The Unexpected Benefits of Quarantine

While being shut-in affects each of us differently — I long for my thrift-store outings — and there are deprivations, clearly there are those whose adjustment to quarantine is less traumatic.  For those who spent most of their day at home previously, this time is not that different.  

The Homebound

These are people who normally work from home, who have a physical situation that keeps them within their apartment or house, or those who may even fear the outside world.  They might miss the occasional venture outside, but they are coping with life that is much as they have known it. 

The Introverts

These are the people who prefer their own company to that of others.  They can and do enjoy people but actually like being with themselves and feel perfectly satisfied to engage in solo activities that require no one else.  Reading, writing, gardening, hiking, woodworking, painting, composing — all of these, and more, bring satisfaction without the need for others.

The Driven

These are those out-there-in-the-universe players who work hard and are constantly on the go.  Academics, social bees, Type-A personalities all are used to a driving pace that has them active and committed most of every day, sometimes day and night.  Now, with their calendars forcibly wiped clean there comes either a drift toward anxiety or a glide into great peace.  A freedom to be at home and relish their yards or their kitchens.  An expanse of time to spend with their families in a way they did not have room for before.  

I suspect when this pandemic is over there will be a new normal for many.  

There will be those that won't want to give up their new-found calm and ability to take pleasure in small things and more quiet pastimes.  Others will argue that they were perfectly capable of doing their jobs from their living rooms and don't need to always make that long commute day-in and day-out.  Many will have a greater appreciation for and understanding of connections with family and friends that will no longer want them to take a backseat to the continual demands of work.

Some will even rethink their physical place in the world.  I have a few friends who can't imagine going back to their lives out in their city because they can't picture anything being "normal" again.

With Passover and Easter behind us, and now that we have our new experience with a distanced celebration of these holidays, I find myself grateful. 

Despite divorce and separate households for all four of us, during this time of global crisis we have come together once again — to eat what I have prepared (and complained about as I overcooked the lamb!), to play charades or Jeopardy, to listen to music, and to tell jokes and stories that made us laugh — all at an appropriate distance.

When the quarantine is gone, I am confident and grateful that these gifts will remain.

No, I did not grow these but thank my friend Nancy for this gift of beauty...

The End of the Cheerios

If you've read Thrift (and you should cause it's one of my best!), you know I come from a Depression-mentality household.  For all my life, I have known a well-stocked — well, let's be honest — OVERstocked pantry.  Be it a closet or a cabinet or both, I always have a significant supply of bottled, boxed, canned, or dry goods and am capable of feeding many, should the situation arise.  If twelve people unexpectedly appeared on my doorstep and I (or anyone else) couldn't feed them, it would be a black mark you could not escape.  

For the rest of your life it would be,

"Remember when so-and-so stopped over and she didn't have enough food?" 

This is how I was raised.

Ironically, I married in to a family where this was not the case.  It was the very opposite.   My introduction to my eventual mother-in-law was a dinner she hosted with five people and on the table was a bowl with five — only FIVE potatoes — and they weren't even big ones!  I don't know that I ever got over that shock.  It may have made me increase my stock of staples.



Today, in the time of Corona, I finished all the Cheerios.


I ALWAYS have Cheerios.  They're a basic.  

I buy the family size.

I mix them with one or two other cereals to dress them up.

And while three other cereal bags still remain (each less than 1/3 full) to be eaten, 

and I certainly don't eat cereal every week, 

AND I don't even have any milk, it points to the greater issue.  

My stock is diminishing.  I am seeing the back wall and space on my shelves for the first time.   
Maybe ever.

 

I know, I know.  This looks like a lot.  And I'm only one person.  And yes, it IS a lot and I am truly grateful for the abundance I'm so fortunate to have.





Still, day by day, it's shrinking.

        
I started to make cold sesame noodles — no peanut butter! 

And there's only angel hair pasta. [Yes, I see the box of penne rigate but that's really not an option for cold sesame noodles.]

