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.

Tales from the Sickroom, Days 5-10 . . .

 I will just make it short and sweet:  

QUARANTINE IS DONE! 

I still have a mild amount of nausea but I can eat and nothing's coming back up.

And I will still wear a mask and wash/sanitize my hands.

But I can get out of the house.

Tomorrow I celebrate with a haircut!!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tales from the Sickroom, Days 2-5

 Both my son and I have now tested positive for COVID, and I’m having a hard time explaining why he tested positive when he got his shots. 

We are now all on quarantine, because my husband has also been told he can’t go back to work until I test negative. 

The biggest enemy of quarantine is boredom. While I have more advantages than my grandparents had when/if they were in quarantine, boredom is a universal problem. There are only so many games of solitaire you can play on an iPad, only so many websites you can visit. I fried my brain on too many solitaire games a couple of days ago. 

Tomorrow none of us will be at church.  We will go back to the days of online church, where I will make communion bread and we will dig out the last of the grape juice to drink. 

Quarantine also totally throws off an internal clock. I’ve lost a sense of what day it actually is and even had to check my phone to see what today’s date was. 

Fortunately, I fall into the category of “not that sick” and my husband took advantage of that . . . By having us go and do yard work in the back yard this afternoon. He mowed, I ran the edger. 

Tonight I got a nice infusion of courage from the movie “Darkest Hour”, the story of the first weeks of Winston Churchill’s term as prime minister in 1940.

None of us are lying in bed feverish and coughing. 

My release date should come on September 29th, barring another positive COVID test.  The test has already been scheduled.  

And I took advantage of Instacart to restock necessary supplies of apples, bananas and chocolate. 

Unfortunately, I had to settle for dark chocolate Reese’s cups rather than milk chocolate ones. :: places hand dramatically to forehead :: Oh, the humanity! Life is so unfair! 

On the other hand, if the lack of milk chocolate Reese’s Cups is an indication of how unfair life is, I think that is something I can put up with. 

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 365

One year.

For me, the pandemic began on March 13, 2020, when my son had his first day out of school.  We didn't know then that he wouldn't be going back until August and that he'd have to finish the school year online. 

We didn't know that my husband wouldn't be going to the office for about two months, and that he'd end up taking over my office four days a week.

We didn't know that March 8th, 2020 would be the last time our church would meet together until November. 

We didn't know that masks would become a fashion statement or that people would judge others by whether they did or did not wear one. 

So many things we did not know. 

I began journaling the pandemic here on March 13, 2020, thinking that I would write every day and bring a healthy dose of snark to everyone's pandemic coping skills. How wrong I was. I can't remember when I stopped writing a daily pandemic journal. Snark is a good way to cope, depending on the target of your snark . . . but you can only be snarky for so long. 

My good intentions to spend more time on writing and house cleaning were eventually sabotaged by, well, just pandemic weariness. 

It's been a long 365 days, and like just about everyone, I'm weary. 

In the beginning, there was a pulling together, an attitude of, "We're all in this together." But that faded as we realized just how long and how serious this pandemic would be. 

Now, Zoom meetings and online church are the norm, social distancing is expected, a "drive-by" refers to a type of celebration rather than a shooting, and when you extend a fist to someone, it is not an assault but a greeting.

Throw in the deaths of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor (who died one year ago today) and George Floyd -- along with others -- and a very contentious presidential election, and you have a recipe for both angst and exhaustion.

Right now, I lean more towards the exhaustion end of the spectrum.

One thing that helps is remembering that no one on earth is unaffected by COVID. If you haven't had it, you know someone who has; if you don't know anyone who has had COVID, you still have dealt with empty shelves, standing six feet apart in a public place, businesses closed, businesses requiring masks . . .

Monday, my husband and I become eligible for the COVID vaccine. It's the one time in my life I look forward to getting two shots. 

Right now, I just confess to weariness. 

TEOTWAWKI, for those wondering, is an acronym in prepper circles that means "The End Of The World As We Know It." (And you thought it was just a title of an R.E.M. song.)

To be honest, this past year? 

It has been TEOTWAWKI.

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.

239 Days

239 days.

34 weeks.

5,736 hours.

344,160 minutes.

20,649,600 seconds.

65.30% of 2020.

That is the amount of time between March 8, 2020, the last time I attended a Sunday worship service inside my building, and November 1, 2020, the next time I attended a Sunday worship service inside my building.

(I did the calculations on timeanddate.com.  So the hours, minutes, and seconds are give and take a few.)

We knew, on March 8th, that the pandemic was already here.  We just didn't know how bad it was going to get.  

We elected not to meet as a congregation out of a desire to stay healthy and protect others.  

We had tried to come back together in August, but our leaders canceled plans because of a spike in the COVID numbers. 

In the absence of being together, our tech team pulled together a virtual lobby, where we could "meet" without meeting.  

Our worship team filmed videos of their singing so we could sing with them.  

Our preacher, and others, filmed videos of their sermons.  

My ladies' Bible study communicated with each other via text message.

My small group held their meetings through Zoom.  

And thanks to Zoom, I got (and still get) to participate in my best friend's ladies Bible class in another state. 

But it was not the same.

Yesterday, I realized it was just not the same.

Yesterday, it was still "not the same".  We needed to register before we came to church (I'm guessing to manage the number of people in the building).  We needed to wear masks.  Inside, we picked up a portable communion set (a cellophane-wrapped wafer and vial of juice; and I am sorry, but that wafer tastes like foam!) and then went into an auditorium where every other row had a sign saying, "Don't sit here."  

We were reminded to "stay six feet apart" from people you didn't come to church with.  

And at the end, we were dismissed section by section and encouraged to "go fellowship in the parking lot".  (I felt like I was back in second grade and being dismissed by a teacher after lunch. :-) ) 

No, that was not the same.

