normal times we DO, but these are exceptional times and I don’t think we have to act as if they’re not.

But then I wonder if I’m being paranoid and should just keep up with the cats’ appointments. I don’t want to cause a problem by having too big a gap between shots or something (though our cats are indoor-only, so that makes me a little less worried about some of the shots). The vet is doing the thing where you call them from the parking lot and they come out and take the pet-carrier inside without you. Still, with an immunosuppressed person in our house, this is so far failing my own personal “How would I feel if I found out I were infected, and I was asked to list everywhere I’d been the last few weeks?” filter.

I’m feeling similarly about dentist appointments. The percentage of the world population that receives dental check-ups/cleanings every six months is… small. And yet, within this percentage, those appointments are considered !!!NECESSARY!!! and so it is hard to get perspective to click accurately into place. Most of us don’t actually need dentist appointments every six months. It’s nice, but it’s not necessary. We can skip one, two, three in a row, and it’s STILL not shocking, even though it FEELS shocking. In earlier adulthood, making $5/hour with no benefits, I skipped four years’ worth of dentist appointments. (I also didn’t take my cats for preventative appointments. When there’s no money for it, there’s no money for it. I don’t like that I now get treated as if I am a Better, Smarter, More Responsible Person for doing these appointments, when actually I am just a person who has more money now.)

I’m not taking Henry for his allergy shots. I know this could result in various disappointing outcomes, such as losing progress, having to go back and start over, maybe insurance won’t pay to start over, etc. But all of those things are okay in the grander scheme of things. These are not life-saving shots for him. Many people don’t even have access to this kind of optional medical care. There is this feeling of “But he’s SUPPOSED TO get the shots, he’s not SUPPOSED TO miss any!!”—but that’s a construct that doesn’t apply right now. There are a LOT of things that were supposed to happen but won’t.

And we ordered new glasses for Henry the month before all this happened, and the eye place has called us twice to tell us we can pick them up, and we are not picking them up. His old prescription is fine. It is a very small part of the world’s population that gets to have new custom-fitted, custom-prescription glasses every year or two. The new glasses can sit there for awhile.

 

Last night I dreamed that I was waiting for Henry to pick up his things from the pool (he of course does not have anything at the pool, but we have an appointment in a few weeks to pick up his things from the SCHOOL and this must be the origin of the dream concept), and while I was waiting, people kept brushing past me or standing too close to me while not wearing masks, and I kept moving to new safer locations only to have people crowd in next to me again, and some of them were doing it mockingly and on purpose because I was wearing a mask, and then I fled inside the rec center and had to dodge through an area where they were having a bridal shower and people were just standing around close to each other and eating food together, and anyway I guess this kind of dream gets added to the permanent roster of recurring “Can’t find my classroom/locker” and “Oh no, a pet is in peril” dreams.

 

Tessie asked about favorite masks, and I want to order more masks because I am trying to find fun where I can (it reminds me of how if we have to wear glasses, we might as well have fun/cute frames), so this is a question I too am very interested in answers for. Where are you buying masks? Which ones are you finding to be a nice fit? Where are you finding fun/cute ones? I have one mask made for me by a friend, and it is very cute and comfortable considering it is a mask; it has ties and it fits like this (I have one tie tied above my ponytail, and the other across the back of my neck):

Mother’s Day, Fraught As Per Usual

Mother’s Day is over for another year, and I am glad. I wish to get rid of that holiday. It can be so fraught and complicated, for so many reasons.

And it feels impossible to complain about. Any complaint at all sounds like being ungrateful, or being demanding, or wanting the princess treatment, or not letting people choose their own way to show love, or not appreciating that I get to be a mother when so many people want to but can’t, or making too big a deal out of a holiday I don’t even like. And I feel like the potential for misunderstandings is just ENORMOUS—especially since everyone sees things through their OWN set of circumstances.

But I want to talk about it anyway. I saw a lot of conversations on Twitter yesterday that showed me that, among the MANY ways to have a fraught Mother’s Day, a lot of you are having similar experiences and similar feelings to mine, and I found those conversations very comforting to read: like, I am not the only one who cannot figure this out, and I am not the only one with a family like mine, and I am not the only one having these feelings about it. So I will tell you how it went for me, and I will tell you what I thought/felt about that, and I will also tell you what I have been doing in a (partly successful, partly not) attempt to mitigate all that.

