November 26: Day of Turkeys
Just Jorj, Jakob, and myself today. The menu is things we like. Still feeling like I should be baking more. Were is my productiveness?? Not that I didn't make orange-cranberry sauce and bake a pie last night, bake orange-cranberry and lemon-ginger scones for breakfast, and a pot of curried butternut squash soup. (Jorj is making the turkey and potatoes.)
As much as I like the food aspect of Thanksgiving, especially the leftover aspect — the pie for breakfast, the cheese and pate and cracker for lunch, cottage pie, cranberry sauce on stuffing — it's long been my least favorite holiday. As the only child of parents who were both only children, we were all of five people before they divorced. There were no cousins to play with, no beloved aunts and uncles. When they separated, with alternating holiday custody, both eventually re-marrying, there were no traditions that lasted more than a couple years. My mother's parents both died in November, almost exactly nine years apart. We did big dinners with the mothers and stepmother and my half-sister and friends, but then we shifted to dinner provided by mom's retirement home after my stepfather died so that we only had to drive one parent around. (I kept baking.) Then mom died. Now COVID has hit. I am enjoying neither frantically cleaning, nor cooking. We listened to Arlo Guthrie's Greatest Hits. We watched the WKRP Thanksgiving episode last night.
"I need complete loyalty, absolute secrecy, and twenty live turkeys."
— Arthur Carlson (Gordon Jump), WKRP in Cincinnati, "Turkeys Away"
Jorj and I went for a walk in the early afternoon, and I learned I've been favoring my right leg on the bike when my hip started to protest. Maybe I could do a mile (four laps) on our little road some days? Back's achey now; yoga tonight.
November 23: It was the year of consequences
The dingbat in charge of the GSA finally allowed the transition to start on the federal government side. And Michigan might certify its results!
I seem to have carpal tunnel, thus am wearing Jorj's wrist brace for the right hand. It's too big, because I have delicate, lady-like wrists, like my mother. The same mother who would beat you with her cane if you stepped out of line.
Having decided it's time to get that ADD diagnosis, the last few work days have been spent calling people my shitty insurance company says are accepting new patients and that they will pay for. Results so far:
- Reached a person, but that doctor no longer accepting new patients. Got transferred to a voicemail loop for Einstein.
- Wrong number. Google search show doctor might practice now only in Center City and the Main Line.
- Number is actually for Jefferson's psych department. Called the main referral line, left message. Mistook call back for spammer. Oops. Called back, got voicemail again. Will call back tomorrow.
- Entire practice closed in 2016, no listing on main affiliated hospital site.
- Doctor at Fox Chase Cancer Center; clearly only working with oncology patients.
- Reached a person, but practice focuses on deaf clients. Told her that's clearly a need and I hope she has a good afternoon.
My limit is three fruitless calls a day. After that I just want to cry. As a reward, I'm buying the crafting stuff I've been holding off on. So far, that's some embroidery samplers and a glass etching kit.
March 263: 63 days left in March.
How about that GSA, huh?
Just learned of another positive test in our circle. It's not my story to tell, but, shit.
November 10: It was the year of the orange menace behaving exactly as predicted
Well, the Orange Menace just fired the DoD leadership today and ordered a taller fence last week.
Which is really, really not a good sign.
The would-be dictator is making dictator moves. This is completely expected.
Not much I can do at the moment except dissolve into an anxiety spiral; therefore, I'm ordering Christmas presents on line.
November 8: The night I saw my first meteor
We had dinner outside with family friends tonight. While we were gathered around the firepit, M. called out that he saw a meteor. We all turned in time to see it falling to earth, with a bright green tail, which David said means it's burning iron.
It was a lovely, distanced dinner of pizza, wine, and squash soup. We told funny stories. David took bets on when a vaccine would come out of testing and start being administered to first responders (I said June, Jorj March). We talked about China testing a vaccine on it's military. Then we walked home.
Before dinner I was at the Meetinghouse. The Orange Menace is still in office, and we can't let up the pressure. (And I plan to be there through the inauguration.) It was the first day I'd been grateful for climate change: temps were in the 70s, which brings out more people. There was lots of exuberant honking, and two idiots leaning out their car windows to shout abuse. It was the first time in my life I'd been called by a gay slur! Kris was there too, and we broke quarantine to hug. I cried a little again.
