Jots of Jibber by Joan

I couldn’t put her paw print casting back into the Christmas tub with the rest of the ornaments. It rested on this countertop. Then I moved it to a different spot. Finally, the casting landed on my work station. Inside the secure baggy holds the final physical print my dog made on this planet. I’ve been daring myself to glue each piece back together. I tremble with the thought repairing this delicate parched ceramic casting. Her name, MAGGIE MAE, is barely visible. One bump and it could be over. A pile of crumbs will be all that is left. Should I be doing this? Shouldn’t I keep it locked up in this baggy where all my memories reside? Am I risking the loss of everything? I need to, or is it my hopes to hold on tight and slow down the process of my memories eroding away? The fact is, it’s been 5 years.

I must fix it. When I look at the paw print flaking away, I have to do something. This is my baby girl’s print. It represents the mark she made on my heart. I relive chasing her down the blocks when she got out again to curling up beside her on a cold winter’s night. She was my baby girl for 10 years. We shared her first experience chasing the waves and us along the shoreline in Big Sir. All the trips to Pismo Beach walking endless miles. The bubble baths and doctor visits are etched into my memory. She was a big part of our lives.

I prepare the table. Glue, paintbrush, paper, and a gentle touch. Slowly I slide the print onto the paper. I size it up and squirt glue between the cracks. I brush the back and all around the edges. Along the way, pieces get stuck on the brush pulling at my memories. Slowly and quietly, I work away. The fridge’s hmm breaks the silence. Moments of joy rush my memories. She again pulls on my heartstrings. I watch a tear dissolve into the plaster.

I did my best. We will see what the outcome will be another day. Through the repairs, I know this object doesn’t hold my love for Mae Mae. I do. As the glue dries, I smile and walk away.

It’s time to get another rescue puppy and make new memories!

I’ve been waiting for you! Some say the sign for spring is the daffodils. I believe it’s the Monarch caterpillar.

It’s been a busy day for the most part. I’ve cleaned my closet, detailed the inside of my car, and trimmed some plants, among other chores. The best part though, was discovering you.

I’ve wanted to straighten up my closet for a bit now. After two weeks being at home, I decided to take it on. Cleaning out the closet means I will be hanging garments in the laundry room too. To achieve this task, I’ll be going back and forth out the back door down some steps into the room through the old two-tone wood door. The heavy rains this past season worked loose the base. It drags across the cement as I pull it open. I’ve decided to keep the jeans in the laundry room now, and the blouses hanging in the bedroom closet. It’s all about managing space in a tiny house.

On my way out, I stop to tend to the Milkweed shrub. Danger lurks from all angles for this plant. Once a wild seedling, it blew and nestled between the bricks and the wall. A perfect place to germinate a seed thought no human. On the right side, it is leaning over into the laundry entrance. My clothes sway through the air as I tug them this way and that. The arm of a blouse catches a twig every now and then.

I can’t seem to get myself to pull it out. I feel a tug on my upper lip. Something beautiful about a worn-out, old friend. I remind myself, it’s a local stopping point for the Monarch butterflies to sip some nectar and leave some eggs behind. I push back the branches over the bag of birds seeds. All stretched out on the bag rests a Monarch caterpillar. Is it his brilliant green skin or jazzy yellow and black stripes that pulls me in for sheer delight? Or maybe it is his antennas swaying in the wind. It could be the incredible transformation he’s about to make. Better yet, the joy I feel knowing I help year after year these little guys make their journey up and down the Pacific coast. Either way, it’s a sheer delight. With my glasses on, I lean real close. Did you get enough to eat? Do you need help moving back to the plant? How may I assist you? I ask a thousand questions. I stop, watch and feel the joy this little creature brings.

Moments later, he lifts his upper body off of the bag. The twig bobs back and forth just out of his reach. His tiny hands reach for a leave. Finally, he inches his way back on the bush, mowing down dozen of leaves to prepare for the big day. Be well, my friend. I don’t know if I’ll see him again, for he camouflages perfectly with the green limbs and bright yellow and orange flowers. Be well, my friend. Back to the bedroom closet I go.

“Oh, thank goodness,” I mumbled to myself, “I got a story!” I haven’t been blogging. I haven’t felt a story lately, not one that makes you smile and feel good (for me). Everything changed 5 minutes ago. I read an email and something caught my eye. I know that symbol. Yet it still took a second to register what I was reading. It took me back…

It started three nights ago. I agreed to share my CUE presentation at the virtual SpringCUE 2020. I’m new to Zoom. I don’t have the buttons and options down. I haven’t embedded my slide presentation into Nearpod in like hmm… maybe never. This was before leaving the brick and mortar for the remote learning era when I agreed to this. And still, I decided to do it. It would be easy to send an email and cancel. Lots of people I know did just that. These are crazy times, but I’m mad like that. I asked my partner if she was interested. I told her about how I want to change my approach. She gave me hints that she would be involved. The day before, I texted her to find out if she was joining me. No response.