But some things were still the same.

In spite of COVID, we came together, in a building, on Sunday.

We elbow-bumped, fist-bumped, air-hugged, jazz handed, and said how glad we were to be back.  

We sang, we raised hands, we praised God.

And we listened to our preacher remind us, before this election, to treat others as we would want to be treated.  We were reminded to "accept one another as God has accepted you".  

My son "made his rounds", as he does on Sundays.  We give him a dollar every week to put in the offering plate, and since we have not be able to attend, he's had no place to put his money.  Yesterday, he took all 34 dollars he'd saved since we had to stop meeting and contributed them.  

Maybe this is just for a little while.  Maybe we will have to stop meeting again in the building if the COVID numbers spike.  

I hope not and pray not.  

Because 239 days, 34 weeks, 5,736 hours, 344,160 minutes, 20,649,600 seconds, and 65.30% of 2020 is just too long to be apart.

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 1-3, Quarantine Edition

I haven’t done a TEOTWAWKI journal lately.

I mean, what is there to say? 

We’re in the midst of a pandemic, the response to the pandemic in the USA has been and is being mismanaged by both incompetent leadership and selfish people who refuse to wear masks and take appropriate precautions, all in the name of “my freedom” and “I refuse to live in fear”. 

Race relations in this country have sunk to a terrible low. 

And don’t get me started on the coming election.

Like probably all of us, I feel weary and burdened.  I struggle with feelings of depression, of being buried under the weight of everything going on in the world, and also being buried under the weight of dealing with everyday life.  I am grateful for the work I have and for the money I can earn.  But sometimes, carrying everything is exhausting. 

Monday, the five letters, two numbers, and hyphen that have come to define our lives hit home. 

My husband called me and said that he’d been exposed to someone at work who’d tested positive for COVID.  He was sent home immediately.  At the moment, he is quarantined in our home office.  This is Wednesday, his third day of quarantine; which is why this is Quarantine Edition, Day 1-3. 

He is showing no symptoms.  Neither am I and neither is our son.  At the time of exposure, he was wearing a mask, as was the other person, and they were both practicing social distancing.  

The odds of any of us getting sick are low.  But he is going to have to be tested in a few days.  

Since the rise of COVID numbers in my state, I’ve made sure to wear a mask when I go out and have my family wear them also.  I wash my hands.  This past Saturday, my son and I went to a gathering at our church.  It was outside, we all wore masks, and when we sat down, the chairs were six feet apart.  

Today, I had an appointment with my ear, nose, throat doctor to make sure that I was doing OK with my CPAP.  I called the office yesterday to tell them that my husband had been exposed, and when I said that my husband was quarantined in the office, that he’d worn a mask when he was at work, and had practiced social distancing, the office person said that I was at very low risk.  

When I went there today, they asked me if I wanted a COVID test, and since I was there, I decided to do it.  

They use a swab and insert it into your nose.  

A long swab. 

Inserted WAY up your nose. 

I said after it was over that that test seriously cleared out your sinuses! 

I will know the results by Friday. 

(As far as the CPAP is concerned, I’m doing okay.  I use it every time I go to bed.).

So, life in my house consists of going to necessary places and coming immediately home, wearing masks, working from home (my husband was cleared for working from home even before he was exposed; he was at the office due to problems with our WiFi.).

And I need to get my son ready to start back to his program.  And figure out what to do when his program ends in February.  (We are in the system with Vocational Rehabilitation, and there are other options available.).

This will not be an encouraging entry.  Outside events and internal issues have drained me.  Just like the vast majority of us on this earth. 

Instead of being snarky, today’s theme song reads:

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 don’t feel fine. 

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Days 45-48

The inability of families to gather together and grieve just hit home with us this morning.

My husband's brother died this morning of throat cancer, and we can't go and be with the family.

I don't know what sort of memorial they may be planning, whether they'll have a very small funeral and a larger memorial service later, or if they have other plans.

This particular brother-in-law leaves behind a wife, and also two kids that are either in their late teens or early 20's.  I am not certain of their actual ages, but my son is 21 and they are both a little younger than he is.  When I told my husband that that wasn't a good time to lose a dad, he pointed out to me that no time is a good time to lose a dad.

It stinks not to be able to be with family during a difficult time.


A friend of mine just had a granddaughter and wasn't able to go to the hospital to be with her daughter.  She has finally gotten to see the baby.  (I am of the opinion that all babies are cute and all brides are beautiful.) 

This is yet another reason this virus totally stinks.

In other news, technology worked against us on Sunday; we had a problem where some people could get onto the platform we use for online church and some couldn't.  Matthew could.  Frank and I couldn't.  The problem was eventually fixed (thank you, tech team!) . . . just in time for our power to go out at the end of service!

Neither situation was our fault.  The first was a technical problem that the experts had to solve.  The second was the result of a power transformer that blew up.  We got power back within less than a half hour.  Other people in my neighborhood were not so lucky.  They had to wait longer.  While I dislike inconveniences, I hope I realize that much of what I am dealing with right now is inconvenience, and we'll get through it.

But losing a family member and not being able to be with them?  That's not an inconvenience.  That is a situation that just plain stinks.  And too many people are in that situation.  Some of those deaths are from COVID and the family can't be with them due to the nature of the illness.  Some of those deaths are from family members in another city or state where you can't travel to be with them. 

In this case, snark may or may not help:

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.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 43-44

Yesterday I melted down.

Not only did I melt down, I think I took Frank and Matthew with me.

Matthew has a practice job interview on Monday.  All week, his teacher has been giving assignments to her students, such as watching a video about job interviewing and completing assignments about answering interview questions.

Friday, Matthew's teacher first said that no one had turned in an assignment she had posted in their discussion area.  So, after virtual class, I decided to delegate the job of finding that assignment to Frank and Matthew.  Frank has been telling me that I need to delegate.  I figured this was a good opportunity.

