The Pillow Guy?????

Dear you,

Hmmm.  The pillow guy was featured at yesterday's coronavirus briefing.  I am so glad to finally understand that this crisis is retribution from his version of god.  Clearly, as noted in above photo and available for all to see, Mike has a past related to law and "disorder".  That is no big deal.  We all have a past.  But come on, dude.  The sanctimonious judgments you were laying down beside POTUS were delusional.  Whatever, Mike.  Keep hugging those pillows.

Closer to home, last night I dealt with some local law and disorder.  The big house to the west of my condo complex loves to rock out their music via an outdoor sound system.  I have just dealt with this before, but now, during a time of #StayHome and closed beaches, I was not going to let this gal (owner of big house to the west) wreck my evening.  So for the first time ever here in this zone I actually called the Walton County Sherriff and asked for intervention.  It was done.  And word has it GAL was not happy.  "No one has even complained before".  Well, honey, someone has now.  Grow up and blend in with grace.  Turn down the volume, take deep breaths, and hug your MY PILLOW for solace.  I bet she owns stock in that company.

In closing, love to all of you out there as the numbers rise.  Do not listen to the Pillow Guy, and please stand up to your versions of the loud gal next door.

Enough for now.

XO
Joyce

Cat walk survival 101 . . .

Dear you,

Covid-19 exposes our lack of national functionality.  Each state is affected, but each state is also reacting differently.  And as of this writing, apparently Donald is contemplating erasing vigilance/restrictions based on county data, allowing counties within those states to make up their own policy.  Brilliant.  Not.  I am in Walton County, northwest Florida.  To my west is Okaloosa County and to my east is Bay County.  If both of those counties maintain closures (beaches, bars, etc.) but Walton does not, guess what happens?  Walton County nightmare scenario.  Take our normal density during this time of year and multiply that by ______ (pick a big number of your choice). And dress that up with possible contagions.  I am ready and intend to survive, imagining myself cat-walking away from this explosion (A.K.A. the end of the world as we know it) just like the feline featured in the photo above. But that is just me.  What about us? 

What is our national plan of action?  Our up-top leaders have decided we should ______________ (pick a theoretical policy of your choice since there is nothing concrete in the works).


Searching for ways to fill in that blank, I found this in a Vox article by Brian Resnick published 3/26:

“We really do need a Manhattan Project effort to get this stuff in place in really a two- or three-month period,” Jeremy Konyndyk, a senior policy fellow at the Center for Global Development, says.

We need social distancing across the country, and we need to keep it in place for some weeks, if not months, to buy time. If social distancing works, is enacted broadly, and is kept up, the number of new infections could decrease. It would give us a pause in the action, to potentially move on from social distancing to a more targeted pandemic strategy. Right now is the time to get plans ready so when that pause comes, we can make things right.”

Later in that article, experts emphasized how we must expand testing, testing, testing, and more testing.  

That push for testing made sense to me early on.   Weeks ago, at the Panama City Beach CVS on the west end, I was purchasing Kleenex since all the toilet paper in Seagrove Beach was long gone.  During checkout, I asked the cashier if her company would offer testing just like they offer flu shots.  It was crystal clear at that time Donald’s policy was to NOT test and NOT know.  I hoped the private sector would just take over.  The young woman seemed confused by my question and irritated too.  “We won’t do that.”  I let it go.  She doesn’t pull the ultimate CVS strings anyway.

Who pulls those strings?  I guess we all do, if we work together and not buy into this “safe counties” fantasy.  So, as part of the “together”, here is my recommended plan of action:

#StayHome

#TestEveryone

#EmbraceManhattanProjectMentality (It will take time, money, and cooperative effort to perfect the vaccine/cure.)

#UnelectMattGaetz 

The previous hashtag part of the policy is there because as I was typing, my congressman Matty just emailed his constituents about how pissed he is about the relief bill. He is outraged about “bailouts” for the Kennedy Center.  I think he is also irked about colleges (such as Howard) getting some aid.  Apparently, Matty only supports aid for Uncle John’s Burger Shop or his local hardware store or corporations in general.  I have no problem with Uncle John, the hardware store, OR productive corporations.  I love food, tools (well, not really), and being bourgeois, so go with the funding!  However, Matty, you need to know that man does not live by food, tools, and bourgeois acquisition alone.  We need all arts.  Go with the Kennedy Center and education funding too.  And that leads to my final hashtag policy action:

#DefendBeauty

We can do this and we can do it without barbarity.

XO to you, dear you.  I hope you are one of the unvanquished cats strutting away into a new day.

Joyce

There's a drunk breaker peeing in my yard . . .

Dear you,


“Dow Plunges 2,300 Points: Stocks In Meltdown As Panic Selling Continues”



The above headline was from several days ago.  Now, on March 19, the virus spread escalates and too many Americans are still feeling immortal.  This, in spite of the science and noted market plunges. The spring breakers (as featured in photo compliments of Global News, I believe) are here and many are careless and wearers of bad fashion. The biggest number in my condo complex came from Tennessee, apparently a hot spot for the growing spread.  And they are still here, even after Walton County closed “public” beaches for the present.  The problem:


Here on 30A, the majority of the beach strip is owned by people who are literally on the coast/dunes.  That includes massive multi-story units where very few residents live.  That also includes the new three-story boxes that “sleep 50!”.  This means the vacay-renters are welcome on the beaches that are deemed theirs (private) while those of us who own directly across the street are banned.  According to law, the county can only shut down public spaces, not private.  So, this shutdown does nothing to limit the deluge of visitors who should be doing this:


#StayHome


I have been less than welcoming at Publix and god bless them for staying open and keeping the store stocked as best they can.  Earlier this week, I directly addressed a spring breaker and said “You guys really should not be here now.  This is a national emergency and you are stressing the system and potentially infecting others.  Come back later.  We just need a little time to slow this thing down.”  

