Day 605

I no longer track how many days my household has been dealing with the pandemic, but someone I follow on instagram does a daily post. I admire her commitment and enjoy her interesting, well-written thoughts about her life during this extraordinary time. If I tack a week onto her timeline I know how many days we have not been out and about. Today is #605.

I never would have guessed we'd have to deal with COVID for 600 days. Maine's numbers were in good shape this summer but not now ~ too many still hospitalized, in the ICU, and on ventilators. Where my sons live outside of Boston the numbers are good; their county has about the same population as the state of Maine, but their numbers are less than half of Maine's. I see no end to wearing a mask in public because there are still too many unvaccinated among us.

We are doing all we can to be safe. My husband has had his booster and mine is scheduled for Monday. The best news is that three of my grandchildren are eligible and will soon get their shots. I look forward to when we can all be together again. I cancelled a family photo session we had planned for early October and hope we can reschedule early next year. 

Working Parts

 In recent years I have had opportunities to appreciate how my body continues to work and move. I am aware that it could have gone another way.

Almost four years ago my left knee started giving me trouble. It would periodically lock up, was sometimes sore, and developed a lump in the back. The osteopath and massage therapist I see worked on it for months. It wasn't fixed but didn't get worse so we took a wait and see attitude. Then just before I was scheduled to fly to Scotland the summer of 2019 my osteopath ordered an ultrasound to make sure it hadn't transitioned into something that could give me trouble; the good news was that it was a cyst and there wasn't much to do beyond what I was already doing. That fall I hit the treadmill regularly, and sometime during my daily walking in 2020 I realized my knee wasn't a bother any longer. No one could have predicted how or when that might happen; I was grateful it took care of itself.

There is particular body part that has given me trouble since I was a child: my ankles. While I am walking they occasionally collapse without reason or warning. Sometimes I can catch myself, and sometimes I go down. One morning on the walk to high school my right ankle turned and I went down hard on my knee. I was wearing the only pantsuit I've ever owned and tore a hole where I landed; I still remember how sorry I was that I chose that outfit that morning. My ankles have been a nuisance over the years, but there has never been a lasting injury.

I wasn't sure that was the case when I went down almost three weeks ago. I got up from the couch and the next thing I knew I was face down on the carpet. I not only turned my right ankle but landed hard on the top of my foot. It was the worst fall I've had due to an ankle turn and hurt so bad I thought I might pass out. I could move my toes and ankle, albeit with care and caution. The swelling and bruising came fast. Ibuprofen and elevation got me through the next few days, and luckily there was no lasting damage. Once it is totally better I intend to "write the alphabet" with my toes to strengthen my ankles. It can't hurt and it might help.

The ability to get back on the treadmill this week was all the sweeter after that fall. I put on my walking shoes and recognize how lucky I am to put one foot in front of another. 

Walking Again

Most of my life I have depended on my legs to get me where I want to go. We lived in Southeast D.C. until I was eight years old and then moved five minutes outside the city, where we could still walk to stores, bakeries, the library, movie theater, and school. I relied on my ability to get where I needed to be; my first job with a paycheck was at the local library in part because I could make the mile walk if I had to.

My first home in Maine afforded me the same luxury. I walked everywhere, and my kids did too. They all walked to middle school and high school because they didn't like to ride the bus. We often hit the pavement as a family to rent a movie or get an ice cream. If I timed it right I could do all my errands on foot within a mile of my house. I liked being on the move while being productive and self-reliant.

When we moved to our current home in the woods on a dirt road I was determined to find a way to continue walking. I measured out a mile in each direction and bought good walking shoes. Rain made the road muddy and winter was impossible due to ice. Potholes were ever present. Some days Ken and I would drive into town, park the car, and walk neighborhood streets. It was an occasional activity but not a working solution.

