Chronicles of the Virus Day 17
Today is raw. It was sunny in the morning, but then the clouds came and so did the rain. Without the sun, I notice the cold more. I'm shivering in my studio, with a shawl draped over my shoulders. After weeks of spring weather, with the trees and plants flowering early, winter says hello, I haven't gone far.
My husband has been doing things around the back field and with the logs out front. He wants to get work out of the way for when he has to go back to his job. Those employees that have been told to stay home from yesterday are supposed to be paid by their employers. But they have to work the hours lost during the rest of the year. My husband envisions two months of working Saturdays, which is when he's usually doing something around the house. So, he's pushing the season's chores, cutting grass, and cutting the logs to later rent the chopper and make the winter's firewood.
Last night, on the news there was the story of an elderly lady in Pontevedra whose birthday was celebrated by neighbors and the police, who came with sirens blazing. It was a special birthday for Lulú Vázquez; she was 110.
Widowed, and with no children, she has 87 great nephews and nieces. Normally, most of them would get together to celebrate, but this year they'll have to do it later in the year. There have been a few cases of people celebrating the birthdays of neighbors by singing Happy Birthday in windows and balconies, and passing cakes through windows. But Lulú takes that cake, being one of the oldest women in Spain.
And what is it like having a birthday while in confinement? Well, for me it's like any other day. Today, 51 years ago, I was born. As an adult, I really haven't celebrated my birthday. Generally, the most we do is buy a cake and eat a nice meal on the closest Sunday. My daughter sent me a video of a cake she made with cookies, milk, and chocolate. I get to feast my eyes if not my mouth. I don't want other presents. Sometimes I get them, this year I don't. Presents don't matter. The love of my family, and their remembering the day, is enough. So, no sirens, please.
In Lanzarote, out in the Canary Islands, a man was filmed walking a chicken on a leash. After the film was hung somewhere on the internet, it was seen and noted. The police also know how to scroll on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and the like, and are on the lookout for "intelligent" people like that. The man was fined. I don't know how much, but that's one expensive chicken.
More curious news comes from the U.K.,where a mailman dresses up in different costumes in Bolton, I think, to deliver the mail, and another one tried to have people believe he was a walking bush. A man dressed up as a bush, tried to move stealthily down the street. At the end, he returned with an orange shopping bag, which would have been a weird thing to hang on a shrub. I think he might have gotten away with it if he'd pretended to be a tumbleweed. Though that might be slightly out of place in a British suburb.
Well, the rain seems to have stopped, and I should do my daily walk of taking the trash. For once, I'm glad that the garbage containers aren't closer to my house.
Life continues.
My husband has been doing things around the back field and with the logs out front. He wants to get work out of the way for when he has to go back to his job. Those employees that have been told to stay home from yesterday are supposed to be paid by their employers. But they have to work the hours lost during the rest of the year. My husband envisions two months of working Saturdays, which is when he's usually doing something around the house. So, he's pushing the season's chores, cutting grass, and cutting the logs to later rent the chopper and make the winter's firewood.
Last night, on the news there was the story of an elderly lady in Pontevedra whose birthday was celebrated by neighbors and the police, who came with sirens blazing. It was a special birthday for Lulú Vázquez; she was 110.
Widowed, and with no children, she has 87 great nephews and nieces. Normally, most of them would get together to celebrate, but this year they'll have to do it later in the year. There have been a few cases of people celebrating the birthdays of neighbors by singing Happy Birthday in windows and balconies, and passing cakes through windows. But Lulú takes that cake, being one of the oldest women in Spain.
And what is it like having a birthday while in confinement? Well, for me it's like any other day. Today, 51 years ago, I was born. As an adult, I really haven't celebrated my birthday. Generally, the most we do is buy a cake and eat a nice meal on the closest Sunday. My daughter sent me a video of a cake she made with cookies, milk, and chocolate. I get to feast my eyes if not my mouth. I don't want other presents. Sometimes I get them, this year I don't. Presents don't matter. The love of my family, and their remembering the day, is enough. So, no sirens, please.
In Lanzarote, out in the Canary Islands, a man was filmed walking a chicken on a leash. After the film was hung somewhere on the internet, it was seen and noted. The police also know how to scroll on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and the like, and are on the lookout for "intelligent" people like that. The man was fined. I don't know how much, but that's one expensive chicken.
More curious news comes from the U.K.,where a mailman dresses up in different costumes in Bolton, I think, to deliver the mail, and another one tried to have people believe he was a walking bush. A man dressed up as a bush, tried to move stealthily down the street. At the end, he returned with an orange shopping bag, which would have been a weird thing to hang on a shrub. I think he might have gotten away with it if he'd pretended to be a tumbleweed. Though that might be slightly out of place in a British suburb.
Well, the rain seems to have stopped, and I should do my daily walk of taking the trash. For once, I'm glad that the garbage containers aren't closer to my house.
Life continues.
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