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Ten Things about this Pandemic that Bother Me Most

I am sure we all have had enough of certain aspects of this Pandemic. I decided to list mine. And no, the masks didn’t make it to the list because I understand their necessity.

  1. Our mandatory mistrust of one another in order to be safe is so bothersome to me ie. I trust and someone dies. No one wants to kill their mother after all.
  2. Despite all the information posted everywhere, most people have no understanding of this virus’ mode of transmission (via spittle into the face), contagion period (less than a week before symptoms and three weeks at most after it presents), or what an antibody is (immunity in your body).
  3. But presenting with the antibodies means nothing. Not enough is known as the virus mutates to know if you are immune to one strain but can catch the next one coming through. Ten Things about this Pandemic that Bother Me Most on Shalavee.com
  4. No real school program in place for our public school children.
  5. Capitalism continues to thrive in our high anxiety climate of not enoughness and plague fear.
  6. The richest companies in the country just tripled their profits from the anxiety-fest.
  7. I gained ten pounds.
  8. No vaccine for the pandemic this year or perhaps even next.Ten Things about this Pandemic that Bother Me Most on Shalavee.com
  9. Zoom meetings.
  10. With all this time , I still manage to mismanage my time and feel like I’m getting nothing done.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

A Fictional Writing Piece on the Corona Virus by My Son Eamon Peach

I was not surprised when my children’s artistic talents began to emerge. My son could draw pretty well and at age 8, he began to play the piano. The rest is history. He took to it so fast, it was always what he’d been good at, he’d just not gotten a chance to play yet.

In addition to piano, he also plays the bass clarinet for both his high school marching band and a large local community band. And one night, he forgot to bring his instrument home from school. So while his fellow community band members were practicing, he spent the time writing the following short story on the subject topic that seems to be worrying the world currently; the Corona Virus.

She wakes, and looks at her phone. The news reports a “rapidly spreading plague” in China, supposedly set to become an epidemic. She laughs to herself, figuring this type of stuff happens all the time, in her modern world, this could never happen, just like WW3, it was an amusing thought, but it passed. She walks into her kitchen, pours herself some coffee, and sits down. Jumping to reddit, she notices quite a lot of memes and such about this new “corona virus”. She chuckles, this is definitely a joke of a disease.

About a month later…

She wakes, and looks at her phone, the news reports that the “corona virus” has several confirmed cases in the US, a few in Australia, and is still rapidly spreading in Asia. It supposedly gotten to the point where several smaller countries have stopped imports and transportation from China in an attempt to stop the spread. She shakes her head; “well that’s something” she tells herself, walking to the kitchen. Her roommate steps out from his room, coughing and bleary-eyed. He says it’s just a common cold, she reassures herself, a little scared at first.

At work..

Several of her coworkers are out today, believed to be sick. Her boss tells everyone there’s been a cold spreading about, nothing to be concerned about, use germ-ex or whatever. She sighs in relief and continues her day.

A few weeks later…

She wakes, and looks at her phone, the news, reporting mass fatalities in China, and areas of quarantine in some of its urban regions. Other countries near China have done the same, some successful, some not. Other western countries, such as Greenland and Sweden have completely shut off all contact with infected countries, claiming they can sustain themselves, and that it’s: “worth the risk”. Economists worldwide are warning against this, saying although it will delay the plague, it will ruin the economies of some countries, making their contributions to the plague insignificant. She shudders, and walks to the kitchen, she hears a thinking from her roommates room, and peeks inside. He’s on the ground, face first, unconscious, and practically choking on his own vomit. She screams and feels a wave of nausea wash over her. Panicking, she tries to figure out ways to help him, before remembering reading somewhere that you  in these types of situations, you should roll them onto their sides, at least that’s what she thinks she remembers. She rolls him, taking several tries, onto his side, and a stream of green runs from his mouth onto the carpeted floor. She look away and dials 911, so many thoughts running through her mind, what if he died? What if she caught it? What if she died?

911, what’s your emergency?”

My roommate, I, uh, found him lying on the floor, I don’t know if he’s dead, he had a col-“

Ma’am we’ll be there as soon as we can, thank you.”

-click-

The next day, at work…

Welp, it looks like we’re shutting down, nobody can afford us anymore, not with the sudden depression the country’s been having, they all withdrew their money and left, haven’t had a single deposit anywhere in the system since Wednesday.” Her boss exclaims to her and the rest of the employees.