November 7: A vague hope the adults will be in charge in January
Some states haven't finished counting, and most states are re-counting, but the news orgs are calling for Biden (although Trump won't concede), according to Jorj's news bulletin at lunchtime. I cried, briefly. Things are still shit and will remain shit for well after the inauguration, but there's a chance we might get COVID under control by next Christmas.
November 6: No decision yet
Apparently, Trump's having a meltdown. Oooooo, big surprise, I know.
The few tumblr bloggers I read have started mentioning the ongoing counting, so, I've stopped reading tumbler along with twitter and instagram. Jakob got me back into Dragonvale; if you play, hit me up so we can be friends and I can give you gems.
November 4: It was the year of indecisiveness
No decision this morning.
I'd said if things went badly I'd take today as a mental health day, and if they went well I'd be "in" the office. WTF do I do for "too many mail in ballots remain to be counted because Pennsylvania law won't allow them to be counted before the polls close, god, we don't even know if they were allowed to physically open them?"
On the one hand, working would feel normal and therefore calming. I need all the calm I can get; sleep last night was restless even with a melatonin and a Benadryl. On the other hand, the house is a chaos pit and the masks are unfinished.
November 3: Election day, or, it was the year of ignoring reality to stay sane
Today was a sewing and vacation day, and I finished off nearly three spools of black thread before leaving my pants half finished and switching to masks, which only needed purple thread, of which I have a lot after buying a thread case off eBay. I made steak fajitas for dinner, had a Negroni cocktail, and split a Ritter Sport bar with Jorj. I listened to some music, and watched the second half of the fifth season of Leverage. (They're filming a continuation in New Orleans!) It's a day of pretending the world isn't deciding whether to be on fire for another four years.
Jorj is practicing Tracy Champman's "Fast Car" on the twelve-string.
A few friends texted to see how we're doing, and I kinda freaked thinking they would try to tell me how things are going. Tomorrow morning, Jorj has code phrases to use, because if things go badly (I can't bring myself to put it into words), I'm taking another day off to sew.
November 2: It was the year of self-medicating
I picked the wrong week to give up cocktails.
In lighter news, I'm also ready to skip right to Christmas — and you know I oppose Christmas in November like I oppose littering or daylight savings time. Partly because what else do I plan to do with November, and partly because all my (fifteen-year-old) potholders have gone to the great kitchen in the sky, and only my holiday potholders are usable.
November 1: My First Election Nightmare!
Thankfully, the details are mostly forgotten, but last night the election intruded into my dreams for the first time. I've taken Election Day off, originally to volunteer, but haven't been contacted to, so I'll finish the pants I'm sewing. Depending how it goes, Wednesday might be a mental health day.
We had our friends over last night, and it went well! I learned some stuff:
- The Corelle cups got so cold sitting outside they sucked all the heat out of the mulled cider; use disposable paper cups, or go mugs, or keep cups inside.
- Two quarts of mulled cider in the crock pot started an hour before everyone arrives, with dark rum on the side for the adults, works really, really well.
- My fabulous tall black boots are not warm at all and sneakers would have been better.
- Always. Wear. Gloves. My delicate hands!
We had a good time. Relieved some stress. Worried about family who want to host Thanksgiving (we agreed with the kids in school we should not be around anyone else). And that this would be so much easier if we had leadership. I've been able to ignore that for months, but right now I am so fucking pissed off about that.
We're playing Gloomhaven with Steve over Zoom. It's a lot of fun, but stressing Jorj because Jakob no longer thinks an afternoon with us is the best thing ever (we're still pretty cool, but … ), coupled with the tech issues and Steve's reluctance to use any programs that aren't locked down tight. However, I'm having a blast, and it has a great on-boarding scenario, and it feels like we're winning and doing well. Plus I quaff.
Learned a high school friend had a mild case of COVID; it only lasted the month of October. He had a very mild fever, no coughing, mostly head congestion.
Sundays are exhausting. I can't wait to go back to work to not think about any of this for eight or more hours.