Well . . . it took me helping them, but we did find the link to the assignment.  It linked to a Google document . . .  which we did not have permission to open.

I emailed Matthew's teacher, who may have fixed the problem because later on, we were able to get to the assignment, print it out, and have Matthew fill in the questions.

The problem came when we tried to fill out the Google document online.

We couldn't do it.

I got so frustrated I went downstairs and yelled at Frank.

He went upstairs and tried to fill it out. 

He could not fill out the Google document.

So he got the idea to scan the document Matthew filled out and send it to his teacher.

I thought it was too much work but I did go along with it.

I couldn't get the scanner to work.

In the meantime, Matthew is watching me and Frank is occasionally watching me.

Matthew dislikes dealing with technology anyway, except when it comes to streaming video.  This whole debacle did not help matters.

Finally, I told Matthew that we would deal with it tomorrow.  And then I cried on Frank's shoulder.

I also put out a scream on Facebook, which prompted a call from my BFF.

I cried on her shoulder.  Part of my FB scream was also about Trump's comments about bleach and disinfectant.  I am not going to go into that here, except to say, I am so sick of political spin. 

BFF reminded me that we are dealing with a crisis:  COVID-19, a shaky economy, and an election coming up, and I am dealing with, basically, homeschooling a kid with the help of the public school system.  (She also gave me more bad news:  as much as I might be tempted to kill someone over this whole mess, I'm not allowed because she has no bail money to bail me out of jail.) 

She calmed me down, reminded me that we'd get through this, and pointed out -- after I said I'd eaten some chocolate before I had my meltdown -- that chocolate should not be rationed during times like these. 

We ended up having a good conversation with lots of laughter, and after I hung up, I had a chat with my husband.

Today was a new day, and after finding the installation CD for my printer, I reinstalled the software, re-set everything up, and after a few mispunched buttons, FINALLY scanned the document and sent it to Matthew's teacher.

That saga is now over.

Now, I need to go to my Saturday chores of cleaning the bathroom.  I enjoy that chore so much that I am sitting here writing on the blog rather than clean the bathroom.  (Note sarcasm here.)   

The other source of my frustration was trying to hang some shelving in my office.  After trying, failing, and staring at all the stuff I'd brought up and thinking that I just didn't have the energy to bring it down, I finally got the idea to use some different wall anchors.  Those works.  So far, the shelf is still standing.

One of the tools I brought up is a hammer.

Which will be used as a motivation (read, threat) to the computer, printer, and other technology if it ever causes me to melt down again!

Deep breath, and into 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.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 42

It finally got to me over the past weekend.

I participated in my first drive-by birthday party.  It was the 50th birthday of a friend of mine who's also the assistant of our church's youth minister.  Matthew knows her well.  Her husband texted people and told what he was planning, and I was eager to participate.

Friday, her friends got together, and between five and five-fifteen that evening, we all caused a traffic backup that even got noticed on Waze!  We drove by our friend's house and yelled out the window, "Happy birthday!" as she and her family sat in the front yard and waved back.  On Facebook the following day, she posted, "I can't even . . ."  She was touched.  Some cars drove by decorated with "Happy birthday!", others, like ours, just contained people that yelled out the window to her.

I saw faces I hadn't seen since March 8th, the last time we were together as a church, and it told me how much I missed so many people.

Then Sunday, I participated in our online service yet again, and it hit me again, how much I missed everyone.  I wanted to cry.  My son has asked about our VBS, which is being postponed, and every week, he adds up the number of dollars (one per week) he hasn't contributed since we've been gone. 

When Governor Kemp announced the lifting of the shelter-in-place order this week, it was a much-needed shot to my morale.  I could finally see light at the end of the tunnel.  It would be over.

But then, the backlash and pushback began (even from President Trump), and it was back to demoralization again.

My local Christian station, 104.7 The Fish, has been playing the song "Way Maker" at just before 7 a.m. the last few days.  Morning co-host Kevin Avery says that this song has become an "anthem" for many health care workers, so they have been playing it at a time when shifts change in many hospitals.  I'm writing this on Wednesday, to be posted Thursday, and all day, the lyrics have been running in my head.  Here they are, for those interested:

You are here
Moving in our midst
I worship You
I worship You

You are here
Working in this place
I worship You
I worship You

You are here
Moving in our midst
I worship You
I worship You

You are here
Working in this place
I worship You
I worship You

Waymaker
Miracle Worker
Promise Keeper
Light in the darkness
My God
That is who You are

Waymaker
Miracle Worker
Promise Keeper
Light in the darkness
My God
That is who You are

You are here
Touching every heart
I worship You
I worship You

You are here
Healing every heart
I worship You
I worship You

You are here
Mending every heart
I worship You
I worship You

You are here
Turning lives around
I worship You
I worship You

Waymaker
Miracle Worker
Promise Keeper
Light in the darkness
My God
That is who You are

Waymaker
Miracle Worker
Promise Keeper
Light in the darkness
My God
That is who You are

That is who You are
That is who You are
That is who You are
That is who You are

Even when I don't see it You're working
Even when I can't feel it You're working
You never stop
You never stop working
You never stop
You never stop working
Even when I don't see it You're working
Even when I can't feel it You're working
You never stop
You never stop working
You never stop
You never stop working

Waymaker
Miracle Worker
Promise Keeper
Light in the darkness
My God
That is who You are ...

One day, one day, we will be back together as a body; and one day, one day, I look forward to raising my hands and singing with everyone.  Maybe this song will be on the playlist. 

Until then, I will wait; and I will trust in the Waymaker.

In the meantime, I think even He will appreciate my snark:

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.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 33-41

I can see just by the title how long it's been since I've written anything.  (A shout-out to my FB friend Colleen, who told me this morning that she missed my virus updates.)

