Was it really a week ago that people mobbed the stores, determined to get what they could? Because we were afraid that this virus was going to keep us from getting what we needed when we needed it?
Just a week ago that my son came home from school for the last time until the end of March, and maybe longer?
My friend Laura writes a column for her local paper. The column coming out on Sunday will be about "the new abnormal", as she calls it, and it's a perfect phrase.
I already know that I can count on getting very little done in the mornings, because mornings are when my son gets his digital learning assignments and I will be his main resource as to how to do them.
I also know that I will need to keep working because there is still plenty of proofing work to do.
It's very odd, this new world that we have entered, where its history will not necessarily be recorded in textbooks but in Facebook memes and Twitter posts. Where suddenly, social media and streaming services are a necessity to keep working and to fight boredom. Where Netflix and the European Union are talking about dropping HD programming for the moment because so many people are doing online streaming.
Today a Filipino Christian commented that a baptism he'd planned had been canceled due to the COVID-19 virus. They are being ordered to stay one meter apart, they cannot go past a police checkpoint, and violating the law will lead to a fine and/or imprisonment. Many Filipino Christians are living hand to mouth and they literally cannot afford to break the law.
I saw at least one person say, "Baptize the person anyway! What if they die?"
Several comments also followed, where the Filipino Christian explained about the fines and someone asked, don't you have a congregation that could take up a collection? (My comment: Don't suggest to these people that they break the law unless you are going to help them with the consequences, legal, monetary, and other.)
My suggestion? Maybe the person wanting to get baptized can give the confession to someone standing a meter away, then dunk themselves in water? Or, perhaps they can live stream their baptism?
This is a situation I had not thought about that could result from this virus: how do you baptize when you are not allowed to be around people in public? Or when being near people is a literal health hazard?
We are going to have to get very creative in the days and weeks that follow if we really want to help people turn to Christ in this midst of this pandemic. One person who commented on my wall said that we in Churches of Christ have not done a very good job of thinking through what to do when one could not be baptized (not when one is unwilling to do so, but when they are unable to do so.)
I do strongly believe in the importance of baptism. I don't want to get into a theological discussion here, but if you take a look at the book of Acts and if you look at conversions described in detail, they all talk about baptism.
I also believe that God is a God of grace, and that he knows and understands the heart of someone who desires to follow Him. Surely there are ways He will make for those who want to do so.
Okay, everyone, here we go again:
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Statcounter
Thursday, March 19, 2020
Wednesday, March 18, 2020
Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 6
I heard a radio person refer to this time as "the Great American Lockdown". After only a few days, I now understand why there was a period of time when the occupants of the Secret Annexe didn't speak to each other.
In a biography of Anne Frank, the writer noted that there were a few weeks where some of the occupants didn't communicate except by writing notes. Anne, herself, noted that two of the men hadn't spoken to each other in about ten days.
After being homebound with husband and child for only a few days, I now have a little better understanding as to why they weren't talking.
When you are in close quarters for a length of time, people end up getting on each others' nerves. Everything they do bugs you. I read once, about two people trapped in Antarctica for about seven months, was that the biggest thing was not the ice and the fear and the solitude, but it was that one of the men made the same sound brushing his teeth every night.
Now, throw in the fact that you cannot get away from each other, that you can't go outside, that you can't make noise during the day; that you cannot run water, you cannot flush a toilet . . . and put together eight people, with different habits, different temperaments, different ages . . . and there is a recipe for possible disaster.
I have it much better than Anne Frank and her family. Today I went up the street to look for English muffins. They were not available, because bread is at a premium. But I did find bananas, frozen peas and carrots, four bags of potato chips, and four packages of hot dogs! (Score!)
I can get out of the house, get fresh air; I have Internet to connect me to the world and the TV/radio to give me necessary information.
Unlike the members of the Secret Annexe, I can get a break.
So, let's join in together with our theme song:
It's the end of the world as we know itIt's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
In a biography of Anne Frank, the writer noted that there were a few weeks where some of the occupants didn't communicate except by writing notes. Anne, herself, noted that two of the men hadn't spoken to each other in about ten days.
