It's a memorable day. Not because of the weather -- it's cold and gray, though every once in a while, you can see the telltale signs of a streak of sunlight. So nothing special there.
(Every time the cheepers leave the barn to walk to the garage, the two older girls, Peach and Java, get stuck in the snow and I have to carry them to their end point. And then back again.)
And not because of my thunderous race through cooking and baking tasks, even before breakfast.
And certainly not because of breakfast itself. Is there a day when we don't sit down to something akin to this? There is not.
(Dance comes in for a visit, but chooses a bit of sun on the playroom windowsill over a boring meal with us.)
There are two events that do make this day special. First of all, Ed finally agrees to subscribe to Netflix. (Meaning he doesn't protest with horror when I subscribe to Netflix.) For years he has struggled to convince me that there is enough free stuff out there and that we don't need Netflix, nor any other paid streaming option. At the beginning of the pandemic, I told him we should dish out the $9 per month already, but he was adamant that we could stay pure and free of such paid indulgences. Ed is the only person I know who does not enjoy spending money in any shape or form. Indeed, some years back, he took a break from work and moved to a shack that he put up in the woods of Tennessee, spending I'm sure less than $1000 for the many months he lived there. Materials for shack included. The Thoreau in him limited his forays to occasional trips to a public library. His big splurge? A malted at the counter of a five and dime in a nearby town. Otherwise he... well, enjoyed the forest.
But our evening viewing options now are running awfully thin. I can't tell you how many movies we click on, then click off five minutes into the show. And so finally, today, he caved and we signed up, or rather I signed up for a Netflix account. Hey! The first month you get a free upgrade!
Before settling into our nighttime ritual of movie viewing, I had a sprinkling of other highlights. My weekly Zoom meetup with Snowdrop!
And cooking "Sunday" dinner for the young family, and baking a cake that the little girl requested. She told me it should be chocolate with chocolate icing and strawberry dots all over and strawberry lettering announcing the year 2021. Oh, and a heart around that number. It must have a heart. I puree some strawberries, get out the cocoa and get to work.
(Later, I ask her -- is this what you had in mind? She hesitates, gives a radiant smile and says -- close enough.)
(Delivering dinner, including cake...)
I mentioned two super memorable moments for this day. So there was the Netflix and then, too, there was the COVID vaccination.
Wisconsin rolled out its vaccine for those 65 and up today and luck, plus a lot of legwork (is it still legwork if you use your computer?) to search out and sign up for possible vaccination appointments, lead to an invitation for appointments for the both of us for today.
It wasn't with any great fanfare, not like those who received a shot at the Salisbury Cathedral in England, where the organist played joyous music as people came in for their shots, but it was grand anyway. Small pharmacy, a little chaotic, a lot too crowded for our neurotically isolationist preferences, but a huge moment nonetheless.
I write this with a great deal of gratitude to those who lead us to this first step toward pandemic relief, but, too, I am well aware of the fact that there are many many people who want this vaccine and only a few who manage to land it at this stage. So I have not a small amount of humility as well: Ed and I were lucky. I wish all could be lucky along with us.
And now for our first Netflix moment, with popcorn and a celebratory glass of wine. And wee bit of a sulking Ed. He does not like to surrender to a commercial giant.