I don't know if what I'm seeing right now is more of man's unlimited capacity for unselfishness and service or man's unlimited capacity for stupidity and nastiness.

Of the former, we see/hear it every day as we hear/see the stories of doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel on the front lines fighting this illness.  I see it when I see my preacher posting podcasts and hear him doing his sermons week after week, and our tech team making it possible for him to do so.  I see it when I see people wearing Instacart T-shirts, and when I watch commercials (like I am right now) that honor the people who are working round the clock.  I see it when my son goes to his class website and his teacher has faithfully posted the class assignment for today, and when she does her Google Meet sessions with her students.

Of the latter, well, I see too much of it online, especially when it comes to "reopening the economy".  It's like, if we open up the economy now, "OMG, we're all gonna die!"  Or, if we keep the economy shut, "OMG, we're all gonna die!"

Our governor, Brian Kemp, has decided to let his shelter-in-place order expire on April 30th.  On Friday, selected businesses -- nail salons, barber shops, and others will be allowed to reopen, following social distancing guidelines.  Houses of worship will be allowed to reopen, again, following social distancing guidelines.

There are the angry people screaming, "It's too soon!" and the other angry people screaming back, "People need to make a living!"  (And I am not happy with the name calling I see on Facebook.)

I don't know what to think.  I'm not an elected official, I'm not a doctor, I'm not an economist.

I've been dealing with my own total frustrations over the past couple of days.  My son's very anxious about using technology (although he can stream video just fine :-) ) His anxiety rubs off on me, mine rubs off on him.  And when I get anxious, it takes me nearly half the day to come down from the anxiety. 

I'm also terribly frustrated because the projects I want to do aren't getting done.  I've had to switch office areas with my husband, and trying to get mine organized has been an exhibit of the Second Law of Thermodynamics:  all closed systems tend to maximize disorder!

So today, after dealing with computer problems and trying to come down from a high level of anxiety, I decided to go shopping and go take a walk at a nearby park.  We needed groceries and I needed exercise.

I wore a mask for the first time.  It's an N95 that we had in the garage, one with a piece of metal at the top to help the mask hold its shape.  Said piece of metal also dug into the bridge of my nose the entire time I was wearing it.  Ow.  (Perhaps no picture speaks so strongly to the physical toll of this epidemic on medical personnel than the picture of a nurse's face bruised from the effects of wearing a face mask.  And I'll bet they don't get the chance to have their face heal before they have to put a new one on!) 

The major thing I noticed wearing this mask? 

People can't see you smile.

That definitely stank.

After doing my shopping, I went to the park and did two laps around the pond (which equals approximately one mile).  And here was where I saw the personification of mankind's unlimited capacity for stupidity.

The park I went to has a playground.

Which is taped off with yellow crime scene tape.

Which a person old enough to know better had crawled under in order to climb on the playground equipment!

Okay, maybe I should have said something.  I didn't.  I wasn't sure if it would have done any good. But if I had said something, it would have been, "Excuse me, but what part of 'playground closed' do you not understand?"

This is why we can't have nice things, people.

And it's also why, if there is a second wave of illness, it's going to be as bad, if not worse than, the first wave.


So, let's all raise our voices together:

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.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 32

One month ago today I started writing.  While I had meant for this to be a daily chronicle of life under COVID-19, I have been unable to write every day.  But I have done my best to chronicle as best I can what I'm experiencing and what I'm observing in the world around me.

Today I am very tense both because I'm trying to help my son with assignments online and also from a discussion on Facebook.  I have very nearly lost my patience with those who say, "But, the flu!" or "But, abortion!" when the death rates from COVID-19 are discussed.  I hear, "Well, why don't we shut down the country every flu season?"  Or, "Why aren't we this upset about the millions of innocent lives sacrificed to abortion?"

At the moment, Facebook is running slow, or I would be shutting down a thread that is threatening to devolve into an abortion argument.  I've dealt with two threads already that have been arguing about COVID-19 and our responses to it, whether or not the statistics are correct, whether or not we should build up our herd immunity, and also "But, the flu!" and "But, abortion!" 

I unfriended and blocked someone who got very rude in her comments, especially when the subject of abortion came up.  A friend commented that outlawing abortion would result in women dying; she could have died from a difficult pregnancy.  The reply she got in response:  "I hope you repent of your murder."  The friend had been told by a doctor that if she continued to lose weight as the result of severe morning sickness, she might have to have an abortion in order to save her life.  She did go on to have that baby. 

Another thread, in which I commented that "abortion is a complex issue" has resulted in another discussion that I hope is not about to evolve out of control.  One person commented that the remarks she got about how she was a murderer because she had an ectopic pregnancy and had to abort her baby (which would not have survived and might have killed the mother) was one of the reasons she walked away from Christianity.  That broke my heart.  Sometimes we who call ourselves Christians can be so unkind to people. 

I am really tired of people "piggybacking" (to borrow a word from another FB friend) their own issues onto the COVID-19 outbreak here in the US.  And while many Christians I know of have stepped up and been the hands and feet of Christ in this outbreak, many Christians have shown a very selfish side, demanding that their "rights" to meet together take precedence over the public health threat we have.  Some have defied government orders outlawing gatherings of ten or more. 

(Incidentally, I don't see this happening with synagogues and mosques or other houses of worship in the US.  I don't see them demanding their "rights" to meet together.  Only certain groups of Christians.  But it could be that the reason I don't see it is because such articles are not showing up on my radar.  I suspect that there are those who will say that it's only Christians who are targeted by enforcement of such laws but that mosques and synagogues aren't.)

There are also those who don't trust the CDC, don't trust the information coming from the US government, don't trust doctors because they are "tools of the deep state" or "owned by George Soros" or whatever reason they have for not trusting them.  Look, I believe in having a healthy skepticism, but for God's sake, who do you trust, then??