After being homebound with husband and child for only a few days, I now have a little better understanding as to why they weren't talking.
When you are in close quarters for a length of time, people end up getting on each others' nerves. Everything they do bugs you. I read once, about two people trapped in Antarctica for about seven months, was that the biggest thing was not the ice and the fear and the solitude, but it was that one of the men made the same sound brushing his teeth every night.
Now, throw in the fact that you cannot get away from each other, that you can't go outside, that you can't make noise during the day; that you cannot run water, you cannot flush a toilet . . . and put together eight people, with different habits, different temperaments, different ages . . . and there is a recipe for possible disaster.
I have it much better than Anne Frank and her family. Today I went up the street to look for English muffins. They were not available, because bread is at a premium. But I did find bananas, frozen peas and carrots, four bags of potato chips, and four packages of hot dogs! (Score!)
I can get out of the house, get fresh air; I have Internet to connect me to the world and the TV/radio to give me necessary information.
Unlike the members of the Secret Annexe, I can get a break.
So, let's join in together with our theme song:
It's the end of the world as we know itIt's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 5
One thing that has been made very clear in this crisis is that I have a moral, Constitutional, civic, fiduciary, and above all, Christian duty to give all the support and help I can to my fellow man.
This evening, I accomplished all of the above in one fell swoop.
I ordered dinner for the family through Chick-Fil-A.
Why not? After all, this is "God's chicken" we're talking about. And I went to my nearest restaurant, which is a locally owned franchise. And, since Chick-Fil-A, along with many other restaurants, have closed down their inside seating, they need to know that we support them.
Besides, I like their food.
So I made my moral, Christian, Constitutional, civic, and fiduciary contribution to the lifeblood of my community, and then I went home and helped eat it.
Not long after I got back, groceries that I ordered arrived, delivered by a very friendly delivery person spending his first day on the job. I wouldn't be surprised if he got hired because a lot of people are going to grocery delivery. He'd texted me beforehand asking if certain substitutions were all right; I said yes, and when he told me he'd gotten what he could, I said, thank you, I know it's hard right now.
One way we're being encouraged to support people is by supporting local businesses and delivery people. So while I'm being tongue-in-cheeky about my duty to Chick-Fil-A, I do want to be serious about finding ways to support people.
In the meantime, remember our theme song:
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
One way we're being encouraged to support people is by supporting local businesses and delivery people. So while I'm being tongue-in-cheeky about my duty to Chick-Fil-A, I do want to be serious about finding ways to support people.
In the meantime, remember our theme song:
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Monday, March 16, 2020
Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 4
For those curious, “TEOTWAKI” is prepper-speak for “The End Of The World As We Know It”. It’s usually used in referring to maybe a nuclear war or other sort of disaster which is going to end the world as we know it.
I’m trying to think of what life was like a month ago, when I’d gotten donuts for Matthew’s 21st birthday and when I’d gone the next day for a doctor’s appointment. I’d heard in the news about this virus in China but wasn’t worried.
But in this last month, it’s been like a small storm cloud forming, maybe one you don’t really pay attention to, sort of like a new tropical wave forming in the Atlantic off the coast of Africa.
You might hear about it if you watch The Weather Channel but you don’t really think about it too much, and you go about your business. You go to work, or to school, pick up the kids, go home, grocery shop, make dinner, etc.
Over the next few days you may hear about how that tropical wave has organized into a tropical depression and it’s heading west.
Hmmm, tropical depression now. You wonder if it’s going to get any stronger, or if it’ll peter out, but basically you keep doing what you’re doing, living life as usually.
On the morning news a few days later, the weatherman may say, we have a new tropical storm. It now has a name.
That may be when your ears start perking up, and when you start noticing that there’s a storm out there in the Atlantic, it’s summer, the Atlantic is warm, and that storm is picking up energy.
