End of Year Games

 Herself speaks.

Games I do not enjoy, but am playing right now:

"is it allergies, or is it COVID?

Argh.

-----

To protect the privacy of others, I'll be just a bit vague: one close contact of mine has tested positive for COVID; another, spent a fair amount of time unmasked in a room with someone who also has COVID. And because of the State of Things, there are no COVID tests to be found. And so we wait, and wear masks in the house, generally avoiding close contact with each other, and wondering if we will become ill and if so, when. Is that tiny itch in an ear just allergies, or is it COVID? Is a throat sore, and if so, was it from chewing all that gum, or is it COVID? What level of exposure did I really have? How long until I feel safe again? 

I am exhausted, and trying not to be angry. I have tried SO HARD for two years -- social distancing, wearing a mask everywhere, avoiding going into stores, not traveling except to see my frail and elderly parents in case something Unspeakable happens to them, staying away from gatherings of people as much as possible -- and right now it feels like all my efforts may have been fruitless, because I still interact with a few people, and those people are more comfortable with a higher level of Risk of Exposure than I am. And they will bring the Plague to me. 

I do not enjoy having so little control over my own COVID Fate. 

In this metaphorical apocalypse, I have noticed the metaphorical zombies and done my best to avoid them. Yet somehow, they will still end up at my doorstep. What else can I do, besides fight them when they arrive?

-----

At any rate, this very long year has come to an end. It was busy, and exhausting, and had quite a bit of loss in it, and I am ready for it to be over. 

I wish for all of us, a good new year, full of hope and health, comfort and peace.

Amen.

Shopping of the Times

I thought at first that this was some sort of self-quarantine cubicle. It is, in fact, apparently a Sauna For One. 

I will take a quarantine cubicle. Not a sauna, though. 

Relax

We all need to be as comfortable as Mr. Cookie. 

Boxing Day

Herself speaks.

This holiday season is... weird. Pandemic Christmas, Round Two. 

The extended family gathering consisted of a brief Christmas Eve swing-by to drop off gifts, with a few hastily-taken, fully-masked photos. Christmas was very low key -- a few presents for Offspring the First and Offspring the Third, plus Beloved Husband and myself, and much lying-about-doing-nothing. The highlight was an hour's-long phone call with Offspring The Second, hearing about his new Adventures in places Northwest. It was truly delightful to hear him, and reminded me how much I really do miss him. Today, Boxing Day, I made a turkey-pot-pie out of leftovers from yesterday's dinner, and that was all the excitement for me. 

I've been battling a bit of a migraine for several days, brought about by changes in weather, end-of-year-work-stress, a few too many holiday cookies, and whatnot. Everything hurts a little bit. 

I am tired.

The spring promises to be very busy, because of my personal projects plus ongoing work. I need to gather strength and energy to move forward. 

One day at a time. We'll get there. 

Current mood. 

Gingerbread

I made gingerbread cookies. They were tiny, and delicious. 

Snacks

Because bunny-themed treats are where it's at. 

Contradiction

No, thank you, Facebook ad. 

Tube Relaxation

Step by Step

Flashback - in a Box

Yesterday's Facebook Flashback - a reminder of an excellent desert adventure. Seems like more than eleven years ago. Or perhaps much less. 

I did enjoy Percha Box very much. Perhaps someday I'll go there again.

I do need to plan some more Adventures for myself. It's been hard to focus on the things I might enjoy, what with the State of the World, The Plague, various Ailing Relatives, Copious Amounts of Work, and such. Perhaps a little imagining Good Things would be help.

Fancy Feast

It has been a horridly busy week with Work, but we were able to take an evening off yesterday for a social occasion dinner (with heated outside seating, for COVID safety purposes). Fancy!

Chewy

Offspring the Third built little wooden bunny-safe bits for toys for the critters. They were an INSTANT SUCCESS. Hooray!

Still a Sign of the Times

Ummmm

Well, the sign says, TUMERIC, but it still looks like giant grubs to me. 

Home Again

 Herself speaks.

Last week, I made a pilgrimage Northward, and visited my parents and my siblings. I hadn't seen my parents since the Christmas right before The Plage, and my siblings for even longer.

It was a good trip. The travel was tolerable (with the aid of a Benadryl-induced sleep for all of the flights), and most of the public wore their masks uncomplainingly. Everyone was good: my father, calm and reassuring and organized as ever, regaling us with hilarious tales of his awful summer jobs in high school and college; my mother, with her love of words, knowledge of travel, and extensive contemplation of all issues political and societal; my brother, cheerful and tenderly thoughtful and ever-so-delightedly-in-love with his charming wife; and my sister, an exquisitely welcoming hostess, loving mother, and entertaining storyteller. My People. 

The hardest part about visiting My People, is having to acknowledge how much I miss their company. It is easier, in the face of distance, to overlook or to put aside those feelings -- and to come face-to-face with the reality that I so rarely see the people who are the most important to me, is hard. 

Sometimes, I think that I was destined to love people from afar. There is always time, and often distance (whether literal or metaphorical), between me and those I love. I am accustomed to it -- I don't know any other way. 

It's the way of the world. 

Twenty-three

 Offspring the Third is now twenty-three years old. Time has flown. 

He is such a Good Egg: kind and thoughtful; hard working; the sort of person who notices and acknowledges other people's feelings, and who feels his own rather than hiding or swallowing them. Creative, clever. Cheerful. 

I am so proud of him, for how hard he tries at everything he does. He will go far, by sheer perseverance and force of will.

Happy Birthday, my sweet young man. 

Clumpy

Clumpy desert plants mean Home. 

Listening

A friend is one to whom one may pour out the contents of one's heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that gentle hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away. - Dinah Maria Craik

Woodpecker!

Photogenic Bun

Carols

Today's Earworm: Joseph's Lullaby (Mercy Me).

Why are so many Christmas carols, in a minor key? 

And is that why I love carols so much -- because of the combination of mournful/joyful? 

I hope you enjoy. 

Unwise Toys

Let the bonkers holiday ads begin.

No, Facebook  and Amazon. 

I would break myself for sure trying to use these.