Random Notes From The Coronavirus

Oh Pandemic.

I have a box where I put notes about things that I am grateful for. It's just shy of lightening my mood.

The thing that is most upsetting is uncertainty. I'm not one of those people who can be upset about the entire world. I leave that to my mother, who pre-dementia would call me upset about bad things that happened to people she didn't know. "Did you hear about that accident on the highway?"

Anyhoo, I'm concerned about how long the caregivers will last, working so many days in a row without our helping (cause we can't during the lockdown at her community). I'm worried about the factory that I work for, which is hemorrhaging cash. I'm concerned about losing my job.

On the other hand, I know which of my garden weeds is edible.

Moving on to the random parts of the day, news from camellia grafting is grim -- I think there were no survivors. On the other hand, as I have mentioned I have come to really enjoy the camellia we have! And the recent warm weather has led to the camellia deciding to make every bud into a flower, which has prolonged the blooming season. And I am enjoying that.

The remnants of the grafting project have led to a new project: rooting. I bought some rooting hormone and watched some videos and I am trying to make new camellias out of the old branches. Hope springs eternal, it turns out.

In the "things you never wanted to know" department, I bought log spray a while back. It is better than air freshener and this particular variety, from Squatty Potty, smells really nice. Plus it is called "unicorn Gold". What could be better? Displayed next to the world's worst nail color and my new Davines tinted hair conditioner. Did I mention this before? It's really nice. A little pink here, a little purple there. Have to liven up those Zoom meetings, Zoom pub quizzes and Zoom salons.

On the mama front, she's fine. Freaked out yesterday because she didn't remember that she had seen me. I drive to her place, she comes out front with her caregiver and I stand on the sidewalk and yell to her. Her voice isn't strong and her place is next to a freeway entrance, and she doesn't want to wear her hearing aids with her mask, so our visits are unremarkable. I don't fault her for not realizing that I had been there, but her kind of dementia is the one where you don't know you have dementia, so she worried that she has dementia. Too late, Darling!

I make little love notes or funny notes for her caregivers to give her, with candy inside. Sometimes that helps.

I wish I could hug her.