To host a meeting in Zoom, you get specific numbers to join a meeting and another number if you’re hosting the meeting. I tried to test my meeting identification number out minutes before to get set up and orientate myself around. You know, before any big presentation, you are an hour early, or at least I am. I learned it doesn’t work that way with zoom when there are so many other presenters back to back. 15 minutes before I was to go on, I still couldn’t get in. I started to go numb. What if I can’t get in and show up to my own presentation? My stomach ached, and my chest grew tight. A panic attack was about to occur. I emailed one of the support staff pleading for help. I wanted to bite my nails right off, but recently I’ve been getting them to grow. That wasn’t an option. Oh, did I mention, my partner never got back to me? I’m on my own. What have I gotten myself into now?
While I tried to log in, I checked my emails. Again, I attempted to log in and checked my emails. I tried and tried. Still, nothing was working. The universe was not lining up in my favor. Now I have 5 minutes left. I write a reply, “Maybe you should cancel this session. I’m feeling so anxious. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”

Before I hit send, in the bottom right corner, I was informed I had a new response. A brief wave of relief came over me until I automatically hit send before I read her response. She said she fixed it. Oh, no! I clicked the link, typed the host number into the box, and away I went. I made it in. Could she cancel the meeting once we’re in, and we would all disappear? I wondered.

In the meantime, she got my email. She didn’t think I was in. She canceled it. However, for myself and the other many participants that barely made in, we conversed over writing possibilities around remote learning for 50 minutes. No one else could join because she deleted it, per my request.

Once this was behind me and I could breath again naturally, I tweeted a big thank you to the CUE Staffer. That symbol is my tweeter profile photo. Today, I noticed they put my tweet in their daily updates. It made me smile. I haven’t felt a story lately, not one that makes you smile and feel good (for me). If it wasn’t for her, I would have missed out on an opportunity to be extremely vulnerable and grateful at the same time. Oh, and if you’re wondering, I heard from my partner, “Oops, sorry, I just saw this text.” It’s okay. I fumbled; I stumble; I even mumble at times, yet I did it.

She takes her position in the back seat. Before I shut the door, her front paws planted on the armrest, and her toenails hold her place in the back. As we move down the road, her slobber smudges all over the window. The rear seat safety windows are barely enough for her head to hang out. It’s doesn’t stop the need to have the wind blow through your hair. All the smells are too much for her to endure.

The Cherry blossoms litter the pathway as she drags me toward another scent. Peddles waffle back and forth like gravity has no pull. Others aim for your mouth and eyes. Everything is pink and green. Six feet away, a family sways on the swings with blurts of laughter with a push. Another tosses the ball high aligns his racket and aims for the square just behind the net. Stretching our limbs does a well after a week indoors. Behind us, I left the reminder that we are ‘safer at home.’

The ride home was a repeat. Resting on the couch, she ready to drift away to lalaland. I hear the sniff. Then she begins the tugging on blankets to create that perfect bowl, and finally, the plop up against your leg. It’s like she wants you to know he’s present.

Things are so different. I really don’t know what to write about, or maybe I’m not feeling the connections to my stories. It seems like a struggle to keep the routines I did before March 13th alive.

As spring came closer than before, I picked up my exercise routines. Things were falling back into place. Our books arrived, and the club was underway. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a book club. I was up and moving all day long.

Things have changed. I have to learn how to get up and get active while working at home. It’s been one Zoom meeting after another. I barely have time to get some tea. Usually, the water is boiling away. I do love the feature to hide my video. They don’t when I need to get up and take care of something. The harm is that I miss information. Information I may need.

It’s the first week. I’ll need to look into self-care to weather the storm. I need to give myself some grace. I am embracing the learning curve. It possesses challenges both positive and not so much.

My bottom is flat

It was my first time in a grocery store in a while. I didn’t go to my go-to-store. It’s too small. It’s too crowded on what was once known as an ordinary day. Tomorrow’s St. Paddy’s Day. I must have the traditional corned beef and cabbage (potatoes, carrots & onions too). That’s all I wanted. I’m okay right now with supplies. With my half-pint shopping cart, I wheel across the store.

CB & C! Stay focused.

There are bare shelves sprinkled all over like a dog with hot spots. When you see it, you feel pain in your belly. Looking forward, I wondered what was on that shelf that I needed? “Keep your eye on the prize!” I reminded myself. It’s real. People are buying everything they can get their hands on except the fruits & veggies.

Straight ahead, I stared at the empty butcher counter, and an empty shelf stared back at me. It’s true. The meet was gone. I couldn’t register this. Maybe I was with the crowd that wasn’t invited to the panic. We were just witnessing the results. In the far corner, I see an elderly couple scanning over something. I steer the cart toward them. Corned Beef! Yes. Oh, hurry, move, I thought as I waited.

