New Year’s writing on a bad day

 This year, I will write every day. 

Maybe it won’t be a lot of words, but I will write every day.

Whether on the current WIP (which has suffered a setback; I need a new reason for my big bad not to immediately shoot my hero) or in a journal, or here on the blog . . . I will write.

So why is today a bad day?

First off, I am not depressed. I do not have a black cloud hanging over my head and I’m not on the edge of tears. (I have also not seen a mouse since we came back from a short vacation to Florida). 

Yesterday I had a very bad headache, so I practiced some self-care and took some Advil PM and went to bed early. I woke up 10 minutes into the new year to the sound of fireworks. Many of my neighbors take advantage of any and every opportunity to set off fireworks. New Year’s is no exception. I did not find out until this morning that the Georgia Bulldogs won their playoff game at the stroke of midnight, just as the Peach Drop dropped. Now Bulldogs will be facing Horned Frogs (from Texas Christian University) for the national championship. And although I know which team I am rooting for, I am wondering what would happen if a real horned frog met a real bulldog in real life. (Bloodshed, maybe?)

Today we had church online; the service was pre-recorded and it was funny to see our preacher commenting on his own sermon in the chat room. (He and his wife are in Indiana at the moment because his wife’s father is ill.) 

Today I am also dealing with a bad backache between the shoulder blades. I think my back is getting revenge on me for all the driving we did in the four days of our vacation. We spent probably eight hours on the road getting to our hotel room in Ocala, several more hours the next day between driving to see my mother in law near Orlando, and then driving to our hotel room in Tampa. 

The next day I did driving (not hours of driving, though) when I had lunch with my BFF (she did most of the driving because she came up from Sebring). Then my husband did driving when we went to St. Petersburg to see my sister, her husband, and their daughter. 

And the next day, we spent nearly ten hours in the car from Tampa to home. Most of our time in the Atlanta area was spent crawling in a traffic jam. I was not shocked. 

Yesterday I spent more money than I wanted to buying groceries, but we will eat for some time. 

So I think my back finally said, “No more!” 

I did some self-care by taking an ice pack and lying down for a while; ended up taking a nap. 

Later this evening I will ask my husband for a back rub, probably with Biofreeze. 

It’s the back pain that’s making this day “bad”. But I am determined to write. 

Happy New Year, everyone.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Happy New Year?

At the end of 2020, I stayed up until midnight just to make sure that 2020 went away.  I know that's superstitious, that a calendar is going to change whether I'm awake or asleep. But 2020 was one of those years where you wanted to make sure that it went away and never came back. 

However, today I read an alleged quote from the diary of Czar Nicholas II saying, "The year 1916 was cursed; 1917 will surely be better!" (I've done a quick Google search and can't verify that this was an actual quote from his diary.) But for those of you well-versed in history, 1917 was about as bad as you could get in Russia. That was the year of the Russian Revolution, and among its victims were the Czar and his family, who were deposed and placed under house arrest. They were all executed in 1918.

2020 seemed to be cursed with the arrival of COVID, racial unrest, and a hotly contested election. But at the end of 2020, we had a vaccine and we'd elected a new president. Surely 2021 would surely be better, right?

Riiiiight. 

2021 saw a riot at the US Capitol aimed at stopping Congress from certifying election results and placing Donald Trump back in power. It saw numerous dates when Donald Trump would be "reinstated" as president. I think Trump has given up on being "reinstated" and is now putting his energy into running for president again in 2024. 

Beginning in April, I heard so many reports of people getting shot that a day without a shooting was odd. 

Our country is pulling further and further apart.

And although there is a vaccine for COVID now, there's a sizable, vocal group of people refusing to take it in the name of "freedom". (This is different from those who cannot take it due to medical reasons.) 

COVID has proved to be a sneaky little virus.  It's mutated into versions from Alpha to, now, Omicron, (skipping Nu and Xi). Omicron is labeled as "mild", but if a "mild" version of COVID was anything like what I had in September, it is not something I want to go through again. Yes, I was vaccinated.  I had a breakthrough case. Both my son and I tested positive, and I'm convinced all of us were ill, even though my husband, through a mix-up, wasn't able to get the results of his first test and had to be tested again and tested negative. We are learning the Greek alphabet whether we want to or not.

We still have racial strife simmering beneath the surface, and Joe Biden has not proved to be the "problem solver" that everyone wanted. To be fair, Biden inherited a mess from his predecessor, and no one person can meet everyone's expectations. 

And the "I" word, "inflation" has entered the national discourse again, with the press screaming about "the highest inflation rates since the end of Carter's term and the beginning of Reagan's." (I notice that the press isn't commenting very much on the days in the 1970's of double-digit inflation and double-digit interest rates.) 

I'm not sure if this is a sign of the year to come, but yesterday, our church met solely online due to the sharp rise in COVID cases in GA. We plan to meet in person next week, but I will not be shocked if we end up going back to online church if COVID rates keep rising. 

