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It Is What It Is #SocialDistancing #SoCS

Spring has arrived.

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As it stands, we
welcome
our new reality, even as we resist what that means.

I listen to two US sources, along with the national news here in Canada too.

I’ve been listening to Michael Moore and his podcast since before Christmas, when his main goal was to fight to get #45 out of office. It’s become something else now that most of us couldn’t have seen coming.

I’ve been listening to Rachel Maddow and in her most recent episode, she ended the show by announcing the death of an NBC colleague who lost his life to covid-19 and she lost control and became choked up as she said it.

Most of us aren’t that close to this yet, but who knows what the next weeks and months could bring upon us all.

Panic. Don’t panic. Panic. Don’t panic.

I am one who learned about this coronavirus with a slow dawning, a realization that’s just now beginning to scare me. It was only end of January that I was still relatively oblivious and planning an adventure to walk the Thames River Path in England. This new reality hit me soon after.

Since then, I’ve been around some people, but I now feel the instinct to totally isolate from all people.

Every time I send someone out to run an errand for me, they could potentially pick up this virus themselves. Should I stop this, for their sakes and mine?

I get paranoid with germs (for years) and now. Where are they? How close by are they? Which surface are they living on?

I’ve been cushioned here in my town, in my county, but reality inches ever nearer. I listen to accounts from doctors and nurses who are already seeing emergency rooms and ICU’s full of the sick, numbers then reported on the nightly news and 24/7 online.

I take deep breaths, sitting here and when I step outside, the now spring air streaming into my lungs as I go out with my dog.

I went for a walk, fell and twisted my ankle and skinned my knee, but I got back up again and kept walking. I wanted to feel myself, moving through the world, grateful I am still well.

I went to a medical appointment and it was a breeze compared to how it usually is. The doctor and his pain clinic moved out of the hospital setting and into a recently abandoned medical practise next door. I was in and out, no waiting in a waiting room with a dozen other people, but straight in to the room, after I’d been given a mask to wear. I haven’t worn one since being on dialysis back in the late 90’s.

I sanitized my hands and got my nerve block injections for my headaches, that I’ve been receiving for almost a year now.

I questioned whether I should have gone there, gone out at all, but things moved along so quickly because many patients did decide to cancel.

I worry for my parents. They aren’t in the highest risk group, but they are over sixty.

I worry about my sister, doing her work in the midst of this time of year which is tax season, ever so slightly delayed like school and everything else.

I worry for my brother-in-law who works in a factory.

I worry about my older brother who needs to go into work to support his family.

I worry for my younger brother who had a kidney transplant in 2013 and who has had other medical issues, before and since then. He and I are both immunosuppressed, not currently on dialysis or a cancer patient receiving chemotherapy, but I don’t know how this new strain of virus might act if either one of us were to catch it. I’ve never had pneumonia and the idea of basically drowning when the lungs are overloaded is terrifying.

I worry for my sister who has asthma and her husband who is a type one diabetic, who just recently recovered from mono. They have two young children and I’m only thankful that my nieces and nephews are at much lower risk of contracting this.

My father and mother work still, front line workers really, as she works in a group home and taking care of vulnerable people and he takes people in wheelchairs where they need to go in his specialized cab.

Here in Canada we have a wonderful healthcare system, but we see what’s happening in Italy and we must learn all we can. I feel better sometimes, most of the time, hearing the news here in Canada and feeling I’m safest here when compared to anywhere else, but things can keep getting worse with every case reported and all the ones that aren’t quite yet.

This is not at all how I saw 2020 playing out.

I had a friend who was traveling and another who’s about to. I can’t do much about that, but I still worry. So many who would have not gone and those still trying to get back home.

I have an old friend, from childhood, who moved to Ireland for medical school and is now a doctor there. I don’t know how much risk she’s at since all this, but I keep track of the news of this virus out of that country too.

