Today
is my baby daughter’s birthday—Jordan, the youngest of my four. I won’t tell
you how old she is because she’s a mite touchy about that, but I will say that
it’s not a decade-changing birthday but still one that she considers
significant. I cannot believe my kids are as old as they are.
Jordan
loves to celebrate birthdays and is known for stretching hers out to two weeks
or more. This year, it’s a rather subdued celebration. We reluctantly cancelled
a birthday luncheon Subie was to host yesterday, and the Bass Hall performance,
featuring our church choir and an original composition, scheduled for tonight,
has been rescheduled for September. Jordan was excited that she and Christian
were going to take Jacob. I suppose they’ll go in September, but that’s cold compensation
for a birthday night on the town.
Today,
as far as I know, she floated through the day, doing whatever struck her, but
all at home. Tonight they are welcoming a very few close friends to the front
porch. I was invited, but I won’t go it—I am convinced the fewer people I see,
the better. I understand I will eventually get dinner from that gathering, but
it’s almost seven and I have fortified myself with pimiento cheese on Ritz
crackers—and wine, of course.
Current
dilemmas: can I have the dog groomer come to the house? I can just hand the
leash out the door and spray it when I get it back. Poor Sophie hasn’t had a
haircut since late January—how did I do that?—and she’s shaggy and smells a bit
doggy. One good note: she jumped up on a chair today and on the couch at Jacob’s
urging. I have been worried because she hasn’t slept in her favorite chairs
since she developed the urinary tract infection. Vet thinks it’s unrelated, and
she probably has some arthritis—oh swell, another pill to give her.
My
other dilemma: I will get shaggy myself and need a haircut soon. Can I have my
much-loved Rosa come to the house? I have infinite faith in her cleanliness—she’s
a protective mom of two boys—but who knows whose hair she’s been cutting.
Jordan’s advice about everything is wait two weeks.
My pet
peeve on this fifth day of social distancing—really social isolation—is people
who say they don’t want to stay home. They want to eat in restaurants and go
out as they please. What in heaven’s name do they think is going on? One woman
posted that Queen Elizabeth is still going about her subjects, and she wanted
to be just like the Queen. I replied that is all well and good for the Queen,
but does this woman not realize that by disregarding all the strong recommendations
that come from national, state, and local officials, she is endangering all of
us. I told her as an at-risk citizen, I resented her attitude, and three people
backed me up. It’s one thing to have to
explain this to Jacob, but we should have to spell it out for adults.
And a
puzzle: A few days ago I shared a post from The Atlantic titled “The
Trump Presidency is Over.” I said in the comment that we can’t blame trump for
the pandemic, but this was a balanced review of the subject and his handling of
it. It’s been since shared several times by others. Tonight I get an email that
it violates Facebook’s community standards and I have the option to withdraw it
or be unable to tag others or something—it was a bit confusing. I withdrew it,
figuring it had already had quite a nice audience, but it’s left me mulling
over the prevailing feeling that Facebook is politically motivated in its
censorship judgments. I have seen blatant outright lies from the right. I guess
someone on the right objected, and that’s why they took action. Now I have to
learn to protest untrue postings. I have a Facebook friend (never met him) who
says he reported several today.
I said
it last night, and I’ll say it again: nerves are fraught and tense these days,
and one thing we all most do it maintain our emotional equilibrium.
Sweet
dreams, my friends.
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