So after several months we invested in a treadmill. I thought Ken might use it too, but it isn't his cup of tea. I took to it immediately. We set it up in the family room because while I walk I like to be distracted, if not by the goings on along the road then by a movie or television show. [The early years in this house we had only the tv for entertainment because internet was slow and useless for streaming. That situation has vastly improved, and I am spoiled with the internet access we currently have.] The most recent treadmill placement was ideal because it was out of the way and easily accessible, so there was no excuse not to use it. I was walking daily....

until our issue with the water this summer. We had to empty the two rooms downstairs and most things, including the treadmill, found a place in the garage. The treadmill was still set up but it wasn't as inviting surrounded by furniture, boxes, tools, and recyclables. A couple days a week I would climb on and clock a couple miles, but the experience lacked the appeal it once had...

until this week. When we started putting the downstairs back together I suggested we keep the treadmill in the garage. While it isn't my favorite setting, I like the space we allowed ourselves as we intentionally moved furniture back into the family and sitting rooms. I purged all the things under and behind furniture, and we rearranged to maximize room to move. I just needed to find a way to feel the same intention with the treadmill, and with Ken's help we made that happen too. It took awhile but we cleared out the clutter and this week I climbed aboard, grateful to feel the movement under my feet. I am determined to keep moving. Some recent mishaps have reminded me that I am lucky to get up and go as I wish. 

More on that next time~ 

First of November

 It has been exactly three months since I posted. I didn't plan to be away so long. I have constructed dozens of posts in my head but that's as far as I got. This past weekend I made the decision to post every day in November. 

This blog started as a place to connect with other women and evolved into a written record of my life. There have been ups and downs along the way, and writing here was a way to process and keep track of thoughts and events. I spend a lot of time considering how what I share will be perceived by others. Posts are edited with goals of honesty and clarity without pulling others' personal details into the story, and in the last five years it has gotten increasingly difficult to do that.

I would like to find my way back. After all, my word for the year is restore. I don't want things to be as they were, if that would even be possible. I want to feel good about where I am now and hopeful about the future.

I don't know if I can make this work. I have decided that it's worth the effort to try. I anticipate false starts and changes in direction. As I type that I realize that that is what the last thirteen years have been. 

See you tomorrow ~  

First of August

 Three months ago things were looking up. Numbers for the coronovirus were headed down, and the summer looked promising. Everyone eligible for the vaccine in my immediate family was fully vaccinated; mid-May we spent the weekend with our children and grandchildren in the Boston area for the first time since March 2020 and it was marvelous. My older son and his family came to Maine the last week in May, and we made plans for more weekends with family here and in Boston.

Then on the morning of Monday, June 7 I walked into the family room downstairs and stepped in a puddle. Huh. Water on the floor. I looked up...it wasn't coming from the ceiling. I looked at the floor and saw water seeping between the boards of the wood laminate. Huh. Where was it coming from? Water was coming up in an area about five by three feet where there was no apparent source. After an appropriate period of panic I started making phone calls.

The first consultation was with our heating company, who ran a series of tests on the radiant heat over two weeks and found no problem. Ken took up the laminate floor in both rooms downstairs and the floor was wet only on either side of the wall the rooms shared, a total of 30 square feet or so. With a fan and the dehumidifier running nonstop the floor dried and no more water appeared. We had to find out where the problem was.

Ken cut the wall out three feet up in both rooms; the studs were completely dry and the one drainpipe in the wall was sealed tight and completely dry. I made phone calls to local construction companies, who are all booked with work for the summer. The owner of one company, who happens to be a neighbor and who builds houses like ours, came by after work one day and said he'd never seen a problem like ours. He recommended a heating/refrigeration company he had worked with, so I gave them a call; I conferred with someone who has worked in the field for 30 years, who raised all the same questions we had and offered all the suggestions for things we had already considered and eliminated as possibilities. Ken talked with a friend who renovated houses for decades who said he had no ideas beyond what we offered.  

