A day with a goal and the virus gets up close and personal

Today dawned bright and sunny—I know because Sophie had me up at seven and again at seven-forty-five. But by late afternoon it had turned gray again, there was rain to the west of us, and rain in our forecast for tonight and tomorrow morning. Jordan insists tomorrow will be a lovely day and I will sit outside, because she’s going to clean the cottage and doesn’t want me to breathe the fumes. That means, Lysol spray and bleach and all those things I think are too strong for our environment. But, hey, I am grateful she does it, and yes, I’ll sit outside.

Today was a day with a goal: I worked on putting together the next issue of our neighborhood newsletter together. For once, I have a plethora of contributions—I think people took lots of pictures because they’re bored. It’s great and will make an interesting issue, but I have to figure out how to handle it. Still I was glad for the chore, because I know it has a goal—the issue will come out the first of May, the Lord willing and the Creek don’t rise. (Did you know that old saying does not refer to a flooded creek but to the days when settlers feared an uprising by the Creek Indians? That’s your history lesson for today). Anyway, so much of my time these days is spent on what you might call spec work—novels I don’t know will be published, research projects I don’t know will come to fruition—that I am grateful for a guaranteed project.

In the course of working on the Poohbah newsletter and skimming the internet, I’ve done what bored people do—collected bloopers. Here are a few:

--some one who referred to her under ware (underwear)—can’t remember the context but it wasn’t as risqué as it sounds;

--someone else who wrote about taking our lifestyle for granite (for granted)—maybe she meant it was carved in stone

---on a cooking site, someone referred to a well-flowered cake pan (well-floured)

--these remind me of a young lawyer I dated in my salad days who truly thought it was chester drawers (chest of drawers). Now that was supposed to be an educated man!

Corona virus got up close and personal today when I learned that my Bronx brother- and sister-in-law have both contracted it. He is in day 21 and almost well. I knew he had been tested, but it came back negative. His doctor/daughter said there is a 30% false negative result. Sure enough, tested again it came back positive. The first test was a method they have already discarded as not accurate, which shows you how much we are still learning about this virus. My sister-in-law has only shown symptoms for six days, but she says the disease “packs a wallop.” I worry about her, because I hear he is doing the cooking. I love him dearly, but a cook he’s not. I recently wrote him for his mother’s brisket recipe, and he patiently explained that he eats it, he doesn’t cook it. He referred my request to his wife, who was most helpful. I am grateful they both seem to be doing well.

I also worry about my niece from that family. For several years, she has been an R.N. on an orthopedic unit at Lennox General (in Manhattan, I think—my knowledge of New York is slim). Her unit has been converted to a COVID-19 unit, so she is one of the medical personnel in the thick of it. Her sister, a doctor with young children, is working from home—praise be.

My California relative that I can’t define (she is my ex-husband’s child by his second wife but feels like a daughter to me) writes that in Santa Clara, California, a study has shown that between 40,000 and 81,000 residents had the virus. The reported number of cases was 965. Pretty scary statistics.

As I write, it’s ten o’clock at night, and I hear the rhythmic sound of my grandson practicing basket shoots in the driveway. Got to love that kid. Sophie is, of her own accord, asleep in her crate. Nice now, but I wish it would last until at least eight tomorrow morning. That’s my magic hour.