Let me start by saying none of the following events are true disasters, but in the current climate, things tend to exaggerated, and furthermore, I really like alliteration.
This week's topic is about my kitchen experiences of late, particularly some of the things that didn't go quite as planned, for some reason or other.
For the past couple of months, I have sort of modified my weekly shopping planning and trips to the store. This is obviously influenced by the local lockdowns and social distancing. Like most everyone else, I reacted to the first notice of "lock down" by quickly preparing a list of all the items I thought I would need from the store, items that would tie me over for 7-10 days, if not a bit longer. I won't go so far as to say Hamsterkauf (the German word for panic buying/hoarding), but I did select items in larger quantities, knowing that I would not be able to zip off to the store for "1 or 2 things" whenever I felt like it. At least for the foreseeable future.
In fairness, I tend to manage my Lebensmittel as a regular inventory exercise; I basically purchase certain items each week whether I totally need them or not. To illustrate this point, I can say that I did NOT have to go buy all the toilet paper off the shelf, since I already was well stocked, proof that my "pick up another 4 pack this week" has been working really well for me over the years. On the other side, I have had a few moments where I suddenly found my perishable items a little too overstocked, milk being the prime example. I hate it when I suddenly look at 3 liters of milk all with the same expiration date of the current date.
At any rate, during March, I did notice with some dismay that several shelves in the supermarket were terribly empty, and it made me a little sad and a little frightened. However, I also knew (and know) that my own situation is rather comfortable, and I was able to put the irritations and disappointments behind me. I probably did not really need another can or two of tomatoes in the immediate future. The three already sitting on the counter at home would last.
Milk, however, was a little bit of concern. I am a chugger (see one the previous posts from years ago), and I like my milk fresh. Most of the time, I just need the milk for coffees, but as mentioned, sometimes chugging a liter is the right thing to do, so I need to keep well stocked.
I use two different grocery stores as part of my normal routine. One is a standard supermarket, with larger selections, along with household cleaning items, paper products, soaps, and the like. The other market is a little biomarkt, which tends to have smaller quantities and better quality product. In fact, their flour tortillas are quite good, and I am kind of a fan of their tostada chips. The majority of my culinary repertoire is Tex-Mex, and while that may sound silly coming from a guy that lives in Germany, one can't forget where I come from and how much the cuisine means to me. Since such restaurants are few and far between (about 3000km apart), I had to learn how to cook the stuff. So, thankfully I have shops that can sort of cater to my needs.
Back to milk. Just before Easter, I made my trip to Denn's, the organic market, and knew that I needed to pick up a few liters of milk, as the dairy shelf had been empty on my previous visit. As I rounded the corner with my buggy and glanced at the dairy case, I noticed the familiar blue and white carton of....milk! I almost ran over a lady who was buying wine, but I apologized profusely and wheeled over to the dairy section, where, although somewhat bare, a few liters of milk were waiting for me to put in my cart.
I finished my shopping and returned home with a smile on my face, knowing that I had milk that would get me through at least 10 days, even with a couple of late night chugging sessions.
As I was putting the groceries away in my kitchen, I noticed one of the cartons of milk had an extra little label on it, then I noticed that ALL of the cartons had it.
Lactose free.
This is when I did my little "I am really pissed off at a lot of things" dance. I do NOT like lactose free products. It is not as if I am lactose-free intolerant, but I don't enjoy the taste. But, I figured I would just pretend it was fat-free milk or something, so that the next time I would have proper milk, I would enjoy it all the more. It wasn't the end of the world, but annoying all the same. I would say it is similar to doing something like buying a bunch of AAA batteries, only to find out that your remotes all use AA. I learned from that experience, too.
Fortunately, it was a one time mishap, and subsequent trips to the store have involved a very alert Bryan carefully reading the milk label and selecting the correct item.
Now, to other priority staples. When the first wave of lock downs sent everyone rushing off to buy anything and everything from the shelves of their local markets, I did try to apply some logic and ration to my purchases. While I wasn't really worried about toilet paper, I was a little uncertain about coffee. I had purchased a kilo of bean at my local Kaffee-Rösteri, but I had a bad feeling that they would have to close up for some period of time. Not that I am a total coffee snob, I am particular about my coffee products. One of my friends in Greece and I have regularly compared notes on the art of being baristas, and as most people know, the bean is extremely important. True, I have been fortunate to live a few minutes away from one of the better coffee roasters in the city, if not the state. But, I do have contingency plans for such situations, and that involves product that is mass produced.
Lavazza and Illy come to mind, and Illy product is usually my plan B. The problem is, they usually only have ground coffee containers in my supermarket. And it is a little pricey, especially in comparison to my local roaster, who is also expensive but well worth it. During one trip to the store, I figured I would just resign myself to buying ground espresso for a while, but as I pulled the container off the shelf, I heard the delightful sound of whole bean inside. I immediately elected to try and buy as much as could, at least a kilo, which meant 4 containers. The problem was, the Illy containers all look alike. They are completely silver, rather stylish, and even though there is some really small print that does indicate grounds instead of whole bean, it is not as clear as you might think.
So, I ended up touching all of the containers on the shelf and playing them like maracas in order to try and find another container of bean. This is EXACTLY what irks other shoppers in the store; no one likes to see someone touching everything only to buy one item. I sheepishly murmured an apology to a few people who weren't so enthused with my impromptu percussion concert, saying something to the effect that it was an emergency. Gotta have the bean.
