Heady Friday Round-Up

This was a week of a lot. There was a lot of setting the alarm for early meetings, a lot of faces in little Zoom boxes, a lot of diapers in the trash bags Swirl ripped open and scattered about, a lot of puzzling over what’s for dinner, and a lot of wondering if we’d somehow taken a wrong turn on this retirement business. Should we be having more fun or is this fun? I’m not sure.

The baby’s head is getting bigger. I don’t know this for a fact, I just sense it. She spends a fair amount of time sleeping on my chest so I have a good view of her head and would be in a position to know. This is reassuring because, as cute as newborn babies are, they are so incredibly vulnerable. This makes it hard to relax. So I’m glad about her head growing.

At the public hearing on our county’s proposed aging plan which proudly boasts an ambitious long-range vision to attack racial disparities and create better a better aging experience for everyone, one 91-year old attendee zeroed in on her critical issue which was that hot meals weren’t being served at the senior center anymore because of Covid. Feels easy to dismiss, doesn’t it? Just explain that it’s too risky to have a bunch of seniors sitting around a table eating lunch together and much safer to have grab and go lunches. But that misses the point (which I didn’t get until she’d repeated herself a dozen times). It’s not the meals, it’s being with people when you eat them.

Milton has disappeared. We haven’t seen him in weeks but, get this, the next door neighbor spotted him in his backyard a few days ago mating with a girl rabbit! So apparently, they’ve run off together. This is better than our alternative scenario in which one of the fifty guys living in the upper flat next door ran over our beloved Milton and then, ashamed, threw his tiny corpse in the trash.

I am so overgrown. I am not fat but I am unkempt. In the old days, also known as the Land Before Time, I got a haircut every five weeks and had a person pluck my eyebrows using a magnifying glass. This level of personal attention seems preposterous to me now. Some days, I admire my devil may care, my hair is not my soul attitude. Other days, I see an image in the mirror eerily similar to Steve Bannon at his most disheveled. I am at a crossroads about this.