I feel like I have very low standards for what constitutes a successful Mother’s Day. I don’t WANT people to spend money on me; I don’t WANT a big deal made over me; I CRINGE at the idea of being the center of attention at a brunch or other celebration. The only year I kicked up any fuss was the year my family did literally less than nothing: one of the kids asked Paul if they should make plans, and Paul shrugged that off, so not only did they do nothing, they DECIDED to do nothing, and furthermore Paul effectively PREVENTED there from being something. And then all that day I was seeing pictures on Facebook of other people’s families doing Mother’s Day things, and everywhere I went in my house there were messes left for me to handle, and I felt terrible and like a drudge and completely unloved, and I wanted to leave all those terrible ingrates in their self-made squalor and go away by myself, possibly permanently. That was the one year I made any complaint to the family, and I don’t feel I was out of line, or acting spoiled, or being demanding, or not letting people show love in their own way. I had set up an easy laid-back situation where the bare minimum would be plenty, and they had said “Eh, too much effort.”

 

Here are the ways it can make a mother feel, when Mother’s Day is apparently too hard for anyone to do anything about:

• Like maybe the reason no one is doing anything is that she is a bad mother. Near Mother’s Day, the internet is FULL of grown-ups talking about how Mother’s Day is hard for them because they had a terrible mother, and how they have to find alternate ways to appreciate / cope with the holiday. How many of those bad mothers don’t even KNOW they were bad mothers? Maybe SHE is a bad mother and doesn’t know it, and so asking for Mother’s Day to be celebrated just adds a new breathtaking layer of badness to her mothering.

• Like maybe she is not a BAD-bad mother, but definitely a mediocre/sub-par mother. And so then can’t you just picture this absolutely mediocre mother preening and waiting to be praised for her spectacular mothering on Her Whole Special Day? It’s embarrassing! Does she think she’s a mother like in the commercials and in all the online tributes, where her family loves her and WANTS to celebrate the day? CRINGE! Who’s going to tell her she is not that kind of mother?? I mean YIKES, this is AWKWARD.

• Like maybe she’s a perfectly fine mother as a person, and her intentions have been good, but her parental efforts are clearly ineffective, and all her years of lessons about gift-giving, thinking of what others might want, being considerate, having empathy—those have all completely failed. She’s a terrible teacher, obviously, and also no one wants to model their behavior after hers, obviously—and oh no, what OTHER of her teachings have the children completely failed to learn??

• Like maybe she is a perfectly fine mother as person, but her family doesn’t love her or care about her. And they never will. For whatever reason. She just doesn’t have that kind of family, that’s all.

 

Anyway. After the truly tanked Mother’s Day a few years ago, I came up with a three-part plan, and that’s what I’ve been doing since:

1. Set an example on Father’s Day. I was ALREADY doing this, but now I make A Big Pointed Point Of It. It’s too bad Father’s Day doesn’t come first: 11 months is a long time for a lesson to percolate. But it’s what we’ve got, so anyway on Father’s Day I go very heavy-handed about how we need to think about what Dad would like, and how we should think throughout the day of little things that might make the day feel a little more special for him. I talk about how some of the best gifts on such a day are gifts of SERVICE: let’s take his car to the car wash and use the fun super-powerful coin-operated vacuum cleaner there! let’s clean off the coffee table without being asked, since we know that’s a particular preference of his! And I talk about how some of the best gifts are gifts of DEFERENCE: let’s think about what HE might like best for dinner! let’s let HIM choose what we watch on TV! And I talk about how it’s not about spending a lot of money or buying big gifts or doing huge difficult things, but more about Thinking Of The Other Person, and Making The Day A Little Special: maybe while at the grocery store, pick up a bag of those lemon drops he likes; maybe bake some cookies or some other dessert we know he likes; maybe do some little task he usually does, so that he doesn’t have to do it. I then say to the children, “Okay, so what sort of thing appeals to each of you? Let’s each pick a thing we’re going to do for Dad.”

2. Make it clear ahead of time what I would like. I hate this. I hate having to do this. I feel like this can so easily be spun as filling out an order form, or like “My mother was so controlling and had to have things Exactly Her Way. She even TOLD US what to do for Mother’s Day!” But my family does not seem to be able to handle it on their own. And Paul does not seem able to take his one day per year to train the children in thoughtfulness and empathy, though Paul has many other fine qualities that may mean the decision to marry him was not a stupid one: for example he will spend dozens of hours patiently and cheerfully working with a child on a science project or a math assignment, tasks that after 30 seconds make me want to literally scream and cry. So he is able to teach, but apparently unable to teach THIS, so I will teach this and he will help with science projects.