I am not really sure if it was a one time thing or what, but since that trip, Illy bean is no more in the store, only the ground coffee. Thanks to my plan C, I picked up a kilo of shade grown organic espresso bean in my bio markt the next trip. And that is where the problem started. Many times, coffee bean from such stores is older than the "good stuff" my local roaster offers. And, the age of the bean matters, as I found out when I was grinding and pouring espresso shots a couple of days later.
My shots were all over the place, I was hardly getting more than 4 bars of pressure. (The sweet spot is more around 8-10 bars). I thought back to Stergios training, and had to adjust my grind, my quantities and here, a kilo or two later, my coffees are back on track. Patience and discipline, to quote Frau Merkel.
Now, on the subject of actual cooking, it is not as if EVERYTHING I eat is Tex-Mex. For a little variety, I did pick up some little sausages one day, and not long after that, I stocked up on some salmon, which is my main source of seafood and omega 3s.
Salmon is a bit tricky, but in the past year or so I have become one with my skillet, and manage to be pretty consistent with my preparation. Until this past week. Two times in a row, I thawed my salmon, did all the right prep work, but minutes later found myself looking at some real grey yuck in the pan. I did not notice a fishy smell, but it looked like crap, and the result was a far cry from tasty. True, I did eat about half of it, telling myself it was not that bad, but the more I got to thinking about it, the worse I felt. It didn't help that I had just watched a move about a big shark the night before, so was a little squeamish when it came to stuff from the sea. And what was in my pan looked a whole lot like what Meg ate as she swam around terrorizing the people stupid enough to go out on the boat and look for her.
In all, I had purchased 4 packages of frozen salmon, and the first two had not gone well. The third came out even worse, which prompted the fourth to simply be thrown out. Maybe it's my freezer, or maybe it was a bad batch or something.
Let's just say for now, I am off salmon. When I was little and learning how to make simple meals for myself, I got hooked on peanut butter and honey sandwiches. I enjoy both very much, but one day, I overdid the honey. It actually saturated the bread, and when I pulled my lunch bag out at school, it grossed me out.
It took me 20 years before I ate another peanut butter and honey sandwich, and I am really hoping that I won't have to wait as long with my next salmon experience. We shall see.
Discouraged but not hopeless, I emptied the fishy trash and decided to fry up my sausages. To be fair, I have always struggled to do sausages properly, primarily because I don't want to experience the misadventures of eating undercooked pork.
Unlike my barista-ing or my abilities with Tex-Mex, I still cannot get my act together with sausages, which is a shame, really, because I quite enjoy them. But I cannot cook them to save my soul.
I actually apologized to my skillet as I was cleaning it, saying that it was entirely my fault and lack of skill that resulted in what looked remarkably similar to blackened salmony yuck.
If anyone was wondering why my current post is a couple of days late, it's because of poor cooking experience; all of this happened towards the end of last week.
I returned to basics, and figured it would be best if I did something a little more edible and simple. Why I used so much gouda cheese on my nachos is anyone's guess, but those really sucked. Unfortunately, my favorite cheese blends were a little scarce during one of the market trips, so I thought I would be creative. I am not off of gouda, but got a little closer than I would have liked.
Now would have been the perfect time to go out for a schnitzel or a pizza or something, but oh, that's right, the restaurants are all closed.
Back to the biomarkt for the weekly shopping trip, I wheeled through the aisle and was delighted to find that the tortillas were back in stock. With a little grin, I bought all their packets, then picked up some ground beef and chicken. Time to do things right.
I am delighted to report that I made beef quesadillas over the weekend, and they were absolutely incredible, especially since my homemade salsa also came out really well.
And how about the chicken flautas I made for dinner last night?
Fucking awesome.
Order is almost restored in my kitchen, and will be even better when I get through this last half liter of lactose free milk.
keep the faith
bryan
soundtrack -
The Clash - Lost in the Supermarket
Carter USM - Shoppers' Paradise
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
Sunday, April 12, 2020
Counting Squares, Counting Hairs, Grabbing Hold and Letting Go
Yesterday afternoon I had a chance to catch up with my sister; we sat outside with our coffees and just had a long chat. She sat on the front porch of Navaho, I sat on my balcony half a world away, and we talked through a range of topics, typical brother-sister style.
Although I talk daily with my father, in the same house as my sister, the call with Lynne did me good. I realized that I was missing a bit of contact with the outside world (I think everyone is). True, we spoke about a bunch of "what ifs," but most of the conversation involved the ways that we are getting on with things in our unusual times. Because my sister lives with two other people, her situation is different from my party of one environment.
The significance here is that when groups of people are cooped up together, emotions start to intensify, and interesting things happen. How many people recall their dorm room experiences from college where inevitably, no matter how good a friend the roommate was, someone always reached the end of their tether and became agitated by tiny, insignificant things? I fortunately had a single room for over half of my college life, but I did share a flat for a couple of years with a very close friend a couple of years later. Even with a two bedroom flat, we found the quarters a little too cramped, and towards the end of the lease, shortly before I relocated to Boston, we were realizing it was probably time to find separate living arrangements.
I have lived on my own for about 25 years, and while I notice that sometimes things get too quiet, I never have any of the feelings of "Gee, I wish I could go somewhere and have some private time." I have that every day.
And now, obviously, more than ever.
