Thanksgiving Solitude

Home Sweet Home

 We didn't do a big family dinner this Thanksgiving. Each of my kids did separate dinners just for their own households. I spent the day with Frankie: cooked scrambled eggs for breakfast and heated up a turkey pot pie for dinner. Frankie enjoyed sharing. Chatted on the phone and online with members of my family, and watched some BritBox -- my new favorite streaming source. In my family, we're taking this disease very seriously and all are trying hard not to get infected. It means doing things differently this year. But it really has been fine.

We change our traditions, we make new ones.

I've read a lot about senior citizens who are sad and lonely at missing the big family gatherings this year. I am not one of those. I wasn't sad at all. In fact, I really enjoyed not cooking a turkey for the first time in 42 years. I enjoyed being lazy and watching a lot of television and spending a little time outdoors with my Frankie on a beautiful fall day.

I grew up in a crowded household of eight children and parents somehow fitting into a 4-bedroom, 1-bath home. I went directly from home into marriage and in a few years began adding children. I would be 60 years old before I would know how it is to live entirely alone. I relished it. I love my family deeply. But I soon learned the beauty and peace to be found in solitude--something I had never known before that time. I remember at that time I wrote an essay about aloneness vs. loneliness. The former does not necessarily equate to the latter.

I understand not everyone sees aloneness as I do, and they crave human contact and association. But years of working from home really prepared me for the substitute of online, distanced communication -- both with co-workers and even my family.

These months of distancing due to Covid-19 have not been difficult for me. I do see my kids and friends once in awhile. In the summer time we had lunches on the patio. Sometimes one or another of them will drop by and we visit but keep our distance across a large room. And now I drive my grandsons to and from school one day a week (wearing masks, utilizing hand sanitizer, etc.). My monthly movie group has resorted to watching movies streaming online and then following with a Zoom online meetup to discuss. It works very well thanks to a local theater that streams indie and foreign and other popular movies of the sort we like. This all feels like sufficient contact for now. Christmas and New Year will come and go and we'll all survive.

 Next year, Thanksgiving will be different. Now that my kids have successfully done a dinner on their own, we will be able to share duties, as a family, putting on the dinner. I don't see myself doing it all myself ever again. And, if all goes to plan, I will have sold my house and moved to a new smaller place by then, too. I'm dreaming of that change--but more about that another time.

Things will eventually change in 2021, and we'll be back to close personal visits, meals, gatherings. And I'll love it when that happens. But I'm still going to enjoy a few more months of some precious solitude. I choose to think of this time as an opportunity I never had growing up or while raising my family. I will embrace the time I have for this.

Covid, Elm bugs, Staying Sane

This year has been anything but normal. The onset of Covid and our social distancing in March was just the beginning of so many unusual and unexpected events. I wasn't even going to blog about this because it seems so mundane. But taken all together, things start to weigh you down and I feel myself sometimes teetering on the edge of depression.

I am generally a positive, upbeat person and all about problem-solving. I like to remember a lawyer I once worked for, a brilliant man who was later an appeals court judge for Utah, but no longer with us now. When something went wrong, he would predictably blow up with loud yelling and swearing -- for about 30 seconds. Then he was over it and got down to solving the problem. He never yelled at people, just the universe. I never took it personally, even when the mistake was mine. But I learned a valuable lesson in problem solving: it's fine to rant and vent; but the sooner you can get to figuring out the solutions, the sooner you're going to be feeling better about it. "All right," he would say, "here's what we're going to do." And from there on it was a pragmatic exercise in finding the best options and getting the thing done. And often, he ended with some humor and good-natured kidding.

Normally, I try to approach problems that same way. Pragmatism is my middle name. And humor is my anti-depressive medication. I'm not going to put up a laundry list of my summertime troubles now. Suffice it to say, I've plugged along with the yard and house responsibilities fairly well. I finally hired a guy to mow just the front lawn to help me out. And I've decided this week to hire a guy to finish up weeding the yard for me as it's getting just too hot.

The yard cleanup and fixup has been slow because I'm old and slow. I have to stop when I have too much pain. But I am really pleased with the things I've gotten done. My patio had become a place of beauty and serenity. I invited people over as it was a great place for social distancing while socializing. We ordered in food or brought our own lunches. It felt good to have human interaction and feel safe about it. But all of that ended this week with the invasion of the Elm Seed Bugs -- the thing that has finally gotten the best of me.

This is a relatively new pest to Utah, arriving around 2009. This is my first year with it. They feed on the seeds of the trashy Siberian Elm tree, of which there are two gigantic ones on my neighbor's property, hanging over mine. These trees have been a source of great irritation to me over the years. This year brought an especially prolific number of the white round elm seeds which covered the yard and looked almost like snow, impossible to rake up.