I can’t control any of this and the last thing I wanted to do was see this happening, but we’ve been warned of a possible pandemic to come. Well it’s here, sweeping across the globe bringing with it waves of destruction and instability.

I worry about people’s jobs and the economy that I understand little about. I studied history and the Great Depression in the 1930’s. I learned about the Spanish flu of 1918 and how that washed over humanity during that time. We’ve come far with medical knowledge and still we are left battered by something so tiny, invisible and deadly in many cases, but people think it’s like any other flu season we’ve known in our lifetime.

I know it may be petty, but I’ve started calling #45 covid-45 because of his unique ability to be cruel and ignorant and incompetent at a time when the whole world needs effective leaders who also care, even just a little.

I like to listen to flocks of birds out my window and above my head. They fly by and I wish I could fly too.

Our winter was mild and yet I’m pleased to feel spring is in the air. I am finding things to bring me a few moments of peace because I know we’re at war, World War III if you want to call it that, but it’s a battle raging on in nearly all places now. It is just now making it to the northern parts of Canada and in our territories. It’s on islands that want to keep it from swamping their systems. The border between Canada and the US and that between them and Mexico, closed to all but essential trade.

Europe is being ravaged by it and it will get into refugee camps and already war torn regions, places across the African continent and in bustling cities where social distancing isn’t a thing.

For humans, in most cultures, having to stop shaking hands or hugging or kissing of cheeks is so difficult to do. Whereas I’m not struggling with that as much as I am to not touch my own face a thousand times a day.

People can’t believe they are in the position, for the first time, of being prevented from travel to their heart’s desire and content. They, we’ve, I’ve always had that option of traveling and the freedom of choice. Yet, when I hear people complaining that they are bored and dreaming of the moment they’re told it’s safe to do so again, I want to scream. I don’t know why, as I’m among them, but I know we’ve all been spoiled when air travel is so common and wanderlust is a thing.

I have multiple rolls of toilet paper here still and am not letting that stress me out, but I don’t like what I’m seeing of people out in grocery stores. I go back and forth between feelings of panic and calm, though I am never sure what I’m panicking about. I can’t pinpoint anything for sure in my buzzing brain.

I can’t concentrate on writing the things I’d planned on writing so far this year. I can’t manage anything more than stream of consciousness writing at the moment.

My dreams are vivid and my waking hours are spent trying not to bombard my head and heart with opinions and facts and statistics.

This is a numbers game, as the saying goes, but this time this is no game we’re playing. I’m no good at numbers games at the best of times.

People who are already greedy or selfish will only look for ways to enrich themselves in this, all while I know this virus can take hold in any one of us, doing as much or as little damage as it sees fit.

People are afraid and in denial as a form of self preservation, but the world is also populated by resilience and brilliant minds already at work.

I’m getting by on the stories that keep coming out, stories of courage from front line workers and from communities coming together to pick up groceries and medications for those who can’t.

We’re depending on our medical professionals and our food delivery drivers and those in the factories and the plants, but they have families and bodies that are vulnerable to getting sick.

I am used to hiding away in my own solitude and I don’t want to start worrying, any time I’m around another person, but maybe now is the time to isolate from friends for sure and now even family members.

I don’t know what to think.

So we are welcoming spring and wondering what’s to come. Some say we’re making more of this than is necessary, like young people who celebrated spring break and think they’re invincible. None of us are invincible.

We humans have our social media now and can stay in touch with loved ones and we should. We’re not used to being constricted in our movements and in our socializing. We’re told to stay in our homes, except for those necessities of life, but we can’t handle being cooped up for long.

Will this last weeks or months or more? We hate to think it could. Loneliness even though we can connect easier than any period in history.

I don’t know where I’m going with all this. I take chunks of time off of Facebook and I watch a show from my childhood. I can recall difficult times in my past and how I made it through and that helps, but this is a new one on me.