During my chat with my sister, we talked about my grandmother, who is on mandatory lock down in her assisted living community. In a world that has already shrunk considerably, her situation has become even more limited. For the right reasons, there are no external visitors allowed, meaning family and loved ones cannot enter the residential community. But, the few social events that normally occur are on hold: no meals in the dining room with other people, no card playing, crafts, or anything. So, everyone has to simply stay in their little apartments.
Our family has been collectively exploring ways to create activity for Grandmommy, and we are encountering challenges along the way. She cannot play with a virtual English garden like I am able to, thanks to a recent electronic gift from my father. Likewise, her audio book club service is currently closed. Reading print is out of the question, due to her eyesight. This has been an ongoing challenge for over 10 years, and one that I think about often. Most of our family are avid readers, not having books is not an option. I am not quite ready to go down the audiobook path (although I have considered the industry as a future profession), and have several friends who really enjoy the book listening experience.
For my grandmother, it's one of the few external things that she can experience. Unlike Chris or Pablo or other friends who listen to a book or story while commuting to and from work, then go about the other countless activities of work and family life, my Grandmother really only had audio books for a pastime. She is not much of a television viewer, unless it a televised sporting event. Well, sports are on hold, so the alternative would be whatever is available on the cable broadcast from her residence.
Again, the challenge is the hearing. Due to her age, things process a little more slowly, so listening to dialog can be a bit overwhelming. And, it is not as if my Grandmother is that interested in the latest Staffel of Outlander, or whatever. (I dare say she might have enjoyed the series Land Girls, which is what I watched this past week, myself. Shhh, Don't tell anyone that I watched some soap opera-like show from the BBC, those people might figure out that I watch a lot of romantic made for TV movies on the German broadcasting networks)
My sister reported yesterday that she had arranged to have a new set of wireless headphones sent to my Grandmother. This potentially will help her, should she have any interest in listening to whatever is on the tube. But, in the back of my mind, I am thinking that this may not be as successful as we would hope. Wireless headphones require charging, and you sort of have to treat the phones with a little care (so as not to break the connector or cause any damage). Again, I speak from experience here. This is not the first set of headphones that my Grandmother has had.
Before everyone starts getting all upset and sad about the last few paragraphs, let me be clear, it is not all doom and gloom. It is different, and it is perspective.
My grandmother is currently knitting (from memory and feel) a headband for herself. She knows perfectly well that visits to the beauty salon are not happening currently, and while this may be a new experience for her, since she has visited the beauty salon once per week for, hmm, the last 50 or 60 years, she is taking it as it comes. She plans to use the headband (no matter how it looks once completed) to "change her look."
This coming from a woman, aged 103, who can actually say, "Yes, I remember when I first started using Skype 20 years ago."
You want cutting edge, and I present you my Grandmommy.
On the topic of video conferencing, I am still amazed at how the new Zoom craze is generating both positive and negative things. It saddens me that people are abusing the application, but thankfully the good outweighs the bad. My father has rallied and is leading his Sunday School with weekly sessions, and countless other people are using such applications to stay connected.
Last weekend, I participated in a call with some family and friends, and again noted a difference in how people cope with the experience of isolation. During our video call, a girl suggested that I watch a television series with my brother-in-law in Spain simultaneously, by sharing our screen and our netflix account.
Fran and I shared a smile; neither of us does that sort of thing. No offense intended, but we just are not into that. Back in the 90s when people started having Friends watching parties every Thursday night, I never signed up. I did watch the show with my friend, but he was my roommate and we shared the same living room.
Years later, it never even occurs to me to watch some television series with a bunch of other people. Likewise, I have never been in a book club.
Sure, I like to talk about what I read or what I saw, but I don't have to be with someone to do so. That is what the pub or kiosk is for; a place to congregate, socialize, and talk about whatever. Again, I mean no disrespect, but I do not feel the need to have a party to talk about a book five people just finished reading. If you want to get together, just get together. Snacks are optional.
This past week, I tended my virtual garden, enjoying learning more about various plants and flowers that people like Nadja and my aunt Virginia experience day in day out. Who knows, maybe this will be the kick start for me to start dabbling in potted plants. Somehow I doubt it.
With a little more time on my hands, I do spend more time on my balcony, particularly since the weather is pretty nice of late. And, birds are singing, and I am enjoying listening to them. The birds have always been there, and I am known in the conference call circles as the guy with the nice sounding background. If only they knew my little set up in the kitchen, espresso machine to my right, oven and range directly behind me, a poster of Siouxsie looking down on me from the wall, and the balcony door wide open, allowing the sounds of the back garden to drift inside. My microphone in the kitchen (how often do you read that in a sentence) is not quite as professional as the one in my living room, but it's pretty darn good. Thus, all the outside sounds get picked up. In recent weeks on various calls, I have had several colleagues comment on how peaceful it sounds from my side, all while the background sounds of very active small children come from their side.
Hey ho.
As I finished my call with my sister and began to think about dinner preparations, I thought again about my Grandmother, and how she is spending her time. 2 seconds later I was dialing her telephone number, and after 6 rings (sufficient time for her to get up from her chair, walk across the room, and pick up the telephone) she answered, and recognized my voice immediately.
I love that. I have commented several times in the past couple of years on my frustrations that Grandmommy does not hear me so well. Face to face, she might catch 2 out of 7 words. In a group of more than 2 people, even less.