But you think that maybe it won’t head your way. After all, tropical storms are unpredictable. I mean, there’s a reason why, on The Weather Channel, the meteorologists refer to the “spaghetti model” when they are trying to track a storm.
So you keep going, going on about your life.
Until the words “hurricane warning” come over your radio and the hurricane warning flags raised in the harbor — the black squares framed by red squares — have absolutely nothing to do with the Miami Hurricanes football team.
That’s when you turn on the Weather Channel and see the torrential rain, the palm fronds being tossed around by the wind, the shingles from roofs and the shutters from windows being torn off and flung across driveways and parking lots.
That hurricane, which just a few short weeks ago was a simple tropical wave off the coast of Africa, now has a sustained wind speed of over 200 miles. It’s a Cat 5, and that spaghetti model has the vast majority of those spaghetti noodles right over your home town.
The eye of the storm is headed straight in your direction, and the only safe place to go is to whatever and wherever your hurricane shelter is.
That’s what this last month has been like for me, in a sense. I grew up in Florida. I remember Agnes in 1972; although all I really remember is that one of our croton bushes in the front yard got bent at a weird angle and that Agnes wound up not just in Florida, but all the way up to New York.
I rode out Tropical Storm Kate in a college dormitory in 1985.
I rode out Hurricane Floyd in 1987 in a house in Miami, Florida.
And I rode out the big one, Hurricane Andrew, in 1992 in an apartment in Miami Lakes, Florida.
The arrival of TEOTWAWKI may come with the name of Andrew, or Katrina, or Harvey.
In this case, it has come with the name of COVID-19.
It’s also come with a roller coaster, crashing stock market, with government incompetence, with panic buying, and now with suggested guidelines from the CDC and executive orders from local and state officials, which all add up to: Go home and stay home!
Just about a month ago, that little tropical wave was over in China and just barely making its effect known here in the US.
Now, it is Hurricane COVID-19, or maybe Hurricane Corona, at Category 5.
What do we do now that the hurricane is here, now that the metaphorical 200 mph winds are howling outside?
I’m lucky enough that I am able to work from home. My husband still has to go into an office. My son can do digital learning, and as of this evening, it looks like he’ll have to do it at least until the end of March.
I see reports on Facebook and Twitter about parents attempting to homeschool for the first time and realizing that it’s not as easy as it may look!
The dominoes are continuing to fall. Now it’s the TV industry shutting down production of TV shows, including Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune, and Saturday Night Live. The Chicago franchise series has also shut down production.
Is the hurricane going to end anytime soon? Or will the winds keep howling outside and will more and more roof shingles fly off or shutters skitter across parking lots?
Right now, I am facing the storm armed with, among other weapons, the belief that God will take care of us, because he cares for the birds and we are worth more than many of them . . . and still also armed with a snarky sense of humor.
So, one more time on the chorus:
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
I’m trying to think of what life was like a month ago, when I’d gotten donuts for Matthew’s 21st birthday and when I’d gone the next day for a doctor’s appointment. I’d heard in the news about this virus in China but wasn’t worried.
But in this last month, it’s been like a small storm cloud forming, maybe one you don’t really pay attention to, sort of like a new tropical wave forming in the Atlantic off the coast of Africa.
You might hear about it if you watch The Weather Channel but you don’t really think about it too much, and you go about your business. You go to work, or to school, pick up the kids, go home, grocery shop, make dinner, etc.
Over the next few days you may hear about how that tropical wave has organized into a tropical depression and it’s heading west.
Hmmm, tropical depression now. You wonder if it’s going to get any stronger, or if it’ll peter out, but basically you keep doing what you’re doing, living life as usually.
On the morning news a few days later, the weatherman may say, we have a new tropical storm. It now has a name.
That may be when your ears start perking up, and when you start noticing that there’s a storm out there in the Atlantic, it’s summer, the Atlantic is warm, and that storm is picking up energy.
But you think that maybe it won’t head your way. After all, tropical storms are unpredictable. I mean, there’s a reason why, on The Weather Channel, the meteorologists refer to the “spaghetti model” when they are trying to track a storm.
