Knowledge is fluid. Science and medicine and technology is not absolute. While there are some absolute truths, there will always be variables to just about any situation. This was one of the most frustrating aspects of the pandemic. People thought they were being lied to or that the experts didn’t know what they were talking about. That’s because, while there are other coronaviruses out there, Covid 19 was what they call…novel. That means, it’s never been seen before.

I had to stop the mower and get down on the ground to take a picture of this sweet violet. Grandma called them Johnny-Jump-Ups and she would NOT let anyone cut her grass till they were gone!

We are heading to the beach soon for our yearly week at the condo. We’ve been watching the news reports for the prevalence of covid and trying to decide when to jump on the bandwagon and get that second booster. We’ve seen the numbers double since the mandates were eased and, while that is not entirely unexpected, it does hearken back to the possibility of history repeating itself. Mr. FixIt and I both have health issues that cause us to be extra cautious. Since we’ll be headed to a tourist destination, we decided to go ahead and get that booster yesterday.

Remember when I learned how to bake biscuits like Miss Brenda Gantt? I mixed them up in a “nest” right in the flour of the biscuit bowl, then covered the bowl with a clean pillowcase to use the next time. Well, the flour sat in that bowl over the winter. I didn’t bake them as often as I thought I would. I got the bowl out yesterday to make a batch of biscuits for breakfast and they were awful! The flour was stale and had picked up flavors from cooking. And the leavening was no longer active. I was so disappointed, not only in the biscuits themselves, but in the fact that I now need to throw all that flour away. It’s such a waste. If I knew someone who had pigs, I’d send it off to them, but I don’t.

Our miniature rhododendron is blooming.

We had a lovely home day. A bowl of oats. Andy Griffith reruns. Knitting. A visit from my bonus daughter and her husband. We watched the most recent episodes of American Idol. It was chilly and rained off and on all day. At 4:30, we bundled up and headed to town for the youngest granddaughter’s softball game.

Red Deadnettle in the ever growing grass of spring

No…not the hotel. And no…not the landscaping company of Giuliani fame. I’m talking the four seasons of the year. Beautiful and somewhat delineated from each other by calendar dates. Not so much on your trip to take The Big Birdhouse to the dealer to get her fridge fixed/replaced. We saw four seasons in the span of about thirty minutes. We went from sunny with big puffy white clouds to rain to sleet to graupel and back. The temperature dropped. There was thunder and lightning. Ahhh…fickle Mother Nature in all her glory!

My dear friend Marion sends me little texts when I need them. Be it a typo in my blog post, an interesting news story, or something cheerful to lift me up…I can always count on Marion to send me something sunny. Yesterday it was this lovely meme. I love dragonflies. They hover over our pool in the summer and rest on the tall grasses along the edge of the far field. They remind me of Evinrude…the character in the 1977 Disney feature, The Rescuers. I vividly remember a family night at the drive in theater when Daughter #1 was four years old. Dragonflies make me smile.

Those of you who have been around a while know what happens at this time of year. I start delving into the taxes. And you know what that means. I have to pull out my trusty laptop, dust it off, and fire it up. I’ll bet I don’t turn that thing on more than a couple of times a year unless I’m working on my genealogy…and I haven’t been. I’ve been knitting instead. So…yesterday was “the day”.

Seventeen years ago, I had an innocuous looking freckle on my arm. It didn’t bother me. I’d had it for awhile, it seemed. I had a lot on my plate in the previous few years going through a dreadful depression and the breakup of a twenty year marriage. A freckle on my arm was the least of my worries. 

Big is graduating from high school next month. Then, in August, Mr. FixIt and I have our 50+1 Year High School Reunion. I had every intention of losing weight and being svelte for both occasions, yet…here I am. Just…me. *heavy sigh* (Pun intended.)

When I got out of the shower yesterday, I sat on the edge of the bed to brush my hair. It’s become a much bigger ordeal now that it’s almost down to my waist. I used to hide from my body. I wouldn’t anymore sit in front of a mirror in my “all together” than I would run naked down the street. But, a lot has changed in the last couple of years. The pandemic made eating two loaves of sourdough bread a week an absolute necessity. And don’t get me started on the cookies and cinnamon rolls and biscuits, ok? Let’s just say…food was my comfort during a decidedly uncomfortable season in my life.

I haven’t had one of my “rough nights” in quite a while. When I was a new widow, every night was a rough night. I remember literally clinging to the side of the mattress and willing myself to live until morning. I rode out wave after wave of grief, fear, and anxiety over and over. It wore me out. I will never forget when the sun started to shine again. Those long dark nights finally started to recede and I didn’t feel like I was struggling as much with my grief.