But here I am on what I consider Day One of the Flatten the Curve Lockdown. Everything I've been looking forward to has been cancelled. I'm okay with it. I think it's wise, given the level of illness elsewhere around the globe. Minneapolis is closed. My book arts classes postponed. Theatre tickets refunded. I plan to go to my paper making internship because I spend the day in a big studio alone or with the artist who runs the place (if she's not in her other studio.) Just me and paper, paper, paper.
I've recently gotten interested in making zines and very small artist's books. I have plenty of supplies at home and a couple of days ago I discovered that I had distilled my 90,000 word memoir into ten lines that fit in a 10-page book the size of a saltine. There's a zine version too that fits on one side of a single piece of paper. I can write a fuck ton of 10-page books while I'm hanging out here in my beautiful place.
I'm 67 years old. I'm healthy. On no medications. But January of 2019 I got community acquired pneumonia. It was a bitch. I felt like my ribs were broken for a couple of months. I don't want Covid-19, and I don't want anyone I love to get it either.
I eat fresh food and had almost nothing in my pantry, but a couple of weeks ago, I began getting a few of cans of this and that. And I bought 6 bottles of red wine last week. Last night I moseyed over to the neighborhood Trader Joe’s for another round of casual pantry stocking.
But. Wait. There were no canned goods. Except green jackfruit—whatever that is. No eggs, no bread. A meager supply of nuts. Even the produce bins were empty, except for sweet potatoes and a few bags of blood oranges. Shoppers shuffled through the aisles like Stepford wives, staring into the distance or into their phones, texting, Uh…Should I get some cans of green jackfruit?
So tell me, how are you?
6 comments:
We're in Tucson. Last Thursday there was food available, but no toilet paper, flushable wipes or kleenex. We're planning to go shopping again Monday, acting on the theory that people will have gone back to work. I wish we had purchased the Costco canned green beans and corn, but we didn't. The beans are pretty awful, the corn not so much. I'm 67 and do take some meds. Wonder what's going to be coming in from China, if anything. I hate this a lot.
Well, Los Angeles is strangely quiet. Even the squirrels are acting weird.
Well, TJ's here had a line around the store at 8:15 am when I arrived, the store was full to capacity at that time. The aisle with canned goods and pasta and oil and so forth was being stocked so wasn't available at all, people with enormously full baskets were waiting in a line for it to open, one package of chicken parts which I snagged, lots of fresh fish which I did get, very few potatoes, but fresh veggies were available. It was bizarre. I have a very disabled son who is in a board and care, we cannot care for him at home, so I'll visit him today and sit outside and talk through the glass, limiting his other outside caregivers. The park outside our house normally full of children and families, strangely empty, but we will walk around Silverlake reservoir just up the street from us. Alanon meetings are socially distancing, I'm not sure I'll go for a few weeks, they will try to do conference calling. I don't have the number.
We went to Walmart this morning with our grandson for a few things and there were empty spots on shelves, very little meat and people, like us, wandering around. Strange times.
The chain stores, Walmart, Costco, Safeway and TJ's, here in Northern CA have jam packed parking lots, so I avoid them. Even the local grocery chain, Oliver's, was a well-stocked madhouse in the early afternoon on Friday. I've been doing some light stocking up at the local small health food stores, that has been fine and I'd rather give them my money anyway. Word is just out from the governor, Gavin Newsome, that those of us over 65 should self-isolate. I am glad I have a garden and can easily ride my bike and walk around this small town.
I recently went to the Wedge Co-op 30 minutes before closing. The shelves were pretty bare and the staff looked exhausted. I walked around slowly making my selections while thanking whatever staff I passed for being there, attempting to keep up with the demand, asked how they were doing. I don't currently have any symptoms but at 67 I am being very cautious on the rare occasion that I venture out.
Post a Comment