Last Christmas I had received some pointers from an ear specialist, who pointed out two things to me: one, a deep voice (while helpful in a potential voice-over career) can be a little hard to hear and two, speaking too quickly doesn't allow for an ageing person to process. They simply don't hear and process communication like someone 20 or 30 or 40 years younger. Speaking slowly is where I was trying to focus with her during my last days of stateside holiday, with various levels of success.
But, when speaking with her on her landline, with her souped up audio enhancing telephone, it is as if we are chatting together like we did 20 years ago sitting across from each other in a loud Mexican cantina. (pause while I fondly remember drinking margaritas and eating guacamole with her). With her telephone, she hears everything seemingly crystal clear. It's still a little surprising to me, because in person she might behave a little timidly, mainly because she doesn't move or see or hear all that well. There is nothing wrong with her brain, but the other elements can quickly overwhelm, so when I am suddenly having a call with her on a Saturday afternoon and we are discussing our experiences with the isolation, she is engaged, thoughtful, and curious. She asked me about my work (I have not yet told her of my imminent departure from the company), wanted to know if I was playing "her songs" on the piano (of course I am) and in general wanted to know how I was passing the time.
I though about telling her how I spent a couple of hours the previous week counting my hairs and wondering when I would be able to visit the barber again, and wondering if that really matters. I also quickly decided not to tell her that I had been inventorying my toilet paper and was on a personal quest to see how few squares I could consume in a, erm, session. I will leave those topics for the next time I am at the pub.
Instead, I reminisced about all the Easters I had spent at my Grandmothers. Like Thanksgiving, each Easter we would go to her house after services, enjoying a nice meal and an Easter Basket. Lynne and I did do Easter Egg hunts when we were small, and it was always a little unfair, because the 3 1/2 year split always gave my older sister the advantage; she always found more eggs than I could.
My Grandmother, agreeing that we had certainly had some great Easter afternoons together, also pointed out the obvious, the significance of the season. How right she is. Easter has always been important for me, and here on Easter Sunday as I near the end of this post, I am taking the day to reflect and celebrate.
As Grandmommy and I finished our telephone call, she shared with me how she had been spending some of her time in recent days. She has been fretting on how to wish me a happy birthday. International telephone calling is not something that comes so easily to someone of her age, but that is totally okay.
I allayed her concerns by telling her that one of the presents I would be giving myself next week would be to call her up on the telephone again. She enthusiastically exclaimed that she always thought of the Stevie Wonder song when speaking with me on the telephone.
"I just called to say I love you."
Happy Easter and keep the faith
bryan
Although I talk daily with my father, in the same house as my sister, the call with Lynne did me good. I realized that I was missing a bit of contact with the outside world (I think everyone is). True, we spoke about a bunch of "what ifs," but most of the conversation involved the ways that we are getting on with things in our unusual times. Because my sister lives with two other people, her situation is different from my party of one environment.
The significance here is that when groups of people are cooped up together, emotions start to intensify, and interesting things happen. How many people recall their dorm room experiences from college where inevitably, no matter how good a friend the roommate was, someone always reached the end of their tether and became agitated by tiny, insignificant things? I fortunately had a single room for over half of my college life, but I did share a flat for a couple of years with a very close friend a couple of years later. Even with a two bedroom flat, we found the quarters a little too cramped, and towards the end of the lease, shortly before I relocated to Boston, we were realizing it was probably time to find separate living arrangements.
I have lived on my own for about 25 years, and while I notice that sometimes things get too quiet, I never have any of the feelings of "Gee, I wish I could go somewhere and have some private time." I have that every day.
And now, obviously, more than ever.
During my chat with my sister, we talked about my grandmother, who is on mandatory lock down in her assisted living community. In a world that has already shrunk considerably, her situation has become even more limited. For the right reasons, there are no external visitors allowed, meaning family and loved ones cannot enter the residential community. But, the few social events that normally occur are on hold: no meals in the dining room with other people, no card playing, crafts, or anything. So, everyone has to simply stay in their little apartments.
Our family has been collectively exploring ways to create activity for Grandmommy, and we are encountering challenges along the way. She cannot play with a virtual English garden like I am able to, thanks to a recent electronic gift from my father. Likewise, her audio book club service is currently closed. Reading print is out of the question, due to her eyesight. This has been an ongoing challenge for over 10 years, and one that I think about often. Most of our family are avid readers, not having books is not an option. I am not quite ready to go down the audiobook path (although I have considered the industry as a future profession), and have several friends who really enjoy the book listening experience.
For my grandmother, it's one of the few external things that she can experience. Unlike Chris or Pablo or other friends who listen to a book or story while commuting to and from work, then go about the other countless activities of work and family life, my Grandmother really only had audio books for a pastime. She is not much of a television viewer, unless it a televised sporting event. Well, sports are on hold, so the alternative would be whatever is available on the cable broadcast from her residence.
Again, the challenge is the hearing. Due to her age, things process a little more slowly, so listening to dialog can be a bit overwhelming. And, it is not as if my Grandmother is that interested in the latest Staffel of Outlander, or whatever. (I dare say she might have enjoyed the series Land Girls, which is what I watched this past week, myself. Shhh, Don't tell anyone that I watched some soap opera-like show from the BBC, those people might figure out that I watch a lot of romantic made for TV movies on the German broadcasting networks)
My sister reported yesterday that she had arranged to have a new set of wireless headphones sent to my Grandmother. This potentially will help her, should she have any interest in listening to whatever is on the tube. But, in the back of my mind, I am thinking that this may not be as successful as we would hope. Wireless headphones require charging, and you sort of have to treat the phones with a little care (so as not to break the connector or cause any damage). Again, I speak from experience here. This is not the first set of headphones that my Grandmother has had.