She walks slowly home, head down, slowly realizing how hopeless her life has become. She sees a man arguing with a figure in a business suit, the man seems extremely upset, and the suited person hands him a paper. The man crumbles to his knees and pleads. She turns away from the scene to bump into a cloaked man, who was running down the sidewalk, sputtering and coughing. A few seconds later, a pursuing figure, a police officer of a sort, runs after the man, yelling for him to stop. She decides to visit her grocery store later in the day, just in case anything were to… go wrong.

A day or so later…

She wakes, hungry. She is afraid to look at her phone, but does it anyway. The first thing she notices is a notification from her phone company saying data for the next month will have to be paid within the next week or the user’s phone will be shut off. She sighs, at this point, it’s not a surprise, just another problem in what’s looking to be the downward spiral of her life. The news reports that this will be it’s last report, as they will soon go bankrupt. The news however, makes her wish they’d gone bankrupt far before she read it. All of east Asia has fallen into anarchy, lucky countries, such as Australia, have managed to keep it to martial law, out of desperation. Business in Europe is rapidly declining, and border policies are infinitely more strict than at any time before. The claim to a nation with no infected citizens has become a bragging right, and cure research is few and far between, claiming they have been: “actively working towards a solution”. She walks to her kitchen, and prepares the breakfast she had rationed for herself the night before. She takes a glance at the door to her roommates room, it doesn’t even look like a room anymore, bundles of quarantine tape around it, with a smell of chemicals. Everything inside has been destroyed, tampered with to the point of destruction, or nabbed by she assumes to be the government for the cause of “science”.

A few days later…

She puts on her “outside” suit, as she’d come to call it, a combination of torn apart hazmat suits and other items she thought would help her not join the many millions of casualties in the massive quarantine zone that was her city. She takes a step outside, and looks upon the wonderful wasteland outside of her apartment building. Blood and other unusual liquids paint streaks in the road, and bodies litter the street as if dispensed from a chute in the sky. She begins her morning jog to the store, hoping to meet with the usual survivors to trade random commodities and talk about how miserable life was nowadays.

After a saddening encounter with a barely alive.. definitely infected.. thing, chasing her, she finally reaches the store. To her utmost surprise, the store is completely leveled, and there is evidence of the appearance government appearance on site, mostly the scorch marks and tire treads made from what was obviously the government’s “quarantine division”, whose job was to pick off all the citizens of a quarantined zone. She reasoned the government thought it was more  “efficient”. She was glad she’d been late to the meeting here, the quarantine division had most likely caught on to where they’d been meeting, and struck a couple of easy targets. Tough luck for them, she thought, and continued about her day.

That night…

She gasped, and awoke. Around her was not what she usually woke up to, she looked over a planet, the earth, or so it seemed. It was different, yellow and brown, she could sense there was no life there, nothing, just nothing.

It’s not impossible, just improbable.

If it’s improbable, it’s still possible.”

a short story by Eamon Peach

For fear that this never got published, I really wanted to put this here. Of course, I think it’s very good, I’m his mother. And I hope that college finds him polishing his writing skills. Meanwhile, he’s just an average American young man about to turn 15 years old.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

Testing, Testing, is this Parent On ?

This first week of school is notoriously rough for our youngest. There are new teachers, new routines, and new buses to acquaint themselves with. And I fully expect our train to derail somewhere in the middle of back to school week. I was slightly mistaken in that there weren’t as many neurotic breakdowns and a crying fits. But the weekend brought me the brunt of the week with not so fab behavioral choices.

The tall one was seemingly good until we found he’d smuggled his phone up to his room for late night phone poking and gaming which is against my rules. He did not try to hide it. I am holding the phone every day this week after school. He conceded to this punishment without question.

The small one, she brings on the fits and the tantrums fast and furious these days. I felt like my weekend was usurped by these fits. Every time I turned around, she was mad about something (My theory that she’s happiest when she’s unhappy resurfaced). Last week, her constant lack of appreciation for gifts received got her a week long hold on asking for anything. So she’d say she would like something and then when I shut her down, she’s say, “Wishing’s not wanting Mom.” The heck it isn’t sassy pants.Testing, Testing, is this Parent On ? on Shalavee.com

I can barely contain my giddiness sometimes when I get her onto the bus in the morning. Because, for 7 hours, I’m not going to be used as a punching bag to find out where her boundaries stop and mine start. I understand the necessity of their pushing and my pushing back to show them they are loved and safe, but parenting is an exhausting gauntlet through their childhoods. A relentless journey into the irritable and seemingly unnecessary woods we’ve long since forgotten we’d navigated ourselves.

