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.

Tina's TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 19

The movie Justice League was on last night and I found this ending quote particularly relevant for today's times:

"Darkness, the truest darkness, is not the absence of light. It is the conviction that the light will never return. But the light always returns, to show us things familiar. Home, family, and things entirely new, or long overlooked. It shows us new possibilities and challenges us to pursue them. This time, the light shone on the heroes, coming out of the shadows to tell us we won’t be alone again. Our darkness was deep and seemed to swallow all hope. But these heroes were here the whole time, to remind us that hope is real, that you can see it. All you have to do is look, up in the sky."

Today I nearly bawled at the season finale of The Good Doctor, tried to clean up my office but only succeeded in making it look worse, and have dealt with reading posts over and over on social media complaining that “we’re losing our freedoms!”

At least two pastors that I can think of in the US held services on Sunday in deliberate defiance of an order prohibiting large gatherings. They seem to think that this is a situation where “we must obey God rather than man!”

I’m sorry, but I think that is absolute hogwash. I got into a discussion with someone online about this very subject today, and earlier, when I had pointed out to someone else that people weren’t self-quaranting like they should, the answer I got was, for free people, that’s their choice.

So it’s their choice to possibly put themselves and others at risk?

It’s perfectly okay, in the name of “not losing our freedoms” to go out and mingle with people who could have this virus and not know it?

It’s perfectly okay to run the risk of getting sick, and even worse, to run the risk of making others sick, possibly members of your own family?

This is the hill you’re going to die on, the fear of losing your freedom to worship in a church building on Sundays?

If the government had forbidden any sort of worship gathering, then I would have reason to worry. But online, virtual gatherings are not against the law. They are not.

I want to sit here, and I want to cry, I want to scream at the absolute, total stupidity of people who are perfectly willing to put their own selfish desires over a known public health risk.

And those of you that tell me that it’s no worse than the flu and that we never freaked out like this when the flu hit, or swine flu hit, or bird flu hit, this is a novel virus. It is a new virus, one we do not have experience with, one we do not have a vaccine for, and one that especially elderly and chronically ill people can become seriously ill from, if not die from.

There are medical workers on the front lines. There are not enough masks, gowns, or other PPE for them. There are not enough ventilators to help people breathe. Doctors in Italy have had to make the choice of who lives and who dies. Doctors have probably already made those choices here in the US.

There are other essential workers out there, daily, putting their lives on the line so that we can have food to eat and stuff to drink, so that babies can get formula and diapers, and yes, so that we can get that precious commodity known as toilet paper.

Are you so willing to put your selfish desire to go where you want, with whom you want, and when you want that you are willing to put yourself and other people at risk?

If so, I hope you think it’s worth the price if you get ill and have to be put in the hospital on a ventilator.

Okay, let’s all take a deep breath:

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 18

I glanced over yesterday's entry, and realized that I never explained about my small group and the Roosevelts.

We used Zoom yesterday evening to meet with the other people in our small group.  It took a little while to get everything working, but we had a nice conversation once it did, and we also had a short prayer together.  It was good to "see" them but it is nothing like a face-to-face conversation.  The two other women in the chat can't really go out very much.  One is a long-term cancer survivor and the other just finished radiation for cancer.  They are considered high-risk.  So their husbands are taking good care of them.

Now, the Roosevelts . . . PBS is offering a few of the Ken Burns films for free through their app.  So yesterday, I started watching his series on the Roosevelts.  Part of me admires Teddy's spirit and FDR's concern for the common man . . . and part of me is ticked off at the way Teddy handled his daughter Alice and how FDR cheated on his wife.

Ken Burns has an interesting way of handling history, which is why I enjoy his films.  I have seen the Roosevelt series before but am looking forward to seeing it again.

In the meantime, even though we are under a "stay at home" order, I do have to venture out to take my son to an already scheduled appointment. 

(Finished on March 31st).  The appointment went well.  One of the eerie things I saw while we were out was the overhead signs on the interstate saying "Coronavirus, keep elderly and chronically ill isolated."  The last time I saw something that eerie on our overhead signs was 9/11, when I saw "National emergency, airport closed". 

Okay, time to do this day's post one day late.  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 17

I have spent today first in a virtual church lobby, then virtually with my evening small group, and in between with the Roosevelts. 