My neighbor's house sits atop a steep hill above the trees, and he has multiple levels of block walls holding the hill in place. He believes the trees help stabilize the hill. He once threatened to sue another neighbor who removed an elm tree that was literally knocking down a fence. So, I know this is already a touchy subject.

To add insult to the nastiness of the tree, this neighbor needed a place for first one and then two ugly storage sheds, which he decided to place on the bottom tier of block wall, right next to my property line and under that obnoxious tree. The sheds are two different sizes and color and look hideous right there next to the corner of my deck. But I have tried to take it in stride, training some ivy to climb along the side to eventually hide the ugly things. But that irritation now pales in comparison to the elm seed bug invasion.

A little over a week ago, I walked out on the patio, to see hordes of tiny black bugs all over the walls of my house on the southwest corner by the elm tree. I sprayed with my usually effective insect spray. And lots of bugs died. But more kept coming to replace them. And, yes, some of those died, but many didn't. They started coming inside the house. Then I walked out the front door (which I rarely use) and saw a terrifying sight of thousand of bugs all over the tall outside entry to my house. It was sickening. I used the hose to wash them all away and realized I was dealing with something bigger than my little sprayer could handle. A question to my gardening group on Facebook produced the name of the bug and enabled me to research and find out how to deal with it. I looked closely at the limbs and leaves of the elm tree; there were literally thousands of the bugs within my immediate view. I called an exterminator and had the entire outside of the house sprayed as well as the tree, to the extent possible. I did some selective spraying also on the inside.

And now I wait. Every day there are new dead bodies. Every day, I use the leaf blower to get rid of them outside and vacuum inside. There are fewer and fewer each day, but they are still arriving.

These things are not harmful: they don't bite, they don't eat your garden, they don't eat furniture, clothing or food. They are just gross simply because of the sheer numbers and how they collect together. For now, my patio furniture is all bunched together at one side, covered in plastic awaiting the end of the plague. I've educated myself on these pests, and I know eventually they will go dormant. But it could be weeks until then.

I'm exhausted and disgusted with cleaning them up. It feels like I'm neglecting so much else and I'm getting a little behind. I'm very sad I can't use my patio which is so pleasant, even on the hottest days. There are still too many bugs. Did I mention these pests also fly? My best option for having people over is no more.  My escape spot for evening sunset watching or morning coffee drinking and enjoying the birds, the flowers and the fresh air is no more. It really hit me hard when I realized how much of a loss that was to me in this year of Covid, with no idea when I can use that patio again.

When will things return to normal? Suddenly, I felt so underwater with everything. Even depressed.

This weekend I saw a little doe eating flowers in my yard. I took a picture of her. She was completely unfazed by my presence and continued eating. There was something almost calming and pleasant in watching that sweet non-threatening animal. Something normal in a year of insanity. Watching her made me laugh because that has certainly been one consistency in all my years living at this house--the deer eat my flowers. My pragmatic self returned.

Okay, I have to keep on diligently cleaning up dead bugs. What other choice do I have? And I'll meet up with people in other ways, keeping as safe as possible. I'll keep working on my to do lists for inside and out. I may even sell my house this summer if I get everything ready. I think the Elm Seed bug invasion has finally made me look forward to that major change in my life. But that's another topic for another time.

Distancing

It has been a strange few months. Who would ever have expected life would take this turn when the whole world is fighting a terrible, highly contagious and deadly virus. Who would have expected that schools would close, businesses would close, people would work from home where possible, and, people stay at home practicing social distancing.

Social Distancing:
Wash hands
Don't touch face
Wear a mask
Stay at least 6 feet apart
Stay home as much as possible
If sick, get tested and don't go around people

By extension, for me, this has meant ordering my groceries online and picking up at the curb. I am lucky I have multiple options for this and, for now, all are offering the service for free where they would normally charge a fee. I've become a regular customer for a local bakery that has curbside pickup just because the grocery store tends to smash the bread. I also found hardware stores that deliver to the curb, and have been able to get everything I need either there or by ordering online.

My movie/lunch group has been cancelled for months now. I stopped (for the most part) visiting grandkids, kids, and my mother. In fact, I really stopped going anywhere. During March and April, that was not so bad. I watched a lot of Netflix and Hulu and kept in touch with everyone electronically. It's something you can do for awhile. But it does wear thin after awhile.

May brought more opportunities to be outside working in the yard. But I have found it hard to really do justice there. It has taken me all month to finally hit a good pace. I have visited a couple of outdoor garden shops. I wore a mask but found many people did not. It does not make me feel confident being out and about.

Life just feels so strange, so different. No previous routine works anymore. And I haven't yet figured out a new routine. I have come to appreciate how beneficial it is to have routines.

Now states are opening up and businesses are opening up, I feel a little more need to remain sheltered. The virus is particularly deadly for people of my age and I continue to need to stay well. But we have learned more about spread of the virus and I am willing to have a little more personal interaction. I have visited my son's family and grandkids a couple of times. We stayed a good distance apart and no hugging or direct contact.

