a Tuesday of closures

Well of course all the schools closed today. It's just too damn cold. I feed the huddled chickens when the thermometer tells me it's -14f (-26C) out there by the barn. Of course, that's before you calculate the wind chill.

 

Except for the cardboard  house that Ed built for him, covered with an ancient sleeping bag and with an electric pad inside (all this we keep on the porch), Pancake is a completely outdoor feral. And still he is better off than most living in the wild cats, who must cope without any heat source. Dance, for example, was born in January and she spent the first three months of her life completely outside. Now she just adores sleeping on the farmhouse heating vent, as if making up for those tough months.

 

(Pancake, on a brittle path)

Me, I did not sleep well last night. Texting with family, with friends, trying to make sense of the day -- all the way past midnight (at the same time thinking -- they, the ones with power, they're smacking their lips and rubbing their hands in glee; they have us exactly where they want us: worried. For nearly a decade now, it's been the ultimate goal. To knock down and leave whimpering those who care about the environment, economic inequality, health care access, personal choice, the rule of law, setting an example... Wait, doesn't that describe everyone? Shocking to find out that it does not).

Ocean doesn't tackle political problems, but what happened yesterday (following the inauguration) isn't just the usual political shenanigans of Washington. It has far reaching consequences and so I needed to tell you that I did not sleep well last night. In fact, for the first time since the week we learned of Covid's shutdowns and dangers, I took a sleeping pill to finally drift off for a while. 

Then this morning I rallied and put away the bottle of pills for when I really need them. I'm not totally there yet!

So schools are closed, the kids are home, the parents are releasing tablet time hour restrictions, trying to keep the three quiet while they work remotely. I understand Snowdrop is doing endless projects to keep her brothers occupied. Me, I begin the task of packing my own suitcase. Uff! Why do winter clothes need to be so bulky? Can I manage a carryon? Yes, but I need to expand it so... a carryon that's not going to be carried on.

I eat breakfast. Ed is on the phone discussing potential layoffs with the CEO of the machining company once the announced tariffs against our neighbors go into effect (maybe Feb 1st, but who knows, uncertainty is what we're living with now). I dont ask him to join me. They need to talk this through.

(oatmeal and red everything else!)

But within minutes he puts down the phone and comes over. Could it be that he needs these breakfasts together as much as I do? He scrambles up some eggs from our chickens (they're starting to lay again, slowly but surely). We talk about whether it would be fun to live a nomadic life at our age -- a few months here, a few months there. He thinks it could be fun. Me? Well what do you think -- the penultimate planner that I am, does that make me a good candidate for moving around and living out of a suitcase for a couple of years? At another time, in another life!

Now it's back to packing. How could it be this hard? Oh, you mean because the weather prognosis for our destination changes and includes everything from freezing temps to snow to rain to warmish temps? Well no matter. I dont equip myself for every exigency. Just the ones that will rip me apart if I come unprepared. (We will be in a small village with few stores, so resupplying would not be easy.)

And in the afternoon, I fight the cold and head out. To the sporting goods store, because a pair of ski goggles is stuck in the cavernous world of Amazon misdeliveries, and someone will need ski goggles. Not me. I'm abstaining. I think. Probably. Almost for sure. (I am a reluctant abandonner of one of my favorite sports -- downhill skiing.)

And I visit the young family. I need to drop something off and pick something up. I play "fighting cars and trucks" with Sandpiper, then watch Sparrow who is immersed in yet another Lego project.

At five, I take Snowdrop to Girl Scouts and head home.

It's evening. I was going to make a soup for Ed but I ran out of steam and time. Still, there are veggies, salads, eggs for me, tortillas for him. And a piece of chocolate. Grateful, and in love.