Then something came over me. I grabbed two, one giant cabbage, two bags of potatoes, carrots, onion, and cauliflower. I’m thinking about oatmeal and pancakes, and…

My train-of-thought was broken by a text. “Can you be ready for a conference call in 15 minutes?” I turned and headed for the check-out. I don’t know if I’m allowed to go shopping during the day. Ordinarily, the answer is no.

As I waited my turn to check out, I saw the cashier take a step back like the reoccurring thought popped back into his memory, social distancing. His jaw tightened as he took a quick flash downward. It was my turn. We did the usual chit-chat. I stopped. I had to thank him.

“I’m so grateful you are here and taking this risk, so I can have a meal in my home.” I continued, “I hope you know this.”

He said, “I haven’t heard that lately, thank you.”

“Please know you are appreciated.” We shared about our elderly relatives and other bits. He offered some excellent advice. That wasn’t an ordinary conversation but we all need to have them more often, especially now.

We need to stop, see the good, and thank them.

Just now I heard…do not report to work.

It’s been a waiting game all day.

It’s a crazy day…short slice. But I’ve been thinking of you!

Be Safe, Stay Healthy, wash your hands singing the ABC song!

Early to bed means early to rise. I’m not sure I appreciated this on a Saturday morning. Emotionally exhausted yesterday, I did just that. This morning I woke up early. No surprise.

As I drank some coffee, I caught a glimpse of my nails. The pretty pink ‘nail polish’ had worn out its welcome. There are chips, peels, and the fingernails have grown, showing the gaps of polish and the cuticles. I decide to pick another color.

I gather up the clamps, cotton balls, and nail polish remover. Gently, I pull apart the cotton balls to make two pieces. Strands trapped between the nails and old polish. I soak them in acetone, place them on my nail, and clamp the nail thingy-ma-gigger down. A minute later, I swap hands.

Knowing I can’t get my nails wet for 30 minutes, I do the dishes. I’m ready for the next phase. I wipe down each nail with the alcohol. At first, I thought it was more acetone, but the smell tickled my nose. A-C H-O O!

Looking through my opinions like Warrior, Full Sale Ahead, Rule of Plum, or Charleston Blush, I decide on Water You Up To. Who makes up these crazy names? I love it. Before I ever read the names, I scanned over my choices of color. These ones made me think of a mermaid. Thoughts of mermaids brought me to the Bahamas. The Bahamas gave me flashbacks of my wedding day. On this day, I stood next to my husband. The idea of my husband made me smile. After that trip down memory lane, how could I not pick this color?

The alcohol has evaporated and is ready to receive the 100% Real Nail Polish Strips made in the USA. I’ve never been patient enough to paint my nails and wait for them to dry. I always smug, smear, or dent them somehow. This press-on strips were meant for someone like me. I’m not much of a girly girl, so these help spice of life, and my nails tend to grow more when I have them covered. Maybe it’s the weight of polish that reminds me to be gentle. Perhaps it’s the sparkles that catch my eyes. It could possibly be the comments from others. Whichever it is, I love it!

Things are going to be a bit different. I wonder for how long?

It was rough today. A plethora of events caused this day to begin with a bumpy start, and it continued throughout the day.

I tried hard to keep it positive. It didn’t work. Two kiddos were ready to record our first podcast. We started in the book room, and it was great. Everything was off to a fantastic start until the custodian started pulling down the tables and chairs in the cafeteria. The shared wall vibrated through. Crash! Bang! Boom! It became too much. Next, we received an email that the librarian wasn’t coming in. So we thought that was a good idea, and we headed on over. Thirty seconds more and done. Nope! A third-grade classroom came barreling in. Running out of ideas, I came up with another room we could go to. P-1 is an empty portable. I ran to the office to get the key, and we dashed over, dodging the raindrops. Quiet and no interruptions. We will get this done this time. Nope! The air conditioner was humming loudly with no way to turn it off. I’m frustrated by now. I suggest our last possible location, my office. It’s raining good now. We have to go all away across the campus. We hustle out of the room. I want this done. I encounter our tech lady. She asks me to leave the door open, and what came out of my mouth was rude. I tried to sound “funny,” but it was far from that. I apologized later, but I feel terrible. We made it to my office. It was quiet, and the recording went smoothly. With minutes to spare, I had to rush off to a couple of classrooms. When I came back, I was excited to listen to it. Nope! One student didn’t hold the mic close enough, and it sound terrible. I was planning to try again after lunch. It never happened.

At the peak of the day, we were told at lunch to watch a video clip from the superintendent. We are one of many schools that will keep students off-campus for two weeks and an additional week for spring break. I’m full of mixed emotions, sadness, confusion, and worrisome.

For teachers who are experiencing a similar situation, Kristine Mraz @MrazKristine will be tweeting an “at-home lesson-ish thing a day.” We have to report on Monday. to create a plan to push out lessons. I’ll be looking into this.