Before everyone starts getting all upset and sad about the last few paragraphs, let me be clear, it is not all doom and gloom. It is different, and it is perspective.
My grandmother is currently knitting (from memory and feel) a headband for herself. She knows perfectly well that visits to the beauty salon are not happening currently, and while this may be a new experience for her, since she has visited the beauty salon once per week for, hmm, the last 50 or 60 years, she is taking it as it comes. She plans to use the headband (no matter how it looks once completed) to "change her look."
This coming from a woman, aged 103, who can actually say, "Yes, I remember when I first started using Skype 20 years ago."
You want cutting edge, and I present you my Grandmommy.
On the topic of video conferencing, I am still amazed at how the new Zoom craze is generating both positive and negative things. It saddens me that people are abusing the application, but thankfully the good outweighs the bad. My father has rallied and is leading his Sunday School with weekly sessions, and countless other people are using such applications to stay connected.
Last weekend, I participated in a call with some family and friends, and again noted a difference in how people cope with the experience of isolation. During our video call, a girl suggested that I watch a television series with my brother-in-law in Spain simultaneously, by sharing our screen and our netflix account.
Fran and I shared a smile; neither of us does that sort of thing. No offense intended, but we just are not into that. Back in the 90s when people started having Friends watching parties every Thursday night, I never signed up. I did watch the show with my friend, but he was my roommate and we shared the same living room.
Years later, it never even occurs to me to watch some television series with a bunch of other people. Likewise, I have never been in a book club.
Sure, I like to talk about what I read or what I saw, but I don't have to be with someone to do so. That is what the pub or kiosk is for; a place to congregate, socialize, and talk about whatever. Again, I mean no disrespect, but I do not feel the need to have a party to talk about a book five people just finished reading. If you want to get together, just get together. Snacks are optional.
This past week, I tended my virtual garden, enjoying learning more about various plants and flowers that people like Nadja and my aunt Virginia experience day in day out. Who knows, maybe this will be the kick start for me to start dabbling in potted plants. Somehow I doubt it.
With a little more time on my hands, I do spend more time on my balcony, particularly since the weather is pretty nice of late. And, birds are singing, and I am enjoying listening to them. The birds have always been there, and I am known in the conference call circles as the guy with the nice sounding background. If only they knew my little set up in the kitchen, espresso machine to my right, oven and range directly behind me, a poster of Siouxsie looking down on me from the wall, and the balcony door wide open, allowing the sounds of the back garden to drift inside. My microphone in the kitchen (how often do you read that in a sentence) is not quite as professional as the one in my living room, but it's pretty darn good. Thus, all the outside sounds get picked up. In recent weeks on various calls, I have had several colleagues comment on how peaceful it sounds from my side, all while the background sounds of very active small children come from their side.
Hey ho.
As I finished my call with my sister and began to think about dinner preparations, I thought again about my Grandmother, and how she is spending her time. 2 seconds later I was dialing her telephone number, and after 6 rings (sufficient time for her to get up from her chair, walk across the room, and pick up the telephone) she answered, and recognized my voice immediately.
I love that. I have commented several times in the past couple of years on my frustrations that Grandmommy does not hear me so well. Face to face, she might catch 2 out of 7 words. In a group of more than 2 people, even less.
Last Christmas I had received some pointers from an ear specialist, who pointed out two things to me: one, a deep voice (while helpful in a potential voice-over career) can be a little hard to hear and two, speaking too quickly doesn't allow for an ageing person to process. They simply don't hear and process communication like someone 20 or 30 or 40 years younger. Speaking slowly is where I was trying to focus with her during my last days of stateside holiday, with various levels of success.
But, when speaking with her on her landline, with her souped up audio enhancing telephone, it is as if we are chatting together like we did 20 years ago sitting across from each other in a loud Mexican cantina. (pause while I fondly remember drinking margaritas and eating guacamole with her). With her telephone, she hears everything seemingly crystal clear. It's still a little surprising to me, because in person she might behave a little timidly, mainly because she doesn't move or see or hear all that well. There is nothing wrong with her brain, but the other elements can quickly overwhelm, so when I am suddenly having a call with her on a Saturday afternoon and we are discussing our experiences with the isolation, she is engaged, thoughtful, and curious. She asked me about my work (I have not yet told her of my imminent departure from the company), wanted to know if I was playing "her songs" on the piano (of course I am) and in general wanted to know how I was passing the time.
I though about telling her how I spent a couple of hours the previous week counting my hairs and wondering when I would be able to visit the barber again, and wondering if that really matters. I also quickly decided not to tell her that I had been inventorying my toilet paper and was on a personal quest to see how few squares I could consume in a, erm, session. I will leave those topics for the next time I am at the pub.
Instead, I reminisced about all the Easters I had spent at my Grandmothers. Like Thanksgiving, each Easter we would go to her house after services, enjoying a nice meal and an Easter Basket. Lynne and I did do Easter Egg hunts when we were small, and it was always a little unfair, because the 3 1/2 year split always gave my older sister the advantage; she always found more eggs than I could.