I think of my indoor cat now and what his life consists of. Human beings won’t stand for that for long, but I’ve seen some beautiful examples of people in places like Italy and Spain making the best of these circumstances. Each of us and our governments are dealing with this in stages, but sometimes swift measures are necessary ones.

I’m trying to wait this out, to ride it out, but I don’t know what to expect and I know emotions are running high.

I envy the innocence of the children in my life right now, but I’m now afraid to be around them, around anyone. I hate that feeling.

How are all of you coping with all this? I know I’m not alone and neither are you.

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TToT: Thirty-six Pick Up Sticks #BlanketSea #10Thankful

Let’s just dive in.

Ten Things of Thankful #10Thankful

I am a little older and wiser since the tenth of the month and yet I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m headed. Currently, I am listening to a live feed from a famous pub in Dublin, Ireland with live, Friday night entertainment.

I did turn thirty-six recently and my niece and nephew were so excited to start celebrating with me. We had a cake made and sampled by the time my sister arrived with dinner.

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I am thankful for family on my birthday. Even my nearly three-year-old niece sang. She loves to sing.

I am thankful for loved ones who can bring me smoothies, milkshakes, and oranges to soothe my sore throat.

I am thankful my post birthday cold didn’t last too long.

I am thankful for the nerve blocks I’ve been getting.

I am a little wary of being injected in my head, but in the nerves specifically. I have had Botox to try to treat headaches in the past. Nerve blocks are helping one very specific headache I get.

I am thankful to have written a poetry review for a talented artist’s first poetry chapbook.

You can read it here.

If you like what you hear, check her out.

I am thankful for my core group of three writing women who I get to write with twice a month.

They have such unique imagination in their heads and stories they read out to the group.

I am full of gratitude that they share with me in such a special way.

I am thankful we in Canada are starting to work on healing the deep rifts here between Indigenous groups and the government and your average Canadian citizen.

Canada loves the rule of law (unless we’re talking Indigenous rights)

Okay, well if we’re not doing a great job so far, I at least hope everyone doesn’t give up and keeps talking.

I know things seem particularly rough right now, but at least we’re facing these issues, head-on. When we push them down and hope they won’t make too much trouble, it only prolongs any possible solutions.

I don’t pretend to know the answers, but I feel quite emotional about it all when I think of the history of this land and how it will all progress in future.

The live performance at Temple Pub and they are doing a version of this, one of my favourite songs by The Cranberries, after all this time.

It reminds me to keep on dreaming for myself. I am extremely grateful for dreams, but I remind myself of this lyric often:

“Don’t mind dreams. It’s never quite as it seems. Never quite as it seems.”

I am thankful for February. This winter hasn’t been as cold as some likely have been, but still cold enough for complaints, but I love this time of year better than summer.

I am thankful for anything I can do to distract myself from some of what’s going on in the world these days. I’m nervous that 2020 will be a long, rather scary year in some ways, but that’s why I keep doing all the things that bring me fulfillment and joy to balance it all out.

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TToT: Yellow Gold and Paula Red, #10Thankful

“But the fall was beautiful, too. There was the joy of winds blowing in from a darkly blue gulf and the splendour of harvest moons. There were lyric asters in the Hollow and children laughing in an apple-laden orchard, clear serene evenings on the high hill pastures of the Upper Glen and silvery mackerel skies with dank birds flying across them; and, as the days shortened, little grey mists stealing over the dunes and up the harbour.”

ANNE OF INGLESIDE

I skipped this most helpful of gratitude exercises for a week or two, feeling like the odd one out with my lack of enthusiasm for summer and desire to see the end of the Labor Day long weekend, but I am thrilled that September has arrived because I have a feeling it’s going to be a most excellent month.

Ten Things of Thankful

I’m thankful we have a friend from Ireland visiting for a few weeks.

I’m thankful for my sister’s help on a contract for a writing assignment I’ve been given.