So you keep going, going on about your life.
Until the words “hurricane warning” come over your radio and the hurricane warning flags raised in the harbor — the black squares framed by red squares — have absolutely nothing to do with the Miami Hurricanes football team.
That’s when you turn on the Weather Channel and see the torrential rain, the palm fronds being tossed around by the wind, the shingles from roofs and the shutters from windows being torn off and flung across driveways and parking lots.
That hurricane, which just a few short weeks ago was a simple tropical wave off the coast of Africa, now has a sustained wind speed of over 200 miles. It’s a Cat 5, and that spaghetti model has the vast majority of those spaghetti noodles right over your home town.
The eye of the storm is headed straight in your direction, and the only safe place to go is to whatever and wherever your hurricane shelter is.
That’s what this last month has been like for me, in a sense. I grew up in Florida. I remember Agnes in 1972; although all I really remember is that one of our croton bushes in the front yard got bent at a weird angle and that Agnes wound up not just in Florida, but all the way up to New York.
I rode out Tropical Storm Kate in a college dormitory in 1985.
I rode out Hurricane Floyd in 1987 in a house in Miami, Florida.
And I rode out the big one, Hurricane Andrew, in 1992 in an apartment in Miami Lakes, Florida.
The arrival of TEOTWAWKI may come with the name of Andrew, or Katrina, or Harvey.
In this case, it has come with the name of COVID-19.
It’s also come with a roller coaster, crashing stock market, with government incompetence, with panic buying, and now with suggested guidelines from the CDC and executive orders from local and state officials, which all add up to: Go home and stay home!
Just about a month ago, that little tropical wave was over in China and just barely making its effect known here in the US.
Now, it is Hurricane COVID-19, or maybe Hurricane Corona, at Category 5.
What do we do now that the hurricane is here, now that the metaphorical 200 mph winds are howling outside?
I’m lucky enough that I am able to work from home. My husband still has to go into an office. My son can do digital learning, and as of this evening, it looks like he’ll have to do it at least until the end of March.
I see reports on Facebook and Twitter about parents attempting to homeschool for the first time and realizing that it’s not as easy as it may look!
The dominoes are continuing to fall. Now it’s the TV industry shutting down production of TV shows, including Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune, and Saturday Night Live. The Chicago franchise series has also shut down production.
Is the hurricane going to end anytime soon? Or will the winds keep howling outside and will more and more roof shingles fly off or shutters skitter across parking lots?
Right now, I am facing the storm armed with, among other weapons, the belief that God will take care of us, because he cares for the birds and we are worth more than many of them . . . and still also armed with a snarky sense of humor.
So, one more time on the chorus:
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Sunday, March 15, 2020
Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 3
Today was not the first time I'd ever done online church. I've tuned in before to the Facebook Live stream when I've been ill.
But today? It was a bit odd, gathering around my dining room table with homemade communion bread, with a six-pack of Welch's Grape Juice on the table, my phone propped up and streaming our worship leader and four members of our praise team singing.
I made communion bread for the first time ever. My son commented on how "oily" it was, and he was right.
He made lunch (well, it was frozen fish fillets and french fries, but he still put it in the oven!)
I listened to my preacher's sermon, which focused on the story of Jairus' daughter and the woman with the issue of blood, found in Matthew 9, Mark 5, and Luke 8. Our preacher talked about detours. Jesus ended up taking a "detour" of sorts, because he was on his way to heal the daughter of Jairus, a synagogue leader, when a woman who'd had bleeding for 12 years came up behind Jesus and touched his clothes, hoping to be healed.
I think she'd just hoped for a crumb from under the table. Instead, Jesus stopped everything and wanted to know, who touched me?
That was the "detour". Jairus probably wringing his hands, the disciples wondering, how in the world could you know that someone touched you, with all these people around you; the woman, probably scared to death of being scolded . . . and who left with Jesus' "go in peace" benediction.