There are those who want the economy reopened, now, or by a particular date, because they fear a collapsing economy and suicides as the result of a collapsing economy.  I can only say that we can rebuild an economy but we can't bring back the dead, and if we open the economy too soon, might we end up killing off the people we need to rebuild our economy?

I really do not know what to say to people who are dead set on believing what it is they want to believe, and being rude to people who do not agree with them.  I don't know what to do about the economy; when do we open things up?  I don't know if it's safe.  I don't know if this is just the beginning of the government taking away our freedom to move wherever we wish or worship however we wish.  I don't know if there are those in charge who will treat this situation as a power grab.  I. Just. Do. Not. Know.

I do know that there is very little excuse for deliberate unkindness to people, especially in these days when we need all the kindness we can get.

Today I will breathe and find a way to decompress.

Until then, let's all join together in 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.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 31

Today was Easter.

This was the Easter of isolation, the Easter of online services and drive-in church and quarantine.

This was also the Easter of distant connections, of preachers preaching over YouTube and Facebook Live, of praise teams singing due to previous recordings . . . and of choirs and singers singing separately, uploading their parts, and sending them to technicians who, through the magic of editing, turned it into a virtual performance.

The tech team at my own church did just that, combining a large handful of voices singing "At The Cross".  I was amazed.  And very touched.

In England, the Royal Choral Society did a virtual performance of the Hallelujah Chorus, keeping up their tradition of performing every year since 1876, except during the Blitz in World War II.  

This was the Easter where we sat isolated in our homes, much like the first disciples sat, but not with "the doors locked for fear of the Jews" (i.e. the Jewish rulers in that time and place).  We have not cowered in fear but we have hunkered down in hope. 

The disciples needed a real Mary Magdalene to tell them, Jesus isn't in the tomb!  And even when two of them ran to the empty tomb, they still didn't believe He'd been resurrected.  They still hid behind a locked door . . . but one that Jesus could walk through to tell them, "Peace be with you!"  

We are not hiding behind locked doors this Easter because we fear being arrested and persecuted for our faith.  Rather, we are hunkering down in hope that there will be a light at the end of the tunnel, that the threat of disease will someday lessen enough for us to resume somewhat of a normal life and normal activity. 

Some are making this Easter about violation of rights, violation of our First Amendment "freedom of religion".  At least one church in suburban Louisville gathered in defiance of their governor's order banning gatherings of groups of ten or more.  Perhaps other churches have met in similar ways, claiming that they are not afraid and that we should not live our lives in fear. 

People, even Jesus left an area when people were thinking of killing him.  He stayed away from places where he thought that he might be arrested.  He was smart enough to tell Satan himself that the Bible said, don't put God to the test when Satan said that, "God will save you if you jump from the temple" and even quoted Scripture to 'prove' it.

If mosques, synagogues, and temples were being told they could gather and Christian churches were not, I'd be worried that my freedom of religion in the United States was being abridged and I would be very concerned.  That might be a case for "we must obey God rather than man".  

But defying a public health order is not the way to show that you have faith in God and will not let your life be ruled by fear.  It is a way to make yourself look stupid.

Fortunately, most Christians I know have spent this Easter in isolation, in this hunkering down in hope, communicating through text and Zoom and Facebook Live and Google Meet and however else they choose to communicate.

Because we know that, no matter what, He is risen.  He is risen indeed!

Okay, back to the snark alert:

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.

Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 30

Day 30.  Tomorrow will be Easter, and nothing, no virus, will stop us Christians from proclaiming, “He is risen.  He is risen indeed!”

I spent part of the day going through and throwing out papers and most of this evening building a table to put my sewing machine on.  

Now enjoying chilling out with my husband and humming 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.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 29

Those of you my age and older, and maybe a little bit younger (I'm 56) will remember how Walter Cronkite used to end his CBS Evening News broadcasts during 1980:  "And that's the way it is, [date], the [number] day of captivity for the hostages in Iran."  (Those of you born in 1970 or after, check out this Wikipedia article.)

That's sort of how I feel in counting down the days in semi-quarantine, semi-lockdown, whatever it is you want to call it. 

I've been sick for the last couple of days.  Fortunately, I'm on the mend today and will get back into some sort of routine.  I want to start writing again, start blogging again in a consistent way.  I have my frustrations with religion (hopefully, not with God or with Jesus).  He is good.  His followers, including myself, leave much to be desired at times. 

Today is Good Friday.  Christians take today to remember the death of Jesus on the cross.  Theologians wiser and more educated than I am have spilled thousands of gallons of ink to explain all of the implications of Jesus' death on the cross.  I have a reasonably high IQ, and to be honest, I just prefer some very simple explanations at times. 

Jesus died on the cross as the perfect sacrifice for our sins -- for the bad things we do, for the ways in which we disappoint and displease God.  He did this because he chose to. He was perfect because He was God in the flesh.  God raised Him from the dead as the final victory over death.  If we believe that, if we decide that we want to do what pleases God, and we are sorry for doing what doesn't please God, we can turn to Him and say, I'm sorry for doing things that don't please you.  I want to live a life that pleases You and I need Your help to do it.  I can't do this in my own power and strength.  I need you.  And then, to show that commitment, to show that decision, we are baptized.  (I know there are differing understandings and interpretations of baptism and the necessity of baptism.  My understanding that is that "baptism" means "immersion in water in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of your sins and to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit; according to Acts 2:38 and Matthew 28:18-20.) 

And once we turn to God, He gives us the Holy Spirit to help us live as He wants us to.  His first and greatest command is to love God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength, and to love others as we love ourselves.  From that flows everything we are to do as Christians.