             
Thought about whipping up some hummus — only one can of garbanzo beans!


Wanted to bake some peach-bourbon barbecued chicken thighs.  Not only was there no bourbon, there were NO preserves of ANY kind.


I just used one of the last two cans of tuna.  And they're not even the big ones.

GEEZ.

All I can say is...

My father 

is turning over 

in his grave.

Where Has All My Focus Gone?

In this time of Corona, I lack focus. I meander through the day without any purposeful plan.  I'm grateful if I have a Zoom get-together or plan a walk with a friend or organize a meal with my family — all at a distance.  These small things give me something to look forward to and focus on.

But what about the rest of the day?  What about all the directives that say how important it is to make and stick to a routine?  Why am I having trouble doing that?

I'm a list maker.  There is nothing so satisfying as making a list and then crossing stuff off of it.  And when I do something that's not on the list, I add it on and cross it off because I love the way that it looks and how it makes me feel; as if I've been accomplishing.

You would think I'd be making my lists.  The way I always do.

But I'm not.

Lord knows there are plenty of projects to do in my house...

Clean out that closet. (ALL the closets!)

Straighten out ALL the jewelry.

Switch out the winter clothes and bring the spring/summer ones in.




And start that BIG project you've been thinking about. (That's another story.)













But it's just not happening.  

I had a productive hour a while ago.  Told myself to turn off the 27th rerun of The Hunger Games: Catching Fire and I actually folded all the laundry piled up on my bed and put it all away AND made the bed for the first time in more than a week. Tonight I will not be sleeping among the clean clothes. [I just want to say those pillowcases actually match better than they appear.]

But my productivity doesn't last.  Seems I'm not the only one.

I hear about this malaise, lack of focus, from just about everyone.  And while there's clearly a minority of those who are making the most of this time at home, even able to enjoy their isolation (that's another story), for many it's a rocky, rocky road.

The readers can't read, 

                           the writers can't write, and 

                                                               the artists aren't creating.

The things that usually bring us pleasure, escape us in this time of Corona.

To all of you who are housebound, we will find our focus. 

And most fortunately... at least the gardeners are out there thriving.

--------------------------

PS All is not lost. I did finish the puzzle and here she be...

Back to the Jigsaw

I guess I'm ahead of the curve — CBS Sunday Morning had a feature about people dragging out their jigsaw puzzles during this time of quarantine. A few days before I'd finished my first 1000-piece puzzle in a very long time.   My stash is behind the couch.

There's a rhythm with puzzles.  Or at least there is for me.  You find all the straight edges and get your frame. Then you find some chunk to work on that's visually unique — for me it was the stripes.






Next, things start to take shape and you get more chunks done.








Then come the hard parts, where's really tough to fill in the areas that all look the same...  




But in the end, SUCCESS.  You've done it.  And this puzzle was a double whammy because it was like those I Spy books where the images were of  other things...90 other things, for example, the slats in the chairs are Milk Bone dog biscuits and that radiator next to the fridge is comprised of stubby Number 2 pencils — you get the picture. 

Our family has always done puzzles and when the kids were young we'd actually 
spray adhesive the completed puzzle on foam core and hang them on the walls.  

As an adult I've done some 
that are more Americana...

and others that are Biblical in image and difficulty.

                                                                   

Virtually all of my puzzles come from thrift stores and don't cost more than $2.  

I especially appreciate the former owners who leave a post-it inside that says, "Missing three pieces" 

It is a great kindness.

I don't let those missing pieces bother me in the least.

Some are fun and frivolous ...

   

...and others I just admire in the store and think about doing...but won't spend the money on.  (Though anything by Edward Gorey is awful tempting.)










Now I'm working on a puzzle that was a gift from my ex...and boy, is it a challenge; it's the front page of The New York Times on the day I was born.




This one's got a lot of hard parts — sigh — 

Good thing I've got all the time in the world to read all that teeny-tiny print...