3. Find ways to celebrate it myself. Put cream and hot-chocolate mix in my coffee. Deliberately skip all skippable chores: no laundry, no bathroom-cleaning, no wiping kitchen counters. Skip anything I don’t want to do and don’t have to do, even if it means I’ll just have to do those things the next day. Do more things I do want to do, like reading and napping and playing phone games and snacking and browsing online stores. Definitely have a treat with afternoon coffee. Wine with dinner. Etc.

 

I waited a bit this year to see if they would take the job on themselves so I could skip the second part of that plan, but it got close to Mother’s Day and I sensed no Secret Consults, so a few days ahead of time I said to Paul, “I don’t want to Fill Out An Order Form or whatever [that’s his family’s take on making wish lists, which is one of my family’s practices, so this is familiar shorthand], and if people already have their own plans, that’s great! it’s perfect! I love it!—but if people are TENSE about it, or think they have to BUY things (and especially in quarantine when that’s more difficult than usual), I can tell you some things I would very much enjoy that would not take money or much effort.” And Paul paused in a way that communicated “OhGodMother’sDay” and then said, very casually, “Why don’t you tell me?”

So I told him that what I would like was to have those canned Pillsbury orange cinnamon rolls for breakfast (in my family growing up, we had those for Special Occasions like birthdays and Mother’s/Father’s Day), and that I had already acquired a tube of them. That I would like us at some point during the day to go outside and take a photo of me with the kids. And that all day long I wanted to not have to nag anyone to do their chores, or remind them to put their dishes in the dishwasher. And that if, for example, the cat threw up, I wanted everyone to think, “Well, MOM shouldn’t have to handle that, not on MOTHER’S DAY!” Ditto for if the toilet paper roll ran out. And Paul cooks on Sunday nights anyway, but I wanted to get to choose which of his three rotating meals we would have, and I wanted to add a side of that garlic-herb bread-machine bread, but that I would make that. And then after dinner I wanted us to watch the movie Knives Out and eat popcorn. And as a BONUS item, but by no means would my happiness rest on it, it would be very pleasing to me if someone would make cookies.

Okay, please pause and evaluate that list of requests and tell me if you think it is demanding or princessy. I have not asked anyone to buy me anything. There is almost no extra effort, almost no additional chores; for the most part I am asking people ONLY to do the chores they were supposed to do ANYWAY, but without ME having to do the thing I ALREADY SHOULD NOT HAVE TO DO, which is nag them. I am mostly asking for things we ALL enjoy: the orange rolls, the movie, the popcorn, the cookies (the kids LIKE to bake cookies, and often ask to). I am asking for two gifts of deference: I want to get to choose the dinner among the three options, I want to get to choose the movie. I am also, by requesting that I not have to clean up cat barf, asking that the day be treated as if it is special for me.

Think about what each person has to do differently, to make me happy. VERY VERY LITTLE. Think of how many of the things I want are treats for them as well. ALMOST ALL.

Well. I had a fine Mother’s Day. I felt like I set a pretty low bar, and some of those things were still not met, but other things surpassed it; and the things that were not met are things I can address at Father’s Day and in the way I handle Mother’s Day next year. But here is what I found: for me, the reason Mother’s Day is such a fraught holiday is that it puts a spotlight on things that are usually just simmering on the back burner, or even simmering way off the stove, maybe in some back corner of the kitchen. As Mother’s Day approaches, I start noticing those things more because I am anticipating what might be about to happen on Mother’s Day and how I’m going to feel about those various possibilities; on Mother’s Day, I notice them a HUGE AMOUNT; and after Mother’s Day, it takes awhile to stop noticing them so much.

