Saturday May 23
Slept well! No back pain! Thank you Advil and Tylenol!
Today Willie was struggling with his weekly Dante meeting with the chronically insecure and unhappy Romanian professor. He was determined yesterday to delay the next meeting for a month, which he did and she then correctly interpreted as a rejection of this weird non-courtship. From how Willie describers her behavior though—dominating the discussions with her own close reading of the text—I believe her feelings of rejection are not romantic but intellectual. In any case this is weird situation, one of many weird quarantine relationships all over the world.
Writing this the next day, it's hard to even remember what I did. A beautiful day and I never quite got outside. Mostly I was happy all day long because I was pain-free. I should’ve taken advantage of it and I didn’t. But it was great to be able to stand up and sit down without that initial ouch.
Willie and I started a new game but it was too infantile. I edited my diary and fixed some CCDC lists.
Michael grilled sausages for dinner. We watched The Heist.
Sunday May 24
Beautiful day. I’m determined to get outside and dig in the garden.
With my double dose Advil/Tylenol, my tractor scoot, and my great plant recognition app, I was able to weed around the front of the house for an hour without slaughtering any flowers. After hauling weeds for a few minutes, the small basket hooks to the back of the scoot was full. It slid off easily, and I dumped the small load into the brush. Then I tried to slide the basket back, on which looked ultra easy when Michael did it, but, given my mechanical/spatial/ disability, the easy insert bar attached to the basket, wouldn't hook on to the scoot. I was sliding it in and out under the seat and swearing at myself.” You moron!” And suddenly three feet away against the back wall of the house the tiny spotted fawn, whom we had seen dancing around the day before yesterday, leaped up with a yelp and dashed across the yard to the brush where his mother appeared. He had been hiding in the mugwort by the south wall, and I hadn’t seen it at all! (I did finally figure out how to hook the basket to the scoot, and it was stupidly simple.)
After, I used my feisty little electric lawnmower to trace out the path between the old flowerbeds, so I could see which scruffy plants might promise blooms. Tomorrow I’ll identify the flowers with my wonderful app, and weed it out the junk on the tractor scoot
Michael grilled chicken breasts and I heated up leftover vegetables for a very simple meal. I
I am wiped out at night probably because of the latest treatments and I don’t have much of an appetite. However I was able to scarf down a piece of Willie's cheesecake. Watched another Name of the Rose and Larry Sanders, then to bed. Good day.
Monday May 25 Memorial Day
Patti called early in the morning to talk about the challenge of having visitors during this tough time. Her partner, Jim, has spent the weekend with his mother up in Vermont and the neighbors arrived with a bunch of kids, who ran across the yard to sit on Jim‘s mother's lap. The neighbors then followed up on Sunday with a big barbeque. Jim is now having to self-quarantine for a week up there, which is probably good for his relationship with Patty. She wants to see Devon, of course, but his roommate, who's car he would have to borrow, is doing on-line hook-up dates, bringing the girls to the apartment. What a dope.
Now I have to figure out what to do about Geoff and Kim’s visiting, but they seem to be low-risk, even with all the young people in their house. Everyone seems to be careful. And they would be staying in the little house.
Jim Dolan called and I asked him how he was doing after his brother's death, which was sudden and caused by a perforated bowel. I said, "It's tough that you can’t have a funeral." And then he told me that that 200 people showed up at the cemetery where is brother was buried, hugging each other. I get it. One of the worst consequences of this virus is to endure terrible losses without the comfort of physical contact. Dale Baker, our farmer neighbor who plants my seeds, is Jim's cousin and one of the pallbearers. I have to pick up the new plants next week. Ugh. He’s conservative and I'm certain he won’t be wearing a mask.
Rolled around in the tractor scoot this afternoon weeding out the back flower garden. It’s a long process. Very messy. But gratifying.
Spoke with Liz. We both admitted enjoying the quarantine and feeling guilty about it considering how difficult it is for so many people, particularly those in cities living alone. She’s getting out and taking hikes with real people. I asked how Ann was, who never responded to the text I sent out. Ah well.
Willie and Michael laid out the black plastic for my vegetable garden but left out a row so they have to fix it tomorrow. Felt badly for them. Three hours in the sun, although at least they were working late in the day.
Skirt steak tacos for dinner, then Name of the Rose and Larry Sanders.
Tuesday May 26
The bad news today from my radiology appointment was Dr. Savage warning me not to take so much Tylenol and Advil. He limited me back to my usual two Advil in the morning and two at night, which doesn’t help the gardening. Very hot today so didn’t get out to weed and spent most of the day not doing very much. I finished thank you notes for the Salvation Army donations.
Wrote this while sitting on the deck. Michael is at the planning meeting and William is off on a rosary walk, so it’s the rare event of being the only person in the house. I have a glass of wine and a book and the birds are in full throttle. Very nice evening,
I finished Dorothy Day's autobiography and it occurred to me that an autobiography is a distorted version of a Self. You can't see yourself as others do. Even physically, a mirror image is in reverse. And how difficult to concoct some order from the random patterns of a mind over time, Even a great mind like Dorothy's. So I need to follow her autobiography with the recent well-regarded biography by John Loughery.
