Meh

I live in a small, 1930’s bungalow a block from a beautifully landscaped bird sanctuary of a neighborhood. My daily walks take me past all types of architecture and foliage. I consider it a form of forest bathing as I stop to admire and photograph a grand old tree or new cluster of seasonal flowers and ground cover. Folks wave as I pass by – I’m definitely taking advantage of my good fortune to live nearby, my self-care ritual.
This was a comment I posted to an article in an Apartment Therapy by Emma Balter titled I’ve Never Lived in My Dream Home, But I Did Live Next to Whole Blocks of Them. I appreciated our common thoughts as I’ve been blessed to live in the absolute best, sought-after neighborhoods in my city, whether I fit in according to financial or social standards or not. I made the most of these experiences and now continue to enjoy my life on the outskirts.
tree toes…so old

So….our current state of affairs. Most of my fear is for the health of my young family; minimal co-morbidities on my daughter’s side; my wonderful son is asthmatic and is alternately uber compliant or stupidly not and my husband who has the weirdest, worrisome pain in the ass reactions to any ailments. I’ve worked in an infectious disease environment for the last 20 years and that fact plus my OCD tendencies and rituals afford me a good amount of infection avoidance that I hope might get me through this because I’m effing old.

I hope I live long enough for my retirement financials to recover.

Not depressed or anxious, I only sweat the small stuff. I live in a safe little house; I have enough food to feed us and probably the neighborhood forever. The weather has improved (not so allergies but otc stuff helps); I can work in the garden, we have great neighbors and plenty of beautiful places to walk. I also just get in the car and drive, lots of things to look at in Louisville.

I’m lying about the anxiety but that’s present pandemic, tornado, financial ruin or not so besides my nightly few beers (quit smoking when I had the cancer surgery) I cook. And cook. And bake. Mostly carb-based yummies.

Today the boy-chick went off the rails and drive to Indiana because Mendard’s screwed up his deck stock order delivery so I baked chocolate chunk coconut oatmeal cookies.

Went to Aldi this am, early access for seniors; had my gloves and Microban to clean my cart. A few other folks lined up for the opening, we shared the cart cleaning. Ended up with a large haul and bleach-washed it all after I got home. Whew – load it in the cart, unload it at the check out; reload it into my car then unload it at home; clean it and put it away.

Headed to Total Wine to pick up my quarantine stash, wish they had curb pickup. Order was ready, locked and loaded but to exit I had to stand in a checkout lane behind a chatty customer who was leaning too close to the cashier, and dealing with paper money. Disturbing but I had on my gloves, had sprayed the cart with Microban and headed to the car; I had the husband glove up to load then sprayed the cases again with Microban. Removed my gloves, used hand sanitizer and enjoyed a leisurely drive home through our beautiful, eerily void of humans park.

Overkill? No, the major transmitter of this beastly virus is our hands touching our faces, which is an almost subconscious habit.

Glad no-one reads this, apparently I’ve lost the real focus of my reasons to begin this in the first place, I’d so love to share my thousands of recipes culled from the best periodicals, websites and blogs but it’s just turned into a therapy session. PM me if you would like a recipe. I need to not pay for hosting next year lol.

Beauty all around, forest bathing today!

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