As my dear old Onty Mary says, “I’ll quit wearing a mask and self-isolating when they quit trying to kill me.” Closest I’ve been to her in three years was 3 m and we were both masked.
This in response to a friend IRL commenting on the events she is not participating in because of the cavalier attitude of the organizers towards masks.
Now I know Mary never said those exact words, but the sense is correct.
Eggs over easy on sourdough muffins for brekky. NOM
Peggy has completely recovered from COVID – her second bout according to her, but without an antibody test we’ll never know. She was certainly well enough to feed me and Paul roast chicken, spaghetti squash, the least bitter radicchio+tomato salad, and boiled new potatoes with butter, with homemade plum meringue tarts and storeboughten pumpkin pie and ice cream for desert.
A filk never got off the ground. We’re coming up on the anniversary of Tom’s death (a year goes by like nothin’, once again) and Peg’s house is a warren of piles due to trying to get Tom’s excess after death into the correct place and also due to the internal construction (just barely replaced the floor tiles upstairs to learn that every potable pipe in the house had to be replaced. MANY HOLES. HOLESINWALLS HOLESINCEILINGS holes… holes)
The dead wizard in the poem is Tom, of course. He’s been pressing for remembrance, so I’ve been having crying jags thinking about him. The ‘chromatically’ is a musician’s joke, to put colour on a word that is sound.
I was thinking in bed how if I died in my sleep that it would have been the last perfect day – weather good, peace at home, saw friends, peace in the family, got some writing and practicing in, ate yummy food. Don’t know how many days more like this I’ll get – statistically around 7000 – but yesterday was a good one and nobody has to be thankful but me. And I am. Undeservedly lucky and content.
Click to embiggen.
In better news, Mike’s coming over for his b-day on Monday. We will sit on the deck and drink de-alcoholized beer and order delivery.
Yes, I wore a mask to the store this morning. SIGNIFICANT uptick in how many people are wearing masks.
The Public Health Czar for Ontario told the hospitals to drop the mask mandate.
An amazing snub, well done folks.
Keith has tested positive for COVID. He’s recovering at home.
Basically as of right now the deaths in BC are being underreported by a factor of 5.
He was apparently once referred to in the NY Times as “Mr. Loaf”. Most famous for his association with Jim Steinman the songwriter and producer, and for his star turn as Eddie on both stage and screen in Rocky Horror, he did a lot of acting on network TV in the last ten years of his life and I for one was always glad to see him. He didn’t get vaccinated against COVID (there’s no evidence he did, anyway) and that’s what he died of. The talent is not bigger than science alas.
Jeff’s all over his post vax discomfort. Today I’m going to feed crows, load dishes, run laundry and enjoy this brief moment during which my room is tidy again. Thank you Suzanne. SHE FOUND AN APARTMENT IN BURNABY I’m so happy for her.
I’m fine this morning but once again had abdominal discomfort last night. Not exactly pain, just weirdness, in more or less the same place as before.
Didn’t stop me from making salad, chicken thighs and baked yams for tea.
Now waiting for the Expanse season/series finale on January 14. Please, no asteroids strike the planet between now and then (although we had another near miss last night, did you hear about that? 1/4 the distance to the moon, that little rock whipped by…)
I am going to quite openly state that although I am not at risk of self-harm and I’m not in any danger, my mental health is as bad as it’s been since the pandemic started. I just don’t feel like doing anything. What’s the point? my poor raddled body brain thinks. So if you get a phone call from me it’s because I’ve bobbed up through this state of mind long enough to contact someone and be civil… the rest of the time I don’t even want to imagine how a phone call might go. And despite all this Jeff and I are prioritizing being civil to each other. The idea of going through this pandemic without peace at home makes me feel like lightning.
I’m so worried for Alex. Ryker is breastfed and his mother’s vaccinated so he’ll likely be okay, but Alex has asthma and I’m so scared for him. Who knows when in class instruction will start again. (oh, apparently it has already o.O)
I was working on a poem about the Moloch energy and now I can’t because the child sacrificer is standing right in front of us all. It’s terrifying.
Omicron is really, really fucking with my mental health. I’m terrified for my grandchildren – just because I’m not talking about it doesn’t mean it’s not true – and terrified for all the non-boosted and immunocompromised people I know and love, and you know who you are so I don’t need to call you out.
I’m angry into the next century at Dr. Bonnie. I’m filled with loathing at how immediate improvement to the ventilation of school classrooms isn’t on the top of the list of every school district in BC. I’m filled with despair over the testing situation. All of it has been a maelstrom; but since there’s no blood, no yelling, and no drama, it’s easy to dismiss.
Someone said on Twitter recently…. rather than misquote let me dig it up, because it’s HOW I FEEL RIGHT NOW
If the pandemic ended tonight I still don’t think I would ever get over the two years of constant relentless exposure to the fact that very few people think human beings have a duty of care to each other.