Big babies on Earth 2

Dear you,


As the U.S. Covid-19 death toll exceeds 80,000 this hot May day, I feel like I live on Earth 2.  Granted, the notes from this zip code are always about strangeness, but during this pandemic, it has gotten stranger:


1. The construction dude working on a condo nearby pooh-poohed the existence of the virus, even now.

2. A real estate professional I chatted with today asserted our need for choice and those who might be in jeopardy should just stay home.  (Forever?)

3. Local TV news “episodes” pretty much mirror a Fox and Friends episode, lots and lots of smiling and spray tans. Everything is just fine kids!

4. Last week, I received a letter that appeared to be signed by a serial killer; upon further investigation, I found the missive was sent by POTUS.  This was a one-page tribute to his greatness, as written by him. (Of course, the letter was delivered by Awesome Alice, the USPS mail carrier that Trump wants to destroy.)

5. A Walton County idiot set the forest on fire last week; he just had to burn garbage during a no-burn, pandemic phase, sending evacuees to a school shelter where they had to sit in their cars and take Covid tests before entering.

6. And on Mother’s Day, I witnessed a group of big baby boys (I’d say around sixteen) trying on every pair of sunglasses at Publix, returning them to the stand covered with lovely hand and face germs.  Oh yes, they did.


Uh huh, this is Earth 2 during a pandemic.  Many locals are still just not connecting to the reality of Earth 1 (New York, etc.)  The immediate evidence they see/hear “proves” that “only old folks die.”  (I just cannot respond to that little bit of barbarity.) So, whatever. And I get it; they rebel against restraints when there seems to be no real danger.  Boy do I get it because I am strolling around here in Seagrove Beach and the sun is shining, the sky is blue, people are on bikes, and the boring postcard atmosphere is the same.  The same!!!!   The same!!!!  


What I don’t get are tantrums thrown by those claiming a loss of freedom due to beach shutdowns (now over) or bar closings or kitchy six-foot distance markers in grocery stores.   Big babies throwing freedom tantrums, exercising their right to make every pair of sunglasses at Publix GO VIRAL.

Babies.


Well, it could be worse.  At least they weren’t carrying assault weapons too, a standard accessory on Earth 2.


Love to you all on Earth 1.  Wish us luck and enlightenment here in this benighted place that seems so AOK.  For the moment.

XO

Joyce

Committment issues . . .

Dear you,

Happy May Day.  Is that appropriate?


Probably not, considering our Covid world.  However, this is the workers’ day.  And I can only echo litanies of praise for those nurses, doctors, mental health folks, food suppliers, cops, firemen/women etc., those committed workers who keep us going.


Committed.  Commitment.  


Where do we all fall on the commitment curve?  Time for self-reflection.

Commitment to some non-specific outcome or future.  Uhm, not something I do well.  Yes, I have committed myself to goals, academic, professional, or even physical.  But those were easy because they seemed so tied to present reality; the pursuits produced immediate pleasure pay-backs. On the other hand, these actions give me a “commitment itch”, apparently promising zero endorphin rushes:

      1.  Stocking up on toilet paper.

2.  Signing up for Medicare.
3. Taking Vivo cat to the Vet.
4.  Maintaining connections with more than four people.
5.  Buying a stupid house.


Don’t be alarmed about Vivo.  She is in fabulous shape and living a fluffy queen life.  And don’t be alarmed for me either.  I will do what I must when life puts a metaphorical gun to my head.  However, that toilet paper thing is a mystery.  Never, ever in my life have I purchased anything larger than a 4-roll pack.  Even during Covid-19 hoarding.  What does this mean?  Am I imagining that in time I will outgrow the need to eliminate waste?  


Maybe I just live for the moment.

Maybe I just live . . .

Maybe I just quote show tune song lyrics:       “Hey, maybe I’ll dye my hair/maybe I’ll move somewhere/maybe I’ll get a car/maybe I’ll drive so far they’ll all lose track/me . . . I’ll bounce right back . . .”  (Best Little Whorehouse in Texas 😊)

Or maybe I’ll simply accept the fact that, in my case, commitment might just be a ball and chain.  


I know what to do.  And I will do it when I am damn well ready.  So, if other survival oriented, pandemic driven shoppers look askance at my little basket of goods with the tiny four-roll pack of Angel Soft, they just need to fall back:

That is just not me.  

Maybe I just live for the moment.  Or for however long those four rolls last.

Love,

Joyce

They are everywhere!

Dear you,


Florida follies continue.  The state is all over the place in terms of Covid-19 policy, to reopen or not to reopen, to test or not to test (and good luck getting access to one of those), to vacay-rent or not to vacay rent.  But the wobbly inconsistency is nothing compared to this:

He does not know how to put a safety mask on.

He is my state’s governor.

Yet ANOTHER reason to leave Florida.


Should I stay or should I go?

Yes, yes, I swore I would never be cold again, but the civilized, purportedly intelligent north of the Mason Dixon line zone (or at least coastal Virginia/North Carolina) has got to be better than this warm comfort tinged with stupid.  So, I should go!

But wait, then there is this:

“They” are everywhere.  That is the now viral (sorry about that) image of Trumpies in Ohio protesting "stay home" efforts. Everywhere.  With that in mind . . .

Should I stay or should I go?


Cue music.


I haven’t got a clue . . .

So, for now, I will just SAFETY DANCE my way around this perilous, silly land.

And find a way to ignore the out of state car that just checked in (with children screaming, of course) to the condo building next to mine, never mind the no-vacay-renter Covid-19 Ordinance.
  

No more words, for now.

Love and kisses through a mask to you; good luck!

Joyce

We wear the mask?

Dear you,

Choose.


The corona days, a daze of information, disinformation, and recommendations versus rules.

Here in the Panhandle, there is still this “kinda” distancing thing happening because beaches are closed, restaurants are providing take-out only, and most pools and parks are shut down.  But we are still mingling in necessary spots like grocery stores, and I worry about those workers.  With them in mind, I decided to don a scarf before shopping Friday:

I looked more like an amateur robber than a caring customer. The silky fabric kept slipping off my nose, so I had to keep touching my face to get that sucker back in place. I probably slathered lots of Stouffer-entrée-box-virus babies all over my cheeks. The scarf-mask might have helped protect others on the scene . . . if I am an unwitting carrier . . . so it was worth the effort, I guess.  However, since most of the employees and random customers were unmasked, overall, it felt pretty pointless.


They choose.

I choose.

We choose.


For those who choose, I appreciate you and wish you the best of luck as you design the perfect Easter Covid-19 Mask!  You can decorate yours with Peeps or weave one with Easter basket grass.  You can brighten up your tube-sock mask with Easter egg dye or strap a stuffed bunny to your face.


You choose.

I choose.

We choose.


I just wish we had some consistent guidance (or uniform policy) as we make those choices.

Buena Suerte to all!

Love,

Joyce

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