If you read my blog, if you read my social media posts, if you know me in real life, you will also know that I fall short more times than I want to admit I do.  I wish I did not.  I hurt people.  I struggle with holding grudges and with forgiving people who have hurt me.  I often think I am better than 'those people', whoever 'those people' happen to be at that particular moment.  I lose my patience with people, especially with family!  I get angry at God and demand that He explain himself.  My study of the Bible leaves much to be desired at times.  And even if I'm able to have a day where I behave perfectly . . . well, there are always the things I know to do and don't do, which, according to James 4:17,  is sin.

But there is also grace.  There is also forgiveness.  Neither of which I have earned by my good deeds.  And no, I don't want to abuse grace by saying, "I can do whatever I want because there's always grace and God will forgive!"  But I need grace because I am a sinner, I have a sinful nature, and I cannot just simply gut it out, tough it out, suck it up, make plans, lists, how-to's, to-do's, etc. to keep from sinning.  I need someone outside myself. 

Which is why I am grateful for grace.  Thankful for Good Friday and for Easter Sunday, for a God who gives it freely without demanding my performance in order to earn it.

Okay, that's my Good Friday meditation. 

But in keeping with the theme of snark, let's end with 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.

Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 25-28

You notice that this is a multi-day recap and I am not writing daily right now.  Part of me feels guilty. Part of me does not feel guilty.  As a writer, I feel like I “should” be chronicling daily the impact of this COVID=19 virus and how it is affecting me and affecting society.

But I can’t.

Today I’m in bed.  Yesterday I got a sore throat, a minor sore throat, and I just did not feel well.  So I crawled back into bed.  This is after Monday/Tuesday when my husband and I switched offices.  Frank may have a chance to work from home, and his work is such that he needs privacy that working in our bedroom is not going to give him.  So now he has a place to work where he can shut the door and be alone.  

His office is now reasonably neat and tidy.

My office is a total shambles. 

And right now, I just do not have the energy to try and fix it. 

I did take a walk on Tuesday, after dealing with a frustrating morning with technology.  My husband needed help getting on Zoom.  My son needed help with his online assignments.  His teacher’s phone wasn’t working so couldn’t receive texts.  So when I vented to my poor BFF, she said, “You need chocolate.”

So, after I went walking, I raided Publix, and not only did I get peanut butter M & M’s, I also scored a BOGO deal on potato and corn chips AND scored two bags of flour.  

During my walk, I prayed.  I feel so selfish when I pray for myself.  And yet, I am wrestling with areas in my faith right now.  I’m not really obsessed with the question, why did God allow the coronavirus?  (Others are, and that’s understandable.). I understand that sin screwed things up when Eve ate the forbidden fruit and Adam joined her.  We’ve all been paying the consequences ever since.  I don’t believe this virus is a “judgement from God”.  He isn’t mad at us.  I think He gets angry, disappointed, and hurt at our behavior (including my behavior) and our thoughts and attitudes (including my thoughts and attitudes), but I don’t think He woke up in a bad mood and decided to inflict coronavirus on everyone.  

My frustration is with religion and with American evangelical Christianity, and it’s been building for years.  We seem to be so worried about the forms of religion, about *how* we worship, rather than *why* we worship.  We seem to be so worried about appearances.  We feel like we can’t share that we are unhappy, depressed, that we have questions about traditional teachings and traditional practices.  

This is a very crass, disgusting way to put it, but sometimes I think some Christians believe that their farts don’t stink.  

Yeah, that’s pretty shocking.  I remember hearing an interview many years ago with a Christian recording artist where he said that sometimes people think that “Christians don’t fart”.  I was shocked that he would say such a thing.  But you know something?  He’s right.  I think too many of us put on this attitude of, oh, we don’t deal with the same problems that the world does.  We’re above it all.  We can rise above anything that Satan throws at us because we’re Christians, we have God, we have the Holy Spirit; so bring it on, Satan, as long as you stay 6 feet away.  Yeah, we can handle persecution, we can handle bad times.  If someone points a gun at us and demands that we renounce our faith, we’ll say, “No way!  Go ahead and shoot.”  Because, you know, Jesus says if anyone is ashamed of me, He’ll be ashamed of them, so if you don’t pass this along to everyone in your email, Facebook list, you must be totally ashamed of Jesus!

I get tired of feeling like I have to be “spiritual” all.the.freaking.time.  I have to read only “Christian” or “spiritual” books or listen to only “spiritual” podcasts.  Know what I’m listening to right now?  A World War II podcast, where the podcaster reads the news of this day 80 years ago and then plays what would have been on the radio that day.  Yes, I did listen to my preacher’s podcast on YouTube.  I enjoy listening to him. He’s just as much on the front lines as grocery workers, doctors, nurses, and others.  And I imagine he’s wrestling with the spiritual questions just as much as I am.  He feels the responsibility to lead his flock responsibly.  I salute him.  I salute all preachers and religious workers who are wrestling and helping other people wrestle.  

But I think my sentence above sums up a lot of my frustration with American evangelical Christianity:  I feel like I have to be “spiritual” all.the.freaking.time.  My conversation has to always be about how wonderful my Bible study is, or what an awesome prayer time I’ve had, or how many people I’ve talked to about Jesus or about my faith.  I have to have a list of “spiritual”, Christian authors I have read or are reading or want to read.  As a woman, I have to speak in this soft, breathy voice, with what I’ve heard described as the “evangelical lilt” with every other word being “the Lord” this and “the Lord” that.  I need to exclaim over the latest Beth Moore or Priscilla Shirer or Christine Caine study.  What happens when I’m burned out on fill-in-the-blank ladies’ Bible studies?  What happens when you’re tired of American Christian culture?  What happens when you want to be authentic and share your struggles as well as your victories?  

American Christian culture is all about victory and about how to live the Christian life.  There’s very little room for continual struggle and questioning.  

Such are the musings of Tina from her sickbed today!  

So, all together now:  “

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.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 24

Day 24.  It's already Day 24?  