More to come on this next month, but the whole process is still an intimidating one.

I’m thankful for waves at the lake.

Such bodies of water are a beautiful show of nature’s power. I am awed by them.

I got to sit at the shore, on a chair with my feet in the water, and feel the waves wash in and then the pull of them going back out again.

I’m thankful for an especially intense violin lesson.

I was struggling to learn a certain rhythm in a certain part of the song. It was a challenge and I kept at it.

I’m thankful I could play along with my teacher.

I would have thought it would make me more nervous, but it seems to give me courage and encouragement.

I’m thankful for peaches in ice cream.

I’m thankful I got my story out on what made my summer special.

Tap to Travel: A Unique Reason to Visit Orlando

I’m thankful for a sunburn that’s healing.

Entirely my fault, but sun: I bow down to your mighty rays.

It was a particularly bad one, on both my legs, but I now have a greater appreciation for the pain burn victims endure. The skin is an amazing organ, but I really must stop putting mine at risk, as mine is an increased risk of skin cancer from being an organ transplant recipient.

I’m thankful I don’t have to start school this week, though I do have some plans.

I’m thankful for September.

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TToT: Pink, Blue, and Violet Too – Celtified! #10Thankful

When you’re tired and you find you can’t sleep,
Hear the song of the wise willow tree.
Feel the breeze kiss her leaves,
So soft and so sweet:
When you’re tired and you find you can’t sleep.

—Willow Lullaby

I was taken by surprise when I, again, discovered music, from here in Canada and known as Cassie and Maggie MacDonald. They were from Nova Scotia and visiting Ontario recently.

I’d like to learn/improve violin (even try playing fiddle in my imagination) and also how to speak Celtic. When I was in Ireland I only left knowing one phrase: Pog mo thoin

Strip the Willow Set … Blue Willow … The Willow Lullaby … Down in the Willow Garden…

See a pattern with the song titles forming here?

Ten Things of Thankful

I am thankful for the work my brother puts into our podcast together.

KETCHUP ON PANCAKES: British C or B Columbia

I am thankful for a beautiful live fiddle concert.

I was tapping my foot along with the faster songs and then slow ones like Willow Lullaby had me solemn.

Thank you to those who suggested/brought me along to the show and to Cassie and Maggie and their interesting between-song stories, excellent sisterly talents, and the folk music and lyrics I am now listening to on Apple Music, on repeat.

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme

This phrase was one of the songs they did and I was caught curious about its meaning. After listening to their version of the song, (Maiden’s Lament), I decided the part about thyme representing a young woman’s virginity was somewhat off-putting, but I rather focus on the empowering message not to waste precious time with someone or something negative or unhealthy because life is short.

I’m thankful for little bottles of champaign.

On a hot day, in a busy bar, I ordered a bottle and drank straight from it. A glass was included, but I’d rather not, which makes me unsophisticated, not allowing the bubbles to breathe. Still, it was easier without and I don’t know enough to taste any difference.

I’m thankful for an excellent fiddle album from a musician with the same name as mine.

Look up Kerry Fitzgerald if you have a streaming service, and even if you don’t. She is from near me, though she tours all over. This album is Fiddle Beatz and the mix of her fiddle (violin music) and electronics, plus parts of her own voice make it awesome.

I’m thankful for a surprise email about organ donation.

Someone I met recently took the time to pick up the card, fill it out, and mail it off. She told me it is because she met me that she saw this through, that my brother and I put a relatable human face to the issue.

And now…a short TToT intermission halfway through.

***

So sleep with the sweetest of dreams;
May you dance in the light of moonbeams.
And sing, “Hey Diddle Diddle,” with the cat and his fiddle:
Sleep with the sweetest of dreams.

***

I’m thankful for something cold to drink on a hot day’s walk home.

I am thankful for Apple Music.

I am thankful for a new Lily Allen album.

Lost My Mind – Lily Allen

I am thankful for indoor plumbing.