I am not discussing here what portion of the problem belongs to society and which parts to the participants; nor how those problems ought to be dealt with in society/households/individuals; nor how my own household could have been set up a different way to avoid any of them, nor how I could go back in time to change any of those things, nor how others would never allow such a situation to exist in their own, different households; nor how these issues might also affect, say, FATHERS, or OTHER HOLIDAYS, or whatever; I am talking here only about how Mother’s Day for me in my household (and for similar others in similar households) can bring certain things to my attention in a way that, for me, temporarily but dramatically increases unhappiness, making the holiday unpleasant. Here are some of those things, which of course will not apply in every household/family:

• The way communal/household tasks (changing the toilet paper roll, cleaning up cat barf) can fall disproportionately to us—with, in fact, other family members not even considering doing them, but just leaving them without even thinking about it, walking right past the same obvious-to-solve issue (such as something that has fallen to the floor but obviously does not belong there) again and again. So that on One Special Day per year, we might ask AS A SPECIAL TREAT for other people to change the toilet paper roll or clean up cat barf. What a very, very low bar.

• The way family members, when thinking of Nice Things They Could Do For Us, might choose chores that are not even our chores to do (e.g., a kid deciding to clean the Kid Bathroom, which is already the kids’ job to keep clean), leaving us to further unhappily ponder the way communal chores and in fact ALL chores seem to be seen as our domain, and that despite fairly rigorous teaching on this topic, chores assigned to other family members may have been misunderstood as “helping us with OUR chores” rather than rightfully pitching in with work that belongs to us all.

• The way it might happen in some households, for example mine, that the child who does think about Mother’s Day well in advance without being reminded, and who comes up with a thoughtful gift that is not “doing their own chore they had to do anyway,” is a girl. And while we know this will not be the case across the board, and that there are many thoughtful/considerate sons and many thoughtless/inconsiderate daughters, we might spend time thinking about gender roles in our society, and resenting them.

• The way we might trundle along automatically taking care of others in the household as well as ourselves, and do it as part of our role in the family (just as we might earn money for the whole family and not just for ourselves)—until the one day a year we have Opposite Day, or “Mother’s Day,” and find that EVEN ON THAT ONE DAY the other family members won’t take care of us: that our treat is that they will take SOME care of THEMSELVES. Our treat is that we get some time to take care of our own selves, and we get to take somewhat less care of them.

• The way family members might pat themselves mightily on the back, and expect vast praise from others, for doing on one single day per year the things they ought to be doing regularly.

• The way it turns out SO MANY THINGS work well ONLY because we are reminding or pre-planning—so that, for example, if we deliberately stay out of a task to let others handle it for a day, it can be like one of those stupid “a MAN tries to be the MOM!!” movies, or a Family Circus comic. Perhaps we say that we would love to have garlic-herb bread-machine bread with dinner, and that we will make it ourselves; but the others say “Ah-ah-ah, it’s Mother’s day, so WE will make the bread!!”—but then the time to start the bread machine comes and goes, and we are not nagging/interfering and so we say nothing, and so at dinner there is no garlic-herb bread-machine bread.

• The way we might communicate clearly and reasonably, and not be listened to.

• The way we might have small wants and low expectations, smaller and lower than anyone else’s in the family, and still not have those met.

• The scalding outrage of the crumbs, the CRUMBS, that we might gratefully accept as symbols of appreciation and love. Things that are routine, normal, daily, thoughtful things for us to do for our family members, are special treats for us one day a year, and that’s something we might write glowing reports of for others to read. The fact of this situation. The fact that it is not rare.

 

I feel like Mother’s Day can be an Exception Proves the Rule sort of day, making many mothers feel much worse, and highlighting the ways in which our usual efforts go generally unappreciated, and the ways in which our culture still kind of sucks. And I had a perfectly fine Mother’s Day for it being Mother’s Day, but it’s Mother’s Day itself I don’t like and don’t know how to cope with but can’t opt out of it either.

Grocery Store Shelves Report

I am tirelessly interested in Grocery Store Shelves Updates, and so I will just jump to assuming you are TOO, and tell you what my most recent trip was like:

• Raw meat was limited to two of each type per customer: i.e., two beef items per customer, two pork items per customer, two poultry items per customer. This made me feel a little stressed, especially because the meat sections had been consolidated, leaving a vast white empty unit. Also, I was not totally sure I understood the rules, because it looked as if ground beef might be counted as different than non-ground beef, but I couldn’t tell if that was just a signage issue.

• They had flour again! Only one kind but a fair amount of it on the shelves and another pallet in the aisle. Limited to two bags per customer.

• Still no yeast.

• Sugar products limited to two per customer, but they seemed to be in good supply.

• They had rice, several different kinds in several different sizes, encouraging amounts though nowhere near full.

