It’s Saturday night. For many, here on my Island, this is one of the most important Saturday night: the GC&S race (Gold Cup & Saucer) will go, this evening. Definitely scaled down from other years, when that “two minute mile” set the tone for the whole week in the city.
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Obviously, this is not the first time we have (collectively) shone a light on the dark corners of our society. However, if enough people are watching, when that light come on, it could make a difference. Right now, all across the continent (and off across the oceans), people are on the march. All to underline that we can’t continue to kill people just because of their skin colour. Forget the noise (over how riots aren’t the answer). Finally, some of you have taken notice. That’s a start.
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Slowly, I’ve come to realize one common thread to life during a pandemic. Nobody knows what is going on. Seriously. When you notice that people are actually tuning in to the press conferences, it’s because we’re all waiting for the “great reveal”.
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Late sunset. Made me lose track of the time. To be fair, I did get up, early, but the day was much like any other. Some reading. Some music. Some dog attention. Before I knew it, my sense of duty/discipline kicked in and now I have to find something worthwhile to say about a day that was really like most others. That’s good, right?
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Here’s a word that I haven’t used before: perplexion. I checked, and it is a real word, and it is the right word for the moment. Because, you see, I am trying to “wrap my head around” the sudden belief that everything is OK, out there.
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When I read the texts from others, I tend to notice the verbosity; all those hours in grammar class learning about adjectives and adverbs was supposed to push us to improving our powers of description. So, just for fun, I’m going to try and increase my effort.
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Some years ago, when I decided to be more serious about my “learn another language” efforts, I discovered the musical output from a small summer school in the Gaeltacht (Coláiste Lurgan, specifically). Now, this won’t mean much to the rest of the world, but the summer schools in Ireland have all been cancelled. Pandemic rules. I salute the wisdom of the Irish government, as I wonder about the fate of a particular summer school that served as my summer life for many, many years.
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This afternoon saw me preparing a mathematics lesson for son #3. Specifically: how to calculate the ratios involved in preparing a disinfectant for home use. He’s starting to worry about these things, for the first time (ever). I’m impressed that he wants to learn, and worried that he has to. Six months ago, this wasn’t on our radar.
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The quarantine ritual seems pretty simple, on the surface. Get in some snacks, figure out how to fit Netflix into your sleep schedule, leave the heavy hauling to others. Except, there are some exceptions, when there are new rules.
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Due to the progress in our ongoing medical horror tale, some things are happening by anticipation. For example, our local university campus, including the library, will be closed until further notice. Our income tax returns will be filed at least one month later (official notice anticipated for a press conference tomorrow). My sibling has decided to seek the comfort of home, given that life among the Spring Break generation lacks the atmosphere of the different movies over the years. We have groceries, due to our own anticipation of hunger pangs, and the reassurance given by the food store employees wearing surgical gloves. Amazon has announced that their deliveries will be prioritized, which should limit my purchases of unnecessary articles. And on and on.
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