I can’t tell you just how much.

I am thankful for first local strawberries of the season.

Strawberries, thyme, and the willow tree.

When you find you can’t sleep the night through,
And your worries, they come back to you:
Rest your head on the pillow,
Of leaves from the willow:
If you find you can’t sleep the night through.

—Willow Lullaby

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TToT: Bewitched, Bothered, Bewildered – Clair De Lune, #ShareYourShaw #10Thankful

“Myths can’t be translated as they did in their ancient soil.
We can only find our own meaning in our own time.”

—-Margaret Atwood

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I’m trying hard, this week, at this adulting thing. I couldn’t give a damn about the great Laurel vs Yanny debate of 2018, but I am thankful for a lot.

Ten Things of Thankful

I’m thankful for a damn good book.

This song came on, as a part of starting and ending off the audiobook version of
All The Light We Cannot See
and I was rapidly swept up in the story, in part, thanks to this music having been added.

I found this book, in Munro’s Books in Victoria, BC.

I hadn’t heard an audiobook in a long while and was soon reminded why they can be so great.

And now I have even more specific places to travel.

I’m thankful for wine in a little travel mug.

Of course, Niagara Falls and Niagara On The Lake are famous spots, also known for the wine produced in the region.

While waiting for the show to start, they were serving wine and putting it in plastic collector’s cups that I took out on the wisteria covered patio.

It was a little awkward, drinking a drink like wine from a tiny hole in the plastic lid, but I was glad I went for it.

Perhaps, not quite as sophisticated as drinking wine from a glass, but fun for the type of day it was.

I’m thankful for Stephen Fry live and in person at The Shaw Festival in Niagara.

He is witty and charming. He is clever and more than capable of telling an interesting story, especially that of Greek mythology, which many people (including myself in high school) can find obscure and complicated.

I’m thankful for Niagara Falls and its caretaker seagulls and other birds.

There’s something, already, about Niagara Falls that I love, but then I stand there and listen to the various birds that live around the area. I’ll admit, there’s definitely something about that place and those who call it home that gets my imagination off and running.

Just to imagine being able to fly around and over those waterfalls, to land on rocks in the middle of the Niagara River or directly on the edge, and be able to lift off and fly away again.

What a place to call home.

As always, I simply stood there and stared at all that water and all that force. I listened to the roar. I felt the vibrations. It was so strange, the back and forth of the warm May air of the day one second, and the rush of cold mossy air coming off the Falls on my face the next.

I’m thankful for purple rain.

Not the song, but the drink.

I’m thankful for raspberry yogurt cheesecake.

Enough said.

I’m thankful for the scent of lilacs on my back deck.

I’m thankful that Ireland has made the right decision for women’s rights.

Ireland votes by landslide to legalise abortion

I can’t imagine making that choice, but the choice is a personal health one and often a medical one. It’s about what’s happening in a woman’s own body and nobody (least of all politicians) should have a say.

I know it’s a religion question for many and it comes off like a moral one and I understand. It isn’t a pleasant thing to think about, but I will side with the woman every time. To everyone else, nobody forces you to do anything to your own body that you don’t want, but making it hard to access or illegal doesn’t get rid of it. The reality of it doesn’t go away just because you want it to.

I’m thankful for my father’s willingness to cut my lawn.

I live in my home, a lot for just me to manage, but he’s always there and happy to cut my grass all spring/summer long and even into the fall.

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And I’m thankful for wisteria because it makes my mother happy.

“Myth is much more important and true than history.
History is just journalism and you know how reliable that is.”
—-Joseph Campbell

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TToT: Black Holes and Doughnut Holes – Heather and Bogs, #10Thankful

“My advice to other disabled people would be, concentrate on things your disability doesn’t prevent you doing well, and don’t regret the things it interferes with. Don’t be disabled in spirit, as well as physically,” said Stephen Hawking, renowned physicist and director of research at the Center for Theoretical Cosmology, University of Cambridge, in a May 2011 interview with The New York Times.