So how do we respond when we have this sort of "detour"?
For me, I don't know yet. I know to look around me and see where the needs are. I know to pray. I know that since God cares for the sparrows and we are more valuable than they are, He will care for us.
Online, I see many Christians arguing about whether or not it was a lack of faith not to meet together as a congregation. "Don't you trust God to protect you?" (I'm reminded of a saying that might be a good response: "Trust God, but keep your powder dry.") How many of us meet together because we feel like we have to? It's one of the "five acts of worship" that we must complete on Sunday, and only on Sunday, in order to stay saved?
I think, in these extraordinary circumstances, God understands. He is a God full of grace and slow to anger, and those that quote "forsake not the assembling of yourselves together", in my opinion, take "forsake" to mean "missing the occasional service" rather than "deserting" or "turning your back on" gathering together. Most people, when citing the reason they have stayed home from service or canceled their worship gathering, cite their desire to protect infecting high-risk populations such as the elderly or those with chronic illness.
I do plan to get out of the house for at least 30 minutes a day, if for no other reason than to get some fresh air and to keep from going stir crazy. And I may re-read The Long Winter. Unlike Laura Ingalls, though, I have plenty of food and don't have to grind my wheat in a coffee mill to make bread.
Tomorrow I will make a list and a possible schedule of things to do.
In the meantime, in keeping with the theme of this entry . . .
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
But today? It was a bit odd, gathering around my dining room table with homemade communion bread, with a six-pack of Welch's Grape Juice on the table, my phone propped up and streaming our worship leader and four members of our praise team singing.
I made communion bread for the first time ever. My son commented on how "oily" it was, and he was right.
He made lunch (well, it was frozen fish fillets and french fries, but he still put it in the oven!)
I listened to my preacher's sermon, which focused on the story of Jairus' daughter and the woman with the issue of blood, found in Matthew 9, Mark 5, and Luke 8. Our preacher talked about detours. Jesus ended up taking a "detour" of sorts, because he was on his way to heal the daughter of Jairus, a synagogue leader, when a woman who'd had bleeding for 12 years came up behind Jesus and touched his clothes, hoping to be healed.
I think she'd just hoped for a crumb from under the table. Instead, Jesus stopped everything and wanted to know, who touched me?
That was the "detour". Jairus probably wringing his hands, the disciples wondering, how in the world could you know that someone touched you, with all these people around you; the woman, probably scared to death of being scolded . . . and who left with Jesus' "go in peace" benediction.
So how do we respond when we have this sort of "detour"?
For me, I don't know yet. I know to look around me and see where the needs are. I know to pray. I know that since God cares for the sparrows and we are more valuable than they are, He will care for us.
Online, I see many Christians arguing about whether or not it was a lack of faith not to meet together as a congregation. "Don't you trust God to protect you?" (I'm reminded of a saying that might be a good response: "Trust God, but keep your powder dry.") How many of us meet together because we feel like we have to? It's one of the "five acts of worship" that we must complete on Sunday, and only on Sunday, in order to stay saved?
I think, in these extraordinary circumstances, God understands. He is a God full of grace and slow to anger, and those that quote "forsake not the assembling of yourselves together", in my opinion, take "forsake" to mean "missing the occasional service" rather than "deserting" or "turning your back on" gathering together. Most people, when citing the reason they have stayed home from service or canceled their worship gathering, cite their desire to protect infecting high-risk populations such as the elderly or those with chronic illness.
I do plan to get out of the house for at least 30 minutes a day, if for no other reason than to get some fresh air and to keep from going stir crazy. And I may re-read The Long Winter. Unlike Laura Ingalls, though, I have plenty of food and don't have to grind my wheat in a coffee mill to make bread.
Tomorrow I will make a list and a possible schedule of things to do.
In the meantime, in keeping with the theme of this entry . . .
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 2
I see already what my major enemy is going to be. It's going to be boredom, alleviated by too much attention to electronics and social media.
