Wednesday, April 29, 2020

April 29, 2020

April 29, 2020 

Venus is at its brightest tonight, which means that now it will start to fade. The dimming evening star will start to sink slowly each night into the horizon until it vanishes once again from the night sky. 

Venus, planet of love. Does this also mark the peak of our goodwill to each other? Will our love start to fade and sink lower and lower to the ground and then be hidden from our view? 

Once we thought we were the center of the universe. We’ve since learned the universe is expanding - that finding its center has no real meaning. We are in motion, dancing with the stars, the planets, the continents, and our friends as well as our enemies. The center is just a point of view. 

We watch the cycles, the repetitions - the orbit of the plants, the vibrations atoms, and the progress of the seasons. The flowers that bloom, the leaves that fall, the fruit that ripens and then rots. 

Our rhythm was interrupted, the rhythm of calendars and clocks - notifications and alarms. The markings of time we’ve relentlessly scored into patterns we discovered. But there were more severe interruptions. Life and death has its own rhythm, the later inescapable - that alone may make compassion fade, when the lives saved are both unknown and temporary. 

Come June though, the fading Evening Star will re-emerge as the Morning Star and climb again into the sky. Perhaps that will mark our weariness of the cynicism and we can again show our compassion. A chance to make something new, or at least find a new rhythm.



Tuesday, April 28, 2020

April 28, 2020

April 28, 2020 

I was a little more productive today, cleaned the cat fountains, put the month old registration sticker on the car, and even spent some time clearing clutter in my home office to make it a bit more functional. I expect that the moment I turn it into a truly comfortable workspace, “shelter at home” will be rescinded and I’ll be driving into work again. 

Then Again I’m sure my workplace like many others are thinking about just how much office space they really need. Maybe we won’t be coming back - at least full time. 

One possibility I’m hoping to come out of this is the death of the open office concept - all those shared spaces designed to maximize human interaction also great for spreading viruses - Covid as well as others. I also hope this also kills attendance policies that celebrate and encourage perfect attendance - aka the folks most likely to come in sick, wearing their coughs and sneezes as a badge of honor, feeding the billionaires with their relentless “productivity.” 

Anyway, I’m starting to get comfortable with a few things of this new life. I miss human interaction of course, but there are some things I could get used to.

Monday, April 27, 2020

April 27, 2020

April 27, 2020 

Were one to tally up the events of the day, today probably wouldn’t be a good one. I continue to struggle with a writing assignment for work, our toilet clogged, and in the process of trying to break up a food fight between my two pugs my thumb got punctured by one of their canines. I’m sort of done for the day, the to-do list once again mostly undone. 

And yet I managed to get some things together for tomorrow - the dogs’ breakfasts ready to serve (probably in separate rooms), the coffee maker ready to brew the morning pot - my future self is already grateful for the evening’s labors. Tomorrow is wide open. The to-do list stands at ready. Surely I’ll knock a few items off it... 

So optimist, or procrastinator - maybe both - I’m ready for another go. Just let me finish my nightcap.



Sunday, April 26, 2020

April 26, 2020

April 26, 2020 

Today's major accomplishment was making Potato salad. It seem the Weeknd’s have become a time for us to explore the comfort foods of our past. Last week Lisa took on Beef Stroganoff. This week I took on my mom’s potato salad. My mom never wrote down any of her recipes so what I have comes from an oral tradition captured by my nieces in conversations they had with my mom in her kitchen. 

Right from the beginning I got myself into trouble by not paying attention to the amounts of the ingredients. Six potatoes - I saw that after I had cut up the whole bag and put them on to boil. How many where in the bag? 12? 18? I don’t know - guess I should just triple everything to keep the ratios right? If there were 18? 

Honestly, I think this is the way my mom used to cook, knowing sort of what she needed and adding what seemed right - or suddenly remembering an ingredient to add. I did that too as I had to keep moving my salad into ever larger bowls. In the end, I made something decent, which is good since we’ll be eating it for lunch for at least a week, and saw at least one thing to completion - and I’m sure if she were still around she’d be looking on with a combined expression of pride and amusement. Cheers Oma



Saturday, April 25, 2020

April 25,2020

April 25, 2020 

The news of the day is on the beaches of Orange County with an estimated 40 thousand visitors trying to beat the heat and ignore the quarantine. I get it, I’m jealous of them, at lands end taking in both sea and sun. The beach is probably the closest I get to having a spiritual place, a place that puts me in awe, and feel the grandeur of the universe. 

Of course for me, it needs to be night - well after the beach closes in ordinary times. The liminal space between the new day defined by clock, and the actual day’s beginning. That is the time when the beach calls me, to see the moon reflected in the water and the sound unseen waves breaking further up shore. Also deserted and unoccupied - after the police have cleared it an hour after closing. That is the beach I want to visit. 

The heat, the first hint of summer yet to come, has me standing naked from the shower, enjoying the cool of the air conditioning evaporating the moisture the towels have missed. I think of vacations in Palm Springs and how quickly you are dried by the sun after surfacing from the pool. I miss those days of isolating with close friends, never leaving the house, never getting dressed, the constant heat and the never-ending play. 

I get that we are all sharing our isolation, that there is a bond between us, and that our experiences parallel one another’s. Still, that we cannot occupy the same physical space - no matter how personal it’s experience might be - that irks me. So I understand the rush to the beach. I am still jealous of those who went while I stayed home - and while I may be judgmental of their trip, I do it while fantasizing of trips I might have once taken on my own.