Meanwhile we tried to duplicate the problem. I did laundry at every opportunity, and often ran the dishwasher at the same time while we both took showers and flushed toilets. Nothing. Resigned to the possibility this was a one-time event, I hired someone to get the drywall ready for paint.

Early July we decided to consider options for new flooring and settled on porcelain tile, which withstands heavy use and is waterproof. By mid-July we had selected a tile we liked and were ready to place our order. 

It took two weeks of phone calls, voicemails, and in-person visits to discover the tile we wanted was not available. We looked at other options, even contacted other companies, and finally just last week ordered tile for the floors. The earliest they can install it is September 20.

Now I need to try to match the paint so I only have to paint one wall in each room.

Boston family has come to stay, making do with the space we have upstairs and stuff everywhere in piles. We have made the best of it.

We had hoped to be out and about this summer but the resurgence of the virus has kept us masked and cautious.

Like so many I know, this is not the summer I envisioned. I have done a lot of sewing and will share what I've been working on next time.

What's The Word?

Many years ago, when my kids were all home and I was teaching full time, days were busy. There was always so much to do, and time was at a premium. One day, on a whim, I said we needed a word for the year, a reminder to keep things in perspective. The word that came to mind was "flexibility." It was perfect, so perfect that it was our word for a few years as the days just got busier. It mattered that we could change plans as necessary. It made a difference when we went with the flow. Life was more fun when we took advantage of opportunities that weren't part of the original plan. 

Then there were years that "simplicity" was front and center. As kids started leaving for college and life started going in too many directions, I looked for ways to simplify. Paring down some days to what was most important made it possible to keep going.

The practice of having a specific word for the year was first documented here in 2011. There is a post for each year's word but there hasn't been a complete list in one place until now:

2011    unafraid

2012    possibility

2013    no word presented itself

2014    release

2015    freedom

2016    trust

2017    breathe

2018    acceptance

2019    joy

2020    create

And this brings me to the word for this year, which I have examined from every angle and considered every synonym. It can't be any other word. Nothing else fits.

My word for 2021 is "restore." It doesn't refer to anything external. It is all about how I feel and think about myself from the inside. I want to feel like myself again. I know that I have changed in the last year, much of it due to forces outside my control. I'm sure that contributes to feeling off balance. I want to find my footing from where I am now.

I want to feel confident and capable again. 

I don't know how to make that happen. Maybe putting it out to the universe will start the wheels turning.  

Spring Ahead

A year ago last Sunday we had our last carefree day of being out in the world. We spent the weekend in Boston with kids and grandkids, a regular visit enjoying each others' company. I wish I had taken more photos. We heard the beginning rumblings about a virus, but we were not unduly concerned. 

Then we talked to our son who had traveled to a convention in Atlanta that was cut short amidst all kinds of restrictions on what you could touch and how you could move about. 

Upon our return to Maine Sunday evening we heard from our daughter that warnings about the virus had reached our state and advisories were being issued about how to stay safe.

And staying home was at the top of the list. So that Monday we hunkered down. I wrote on the calendar, "How long?" with not a clue of what was ahead.

That was March 9, 2020. 

Almost a year to the day on March 10, 2021, I got my first shot of the Moderna vaccine. I was a bit nervous. My stomach flip-flopped all morning, and I was glad I had the good sense to sip ginger ale on my hour-long drive to Portland for the appointment. It took persistence over three days to get a slot, one location for me and another for Ken the next day, so I was sure to get there on time and fully prepared. Start to finish it took 20 minutes. It couldn't have gone more smoothly, and I couldn't have been more grateful or relieved.

My sons and daughters-in-law have pre-registered for vaccinations in Massachusetts and await calls to set up appointments. My grandson will finish first grade remotely. My hope is that we will all have a chance to get together in June.

Not much has changed day to day over the past year, yet little is the same. Life feels different, and I wonder if I have a clue about what comes next.  

With one shot in the arm and a second scheduled for early April, I feel optimistic for the first time in a long time. Like the time change this weekend, I am ready to spring ahead.