My Grandmother, agreeing that we had certainly had some great Easter afternoons together, also pointed out the obvious, the significance of the season. How right she is. Easter has always been important for me, and here on Easter Sunday as I near the end of this post, I am taking the day to reflect and celebrate.
As Grandmommy and I finished our telephone call, she shared with me how she had been spending some of her time in recent days. She has been fretting on how to wish me a happy birthday. International telephone calling is not something that comes so easily to someone of her age, but that is totally okay.
I allayed her concerns by telling her that one of the presents I would be giving myself next week would be to call her up on the telephone again. She enthusiastically exclaimed that she always thought of the Stevie Wonder song when speaking with me on the telephone.
"I just called to say I love you."
Happy Easter and keep the faith
bryan
Friday, April 03, 2020
Effortless Madness and Other Ska Tunes
Yes, I would agree that the title of this post makes about as much sense as the current state of the affairs in our world. But hey, let's just press on.
During a conversation with my father earlier this week, I mentioned that I was thinking this self-isolation experience is a little bit like summer vacation from when I was in elementary school.
Back then, our summer holidays lasted 3 months, which, at the time, sounded like total bliss.
Three whole months to do stuff: family vacation, summer reading program in the library, swimming lessons, and various other activities to fill up the three months break from school.
However, I remember relishing the first couple of weeks, if not month, of the break. No school was the primary reason for joy, followed closely by the simple fact that the routine had changed. We could stay up a little later, and did not have to be up and out the door and on the way to school the following morning.
Our family usually took our 2 or 3 week vacation early in the summer, usually late June or early July. This provided another reason to be really excited at the start of the summer break; we had something to look forward to.
Then, once the family vacation was complete, things started to slow down a little bit, and by the end of the second month of summer holidays, a little bit of boredom was setting in. I never really felt like I was ready to go back to school, but my actions and my feelings were saying something different. Many times my mother, who also worked in a school and had the summers off, would rack her brain in effort to come up with activities for my sister and me to do. We were starting to feel cooped up in the house, and this led to some misbehavior (albeit mild). Ultimately, we were simply getting on each other's nerves. We would somehow get through the last couple of weeks of August, then thankfully start back to school. Back to routine.
For the first couple of weeks of isolation, distancing, whatever you want to call it, it's kind of new, almost exciting, particularly if you don't think about all the scary stuff. When the experience is fresh and new, people are a lot more enthusiastic and enjoying the "newness" of the whole thing.
Unfortunately, the newness wears off pretty quickly and suddenly everyone is in the latter stage of summer vacation, bored to tears, looking for something to do, and antsy about spending so much time at home. The shit part is that it still unclear as to when we get to restart our routines, however normal they may be.
The reason that I was mentioning this to my father was mainly due to his description of how things were going in his neighborhood, in his city. As the states are several weeks behind Europe with regard to the spread of this virus, many statesiders are still in that "first couple of weeks of summer vacation" phase. It hasn't yet gotten boring staying the whole day at home, and to some extent, many people stateside have yet to comprehend the severity of the whole situation, so they haven't quite gotten around to distancing themselves.
As for myself, a home office worker and a bit of a homebody, some of this isolation experience is really not that new. I am very used to the tools required to work from home, and have actually been a little surprised as I hear people relate their new experiences of working from home. Some people need a little time to adjust to the situation, to learn how to ignore the distractions of the household environment, etc. Others have little experience with remote conferencing, and suddenly, all at once people are having to learn something new. It is an interesting development.
For sure, the forced cessation of activity has given me a little more free time, and this potentially can be a good thing. However, it is a little difficult to keep the mind clear of all the uncertainty flying about. Fortunately, I quickly remember that EVERYONE is going through a very similar situation and this solidarity is comforting in a way.
Now, I am not about to start making whipped coffees at home, and even if I did I would not feel inclined to post a photo of it, but still, I appreciate that people are getting on with things as best as they can. If they choose to express themselves in such fashion, fair enough.
Although I am not spending hours on the internet looking for the next funny photo or video of yet another grocery store shelf empty of toilet paper, I do come across a few humorous bits from time to time, usually shared with me from a friend. And, for what it worth, I do enjoy the chuckle. So, thanks Pablo, particularly.
Meanwhile, as I always have done, I do seek out the humor in the situations, and while it is particularly challenging to do this presently, I make sure to find something each day that helps bring some balance and peace.
Sometimes these things can be very small. I was watching a program the other night and one of the characters used the word "dip-shittery," and I had to laugh out loud. The context was perfect, and I actually tried to work that word into a conversation later on in the week.
A couple of weeks ago, right after my last blog post, I was thinking about how much I was enjoying peaceful sleeping and the dreams that accompanied the sleep. The very next night, my dream involved me roaming the M Streets late at night. In my dream, I had a call of nature, and somehow elected to use the facilities at the next house I came to. I found a backdoor unlocked, slipped inside, and was quietly doing my thing when a couple of young children peeked around the corner of the hallway. Well, the two kids were Buffy and Jody from "Family Affair," and as unusual as that seemed, I went ahead and pleaded with them to be quiet, as I was just borrowing their house as a rest stop and would continue on my way.
Instead, they both screamed loudly, and their grandfather suddenly appeared, and it was Robert De Niro, understandably wearing a bathrobe and looking none too pleased. He chased me down the street, encouraged by his cheering grandchildren, and I logically headed for Goliad, thinking it was the safest haven in the vicinity.