But navigate they must, testing us all the way, to find out how important and loved they are so they can take that in a to-go package to use for the rest of their lives. Just give me a few hours off each week please.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

The Minutia of Christmas

( From December 2014 and last year, I adore this look back ) The sound was a thwap and a roll, hollow plastic bouncing and traveling across the floor. My new Christmas tree balls were this moment’s entertainment. The “ball balls” were being extracted from their big clear box and thrown while I hurried to put my laundry away. Although that’s exactly why I bought those, I underestimated the little monkey’s reasoning skills.let the ball-a-thon begin on Shalavee.com

Every day is jam-packed with holiday fun.

Not unlike any other day in my life, I’ve been cramming the carrying out of Christmas details into the tiny time slots when I’m kid free. I got started early! Then stalled. And then the holiday started to close in on me and every other person in the free First world.

garland as a boa on shalavee.com

No one to impress but me, I knew I had time. But the tree had been lit and yet naked for a week. On the heels of the Christmas ball shot put incident, the unearthing of ribbon and tinsel garland set off a playing frenzy with Fiona dragging the garland around screaming “Mine, Mine” while the cat chased and pounced on the end. I’m not accustomed to the toddler mayhem yet. I like my holiday decorating to be quiet thinking time for me. Ha!garland and kitty games on Shalavee.com

Today was cookie making day as well. My son and husband conceived that cookies would be Eamon’s offering to the school class party. I apparently was no where around for this important strategy tete a tete because I am no cookie baker. And alas, Pilsbury’s Sugar cookies with embedded Christmas tree designs that you just cut and bake were all gone from the grocery store’s refrigerated section. So I talked myself up into helping Eamon make chocolate chip and sugar cookies. From scratch.

creaming the butter and sugar on shalavee.com

I hate baking because I’m a cook. Exact measurements? And a toddler who refused to eat her dinner and is now milling around your feet and now falling off the step stool knocking sprinkles everywhere? Call them disaster cookies. choc chip cookies on Shalavee.com

I was feeling generally hostile and irritated and pulled out just enough patience to have Eamon do most of the work. And yes, for her sake and mine, I sent Fiona out to Dada who was doing train garden setting up.

I enjoy my domesticity straight up. I am good with all the ten million details of Christmas but I just want to do them alone. No I don’t want to ever bake cookies with the kids again unless they are well-behaved young adults. No they won’t ever be decorating my Christmas tree unless they’ve proven to have tree decorating abilities. And yes, I will totally take advantage of their cute art project creations to make gifts for people at Christmas and cash in on their one absolute contribution. Creative mindless fun. The rest of Christmas is serious business and better left to the professionals. Christmas cookies from Shalavee.com

Merry Christmas to all you perfectionistic special event planners and decorators otherwise known as moms across the world. You’ve given enough. Take a seat and enjoy the event because it’ll be over in a blink.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your emailbox. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional Intouchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

Belonging to Myself

I feel unqualified to be an adult. Like someone didn’t give me the manual and the rule book. And I’ll be found out. I was raised to need someone else to give me a sense of belonging. It would seem my kryptonite is my own independence. This is the story I am discovering and hoping to rewrite. And may well be the story of many women who feel their purpose of existence is to serve others.

But I have found that not belonging to myself causes me great grief. A sense of being untethered and ungrounded. Not belonging to you means that you look for all your comfort and sense of identity from others. And I am adamant that my daughter finds a way to be here for herself. We had a conversation about this once and she called it her Body Buddy. Imagine the kind of love and acceptance we could give ourselves and then to the world if we belonged to ourselves, inside the bodies we have, with the compassion of angels.Belonging to Myself on Shalavee.com

What is a sense of Self-belonging comprised of? Self-love, self-trust, and self-knowledge perhaps. A feeling of faith that you are here just as you need to be when you should be. That you have everything you need within you to fulfill your purpose here. And you are never alone as long as you know that you are a pretty awesome friend to you.

If you enjoyed what you read, please subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagram to see my daily pictures, friend me or like my page on Facebook. Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

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