This morning, I logged on early because I didn't want to log on right at the start of service and then have a problem with getting in.  I was glad I did.  We had a "virtual church lobby" where we traded messages back and forth.  Matthew set up his own account with his email address and it was fun to see his comments in the lobby.  He wanted to know when they would start cleaning up after communion again.  One of the people who works with him said that he should stay in shape by doing the dishes. :-) 

Don, in the sermon, talked about the time he went to racing school.  I remember that time.  It was a 40th birthday present from his wife.  When he went there and was learning how to drive the cars, he was concentrating mostly on not hitting the wall.  At lunchtime, he observed, zooming out of the garage and taking to the track, John Andretti, a member of the famous Andretti racing family. 

Later, Don got to talk with John Andretti and asked him, when you enter turn one, what are you looking at?

John's answer:  "I'm looking for the exit out of turn two."

Huh?

He explained, "At that speed (around 200 mph), if I was only looking at what was in front of me, I would hit the wall."

Don said, this stuck with him as a metaphor for life.  What are we looking at that's in front of us that may cause us to "hit a wall", rather than realizing that there's going to be an exit to that experience? 

He reminded us of the story of the exiles in Babylon that Jeremiah wrote to in chapter 29.  So many of us have seen Jeremiah 29:11 on plaques, on Facebook memes; some of us may have claimed it as a "life verse".  It's the famous, "For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." 

That's the "exit out of turn two" that we're looking towards, the hope and the future. 

But right now, we're in the "turn one", in this event called the coronavirus pandemic that has uprooted and upended us. 

When the kingdom of Judah was carried off to Babylon, Jeremiah the prophet wrote to them.  He told them that yes, guys, you're in the "turn one" of this journey.  So here's what you need to do while you're in this turn one:  Build houses, plant gardens and harvest them.  Get married and have kids, and have them get married so they can have kids.  Work for the peace and prosperity of the city you're in, because its welfare will determine your welfare.  (I am reading the New Living Translation as I am writing this.)  They were going to be there for 70 years before they'd go back home to Judah. 

As Jeremiah was writing his letter, there were false prophets telling them that this isn't going to last that long, you'll be back home soon.  Jeremiah's answer:  Nope, not the case.  Your "turn one" is going to last a while, and you need to be thinking about what you're going to do while you're in that "turn one."  Eventually, you'll make it through your "turn two"; God did promise "you will find me when you seek me," and that he would restore their fortunes. 

So how are we supposed to handle our "turn one" while looking towards the exit from "turn two"?  What are we supposed to get out of our experience of being in lockdown, in quarantine, in this abnormal where we are confronted with empty shelves that should be full of toilet paper, of fresh meat and vegetables, of fresh produce? 

The main thing?  Be humble, and seek God with all our hearts.   

I would love to get out of this "turn one" now, or in the next week or next month.  I want to go to the store and not worry about, can I get bread, or meat?  Or toilet paper?  I dislike being bored and stir-crazy.  And sometimes I would just rather whine and wallow in how hard my life has been. 

But this virus will come to an end.  The turn two will happen.  The death rate will drop to the point where we can safely, again, shake hands, hug, get closer than six feet, visit a church, go shopping, and not be afraid. 

What are we going to take out of this "turn one" experience when we exit from "turn two?" 

Right now, I don't know yet.  Perhaps I will have more of an appreciation for gatherings, for seeing people face to face.  Perhaps I will know not to take for granted whether or not my local store has what I need or what I want.   

Maybe, just maybe, now is the time to put my helmet on, hop in the driver's seat, fire up the engine, and take off down the straightaway . . . and when I twist that wheel and go into turn one, lock my eyes onto that "turn two" exit.  Because I want to come out of that "turn two" better than I was when I went into "turn one"

In the meantime, let's crank up the stereo and sing it loud:

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 16

Part of how the history of the coronavirus will be told should include all the public service announcements/commercials by businesses.  State Farm has assured us, to the tune of "Rise Up", that they will be with us; Burger King has introduced no-contact delivery, as has Papa John's; Buick is doing something similar with car buying.