I know, in my head, what the answer to this is: write down a schedule, write down a list of things to do, and stick to it.
DOING it is the hard part. There's such an attraction to social media for me, probably because I'm an introvert and it's an easy way for me to fulfill my need for connection without actually connecting.
I have put stuff away in the pantry, taken out and finished folding laundry, and gotten my husband and son to at least put their laundry in their rooms.
Me? I have two baskets of my own clothes staring at me, needing to be put away.
Once I get going, I do okay.
But while I am writing this, I'm listening to an old episode of "Suspense", an old-time radio show that aired from 1942 to 1962, and playing with a couple of iPad games, and checking in on Facebook.
This reminds me of what I did during a week where I was snowed in, along with family. I imagined getting a lot of stuff done . . . and ended up in front of a computer screen, being BORED!
This is what is called cabin fever.
Which could be just as dangerous, if not more so, than COVID-19.
So, all together now on the chorus, today's theme song:
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
I know, in my head, what the answer to this is: write down a schedule, write down a list of things to do, and stick to it.
DOING it is the hard part. There's such an attraction to social media for me, probably because I'm an introvert and it's an easy way for me to fulfill my need for connection without actually connecting.
I have put stuff away in the pantry, taken out and finished folding laundry, and gotten my husband and son to at least put their laundry in their rooms.
Me? I have two baskets of my own clothes staring at me, needing to be put away.
Once I get going, I do okay.
But while I am writing this, I'm listening to an old episode of "Suspense", an old-time radio show that aired from 1942 to 1962, and playing with a couple of iPad games, and checking in on Facebook.
This reminds me of what I did during a week where I was snowed in, along with family. I imagined getting a lot of stuff done . . . and ended up in front of a computer screen, being BORED!
This is what is called cabin fever.
Which could be just as dangerous, if not more so, than COVID-19.
So, all together now on the chorus, today's theme song:
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Friday, March 13, 2020
Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 1
In the state of Georgia, the dominoes began to fall not long after 2 p.m., when Governor Kemp gave his news conference encouraging (not ordering) school systems and day cares to close if at all possible.
By early evening, at least four major school systems in metro Atlanta announced that they would be halting classes starting Monday. My county, Gwinnett, will be doing digital learning for at least the next week.
The Georgia State University System had shut down for at least two weeks.
The NCAA Final Four, which would have been in Atlanta, had been canceled.
The Dow had suffered its worst loss since October, 1987, when the market crashed.
The NBA and NHL had canceled the rest of their season.
Major League Baseball had pushed back their opening day.
Disneyland, soon followed by Disney World, announced that they were closing their gates.
For us, the final domino crashed when my preacher put up a video on Facebook saying that we would not be meeting at the building Sunday.
I posted on Facebook, I can't decide whether I need to dig a bunker, buy up the rest of the toilet paper in my county, or grab yarn and needles and do some crafting while binging on Hitchcock.
Yesterday I did some grocery shopping and was able to grab a cart as I went in because someone was bringing the carts back.
Today, I took Matthew to get a haircut and I also got a haircut, because I decided I was going to do some self-care.
Then we plunged into the madness that, until yesterday, was known as grocery shopping.
Matthew and I went to Kroger, where I was looking for matzo crackers and grape juice for communion. I also went, alone, to another Kroger and to Food Depot. Aisles were crowded and checkout lines were long.
And shelves had gaps.
I grabbed two of the last four large jars of Kroger peanut butter.
When Matthew and I went looking for fish fillets, we saw that ALL of the hash browns were GONE.
At Food Depot, ALL of the bottled water was gone.
I didn't see people fighting over toilet paper, nor were people being nasty to each other. It was more like, well, here we go, let's get our stuff because we don't know when we'll have the chance again.
Matthew saluted -- literally -- a couple of county firefighters/EMS that were picking up supplies. I told them to hang in there.
I did not find my matzo crackers.