Although I didn’t have a religious experience last night I did have the release of a certain burden of always trying to be good, which was a delusion. I don't want to bad, just free of the struggle of constantly defining good and failing at it.
Willie has joined the American Solidarity Party (a terrible name with a ridiculous acronym). It's Catholic oriented, advocating distributism as its economic base.
We watched a Zoom discussion between John Madei, the major distributism theoretician, and the ASP Veep. Madei was charming smart and able to clarify difficult economic concepts. The other guy inexplicably decided to set himself against a white screen. He was bald, overweight, with an eggplant shaped head and five o’clock shadow, all in super definition. It was interesting, but he became unwatchable
Made a Bolognese sauce, which was great.
Wednesday May 27
Obsessing during the night in not being able to take the Advil Tylenol double dose. I understand why I shouldn't (GI bleeding), but it was so great to have that nearly pain free weekend.
Called into the CCDC officers call, so I could comment on my concerns with the Recovery Kitchen. Keith told me to call Pam Klein.
Another Radiation day. I lie on the slab, still as a corpse. Neil Young, Clarence Clearwater, and the nostalgia ridden music of my youth croon to me while the steel wheels rotate around shooting rays into the tumors near my liver and esophagus. The music makes me feel romantic.
Talked to Pam about my reluctance to boost the GoFundMe goal for the RK while $40k lay in the bank with only$3k worth of bills. This money should keep the kitchen going for another five months, well past the date when restaurants should be reopening and the two chefs would be back at work. Raising unneeded money for RK could also threaten donations for other food groups, my beloved Army. Pam told me that the Hudson restaurants would probably open only on the weekends so the chefs would be able to cook at the RK during the week. She assured me that if the RK did close, any left over cash would be distributed to other pantries and kitchens. Meanwhile the sanctuary movement is dropping out—wants to deliver groceries not dinner—which will reduce the number of RK weekly dinners by about 15O. They are trying to work out a plan for making the RK permanent. I urged her to talk to Darcy and Jill Wishon.
Read a new Scott Turow novel most of the afternoon. Did a little weeding late in the day (which was hot!) and was glad that my reduced pain meds didn’t interfere. Then Michael and I sat on the deck with wine until it was hot dog grilling time. Made a weird cabbage onion pickle thing to put on my dog (only I could love it). Watched Name of the Rose.
Thursday May 28
Went to Radiation, where the appointments were backed up because a patient had moved during his procedure and they had to start his treatment from scratch. My nose always itches as soon as they slide me under scanner, so I sympathize.
Spent much of the morning working on the Recovery Kitchen. Pam mentioned that we may not be delivering meals to the Sanctuary list, which comprises the local immigrant population. They want to delivery groceries and not cooked dinners. Also the person in charge of their scheduling has gotten confused coordinating his drivers with Pam's.
I had a nice talk with Carole Clark, telling her how amazing I thought the work she and Pam had been doing. I suspected she felt I was being oppositional (which I sort of was) because I didn’t want to raise the goal on the GoFundMe campaign without a plan for continuing the Kitchen. She said they are putting one together and that if it doesn't work, they would distribute left over funds to other organizations, like the Army. I was surprised to learn from her that some of the food pantries in the County actually are experiencing reduced demand, and it’s not quite clear why. There are a number of possibilities, including the reluctance to go out in public, the government subsidies, or the Recovery Kitchen dinners. Not all pantries are experiencing this, however. The Salvation Army lunches and pantry visitors have gone up.
Carole has been coopted into joining a new committee on county hunger. Not sure what's its goal is, but Darcy should be on it since the Army is major provider of food. I got hold of Darcy and suggested that I could represent the Army if she didn't have time for it, and, since Darcy is doing actual work with food, she enthusiastically took up my offer. Also suggested that Carole connect with Jill Wishon, who has deep knowledge of the county systems for dealing with hunger.
Got pizza for dinner and I threw most of mine up after extreme heartburn. First vomiting side effects, but there was little nausea and symptoms all went away after I barfed.
Attended the zoom CCDC meeting for a while but Carrie was covering it a co-secretary, so I packed it in to watch Name of the Rose
Friday May 29
Another beautiful day but we need rain.
Radiation was uneventful. When we got home, Michael and I walked to the pond where he poured the blue dye, which seems to be pretty good at holding back the vegetation out in the middle. There was too much wind to spread the algae killer, however.
It's evening now and we're sitting on the deck baked in soporific light and warmth and the very subtle fragrance of early flowers. So nice. Didn’t drink any wine, which is giving me heartburn during this current radiated period and probably precipitated the vomiting last night. Michael and I stayed out on the deck till cooking time. It being Catholic Friday I’ve planned a ricotta lemon pasta. I hadn’t noticed the claim on the penne box of ”secret vegetables” or its expiration date. As soon as it hit the boiling water tiny black spots flowered up to the surface. Don’t know if they are the secret vegetables, bugs, or mouse turds. Michael investigated the box, which was riveted with tiny holes. He took the pasta pot and dumped it into the woods. I then found real spaghetti without the mysterious plant or animal life. The ricotta sauce was disappointing, however, grainy and not very pleasant. None of us liked it and there was of course the memory of the black spots.
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