In the meantime, my county is in the first day of a stay-at-home order . . . with a long list of exceptions including medical care, food shopping, and outdoor activity as long as people comply with social distancing guidelines.

There are some people who wish that the powers-that-be had done this sooner.  Others are angry at the county commission and saying, non-compliance is the order of the day!

I'm fighting boredom at the moment and I wish I could go out.  But then I read that the number of deaths in the US from COVID-19 has doubled from 1,000 to 2,000 in one day.  To the non-compliers out there, I hope that you still think your civil disobedience was worth it if you wind up in the hospital with coronavirus and there are no ventilators for you to use.

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 15

Tonight at midnight, my county, Gwinnett, will go under a “stay at home” order.  It means, stay home unless you have to do something absolutely essential . . . (and then there is a lengthy list of what is considered “essential”, such as food shopping and doctor’s appointments.)

So, what did my husband and I do before the clock struck midnight and Cinderella’s coach turned into a pumpkin?

We bought a microwave.

This is the second microwave we’ve bought in less than a month.  The previous new microwave broke.  The other day I pushed a button on the keypad and it did not work.  Period.  Our attempts to repair it via a YouTube video failed.  My husband’s attempt to find a repair place netted the following information:  1.  There’s really no place we can walk in and leave a microwave to be repaired, and 2.  It would cost as much to buy a new one as it would to have the old one repaired.

So, we are now the proud owners of yet another new microwave.

So far, it is heating what we need for it to heat.

When this quarantine is over and its history is written, I wonder if anyone would find this blog and scratch their head over what my concerns were?

Oh, well.

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 14

Two weeks down, how many more to go?

I almost did not write anything today.  It has not been the world’s best day:  woke up to help my son with a computer assignment, found out our BRAND NEW microwave WILL NOT WORK and a new one may not be in the offing for a while, had to reschedule a doctor’s appointment, and I’m just feeling a general sense of stir-craziness.

My BFF suggested that I play some Sims.  So I played a little bit (making sure that a couple of my Sims got into some good fights), supported my local economy by getting takeout from McDonald’s, and then the three of us went to a nearby park for a walk.  Walking trails in the parks in my county are open from sunrise to sunset.  Playgrounds are closed.

The walk was good.  Spring is here, in all its pollinated glory.  My husband and I passed two girls taking pictures (one was posing and the other was shooting).  Residents were just simply walking, or walking their dogs, or out with either family or friends.

We’re in a surreal time right now, of signs announcing “playground closed”, of #socialdistancing being the new hashtag, of anger and accusations of stoking hysteria or downplaying threats.  Some accuse others of wanting to sacrifice a percentage of the population in the name of the economy.  (I’d like to know, who decides who will be the sacrifices?)

But spring is still here.  Our flowers are still blooming (first forsythia, daffodil and cherry; then Bradford pear, then dogwood and azalea — and white dogwoods bloom before the pink ones) and our pine trees are emitting the greenish-yellow pollen that is the annual scourge of people with allergies and the major source of income of our car washes.

Certain things you can count on.  Spring will move into summer, and then fall, and then winter.

God is still here, even on my days of stir craziness and broken microwaves and online assignments.

He will still be here tomorrow.

So, one more time:

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

Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 12

My BFF asked me today if I was okay.  She’d read my blog from yesterday and said it sounded like I was a bit stir-crazy.  Well, yesterday was an “I’ve been cooped up here for too long” day.

Today I did manage to keep busy.  Unfortunately, reality hit a little bit closer to home today.  for the first time since I’ve been working as a proofreader, I said that I was available for work and they had none to give me.  If lawyers aren’t taking depositions, court reporters can’t take down and produce transcripts for me to proofread.

So today, I caught up on laundry, filed papers, and even sewed.  The break may be good for me.  It will be a good time to catch up on a few things.

Okay, everyone, one more time.

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 11

:: snarl ::

If this is what I feel like after only 11 days on semi-lockdown, I dread what it will be like on day 21, 31, etc.  My husband is now home for two weeks.  At least.  And all I have to say about the current shenanigans in the United States Congress was already said by Mercutio in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet:  "A plague on both your houses!"

It's probably time to turn up the theme song loudly:


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 10

This can not only be Day 10.  It seems like longer.  I was expecting to see a Day 20, 30, etc. 