• They had a lot more pasta brand/type variety than before. There’s been only store-brand elbow macaroni and store-brand spaghetti for awhile, but this time there was Prince, there was Barilla, there were shapes other than elbow/spaghetti. The shelf still looked very gappy, but so much better than before.

• Still very low on pizza sauce. Almost no canisters of Parmesan cheese.

• They had some tortillas and taco shells again—not many, but some.

• They had somewhat more soup brand/type variety than before. It still looked very empty, but instead of having nothing except, like, 99% Fat-Free Cream of Onion, they had some family-size cans of cream of chicken, even some cans of chicken noodle and tomato, some cans of other reasonable flavors. Still no packets of Ramen, just a few of the microwave cups of it, and only in the odder flavors.

• Plenty of beans, canned and dried. Those have been well-stocked for weeks, but I’m still jumpy because of earlier shortages.

• Plenty of eggs, plenty of butter, plenty of cream, plenty of milk. Those have been well-stocked for weeks, but again I’m still jumpy because of earlier shortages.

• Yogurt was curiously depleted, with a bunch of kinds missing.

• Plenty of bread but, interestingly to me, still not the kind we usually buy, which is just the store brand whole-wheat. It’s been absent for weeks and weeks. I have chosen a new kind of whole-wheat, and that’s been in stock each time.

• Still no SmartFood kettle corn. It’s such an oddly specific thing to be out of. They do have a couple of other brands of kettle corn in a different aisle, so I’ve been buying those.

• No limes. Perhaps we are not the only ones eyeing our dwindling bar supplies and thinking if we had some limes we could use up that tequila.

• They had RUBBING ALCOHOL and HYDROGEN PEROXIDE for the first time since well before lockdown. Limited to one of each per customer.

• After weeks of zero toilet paper, and then two or so weeks of just 4-packs of toilet paper, they had quite a few 20-packs of the store-brand. Limited to one pack of any size per customer.

• After weeks of NO bleachy/disinfecting cleaning products, they had several different bleachy/disinfecting cleaning products. Not tons of them, and the shelves were still pretty bare-looking.

• No disinfecting wipes, no hand sanitizer. A better supply of hand soap than before, but still pretty diminished.

 

I am very interested to hear what things are like at your store: things that are hard to find; things that used to be hard to find but seem to be back; things that are rationed; odd little shortages of a specific type of thing.

Mess

Every morning I wake up and think “The debauchery cannot continue: there must be less eating and more walking! less Candy Crush and more cleaning out sock drawers!” Those goals are apparently too high. Yesterday I had freezing feet for four hours because I felt like if I went upstairs for warmer socks I should really clean out the sock drawer, which currently cannot be closed. Finally I just got the warmer socks.

Paul told me yesterday evening that he had ordered the 50-pound bag of flour we’d discussed a couple of weeks ago and then casually decided not to order. He said he hadn’t wanted to say anything until it actually shipped, because it appeared he’d basically ordered the very last 50-pound bag of flour available from a company that may not have realized it was still offered on their site. Normally I would say I am not keen on situations where a couple makes a decision together and then one of them goes ahead and does a different thing. But in this case I was so happy to hear the flour was on its way, I cried a little. (And am half-imagining it will be a Downton Abbey situation and the bag will be full of plaster dust.)

I am very, very worried about the country starting to re-open.

tweet reading "welcome back. if you're just joining us, it's getting worse and there's no one in charge"

Our government was supposed to be doing things while we were closed: we all got out of the pool so they could clean up the toxic spill. But then they didn’t do those things: we all got out of the pool, and nothing happened. We can all see that what was supposed to happen didn’t happen, but apparently those things are not going to happen, and that’s the plan: to just not do those things. The first people back in, the ones who say “Oh thank goodness, they’re letting us back in the pool so it must be safe to swim again!,” and the ones who are shoved into the pool by the re-opening, are going to show us whether this was a good plan or not. Not that it will keep the rest of us from having to get into the pool eventually too. What a mess. What a stupid, avoidable, wasteful, fatal mess.

Pictures of the Cats

States are starting to re-open, which is freaking me out considering our government has done little during the shutdown to justify reopening. The radio DJs were talking this morning about how they already had haircut appointments scheduled. I think there is going to be an unfortunate confusion of “permitted” and “safe”: like, if haircuts are allowed, then I have a haircut pass I can show to the virus, and the virus cannot infect me! I am feeling very unhappy about all the additional people who will be forced to go back to work in these conditions.

