What cabin fever + depression are to winter, house arrest + lethargy are to summer.
Too hot to move or think straight
However, intrepid middle-aged suburbanites that we are, on Sunday afternoon we managed to get up on our hind legs, voluntarily leaving our air-conditioned home to go for a walk in a popular township park.
A glorious sunny day
It was the sort of day that usually brings out everybody and their dog and their grandma, but instead of a hundred people at the park there were maybe 10. Too sweltering outside I suspect. Still the lack of people was a bit… disconcerting… odd… unexpected.
Not at all normal
Nonetheless we slowly meandered around the paved paths, free from human distraction, not needing to wear our masks obviously. And for posterity I snapped a few photos of the stunningly blue sky and the amazingly green grass.
After a lovely sunny weekend that suggested Summer was here, we’ve been inundated with rain. Constantly. The kind of rain that brings flash floods.
Spring is back and says *HA!* fooled you, sucker.
My gardening projects are on hold because I don’t do mud.
Plus I’m a mellow woman so I’ll get to weeding + planting + trimming in due time. It’s not like the flower beds are going anywhere. Even with the threat of flash floods I think our yard is safe. It won’t be washed away.
Thus instead of being outside in the garden I’ve been sitting inside our screened-in porch observing the weather, watching the gray sky above, noticing the monotony of falling rain. This has put me into a contemplative mood about these last few months.
The great pause, as many are calling it.
These long days during which many of us are not doing what we thought we would be doing this Spring.
I find it trippy to realize that everything in society is being transformed around me while I sit at home waiting to see how these changes will affect me and my relationships and my lifestyle.
On the one hand I feel completely insignificant. Passive, even. Just waiting, twiddling my thumbs.
However on the other hand I feel *hell to the yes* I’m doing something. I’m actively holding it together in the middle of a pandemic. I’m demonstrating a bit of grace + tact + cooperation while feeling wistful about, but not dwelling on, what was normal.
A normal we’ll never see again.
I accept that life is different now, but what I think it means for me, how I feel about it? Well, my feelings are all over the place while the hours pass and I muse a little more.
Waiting to get into the garden, and my life, again.
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QUESTIONS OF THE DAY
How are you feeling about these last few months?
Do you find yourself going back and forth, up and down, hither and yon with your feelings?
It’s Tuesday, the day of the week when I plan on posting to this blog.
‘Tis a fact.
However, I’m finding that I have less to say than normal, words escape me. Or perhaps I’ve become more succinct with my words when I use them.
In truth I’m becoming more relaxed, introspective about my current lifestyle. All things considered I’m cheerful and content to spend more time at home; I figure if this is how you stay healthy, why not become a hermit?
[Meant to be a rhetorical question but worth pondering. How well are any of us adapting to this stay at home lifestyle?]
So in lieu of me rambling on here, attempting to write about my usual flapdoodle and twaddle, I’ll give you the following which is delightfully wordy and worth a listen.
On The Allusionist, a podcast by Helen Zaltzman, there is an episode called “Tranquillusionist: Your Soothing Words.” It’s 10 minutes of unexpected aural mellowness while Zaltzman reads 343 words.
[Click on HERE to be taken directly to the page on which you can find the doohickey thingie that lets you listen to a podcast on your computer. Or follow The Allustionist on a podcast app on your phone and find the episode there.]
And with that, I wish you well, my gentle readers. May you find ways in which to honor and center yourself while remaining safe during a strange time in the history of the world.
Live with intention. Engage with clarity. Share with joy.
1. Find two puzzles with the same number of pieces that were cut using the same machine. Just because two puzzles are from the same company and have the same number of pieces doesn’t mean they have the same shape pieces. Lesson learned hard way on this point.
2. Put together one of the puzzles then put together the other puzzle beside the first puzzle. Stare at the puzzles until your eyes cross you see an interesting way to mix the images in each puzzle. This takes imagination, but you can do it; time is your friend.
3. Carefully begin the process of extracting the pieces that form one image in the first puzzle, setting these pieces aside on a flat surface like a baking sheet, then extract the same area from the second puzzle. This requires patience and a steady hand.
4.Put pieces from the first puzzle into the empty space created in the second puzzle. Continue this mixing of the pieces until you’ve created your own unique puzzle that makes you smile. If you’re not smiling at this point you’re doing this wrong.
5. Photograph your masterpieces, pat yourself on the back, then deconstruct your puzzles, keeping track of which pieces belong in each box. Congratulations, you’re officially a jigsaw puzzle artist nonpareil.
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Your turn. Whatcha been doing for snorts & giggles? What else should we be doing with all this free time? Please share your ideas in the comments below.