December 30: Cousin Jens is fine
He called last night and I wouldn't let him get off the phone until after 11 (his time). Everyone is fine.
December 22: It was the year of shitty news
Jens, one of my German cousins, is infected. That's the word his sister, Nina, used, "hat sich infiziert." She didn't mention COVID; "infected" was enough.
His symptoms are mild. I didn't ask where he got it. He, his wife, and their kids are quarantining now. And it's Germany! No worries about health bankruptcy or losing his job for sick leave. But Oh God.
Did you know Amazon ships booze in the EU? And you need to provide proof of age?
December 21: Guinea pig: day 15
I was not fine. I think I picked up a cold at Temple, and spent the week feeling vaguely unfine.
This weekend was not so much relaxing as rebuilding. Sunday I dropped some cookies at my cousin Betty's for her kids. My aunt passed earlier this year (not COVID, merely being 90). We had a lovely distanced chat on her front steps fpr about half an hour. She's trying to find her mother's recipes; we made plans to bake Springerle with her daughter, K, when all this is over. Betty also wants to assemble a family cookbook, for which I was completely prepared.
Today was meant to be meringue cookies and starting the no-knead bread. But! Because Jorj spent the weekend working (Docker upgraded and fubar'd all the pipelines in Gitlab with only three working days left in the year before a New Year's/Eve deadline) and there is the usual hazelnut/filber shortage, it fell to me to get a tree. With COVID, the live tree supply is smaller, and sold out last weekend. Primex, my favorite garden center and down the road, sold out over this weekend. Whole Foods was the next stop (for nuts, cocoa, and flour just in case). On the way in, I grabbed a Peanuts-esque tree (thick branch, really). Although bulk hazelnuts were out (fine, I got the last 30 ¢ of nuts because Jorj would have nuts this year, dammit), there were still a few (four) containers in the pre-packaged bulk nuts section. That section is my secret source. Every year I find the last few bags of some nut I really want. I got three containers for Haselnussbroetchen and left one to bring joy to another baker. Then I got some pears and bleu cheese for nice salads, a pomegranate, interesting sale cheese, crackers, and some flowers. Then in line to check out. And then home because that was it. No more! Done for the day.
December 14: Guinea pig: day 8
Baked bread yesterday and cookies today. Mostly prepped dough because my motivation, even for baking, is slack. Week 2 of the Christmas baking is butter cookies. The Kifirl are done. The Heidesandplaetzcehn and ginger squares need to be sliced and baked. I can work in the kitchen and switch trays in and out.
I feel fine, but something — cleaning? — set off my allergies.
December 8: It was a year of questioning every twinge, and today especially so.
It feels very odd to be hoping for a cough or fever, but hear I am! No reaction though, so it was probably the placebo. Dr. Gentile, the trail's principle investigator, said to expect a reaction in 12 to 24 hours, if one was going to occur.
December 7: Guinea pig: Day 1
Got my shot at Temple today. Made it conscious through the blood draw and had the same nurse from the screening give me my shot. Wooo! I am part of the science!
They are using an app from PeopleSoft, no wait, SalesForce that is just terrible. Temple set up accounts for us, which meant we had to do a password reset to get in. Immediate problems! First guess at e-mail was study-specific one at Christmas baking. That wasn't the mail I'd used, but the reset form kept doing nothing. No error. Had to text Jorj to check the server e-mail. Tried the work e-mail, and that at least told me they were mailing a link. Gave Jorj my personal laptop password for him to open my work mail and forward me the link. Created a new password that was too long (the happy checkboxes to show I met the requirements didn't light up), but got no error message. Shortened the password, but the save button still wouldn't re-enable. Shortened again, button still disabled. Typed and deleted a space after the password, and the button enabled, because they didn't test pasting from a password manager on a phone. Then it e-mailed me another code that Jorj had to forward to me.
December 5: A year of snowflakes
There are two meanings of the word snowflake I've heard frequently this year.
The first comes from the magats (Is that mean? I'm certainly filled with fury.) mocking anyone exhibiting empathy as a special snowflake, unable to take the heat of — what? I'm not sure.
The second meaning of snowflake goes a bit to quote attributed to Voltaire, "No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible." All of us liberals are snowflakes, but together, we can be an avalanche. An avalanche proclaiming that, indeed, Black lives do matter as much as white lives. An avalanche demanding equity. An avalanche wearing masks and staying home, protecting ourselves and others, demanding economic and medical support for everyone so that everyone can be safe.
Thus, this morning saw me at Temple University Hospital for informed consent and a screening. I've been accepted into the Johnson and Johnson COVID vaccine trial. Monday morning is the appointment a random shot. This is so exciting! I'm going to be part of making history. I'm going to help. J&J is looking for 60,000 volunteers for phase 3 for this one trial alone. They need an avalanche of volunteers for statistical significance. I'm going to be a snowflake in a motherfucking avalanche to save the world.
The nurse who screened me is another Wyncote resident, board gamer, and Peloton rider. We traded Peloton names. She didn't blink when my regular activity was standing along the side of the road every Sunday with a bunch of Quakers (masked and distanced!). I may have made a friend. WTF?
A friend asked why I chose to do it (and I thought, why wouldn't I). Because I believe in science. Because I believe in doing everything we can to keep everyone alive. Because I want to say: I had the chance and I did.
That's why I'll be standing on Jenkintown Road tomorrow at 3. Come honk at me and my fellow BLM snowflakes! I promise we won't melt.