Paul and I were talking about the effects the partial re-open will have on our household. We are extremely, extremely fortunate that we can continue to stay home until we find out if the re-open is as bad an idea as we think it is. Originally I wrote the rest of this paragraph as a list of all the ways we were fortunate, but when I proof-read it I thought it sounded like boasting rather than the Acknowledging Privilege I was going for. It reminded me of the Christmas letters we get from Paul’s aunt: it is clear she is attempting through heavy use of the word “blessed” to communicate that they know how lucky they are and that they consider the luck unearned—and yet she manages to make it sound as if God has singled out their family for these blessings, and that she really couldn’t tell you why God didn’t do the same for your family when he clearly had that option but evidently decided not to bother for some reason, *shrug*.

Anyway, I think we’re about to go into a Very Bad Time, virus-wise, so let’s not talk about it anymore, let’s instead fulfill a request for pictures of the cats. You’re going to raise your eyebrows at my concealing their names, but “cat names” is EXACTLY the sort of dumb little thing that gets a Secret Blog discovered.

Here is Cat #1, a boy, age 9, all orange with pretty fur patterns, long and slim like a ferret:

He is a sweetie-pie and suuuuuuuuper dumb. We have a downstairs floor-plan of the sort that would let children run endlessly from room to room in a big circle, and we don’t think this cat has figured out what’s going on yet: we often see him pass through the living room, looking all around him, and then after awhile he comes all the way around again and you can just see him thinking “Oh, ANOTHER living room! With MORE people in it! Wow!! I wonder how many MORE rooms there are??” He sleeps on Edward’s bed almost every night, and we’re surprised he manages to find it so consistently. During the day he likes to sit behind me on my computer chair, so that I have to perch on the edge.

Here he is on the windowsill where he likes to watch Chipmunk TV:

That chair is there specifically for his convenience and comfort, but he often balances uncomfortably on the sill instead. With him is Cat #2, a boy, age 9. Cat #2 is a large-framed cat, a polydactyl, with extremely soft plush fur, grey-brown tabby and white. He is a Giant Baby. We have treated him with persistently gentle love for 7 years, and he still frequently winces and flinches and runs from us. If you talk to him, he will meow back. He lovvvvves Elizabeth and is usually in her room or sitting near her. He likes me, too, as long as no one else is in the room with me: after Paul gets up in the morning, he’ll sleep in Paul’s place, and then he likes to come into the bathroom and sit on the carpet while I take a shower. Here he is again, with Elizabeth:

And again, looking pensively out the window:

Here is Cat #3, a girl, age 7, orange with white tum, white knee socks, and white gloves:

She is a bossy little queen, small and fat. She bullies and menaces the polydactyl, who is much larger and stronger and could easily beat her up if he’d only realize it instead of running away from her. She is very affectionate with people in a possessive/claiming way, and will make the rounds from lap to lap. She follows us around the house, supervising and judging. She is my favorite cat we’ve ever had.

Here’s a rare photo of all three cats together (normally you’d see the two oranges together, or the two boys together, but never the girl-orange and the polydactyl unless they’re about to fight); this was possible only because they were having Wet!! Food!! which blows out their circuits:

The polydactyl looks smaller than he is, partly because of the weird perspective and partly because he is hunched in as small as he can make himself. The girl-orange is mad because she can’t eat out of all the bowls at once. The boy-orange is oblivious to all drama.

Pantsless Sleepwalking

In the middle of the night I got up to use the bathroom and it was quickly apparent to me that I was not wearing pants. In chilly weather I sleep in flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt, and I was wearing the t-shirt and my underwear, but I was not wearing my pants. I came back to bed, and Paul was awake so I informed him of this development, and he was intrigued by the mystery but apparently didn’t at first believe me, because there was some fact-checking. When he was satisfied that I was indeed not wearing any pants, he added another piece of the mystery: earlier in the night, he had awakened to the sound of a lightly-slammed door, and had seen me walking back to bed. He said he asked me what was going on, and that I had refused to answer. Ah. Sleepwalking.