Mr. De Niro was in character, a mix of Taxi Driver and Midnight Run, with an unfortunate extra helping of Cape Fear. It was this last character that changed my mind; for a couple of blocks as he ran after me, I had been considering stopping to ask for his autograph.
It was then that I woke up, and actually had to get out of bed and say "holy socks holy socks" for a few minutes, just to try to calm myself down. It has been a long time since I have dreamt so vividly.
The following morning as I made my coffee, I actually laughed to myself, "Whew, that was close."
A little surreality goes a long way, but a few days later I got a the unfortunate news that my brother in law's mother had passed away from the virus in Valencia. As I reached out to the family, my sister commented on the fact that it was so surreal, how quickly things developed. My heart, my thoughts, and prayers go out to my Spanish family, along with my special memories of a woman who welcomed me into her life as a family member. Comforting to me, in a way, is that she is now probably having a Limon granizado with my own mother.
The tragedy of all of this is not over, and we will all likely experience more moments of sadness, uncertainty, as well as positive thoughts of how we go forward. Like everyone, I have friends who have already lost their jobs because this situation, and the future is unclear. As Joe Strummer said, the future is also unwritten.
For me, this means that I will continue to have ups and downs. My latest down came just a couple of days ago on the 1st of April, ironically a fool's day.
The work day had been particularly frustrating and unproductive, and I was in a really lousy mood, and struggling to understand why I still care about the job (as I am already laid off), but when suddenly at 16h on Wednesday afternoon my work laptop accounts were deactivated, I just about flipped out. It was too much.
It took me a few frantic hours to get things resolved, and I found out that the company IT department had me slated for 1st of April deactivation as opposed to 1st of May, one month too early. An honest mistake, and considering the current environment, somewhat understandable.
I tried to convince myself of this later that evening as I was still really worked up, overwhelmed by way too much emotion and thoughts of the past weeks. In college, I borrowed an album title from Carter USM and made it my own Bryan's Smart Circus, a way of venting at the complete madness of life in general. I don't listen to Carter much anymore, but maybe I should.
Any rate, I lived through a rather unpleasant Wednesday evening wrapped up in my own dark thoughts and that resulted in a horrible sleep, thankfully without nasty dreams but unfortunately without much sleep.
But I have to take it as it comes, and acknowledge that there will be some days that are not so great.
Thursday morning, order was slightly restored, and I looked forward to my little trip to the supermarket, where I actually had a rather pleasant experience. Other shoppers did not look nearly as fearful as they had the previous week, and as a small bonus, I was able to buy some paper towels, which I had been needing.
I checked my mailbox as I arrived back home, and found that I had a Christmas Card waiting for me.
As I say repeatedly, it is always a delight to get mail, and this particular card was just a few days late, but welcome all the same, and it came at precisely the moment it was most needed.
And here is a bit of irony for you, to bring this piece to a close. The whole card is positive energy, from the smiling family on the front with the greeting, "It's a wonderful life," to the inside, where each family member has an update, in great McKee fashion.
And on the back of the card?
Can't wait to see what 2020 has in store!
Stay healthy, stay safe, and find those happy thoughts.
keep the faith
bryan
During a conversation with my father earlier this week, I mentioned that I was thinking this self-isolation experience is a little bit like summer vacation from when I was in elementary school.
Back then, our summer holidays lasted 3 months, which, at the time, sounded like total bliss.
Three whole months to do stuff: family vacation, summer reading program in the library, swimming lessons, and various other activities to fill up the three months break from school.
However, I remember relishing the first couple of weeks, if not month, of the break. No school was the primary reason for joy, followed closely by the simple fact that the routine had changed. We could stay up a little later, and did not have to be up and out the door and on the way to school the following morning.
Our family usually took our 2 or 3 week vacation early in the summer, usually late June or early July. This provided another reason to be really excited at the start of the summer break; we had something to look forward to.
Then, once the family vacation was complete, things started to slow down a little bit, and by the end of the second month of summer holidays, a little bit of boredom was setting in. I never really felt like I was ready to go back to school, but my actions and my feelings were saying something different. Many times my mother, who also worked in a school and had the summers off, would rack her brain in effort to come up with activities for my sister and me to do. We were starting to feel cooped up in the house, and this led to some misbehavior (albeit mild). Ultimately, we were simply getting on each other's nerves. We would somehow get through the last couple of weeks of August, then thankfully start back to school. Back to routine.
For the first couple of weeks of isolation, distancing, whatever you want to call it, it's kind of new, almost exciting, particularly if you don't think about all the scary stuff. When the experience is fresh and new, people are a lot more enthusiastic and enjoying the "newness" of the whole thing.
Unfortunately, the newness wears off pretty quickly and suddenly everyone is in the latter stage of summer vacation, bored to tears, looking for something to do, and antsy about spending so much time at home. The shit part is that it still unclear as to when we get to restart our routines, however normal they may be.
The reason that I was mentioning this to my father was mainly due to his description of how things were going in his neighborhood, in his city. As the states are several weeks behind Europe with regard to the spread of this virus, many statesiders are still in that "first couple of weeks of summer vacation" phase. It hasn't yet gotten boring staying the whole day at home, and to some extent, many people stateside have yet to comprehend the severity of the whole situation, so they haven't quite gotten around to distancing themselves.