I've planned a lunch on my patio with a friend on Tuesday. We'll each bring our own lunch. I'll make sure all surfaces are cleaned and disinfected, and we'll stay well apart. Then on Saturday, I will host a birthday party on the patio with my son's family. We will follow the same rules, bringing our own food and keeping distance. But the backyard is pretty. There's lots of space and seating on the deck and patio. And being outdoors, we can still have fun without getting close.

I still have to be careful around my family because my son and daughter-in-law are both working in the office one or more days a week. I will probably start visiting my 91-year old mother again, but only outside and I'll probably even take my own chair. Some other members of my family are around her all the time and I fear she will be exposed by those who are not cognizant of the possibility they could carry infection to her.

 Before I can drive to Ogden, I need to get my snow tires switched to summer tires. But my tire shop is not Covid-friendly. Normally, I would drop off the car and either wait in the waiting room or get a courtesy ride home. Now, neither of those options is okay for me. But they will not give me a fixed appointment--I have to just come in and get in line with everyone needing tire work. I explained I'm in a high risk group and asked if they had some way to accommodate people like me. They said, no. So, I will try showing up before they open the doors and try to be first in line, and take my own chair and sit on the lawn to the side of the building.

Today, our country will probably cross the terrible threshold of 100,000 deaths from Covid-19. The pandemic is not over. But to my amazement, people all around the country are acting as if it doesn't exist anymore and ignoring social distancing rules. I understand the wish to be out doing things and living life as normal. But the virus doesn't stop infecting just because we pretend it's not there. I believe this all means I will need to continue my own distancing practice for much longer while more people become infected and until there is a vaccine.

Life is forever changed. I look forward to some kind of new normal. Meanwhile, I will tend my garden.

Earthquake - 5.7 magnitude

Here in the greater Salt Lake (Utah) valley at 7:09 a.m. we were all startled awake by a strong 5.7 earthquake centered west of the city, just west of the airport. I am normally up and awake at that time, but had had a sleepless night and after hours awake, had managed to get back to sleep only to be thus awakened.

When it began, I first felt aware of Frankie next to me on the bed shaking his tags loudly, as he does to let me know he wants to go out. But the bed was shaking too -- hard. What the heck, Frankie? Within a second I thought earthquake, tried to get up. I was still halfway in a dream that seemed to flow into the event, though I can't remember now anything of the dream. By the time I struggled to stand up, it stopped. I let Frankie out and dove into a series of texts and calls from all my kids.

Since this morning there have been over 50 aftershocks -- most of them small -- but two strong ones at 4.5 and another 4.6 just an hour ago. I had a false sense of security for awhile, as the aftershocks had dropped off and were quite small -- and then that big one hit. Now, I'm seriously rattled and just waiting on edge for the next one. Frankie is starting to get edgy, too.

All my kids and grandkids checked in with me right away. Family is all okay and no damage. Around the valley, only minor injuries have been reported and some damaged buildings. The airport suffered damage and was shut down for awhile, but is back in operation now.

I am already staying home practicing social distancing due to the coronavirus plague. I have quite a few projects lined up to keep busy around the house and yard. But today, I'm taking a break from productivity and just do some extra self-care. Starting with writing about the experience.

 On the home front, my favorite neighbors are now getting their house ready to sell and I expect they will be leaving soon. It has made me realize I don't want to stay in this house anymore. For a year or so I've been looking at nice little one-level homes in the neighborhood where two of my sons and their families live. It won't take me long to get my house ready to sell. I have a few little things inside that need attention. Outside, I need to finish the cleanup I didn't do last fall. But I won't engage in all the planting I usually do. Just clean up, fertilize, mulch, edit out any plants that aren't looking well, and probably add some annuals for a pop of color.

It's a big step to think seriously about leaving the home I've lived in for over 40 years. But the world is a changed place. I need a new normal. We all do, really. There will be long-term effects from the pandemic. In addition, there's been an explosion of apartment and condo building just a few blocks from my house, and traffic, noise, and other issues are starting to change greatly in this neighborhood. I guess it's as good a time as any to make a big move.

Yes, I'm still a little shaky. I keep thinking we're having another shake, and then I realize it's me that's shaking. Our earthquake event is apparently not over. But now I've written about it, and I'm hoping the worst of it is behind us.

What next, world? What next?

UPDATE: Here we are 5 days later and 100s of aftershocks later. I had experienced one large earthquake prior to this, but did not have this much aftershock activity. After a 4.0 shock that  was felt all the way to Ogden yesterday, and many questions on Twitter, the USGS tookk the time to explain more about aftershocks and that this is actually normal and not indicative of something bigger to come. I do appreciate the reassurance. But this whole thing really is unnnerving; especially in conjunction with the virus pandemic.