It's now become the routine to log onto the Internet and sign into our virtual church website, rather than pack up the car and drive to the church building.  There are things I like about "virtual church", especially the "virtual lobby" where we can chat with each other before our session starts. 

But writing the above sounds like something out of a science fiction novel, out of a Ray Bradbury or Isaac Asimov story.  

It is just not the same as approaching someone in real life, feeling a tactile hug, the polyester knit or cotton cloth of someone's dress or suit against your face when you hug them; feeling the squeeze of their arms around you, hearing them ask how you are.  Smelling the coffee in the lobby area, hearing the praise team warming up, standing up to pray, sitting down in the pews, being able to talk face to face with your preacher or with your fellow church members.  

How long, I wonder, before we will all be able to do that again?

But today, still imprisoned by an invisible virus, we listened to our preacher, whose words are not imprisoned.  (Paul reminded Timothy in 2 Timothy that "God's word is not chained.")  I took away two important points from his sermon today:

1.  Just because you feel the fear doesn't mean you don't have faith.   It's okay to accept the circumstances of where we are at the moment.  My go-to phrase, it seems, has become "That stinks" because what we are dealing with right now, let's face it, does stink.  When I'm exceptionally bothered, I will use the phrase, "That sucks."  Certain things do suck right now.  Staying home gets old.  There is only so much organizing you can do before you organize yourself out of your own house.  There is only so much cleaning you can do.  There are only so many times I can listen to some of my husband's and son's conversations.  There are only so many times they can listen to mine.  

The circumstances of where we are are fearful ones.  I've started to worry when I go out, am I going to pick up the virus?  Am I going to get sick or maybe make my husband or son sick?  Today my son and I went for a fast trip to pick up French fries (which weren't in the order I picked up at Kroger yesterday because they weren't available.)  I think I freaked Matthew out when I wiped down the handle of the grocery cart with a wipe before he took it back to the carrel.  But the thing is, my fear is not unfounded these days.  If any of you remember the TV series Monk, about a detective with obsessive-compulsive disorder, he carried around wipes wherever he went.  Most of his fears were unfounded . . . but these days, worrying that you just might get sick from a trip to the grocery store isn't necessarily unfounded.

Yeah, I admit, I feel fear.  I am glad our preacher said today that feeling fear didn't mean you didn't have faith.   I dislike it when people who have fear and who express their fear are shamed for it.  "Don't you know that there are 365 'fear nots' in the Bible?  That's one for each day!"  "We're not slaves of fear!  We have the spirit of God!"  Well, Jesus did tell his disciples not to be afraid, but he never shamed them for feeling the fear. 

2.  Sometimes you have to behave better than you feel.  Don, our preacher, mentioned that he disliked the phrase "fake it till you make it".  It's a phrase that's often used in recovery.  I think, though, that "behaving better than you feel" may be what people sometimes mean when they say "fake it till you make it".  There are times when I want to yell at my son, at my husband, behave badly to people in public.  But I can't.  Or rather, I choose not to because the consequences of my momentary loss of temper could be very severe.  (There are people in Washington, DC that I wish would learn the lesson of behaving better than you feel!)

Don also talked about fatigue:  flu fatigue, virus fatigue, staying at home fatigue.  I have it.  It is hard, being under "stay at home" orders, knowing you can't go out when you want to and where you want to.  It's even harder, exponentially harder, when you are one of those on the "front lines", delivering groceries, checking people out at the store, nursing the ill, caring for the ill, trying to minister in whatever way you need to.  And I cannot put myself in the shoes of someone who IS ill, or a loved one of someone who is ill or dying.

This afternoon I took a nap, to deal with the physical fatigue.  And I am poking around on my genealogy and working on other writing.  Perhaps that will be a couple of things that will help with the "lockdown fatigue". 

I shared tonight in our small group's Zoom meeting that spring would always come, and that summer and winter would not cease.

I also told them what I shared with the checkout person at the grocery store today.

Matthew made a comment about Easter, and I said that Easter was going to be next week.  The checkout girl said, "If they let us."  I said, "I don't know if you're Christian or not (she said she was) but nothing can stop us from saying that Jesus is risen."  

That is a fact that no flu fatigue, no coronavirus, no lockdown, no stay at home order can circumvent or reverse.  Jesus will not go back into the grave just because we are on lockdown!

Spring will come.  Easter will come.  Resurrection will be remembered. 

In the meantime, let me put my tongue firmly in cheek and sing 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.

Tina’ TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 23

The pushback has started.

Yesterday, I got into it for a few minutes with someone who posted an article about the stay at home/shelter in place orders government officials are giving to residents.  The article says that “there’s got to be some limits” but doesn’t offer any limits.  

When I asked the person who posted the link what he suggested, I was asked, what do you suggest?

My response:  Same as what we’ve been doing now, stay home.

We engaged in a back and forth where I was told that staying home and limiting contact wouldn’t save one life, and also commented that I should wait until I was living in a cardboard box with no food and then tell them how many lives I’d saved.  

People are worried about the economic impact of this virus.  If people can’t go to work, they can’t earn money and can’t spend it to buy food, clothing, etc.  If people can’t go to work, businesses shut down.  Yes, the economic fallout is going to be devastating and it is going to take us probably years to recover.

But I said this to the other person, and I stand by it:  We can rebuild an economy.  We cannot bring back the dead.

I am really angry at the people who are crying “tyranny!” right now because they can’t go to the beach, or to a neighbor’s house, or just to Walmart or Home Depot to hang out.  I’m especially angry at those crying “Christian persecution!” because gatherings of 10 or more — which include most churches — are banned in many places.  

If it were only churches being prohibited from meeting, the people crying “persecution” may have a point.  But it is not only churches.  Concerts, sporting events, recitals, proms, graduations — none of these can happen.  The Olympics has been postponed until next year.  Scores of high school and college seniors won’t get to walk the stage at graduation.  