We did our first official "online for I don't know how long" church service today. 

Annnd, so did everyone else.  Which is probably why our platform crashed and we were redirected to YouTube. 

Don, our preacher, first went to Luke 13, and talked about the woman Jesus healed in the synagogue on the Sabbath.  (How dare He!)  He pointed out something subtle in what Jesus called her, "a daughter of Abraham."

Then he went to Genesis 15, where God promised Abraham  (then Abram) that Abraham's offspring would be as numerous as the stars in the heavens.

Don then focused on four words:  "Abram believed the Lord."

Abram believed the Lord.  He believed that God would do what he promised, even though Isaac had not made his appearance yet. 

Abram, in Genesis 15, did remind God that "I remain childless, so a servant in my household will be my heir."  Uhh, you know, Lord, I'm an old man and Sarah can't have children. 

Don talked about a concept called "implicit bias", and I'm pulling this out of the top of my head because I have no notes in front of me.  Implicit bias is the way circumstances have wired us to think.  In Abraham's case, he didn't have a child and he had a barren wife.  So what could God give him? 

One of Don's points was that the way implicit bias is changed is through an intervention, which is what God gave Abraham.  He said, "Here, let me show you something."  Then He took Abraham outside and showed him the stars.  I don't know if you have ever seen the stars, the real stars, out in the middle of nowhere.  I've seen stars like that twice, once, on my 18th birthday while coming home from college and looking out the window of my sister's car while driving down US 19.  The other time was in Minnesota, where I pulled off of a road and turned my headlights off just so I could see the stars.  They are beautiful.

Abraham probably got to see the Milky Way, along with Orion and the Big Dipper and however many other constellations there are.  And he got to hear God say, "So shall your offspring be." 

God intervened.  And so Abraham believed Him, and God rewarded his faith. 

My question for myself is, Do I believe God?  I don't have a specific, deliberate promise like Abraham did; I don't have the promise of, "You will have a son in your old age."   

But what did He promise?  To be with me, to not leave me, to meet all my needs, to give me the Holy Spirit, to forgive my sins and give me eternal life with Him? 

I'm one of those who has a hard time believing.  I'm rather cynical when it comes to religion and sometimes I'm skeptical when it comes to modern-day Christianity, i.e. the religion we have made it. 

But when it comes down to God, and Jesus, and can He be trusted? 

That part, I believe. 

Even though I am currently using this as my snarky 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 9

This is Saturday, Saturday is supposed to be an errand day, a “get it done” day, so what did I do?

A few loads of laundry and some dishes, and I did make dinner.

And Frank and I went to Walmart to look for washcloths (of which we needed more.). We left with washcloths and a few more grocery supplies.

And now we are watching Disney’s Sleeping Beauty.

And I have little more to add to the chronicle of the Great American Lockdown.

Except the 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, adjust for inflation.

Tina’s TEOTWAWKI Journal, Day 8

Today my husband and I went out together.  I wish I could say that we went out to dinner, but unfortunately, I had to get a blood draw and he needed to have an abscess on his back looked at.

But before that, I had my first experience with teletherapy.

I have a twice a month counseling session with a psychologist.  She, along with so many others, has moved to teleworking.  Today we had our first session with a screen separating us.  It went pretty well.  I had a little trouble getting into the session at first but was able to, eventually.  I was surprised, as I talked to her, at 1) how well I may actually be coping and 2) how normal so many of my feelings are.  My frustrations with the men in my household aren’t because they’re being nasty, it’s because life as we know it has been upended and we don’t know how long it’s going to go on.  There’s this undercurrent of uncertainty that’s underneath everything.  I don’t like it.  No one does.  But I realize that there’s an undercurrent.  There are reasons for my feelings.  In fact, there are very sound reasons for my feelings.

I did tell my counselor that if I had shown up dressed in a HAZMAT outfit with a mask, then she’d have reason to worry.  :-).

My husband and I went down to Dekalb Medical (now Emory Dekalb) to get our stuff done.  I have an endocrinologist appointment next week, God and COVID-19 willing, and I have a feeling that he’s not going to accept my rationalization of ‘stress eating’ as a reason as to why I have gained back weight I’ve lost.  (He is not a bad doctor.  It’s just that his bedside manner can be rather lacking at times.).   The woman who took my blood was dressed almost as if she were caring for an Ebola patient.  Well, maybe not quite THAT extreme, but she did wear a surgical mask and was wearing a disposable paper gown over her clothes.

