Holiday plans didn’t go as planned.
I intended to head south for Thanksgiving to spend it with my mother and older son and his puppy. My older son made the journey from Alabama to South Carolina, but I decided to stay home and keep my germs to myself. This cold–I refuse to think of it as anything but–lingers. It’s par for the course. I get sick with upper respiratory issues, after a week the cold descends into my chest, then I cough for a few more weeks. It happens every time. Just in case anyone cares, no, I don’t think it’s C19. I have not had the one symptom that practically all C19 victims profess: a loss of taste and smell.
So, I stayed home and watched sappy-sweet Hallmark movies. Took a nap. Cleaned stalls. Snacked. My husband brought home a plate of leftovers from his family’s Thanksgiving gathering. On Black Friday, I made soup in the crock pot with turkey leftovers. (I hoped my husband didn’t notice the lack of celery. We didn’t have any and I forgot to buy some.)
My oldest brother is once again a grandpa as of November 25. This makes his second grandchild. The baby, a boy, was born four weeks early, weighed 7 lbs., and is 20 inches long. Pretty darned big for a preemie. The newest member of the family is doing well. Mama had some complications, but is reported to be doing all right.
(No, I don’t pester my own children about reproducing. They’ve got enough going on in their lives without that.)
I’m still not writing. I’ve got stories swirling in my head, but not the impetus to filter them through the keyboard. I don’t know whether this has to do with a lack of creative spark, general discouragement, or something else. It’s probably a mix of factors that contribute to my hiatus in production and sussing out which are responsible is about as helpful as picking lint from one’s navel. It really doesn’t matter.
The 9th Annual Christmas Bazaar in Toledo, Ohio was postponed until next spring. I can’t say I was surprised. Assuming the nation recovers its collective mind and realizes that we can’t stop a virus, 2021 promises to be a busy year. I’ll be doing some traveling in the region. As for public gatherings and the pandemic, I’ll jump off the soapbox right now.
More disappointing news: my younger son cannot visit over Christmas. He called to let us know that the military forbade travel. The entire base is on lockdown. I haven’t seen my boy since my father’s funeral and miss him terribly. Fingers are crossed that we’ll get to see him in July.
The next few weeks will be disjointed and irregular, expected for the peak holiday season. I wish you well.