I’m trying Stephen, I’m trying.

Stephen Hawking’s Canadian connection.

His knowledge of cosmology was mind-blowing to me, to me as a young girl who loved space and the planets, and now I listen to his words (still left behind) about his curiosity at what’s out there, up there, somewhere.

Stephen Hawking was, it seems to me, about three things: family, curiosity, and humour.

Ten Things of Thankful

I’m thankful my passion project has been released.

http://www.cfb.ca

My movie survey is right there on the home page.

I’m thankful my father and my uncle had a successful and necessary road trip together this week.

They had to travel, go for a few days, to deal with a few things from my uncle’s passing away last week.

I’m just glad they could do it together, as brothers.

I’m thankful I heard back from a few local media outlets about spreading my message for better audio description.

My local
radio station (104.7 HeartFM)
put my story on the Friday morning news report and on their website.

I’m thankful for another yoga session and I felt no lingering issues.

I felt badly about myself, a little as I was doing the stretches, but tried to give myself a break.

I really do wish I were more flexible, in ways that matter like strength and balance, but I do pay close attention to the sound of her voice as I try to follow along and not think too much.

If you know me much at all, you know that’s not so easy for me, but that’s the one hour out of my week I really try my best.

I’m thankful my part (introduction) is almost entirely complete on a paper about the value of braille.

I was thankful to have the help from a research and referencing expert, a library student, to give my writing credibility. I would never want to appear as if I were trying to take credit for words, thoughts, or ideas that weren’t my own.

I am not sure what is left to do, where this paper will end up, but I am proud I am part of it.

I’m thankful for Ireland.

I don’t use St. Patrick’s Day as an excuse to get shit faced, but I do understand the celebration of a country such as Ireland because it is an important place to me.

I’m thankful for Canada.

When all hell’s breaking loose with the current US Wh, and when governments like China and Russia seem so corrupt because their leaders seem to go unchallenged, I am grateful for the relative calm here.

I know some would argue about the actual fairness of things, even here, but I know it could be worse. Even when I find Ontario to be heading in the wrong direction, I can feel good that people can choose.

I am thankful I can speak about such things, here on my blog, without fear of being silenced.

Nobody’s attempting to assassinate me by poisoning with a powerful nerve agent. Phew.

I’m thankful for Stephen Hawking’s words (see above, to the quote at the top of this post).

I am thankful, also, for his ability to see the lighter side of life.

RIP Mr. Hawking.

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Purple and Green, #FTSF #SoCS

Are you acquainted with “Steve” by any chance?

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He’s making science news today, here in Canada and the north, in a big, expansive way.

It’s St. Patrick’s Day: green beer, green rivers even. Everything is turned the colour green. Over the skies in Alberta, I believe, it is purple dancing in the night though, not the usual green of Northern Lights, ones I won’t likely ever see, like the colour green I miss and still try to hold onto inside my head.

I don’t care for all the revelry of this day, the kind that makes people let loose and get out of control even, arrests made, but it’s a celebration and I don’t fight that. I do believe some people don’t need much of an excuse to act ridiculous. I may be no wildly outgoing partier, but I love Ireland and I’d celebrate its existence any old time.

The colours seen in the sky are named Steve and I find that curious. Steve sounds like an Irish name to me.

My favourite character in Downton Abbey is Irish, the chauffeur Tom Branson. He is one of the best in that series.

I am away from all the noise today, no drinking for me, but I can practically hear the laughter from here, of a day where people let it all out. It’s green and I like green, green Ireland. What could be better?

Another
Stream of Consciousness Saturday
and a humorous
stream of consciousness
Finish the Sentence Friday proceeding it.

With Kristi and co-host
Kenya G. Johnson of Sporatically Yours
to make the stream of consciousness pairing complete.

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