The January melt continues. Our cars are dirty and our garages are mucky; roads are slushy and our shoes are wet. We’re on the downward slope toward spring and, while it’s entirely possible we’re in for another dump or two of snow, I’m choosing to believe the worst of winter is behind us. I even browsed through the West Coast Seeds catalog this morning, planning and dreaming about this year’s garden.
Gerry and I went out for lunch today—in a real, honest-to-goodness, restaurant. As a rule, I won’t patronize sit-down restaurants at this time, because to enter one you have to show a “vaccine passport” and proof of identification. It’s no fault of the restaurant’s, but I’m not a proponent of these mandates that discriminate against a set of individuals. I made an exception today because we needed some one-on-one time together. It’s all about choices. (Well, it should be about choices, but that’s a story for another day.)
After we showed our “proof” we were seated at a large table near the door. The dining area was far from full because they are limiting capacity at this time. Because we were near the entrance, I overhead conversations and observed more than one group being turned away because they couldn’t produce the mandated “passport”. My heart hurt, and I felt guilty for being there. I saw a few delivery people picking up food for customers and another individual picking up her own order that she called ahead for. This is our brave new world.
Anyway, all that aside, it was a treat to be out for lunch with my husband for the first time in I don’t know how long. Not for the first time, we commented on the sense that we were living in the twilight zone. Honestly, it’s just so much easier to stay home these days. Nonetheless, we enjoyed our time together and afterward had to run a few errands.
One of them involved a stop at Walmart. As is our custom, I waited in the car while Gerry braved the ‘Mart. I looked around at dirty cars and masked shoppers and enjoyed a time of quiet while I waited, still with that sense of the surreal. We had a few other errands to run and, finally, made it to Staples where I printed off the SFD (shitty first draft) of a manuscript that may turn out to be my third book. What joy it is to have words for my companions in a world that remains topsy-turvey.
I remember the Burpee Seed Catalog on Grandma’s table with a snowscape through her bay windows.