I felt for Rudy Giuliani this week. I’ve never had hair dye drip down my cheeks but I have suffered other instances of grotesque public embarrassment. Like when, in junior high, I decided to slather on Coppertone’s QT (Quick Tanning) Lotion and, because I couldn’t really see any effect, I put on more and then more, not realizing that QT is like a cake rising in the oven, it takes time to bake. But when it’s done, it’s amazing! My own amazement came while standing up in English class (I think, it’s hard to remember) and having someone say, “Why are you orange?”
Family Thanksgiving next week will be an extremely socially-distanced walk at the lakefront with my kids along with dispensing their Thanksgiving dinner boxes from the back of our truck. We may need walkie-talkies, that’s how far apart we’ll be. And with them all masked, I won’t understand three words of what they are saying but it matters not. This is what we have. I take the experts’ warnings to heart. This close to the vaccine, I have no intention of getting sloppy or giving in to wanting things to be like they’ve always been. Adaptation – that’s what separates us from fossilized creatures, right?
A bizarre benefit of the pandemic has been the temporary suspension of school shootings. I was reminded of this when I heard on the news a few minutes ago that there has been a shooting of multiple people at a westside shopping mall, the details not yet available. It was so startling, and I realized that such things had dropped off the crowded table of problems and worries in my head. When schools reopen, will we go back to what was or will this odd respite inspire us finally to want this kind of school peace forever and be willing to pay the price for it?
Because we took the path down by the river this morning, we saw two pairs of Mallard ducks. They couldn’t have been seen from the more well-traveled path which, I am betting, was their plan. The two couples were paddling behind a nest of fallen logs in a small river inlet. Making this even better was an obliging tree branch which had fallen into the V of another tree and offered us a bench for our spectating.
My plan is to paint the bedroom window sill tomorrow. When I was in urban planning school in the 70’s where the professors called me Mrs. and I was the only woman, well, when I was there, the big saying was “Make No Small Plans.” But small plans are all I make now, daily goals and accomplishments. We have only this day, as our favorite comic strip, Pearls Before Swine, opined last week, this day that is like yesterday and the day before so that we should forget about Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday, and just say it’s Dayday. So on tomorrow’s Dayday, I’m going to paint the windowsill, sanding it first to rub down the marks of a dog now departed, and then painting it a lovely, creamy white using paint I hope is still in the basement from the last time I was so inspired.