His response:

“You’re mean.”


Yes, I am mean.  And I am experiencing something beyond normal spring break mean-mode because this year, the angst is beyond normal.  It is intellectual.  I cannot understand why these visitors (be they young or old) are invading now.  Something is off.  Something is missing in their connection to others in the community.  Are we merely a backdrop for their Instagram stories?


So here I am, a character in someone else’s story.  But I am intensely focused on defending the Floridians at risk. I am acting to shut the visitor shit down, especially when the visitors include a random drunk dude who invades our condo area and urinates on the flowering shrubs.


Classy.

Stay classy urinating dude!  That is the name of your character in your Instagram story.


Please, Governor DeSantis, shut down all beaches, including the private ones.  Only you have the power to do that.  And look into making drunk public peeing a felony.


Cheers and good luck out there!

Love, Joyce

Not so sweet home Alabama & #Coronavirus

Dear you,

I am looking at the news and a map of The United States, checking out which states have no reported cases of the Coronavirus.  Alabama is one of those states.  Good for them!  However, I have a theory about that lucky zero.  It leads to a story about last week . . .

My sorority reunion (don’t ask) was set to be held in Fairhope, Alabama, just under three hours via car from Seagrove Beach.  Since I am still looking for the perfect place to live and buy a cool house, I decided to attend the reunion and check out small town real estate while there.  The challenge was finding a place that accepted pets during my stay.  Yes, my feline could not be left behind!  After Googling galore, I found a Bed and Breakfast by Mobile Bay, close to everything and pet friendly.  I booked a week, looking forward to a break from “here”.  Even if the reunion was tragic and I did not find the ultimate house, I would enjoy being away.


The day of the journey, I loaded up my darling car with all kinds of cat things.  Like traveling with a child.  I made sure I had tons of her favorite foods, her giant scratching toy, litter box, toys, etc.  Then, I packed her in the carrier, placed her in the front passenger seat (cats love riding shotgun) and headed to Alabama. 
  

And then I arrived in Fairhope and discovered my B & B was a nightmare:

      1.  I was greeted by two insane, barking dogs in the check-in area.

      2.  My assigned cottage reeked of mildew and desperation.

      3. Beyond creepy 19^th century photos of dead people adorned the walls.

      4. The kitchenette was stocked with dirty glasses and a filthy coffee maker.

      5.  The bathroom . . . I just can’t go there because I’ll have nausea flashbacks.

Whatever.  I was tired and decided to just deal with it.  I turned on the TV and after changing from the pre-programmed Fox Cable News channel to MSNBC I heard the news:

The state of Alabama had just executed an innocent man on death row, Nathaniel Woods. You know the story. 

Hating Alabama, I went out to purchase food and cold beer to smooth my edges, which prompts the continuation of the above nightmare list:

      6. Piggly Wiggly has a salad bar you might want to avoid unless you like flies with your lettuce.

      7.  Driving back to the B & B, I was stuck in a traffic jam, a traffic jam in Fairhope, Alabama.

      8.  After the jam, I passed a big old house with a big old Confederate flag in the yard.

      9.  Back at the B & B, the heater barely worked, and the cold beer did not work either.

Kitty Vivo meowed under the bed while I covered the creepy photos with stained “complimentary” bath towels. Surrender and sleep, Joyce.  And I did.  (After a torturous attempt to shower in the nausea flashback inducing bathroom.)   Tomorrow is another day . . .

10. And that day began with the sound of sledgehammers and bulldozers right by the bedroom wall!  This, at 7 AM!!!  Construction right next door!  Something I think most decent B & B owners would alert their guests about.

Fuck this nonsense. 

I ditched the reunion, the real estate showings, and the fantasy vacation.  I packed the car, grabbed the kitty, and got the hell out of Alabama.


I did not stop until I crossed the Florida line.  I did that with a smile.


Now, about my theory and the virus reports.  I am pretty sure no cases are showing in Bama because no one from the outside world wants to go there.  Hence, they perhaps will avoid contagion. 

Unless you are attending Auburn University (an island of wonderful in the middle of that mess) or doing business in Birmingham (notably at their fine medical center), just don’t go there.


Put a big red X on the map, something that mirrors their state flag, as pictured above.

So, they say you can’t go home again.  That is not true.  You can.  However, if Alabama is the state of your birth and you have managed to get out, I suggest you don’t go back. 

Love,

Joyce

XO

Signage . . .

Dear you,

Happy Sunday, the first day of March, 2020, an overcast/windy noon, suiting the season, the month.  But early this week, the sky was bright blue, literally SKY BLUE!  So, I strolled around the neighborhood, dodging bike riders and snowbirds.  My mission was just to "see" and clear my head with images of place.  And the above is one thing I saw.

Yes indeed, the newest mega-house (not meant for residents but simply a turn and burn income property a la VRBO) is certainly sending a message.  That is one big talking house.  It certainly spoke (or screamed) to me that strolling day.

Which brings me to my posting theme:  banners and signs that never shut up.

They just hang there.  They do not respond to opposing points of view.  They just hang there.  And never shut up.

What would my banner say if the condo-board allowed them? 

1.  God is a verb.

2.  What are you looking at?

3.  Yes, I see you smoking a joint at the pool.

4.  Legalize joints at the pool!

5.  Covfefe.

Remember "covfefe"?  Ah, the good old days when we were only concerned about viral memes and not viruses. 

Good luck out there.

Windy March love,

Joyce

XO