And anyone who tells me that because I wear a mask and have gotten my shots that I am "living in fear," my answer is:   Taking precautions is NOT "living in fear". It is being prudent. Living by "faith, not fear" does NOT include putting God to the test. Remember, one of the temptations of Jesus was Satan telling him to jump off of the temple, because God would catch him.  Jesus' retort was that you should not put the Lord to the test! 

In November, mid-term elections will happen; and we here in Georgia are gearing up for what is predicted to be a contentious governor's race.

So will this be a happy new year?

Most of that is going to depend on my attitude, I admit. I am happily married, I have a son I am very proud of, we are able to pay our bills and we have friends. There are plenty of blessings I can count. 

But after 2020 and 2021, the fact that 2022 is pronounced "2020-too" sounds rather ominous to me.   

Let's see if I'm wrong!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Five letters, one hyphen, two numbers

Five letters.

One hyphen.

Two numbers.

Nothing else had a greater impact on our lives last year than those eight written symbols.  (And boy, am I glad to write those words, "last year".)

It was a year ago since the initial reports of "a new virus in Wuhan, China" first started trickling in.  In February, I visited my doctor and commented about how no, I didn't need to worry about "that new thing in China" because I hadn't been out of the country.

Just a few days later, I read a headline saying that the CDC was warning us to be preparing for "significant disruptions", and I thought, "This sounds like fearmongering, but just in case, I better start stocking up on food."

I count March 13th as the day all hell broke loose.

March 13th was the first day that my son was home from school on a school holiday that would have been a make up snow day.  He did not go back into a physical building until August. 

How to describe a visit to a local Kroger on that week?  People were not angry, or screaming, or shoving each other out of the way.  It was just a very busy buzz, people going up and down the aisles, grabbing the stuff they needed, standing in lines, not full of screaming anxiety but rather with jaws grimly set.  

I remember driving down the road that week in March, listening to the news, and thinking, "I will not panic.  I will not panic." I fall into the category of "prepper", and while I do not have an underground bunker against the unlikely possibility of thermonuclear war, I do believe in keeping a full pantry and a decent amount in savings. So when rumblings of a pandemic hit, my purchases were more in the category of comfort food (think Fritos, Lays, and M & M's) than in necessities. I did make a bread run and was nicely told at the checkout counter, next time, the limit is two or four loaves. I also yelled, "Score!" to someone who was coming out of Aldi with a package of paper towels.  She laughed. 

I cannot complain about how "no one else had to deal with . . ." because no one on earth remained unaffected by these five letters, one hyphen, and two numbers.  In fact, I feel rather bubbled.  My husband was able to transfer to working at home.  I already work at home.  Our biggest challenge was switching office areas and getting adjusted to a new schedule.  Going along with that challenge was getting my husband set up to be able to work at home!  

My poor son had a hard time adjusting.  Since he has autism, he has a difficult time with changes in routine.  And his poor mother had a meltdown when she couldn't get the scanner on her computer properly. 

But since then, we, along with the majority of the world, have learned how to work Zoom or whatever your communications platform is. ("You're on mute" is the sentence of 2020.)

We learned to work with online church and a chat room (which my son was the first to enter on Sundays.) And I learned how to make communion bread.  

For weeks, I mentally sang "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" while washing my hands.  When I got bored with that, I switched to "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat". 

And, like so many in the world, I watched and listened in alternating pride, disbelief, horror, shock, anger, surprise, and other words in the gamut of emotions as the year unfolded.

The term "essential worker" is now a permanent addition to our vocabulary. So is "social distancing". 

Who can forget the pictures of doctors and nurses slumped over in exhaustion, their faces bruised from the hours of wearing a medical-grade mask? 

And while sitting at my home office desk in Atlanta, I watched as simmering fury over the death of George Floyd while in police custody boiled over into rioting. In the days that followed, we heard and saw protest, grief, lament, and expressions of exhaustion.  (I know people who participated non-violently in local area protests.  I was very proud of them.)

And as I write this, our President still refuses to accept that he was voted out of office by the American people. While the simmering political anger has not yet exploded into major rioting and major violence, I am still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Today is the first day of a new year, and like I said earlier, I was never so glad to say "last year" than I was when the ball dropped at Times Square and the socially distanced crowd counted down to "Happy New Year!" I nearly cried. 

I have no illusions that just flipping the calendar over, or putting a new calendar on the wall, is going to magically change anything.  I also have no illusions that a transfer of power on January 20th will magically pull our country out of our pessimistic funk. The best I hope for is a morale boost.  New starts, or at least perceived new starts, are helpful.

Today is a new start, a clean slate of sorts. 

But here is one of the biggest lessons I have learned from this pandemic.

Five letters.

One hyphen.

Two numbers.

COVID-19.

Those eight written symbols brought the entire world to its knees in 2020.  

I think we should all be humbled by that fact.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.