My dog just ate my shirt. Well, not the whole shirt, just the left underarm area where there is a chomp out of the cloth like you might see in a cartoon depiction of a dog going after someone’s shirt. My dog went in my closet and selected this shirt. Lest you decide to ask me why I allowed this to happen, let me just say that it’s never happened before. Almost nothing Swirl chews has ever been chewed before and it is this endless variety that keeps our minds off the pandemic that is chasing us down alleys and banging on the door as we speak. So I am oddly grateful for the diversion.
The southwestern style Dots are not bad. I order groceries online. And then a personal shopper texts me and starts telling me about all they things the store doesn’t have, like regular Dots. Dots, if you are unaware, are extraordinary pretzels, unspeakably good pretzels, the word ‘pretzel’ itself is too modest for what Dots are. So, the shopper texted me, “They only have southwestern style Dots. Do you want them?” Last week’s shopper would have sent a picture along with the text, but Donna did not. “Sure,” I said. What the heck.
When I go to bed, I say to myself: There goes another day when I didn’t do Tai Chi or try to play the piano. These seem like pretty small things to fit in but they always fall off the schedule as it were. I have a DVD with my Tai Chi instructor’s instructions. It is weirdly calming and focusing. I know this because I watched it and followed her instructions a couple of times on the porch up north during the summer. But I can’t seem to take this momentous step here at home. And then there’s the piano. It’s an out of tune baby grand with a lot of beginner books crammed in the bench. Tomorrow is another day, as they say.
The anti-maskers have gotten pretty quiet. Seems even they are startled by the massive jump in Covid-19 cases and the steady stream of deaths of people they know. Every day. People who should have been here for the holidays. People with kids and plans and ten thousand jokes left to tell. I feel for the “No Mask or Die” crew. It’s tough to realize your little ‘freedom snit’ is killing people, maybe even the people you already bought a Christmas present for, because, you know, summer sales.
We bought a Christmas tree. And we brought all the decorations down from the attic. With just the two of us, it seems like too much, as if we would do fine getting through Christmas without all the fuss. There’s no point in having a tree or making a fruitcake or doing anything if it’s just the two of us. But we can’t just keep ourselves alive, can’t just eat a TV dinner instead of roasting a goose. We have to try to be glad – for the time, for the season, for our work, for our far flung family, for our galloping dogs on a sunny day in December. That’s what we have to do – try to be glad. The tree will help with that.