As for myself, a home office worker and a bit of a homebody, some of this isolation experience is really not that new. I am very used to the tools required to work from home, and have actually been a little surprised as I hear people relate their new experiences of working from home. Some people need a little time to adjust to the situation, to learn how to ignore the distractions of the household environment, etc. Others have little experience with remote conferencing, and suddenly, all at once people are having to learn something new. It is an interesting development.
For sure, the forced cessation of activity has given me a little more free time, and this potentially can be a good thing. However, it is a little difficult to keep the mind clear of all the uncertainty flying about. Fortunately, I quickly remember that EVERYONE is going through a very similar situation and this solidarity is comforting in a way.
Now, I am not about to start making whipped coffees at home, and even if I did I would not feel inclined to post a photo of it, but still, I appreciate that people are getting on with things as best as they can. If they choose to express themselves in such fashion, fair enough.
Although I am not spending hours on the internet looking for the next funny photo or video of yet another grocery store shelf empty of toilet paper, I do come across a few humorous bits from time to time, usually shared with me from a friend. And, for what it worth, I do enjoy the chuckle. So, thanks Pablo, particularly.
Meanwhile, as I always have done, I do seek out the humor in the situations, and while it is particularly challenging to do this presently, I make sure to find something each day that helps bring some balance and peace.
Sometimes these things can be very small. I was watching a program the other night and one of the characters used the word "dip-shittery," and I had to laugh out loud. The context was perfect, and I actually tried to work that word into a conversation later on in the week.
A couple of weeks ago, right after my last blog post, I was thinking about how much I was enjoying peaceful sleeping and the dreams that accompanied the sleep. The very next night, my dream involved me roaming the M Streets late at night. In my dream, I had a call of nature, and somehow elected to use the facilities at the next house I came to. I found a backdoor unlocked, slipped inside, and was quietly doing my thing when a couple of young children peeked around the corner of the hallway. Well, the two kids were Buffy and Jody from "Family Affair," and as unusual as that seemed, I went ahead and pleaded with them to be quiet, as I was just borrowing their house as a rest stop and would continue on my way.
Instead, they both screamed loudly, and their grandfather suddenly appeared, and it was Robert De Niro, understandably wearing a bathrobe and looking none too pleased. He chased me down the street, encouraged by his cheering grandchildren, and I logically headed for Goliad, thinking it was the safest haven in the vicinity.
Mr. De Niro was in character, a mix of Taxi Driver and Midnight Run, with an unfortunate extra helping of Cape Fear. It was this last character that changed my mind; for a couple of blocks as he ran after me, I had been considering stopping to ask for his autograph.
It was then that I woke up, and actually had to get out of bed and say "holy socks holy socks" for a few minutes, just to try to calm myself down. It has been a long time since I have dreamt so vividly.
The following morning as I made my coffee, I actually laughed to myself, "Whew, that was close."
A little surreality goes a long way, but a few days later I got a the unfortunate news that my brother in law's mother had passed away from the virus in Valencia. As I reached out to the family, my sister commented on the fact that it was so surreal, how quickly things developed. My heart, my thoughts, and prayers go out to my Spanish family, along with my special memories of a woman who welcomed me into her life as a family member. Comforting to me, in a way, is that she is now probably having a Limon granizado with my own mother.
The tragedy of all of this is not over, and we will all likely experience more moments of sadness, uncertainty, as well as positive thoughts of how we go forward. Like everyone, I have friends who have already lost their jobs because this situation, and the future is unclear. As Joe Strummer said, the future is also unwritten.
For me, this means that I will continue to have ups and downs. My latest down came just a couple of days ago on the 1st of April, ironically a fool's day.
The work day had been particularly frustrating and unproductive, and I was in a really lousy mood, and struggling to understand why I still care about the job (as I am already laid off), but when suddenly at 16h on Wednesday afternoon my work laptop accounts were deactivated, I just about flipped out. It was too much.
It took me a few frantic hours to get things resolved, and I found out that the company IT department had me slated for 1st of April deactivation as opposed to 1st of May, one month too early. An honest mistake, and considering the current environment, somewhat understandable.
I tried to convince myself of this later that evening as I was still really worked up, overwhelmed by way too much emotion and thoughts of the past weeks. In college, I borrowed an album title from Carter USM and made it my own Bryan's Smart Circus, a way of venting at the complete madness of life in general. I don't listen to Carter much anymore, but maybe I should.
Any rate, I lived through a rather unpleasant Wednesday evening wrapped up in my own dark thoughts and that resulted in a horrible sleep, thankfully without nasty dreams but unfortunately without much sleep.
But I have to take it as it comes, and acknowledge that there will be some days that are not so great.
Thursday morning, order was slightly restored, and I looked forward to my little trip to the supermarket, where I actually had a rather pleasant experience. Other shoppers did not look nearly as fearful as they had the previous week, and as a small bonus, I was able to buy some paper towels, which I had been needing.
I checked my mailbox as I arrived back home, and found that I had a Christmas Card waiting for me.
As I say repeatedly, it is always a delight to get mail, and this particular card was just a few days late, but welcome all the same, and it came at precisely the moment it was most needed.
And here is a bit of irony for you, to bring this piece to a close. The whole card is positive energy, from the smiling family on the front with the greeting, "It's a wonderful life," to the inside, where each family member has an update, in great McKee fashion.
And on the back of the card?
Can't wait to see what 2020 has in store!
Stay healthy, stay safe, and find those happy thoughts.
keep the faith
bryan
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