The women in the office were also wearing surgical masks, almost all of them.

But here’s what was weird:  The parking lot was practically empty.  I’m used to having a lot of trouble finding a parking place outside of the building I go to and this time, I didn’t have a problem.  Elective procedures have been canceled.

The waiting room in the doc’s office was practically empty as well.

And the one thing I thought would happen with my husband ... didn’t happen.

You see, what I wanted to do was drop him at urgent care.  He thought it would be more efficient to go to the ER.  I thought, okay, if that’s the way you want to do it, but don’t be shocked if I have to pick you up the next morning.

The total time for both of us together to have our stuff taken care of?

Around two hours.  If that long.

My husband ended up having a cyst on his back.  What had worried me was that the area around the cyst was red.  I thought it might be infected and I didn’t want that infection to get into his bloodstream and turn septic.  So the docs in the ER drained it and fixed him up, and sent him home with antibiotics.  (He told me that the docs had called it a “classic drain”.  I sort of felt like he was a participant in an episode of Dr. Pimple Popper.)

While waiting on my husband, I went down to Joann’s Fabrics and got a mini muffin tin, on the reasoning that “if I’m going to be stuck at home, I’m going to do something productive!”

Then I drove down to a small park and took a few minutes just to walk around.

It’s spring in Atlanta, spring that brings the foul-smelling Bradford pears but the forsythia and the daffodils, the cherry blossoms and the redbuds . . . And the pollen.  Spring will always follow winter, and in Atlanta, the arrival of spring is not only heralded by the trumpeting of daffodils and the flowering of forsythia, it is also heralded by the sprinkling of pollen over every car, every driveway, every front porch, and every deck in the area.

But this is a weird spring, this spring of illness, this spring that will come marked with the acronym of COVID-19, that will be marked by canceled proms and canceled graduations.

I couldn’t put my finger on it while I was walking around the park, but things just felt odd.  Maybe it’s because I was carrying around in my mind the undercurrent of what was going on in our world.  There was a sign up at the park saying, playground closed until further notice, and I wondered if this was what the people who survived the 1919 flu pandemic experienced.

What I think it is, why I think it feels odd, is that we’re in the “falling into” phase of this event.  Every day is bringing more bad news; the market dropping more points, yet another prominent person testing positive for COVID-19, more governments, more municipalities enacting emergency orders, more places closing or severely restricting their hours.  We’re still falling down the hole and we have not hit bottom yet.  The fall, in this case, is a little bit like that awful autumn of 2008, where every day brought another drop in the market and another firm closing its doors.

When JFK was shot, or 9/11 happened, or the Challenger exploded, you had the “falling into” phase; where things were happening, one after the other after the other, rapidly and there was no way to stop them or make sense of them.  I guess someone’s terminal illness is a bit like that as well.  Outside you see the normal rhythms of life, of people going to work, running errands, shopping at the grocery store . . . And your rhythm has been totally upended.

I listened to a Paul Harvey news broadcast the day after JFK’s funeral.  The impression I got was that of a nation trying desperately to get its feet back under it after two men and four shots had knocked the feet out from under it and knocked the wind totally out of it.  People were jumpy, edgy, trying to navigate a new normal, trying to use the initials LBJ, not JFK; trying to say “President Johnson” and not “President Kennedy.”

We’re not there yet.  We’re still seeing the exponential growth of this illness, still hearing of people testing positive, still hearing of protective measures being taken.  My own husband is a federal employee and he has yet to learn whether or not he will be going back to work on Monday.   (He called in sick Monday, felt better Wednesday, and then went in that Wednesday only to be sent home with orders not to go back until Monday.).

We’re still in this odd, weird, “falling into” phrase where we have not adapted to what is “normal”.

Someday we’ll hit bottom.  Someday our feet will get back underneath us and we’ll learn to navigate again.

In the meantime, I will reload my weapon of humor daily with the ammunition of snark.

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 7

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.

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.

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

And I feel fine!

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.

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.

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.