What Is Normal Anyway?

Sneaking back into life. I'm catching up with long deferred routine maintenance (hair cut twice, teeth cleaned, yearly general checkup, x-rays of my failing right knee, and next on the agenda, an eye exam. On a positive note, I've aged out of the routine colonoscopy.)

But my longtime ophthalmologist has retired. How dare he! I should have expected this--my longtime dentist retired several years ago, my long time GP passed away (a sad loss for the community and all her patients.)

As I venture farther afield, I'm reminded that life is going on: with or without me; things are changing, many of my old landmarks are disappearing, and once familiar scenes are utterly and uncomfortably different.

And I remind myself that I'm lucky to still be here and capable of noticing the changes, many of which are positive--even if I miss the way things were. 

Except the colonoscopy. I don't miss that.

 

The Best Laid Plans . . .

A few fall clothes catalogs arrived and I flipped through them because, since childhood I've been programmed to think "New season! New clothes?" I found myself noting outfits and separates --That would  look nice for a book store appearance. A black turtleneck, some black trousers and this pop of red . . . oh wait . . .

Because that used to be something I had to think about. When one of my books came out, I would do events at quite a few bookstores in the area, along with speaking at libraries, book clubs, conferences, etc. I had a range of nice outfits, from casual to a bit dressy.

Now it's 2020 and all I need is a nice shirt.

As I paged through the catalogs, I saw how fashion is adapting--color coordinated masks.

I'll pass on those--but these big pullovers look inviting.

Truly, this is not a great time to be bringing out a book--especially after a long (9 years) hiatus and in a different genre.  Not what I'd hoped for, drat it!

But, one of the lessons of this pandemic is that many things we once thought important--Fall wardrobes, for example--aren't. 

Every day that I wake up able to breathe deeply is a blessing. Our home is a fine place to isolate, with its surrounding woods and long views. My social life (never exactly busy) is on the internet--and that's okay. 

I continue to exist in a duality of domestic comfort and existential angst over the state of the world--but not about my new book.