However, I did haul home peanut butter, canned fruit, cans of evaporated milk, two bags of egg noodles, and -- to show you that I absolutely have my priorities straight -- also hauled home six bags of chocolate chips, two bags of Reese's Minis, one bag of mocha latte coffee, two bags of popcorn, and four bags of chips.
My son will be doing digital learning next week.
I, next week, will work from home, along with the hundreds of thousands that have suddenly been thrust into the world of telecommuting. Hey, I've been doing this for three years. Step one: Find a quiet area in your house, preferably with a closed door, and place a "Do Not Disturb Under Penalty of Extermination" sign on said door, along with a picture of a very large Dalek from Doctor Who.
My husband will still be reporting to work, but I'm suspecting the day will come when nonessential employees will be sent home. And then I will put husband to work around the house.
I would like to think that, as a Christian, my role in this crisis will be to bring hope to the hurting and use my hands and feet to serve. Yes, I'm looking for ways to help and ways to use my resources. And I am also praying that I keep my head and not panic.
But, honestly? I really think my major role in this crisis will be the dissemination of snarky humor.
So, in that vein, everybody join with me on the chorus:
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
By early evening, at least four major school systems in metro Atlanta announced that they would be halting classes starting Monday. My county, Gwinnett, will be doing digital learning for at least the next week.
The Georgia State University System had shut down for at least two weeks.
The NCAA Final Four, which would have been in Atlanta, had been canceled.
The Dow had suffered its worst loss since October, 1987, when the market crashed.
The NBA and NHL had canceled the rest of their season.
Major League Baseball had pushed back their opening day.
Disneyland, soon followed by Disney World, announced that they were closing their gates.
For us, the final domino crashed when my preacher put up a video on Facebook saying that we would not be meeting at the building Sunday.
I posted on Facebook, I can't decide whether I need to dig a bunker, buy up the rest of the toilet paper in my county, or grab yarn and needles and do some crafting while binging on Hitchcock.
Yesterday I did some grocery shopping and was able to grab a cart as I went in because someone was bringing the carts back.
Today, I took Matthew to get a haircut and I also got a haircut, because I decided I was going to do some self-care.
Then we plunged into the madness that, until yesterday, was known as grocery shopping.
Matthew and I went to Kroger, where I was looking for matzo crackers and grape juice for communion. I also went, alone, to another Kroger and to Food Depot. Aisles were crowded and checkout lines were long.
And shelves had gaps.
I grabbed two of the last four large jars of Kroger peanut butter.
When Matthew and I went looking for fish fillets, we saw that ALL of the hash browns were GONE.
At Food Depot, ALL of the bottled water was gone.
I didn't see people fighting over toilet paper, nor were people being nasty to each other. It was more like, well, here we go, let's get our stuff because we don't know when we'll have the chance again.
Matthew saluted -- literally -- a couple of county firefighters/EMS that were picking up supplies. I told them to hang in there.
I did not find my matzo crackers.
However, I did haul home peanut butter, canned fruit, cans of evaporated milk, two bags of egg noodles, and -- to show you that I absolutely have my priorities straight -- also hauled home six bags of chocolate chips, two bags of Reese's Minis, one bag of mocha latte coffee, two bags of popcorn, and four bags of chips.
My son will be doing digital learning next week.
I, next week, will work from home, along with the hundreds of thousands that have suddenly been thrust into the world of telecommuting. Hey, I've been doing this for three years. Step one: Find a quiet area in your house, preferably with a closed door, and place a "Do Not Disturb Under Penalty of Extermination" sign on said door, along with a picture of a very large Dalek from Doctor Who.
My husband will still be reporting to work, but I'm suspecting the day will come when nonessential employees will be sent home. And then I will put husband to work around the house.
I would like to think that, as a Christian, my role in this crisis will be to bring hope to the hurting and use my hands and feet to serve. Yes, I'm looking for ways to help and ways to use my resources. And I am also praying that I keep my head and not panic.
But, honestly? I really think my major role in this crisis will be the dissemination of snarky humor.
So, in that vein, everybody join with me on the chorus:
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine!
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
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