A Week of Thursdays

Thursdays are days of great hope and anticipation. Thursdays indicate that I have survived another week of what the world has thrown at me if I can just make it a few more hours until Friday.

Every day last week I awoke and thought, "thank god it's Thursday." Alas, it took three more "wake-ups" to get to Thursday, and one more to get to Friday. I honestly believe it was the most difficult week of my entire life. 

I have a better-than-average support system. I have a dog willing to lay low with me. I am incredibly lucky to be employed and have the flexibility to work from home right now. I know myself and I practice good self-care. And, when Thursday finally arrived, my husband accidentally knocked the coffee carafe into the sink and broke it. That, which could have been the tipping point for me, was saved by Amazon next day delivery.

A Thanksgiving to Remember

This school year has been unusual for a number of reasons. Both kids were away at school for the first time. I started out the year working from home. Then in October, I was working in person in the mornings some days, but at home in the afternoons. Then things changed again when during the second week of November, one of my own was sent home, as the campus was closing early for Thanksgiving due to a COVID outbreak in the state. 

An hour into the car ride home she received a phone call that she'd tested positive. That phone call sparked an array of others to employers, spouses, siblings, children, roommates, doctors, and health departments. We, my mom, daughter, and I, had four more hours in the car to figure out what essential items were needed, and where they needed to be moved, for the 14-day quarantine rodeo. 

When we got my girl settled in her new isolation room, and my mom and I settled into our new digs, I turned to my mom and said, "The next two weeks are going to determine when I put you in a home." I have to admit, she was very well behaved. 

While I Zoomed, mom wrote her Christmas cards, watched The Great British Baking Show, The Crown, and Schitt$ Creek. My girl slept, did some school work, and slept some more. Neighbors dropped off groceries, fuzzy socks, Tanqueray, and bourbon. By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, my girl was "sprung" from her life of isolation, and could help us prepare a feast for three, that would have fed nearly eight times as many, and we had just a couple more days of lockdown. 

Ultimately, it was just what my soul needed. I will probably never again have two weeks of uninterrupted time with my mom, while our faculties are still mostly functioning. It gave my mom a break from my dad, who has been in pain and crabby and not sleeping, thus, tired and short-tempered towards whoever is around him, since late summer. And, my dad a break from my mom who has been trying to balance being helpful and giving him space in their tiny "starter" home they bought in 1970.  

It also provided my daughter the opportunity, at least the last few days, to be around her favorite person ever, Grandma Judy. She said to me once recently, "I know someday that you and dad and Gagi and everyone is going to die, but Judy is never going to die. She is going to live forever." Although unlikely, I hope so too.

If My Baby Sister is 50...

Nearly a year ago, in February 2020, I was surreptitiously sewing and dyeing fabric for beach cover-ups. My baby sister had turned 50 in December, and nine women planned a trip to Puerto Rico to celebrate. Seventeen months prior, Puerto Rico was hit by a category 5 hurricane causing $90 billion dollars in damage which devastated the island. Trump, famously and horrifically, flew to the island 13 days later and was filmed throwing rolls of paper towels out at reporters and people.

It took 11 months for electricity to get restored to the island, and when we arrived six months after that, there was still visible destruction to houses, beaches, and vegetation. We stayed in a different house than originally planned, as the previous one was still not liveable. We were right on a narrow beach. There was an incessant rooster, street dogs roaming around, and not an offspring or responsibility to be found. 

I am not a planner. I am 100% fine with a cup of coffee and a book almost anywhere. If you like to do things, know about the culture, see the sites, "adventure it up", go with my friends. On the refrigerator was a piece of paper per day which included any reservations, important events, and arrival/departure information that was necessary.

We ate mofongo, a local dish made with plantains and no small amount of garlic, and drank our fair share of mojitos. Although we did many things together, we also did many things separately as well.

We did tours of a coffee plantation and a rum distillery. We went on a bioluminescent tour, where we found out that one of our group is afraid of bats. We took a boat trip out to reefs and went snorkeling. We went zip lining. We bought matching platform sandals at a mall. We had a caterer bring dinner to us at the house. We put together a playlist of our favorite girl songs. We had Salsa Dance class given by cute Ricky, and had a massage therapist set up shop on our open-air patio. We sat on the beach, played games, listened to music, and ate. Best of all, we got to spend time together.

Most of these women live locally, although some do not. We have Zoomed, safely socially distanced ourselves in back yards, have used the USPS with fervor, and have recently begun planning 2022 in Costa Rico.