Compare that to being on a ventilator, unable to breathe.  

Or being the relative of that person on the ventilator and not being allowed to be with them.

Right now, I’ll put up with the inconvenience of limited movement to keep myself and those I love from getting sick.

Okay, all together now:

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.

Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Days 21 & 22

I knew the day would come when I would forget to make a journal entry.  It came yesterday.  I really don’t have that much of an excuse, except that I did spend part of the day on a 30 minute walk and part of the day bread shopping, and the evening trying to do some crocheting and watching Chinatown at the same time.

I was in bed before I realized I hadn’t written, and I thought, “I don’t care.  I will catch up on it tomorrow.”

Last night, I watched Chinatown.  Well . . . what can I say about Chinatown?  It’s a 1974 movie with Jack Nicholson (a quite handsome Jack Nicholson, by the way) and Faye Dunaway, directed by Roman Polanski, nominated for 11 Oscars, placed in the National Film Registry, consistently ranked among the greatest movies of all time.

I taped it a number of months ago, and last night, in order to delete it from my server, I watched it.

All I can say about it is in one word:  Weeeeeiiiirrrd.

There’s portions I can follow, as in Jake (Jack Nicholson’s character) trying to track down who set him up, his investigation into a murder, which leads him to a dam wasting water during a drought (which also leads to him getting what is referred to as “the most famous nose job in history” involving Roman Polanski wielding a switchblade), his encounters with Faye Dunaway’s character and her character’s father . . . But the twists and turns just got a little bit too much for me, especially during the last five minutes of the film.

The actors do a good job, the film is well shot, I have no doubt that the script is well-written, but there were places where I just lost the story and couldn’t get it back.

Maybe, like Jake, I should just forget it, because “it’s Chinatown”.

In other subjects  . . . Wednesday I went to Aldi, bought six loaves of bread, only to be told that the limit was two.  (The checker was very nice and let me have the six loaves.)

Thursday I went to the Tastykake outlet store, bought two loaves of bread per the sign posted behind the county . . . To be told that, “no, there’s no limit; in fact, we’re trying to get rid of our bread!”

So Tastykake may be getting my business again today.

After I do dishes and laundry and have an online counseling appointment.

And lead another chorus of 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.

Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 20

We in the state of Georgia have now joined 36 other states that have a stay-at-home order.  The order will be in place until April 13th, though I suspect it is going to last longer.

Our schools have been closed for the rest of the year, and parents, teachers, and kids all over the state are heartbroken.  In my county, digital learning will continue for the rest of the year.

My son is on home for spring break.  This evening he’s come to me several times with news of the death of songwriter Adam Schlesinger, who wrote music for Bubble Guppies, a Nick Jr. show Matthew’s become fond of.  When I looked him up, I discovered that he’d written the songs “Stacy’s Mom” and “That Thing You Do”.  Schlesinger died of complications from COVID-19.

A woman in my church also has the virus and is isolated at home.

And daily, I see the arguments between stay at home/lockdown orders and getting people back to work so that the economy can recover.  It seems that Democrats want the lockdowns and Republicans want the economy.  I personally found Donald Trump’s call to “pack the churches” on Easter as much of a violation of the Third Commandment as I would find someone saying “G—d—“.  I don’t think he cares as much about “packing the churches” as he does being known as the president who got people to “pack the churches”.  And he’s suggesting this at a time when it’s just not wise for people to be gathering in large groups.  If infection rates were going down, if we had evidence that people were not getting ill or infected in large numbers, then I’d want to go back to church on Easter.  I love the symbolism.  But this is not the Easter to do it.

When I commented on a discussion thread that “we can rebuild an economy but we can’t bring back the dead,” someone sarcastically responded that, “I guess that’s why it’s okay to still keep having abortions.”

Frankly, I am tired.  I am weary.  My morale is in the toilet today.  I was able to get out, have an endocrinologist’s appointment, and yell, “Score!” to a woman leaving Aldi with her arms full of toilet paper.  She laughed and said, “Yes!” in response.  I was able to get groceries today.  I can be home with my husband and with my son.  We’re not ill and I pray we do not become ill.  We have food.  We can eat.

But, to be honest, I am just weary of the mounting infection toll, the mounting death toll, and yesterday, when we were told to expect deaths in the hundreds of thousands, that’s when the fear started creeping in, these tentacles of fear that just wrap themselves around my heart and around my mind.

And I am weary of the lies and of the mistrust among so many people.

The Chinese government apparently lied about the spread of the virus.  That doesn’t really shock me.
Trump is being criticized about his response, and/or lack thereof, to this virus.
State governors and other officials are being either lauded or criticized for their response or lack thereof.  Today, when Georgia governor Brian Kemp and Florida governor Ron DeSantis finally put in a statewide “stay at home” order, it was partially in response to those who have criticized them for not doing so before.

On the other hand, I have seen posts about how telling us that we can’t gather together at church or in other places is “totalitarianism”, and there are those that fear that since the government now knows how easy it is to get people to obey a directive to stay at home, and how easy it is to incite fear among the population, they are not going to hesitate to use such power again and again.

I have been weary and cynical for a very long time.  The Democrats lie.  So do the Republicans.  They accuse each other of lying.  The media lie, and the alternate media lie, and they accuse each other of lying.  Religious leaders lie, and the worst religious leaders are those who use the name of God and the name of Jesus to lie.  The Bible says that God does not lie, and I believe that.  Unfortunately, people can, have, and do lie using the name of God.

I am weary of trying to sort out the truth from the lies, and the facts from the truth.  Dealing with a son who perceives the world differently than many people does not help, either.  It all takes more energy than I have these days.

Today, my snarky humor just isn’t doing it for me.

Let’s take a deep breath, everyone:

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.