In the morning, I hoped to find my pants hanging on their usual hook in the closet (maybe that was the door I slammed), but they were not there. I thought maybe they would be in the drawer, but no. In the bathroom? No. Well, that was concerning: if my pants were not in my room or bathroom, that meant I had gone walking around the house with no pants on, and we have two kids who are up most of the night. Perhaps I had walked pantsless right past them. I wondered nervously if there was anywhere else the pants might be, anywhere else that might indicate I did NOT (necessarily) walk through the house in my underwear. In the kids’ bathroom? Sometimes when I sleepwalk I use their bathroom. And that’s just right outside our bedroom door, so maybe I would have been pantsless but unseen. I got in the shower, still worrying.

After my shower, I opened the bathroom cupboard—and there were my pants. It is not clear why I put them there, but the discovery of them on the immediate premises is a hopeful sign that I did not walk around the house without pants on, but instead stayed local.

Two Cooking Questions: Unsweetened Coconut Milk and Tater Tot Casserole/Hotdish

I have two cooking questions. The first involves the two 13.5-ounce cans of unsweetened coconut milk I received instead of the two cans of soup I ordered. I am not going to trouble Target with such an error at a time like this, when they are no doubt very busy. So what do I do with unsweetened coconut milk? And does anyone know if unsweetened is the default? Like, if a recipe calls for “coconut milk,” is it assuming unsweetened? or is it assuming sweetened, and has to specify if unsweetened?

The second question involves the thing I have heard of called Tater Tot Casserole/Hotdish. I have never had it or made it, but I feel instinctively that now is the time. I have a bag of tater tots, but I need a tried-and-true recipe.

Online Concert; Dreams (Brief); Cemetery Walk

I had a whole list of things I jotted down to remember to write about, but looking over them now they seem to justify the theory that if I don’t remember it later, it probably wasn’t worth remembering. Still, here we are. I have no better ideas.

I attended a Facebook Live concert, an hour of piano by my cousin who is a music teacher and performer. This would not normally have been my thing, and in fact I’d never done anything with Facebook Live before, and it took me until almost the end of the concert to figure out how to make little thumbs-ups and hearts go floating up the screen in response to things she was playing/saying, but I DID figure it out. And the reason I jotted down the idea is because I wanted to recommend trying something like that, if you have the opportunity, because I was surprised to find it replenished my Social Buckets considerably even though I was not really interacting socially per se. But even just seeing my cousin on the screen, and seeing the little marker that indicated the hundred or so other people who were there watching with me, and seeing them leaving comments and hearts and thumbs-ups—well, I found it worth doing, is what I am saying, and also curiously touching, and perhaps you would find you had a similar reaction to such things, even if in pre-pandemic times you would not have been interested.

This next thing is about dreams; I will keep it brief. I’ve read that a lot of people are having particularly vivid dreams, and that it is in part from stress and in part from isolation. I keep having dreams that I’m adopting children, or considering adopting children, or assisting in the adoption of children. They are so far, luckily, always happy dreams, even though I am sure they stem from a news article I saw about countries very affected by the pandemic. One night I dreamed we were adopting a toddler and an infant, and I thought how nice it was that everyone in our family was home right now so we could get to know the new members together. Last night I dreamed I was holding a baby girl and trying to figure out how old she was based on how much talking she could do, so that I could add her approximate age to her adoption profile. I was holding her on my hip and carrying her around and pointing to things and asking what the things were, and she was pointing and saying “bahbah!” for bottle and so forth, and I was trying to remember what the corresponding age range was for that ability, but also I was thinking how nice it might be to keep her myself.

Also last night I dreamed a cute guy wanted me to marry him and move into his house, and he showed me his house which was exactly my style of house plus some bonus stuff I hadn’t thought to want until I saw it, and I very much liked both the guy and the house but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble to switch.

We are in an area where it is relatively easy and safe and in fact encouraged to go outside, and we are taking advantage of that and doing family walks. While acknowledging that this is something many people CAN’T do and are PINING to do, I will also say that I find walks very, very boring, and even more so now that we’ve gone all the directions many times in many ways. Upside: we sure know our new neighborhood well now! Downside: on one boring walk we impulsively diverted into a town cemetery, which anyone would have known was a dicey idea during a pandemic. There were all these families where someone age 2 died in December and then someone age 9 died that same month, and someone age 7 and someone age 4 died the following month—and then the same thing for another family a little further down. I wondered aloud what had happened, since all of these deaths seemed to have happened in the same winter, and speculated idly that perhaps it was some sort of virus. Then we walked straight home.