Almost a Year

 Firstly, many thanks to those who have commented.  I have not yet discovered how to reply to comments - it took me years to tell people how to reply.  The other thing I have not yet discovered is how to alert followers that there is a new entry.

Johana, as always, thanks so much for your insightful comments, and what you said about receiving the vaccine. And to Hopeful, I am aware of the experiments done on black people.  Years ago I worked for Contra Costa County in home health.  We would get new referrals to patients in our weekly meetings. I remember an 80 year old man being referred, and one of his diagnoses was syphilis.  Immediately a nurse who was present asked where he was born and she told us of the Tuskegee experiment. (In fact, he was from Tuskegee).  I remember how shocked and saddened I was to hear about this. Also, Johana writes about Henrietta Lacks, and the ongoing importance of her cell line.  

This is the dark side of medical experimentation.  And yes, learning about the covid vaccines and their affects and efficacies will be ongoing for a very long time.

After my previous blog about not experiencing any side effects other than a desire for Diet Coke, a strange thing happened.  Eight days after the vaccine while on a walk I felt my arm itching at the site of the vaccine.  It was also somewhat painful.  I paid no attention, thinking it must be a mosquito bite.  The pain and itching continued. While toweling myself dry a day later I saw that my arm was swollen and very red. It looked like a dark red rash in the swollen area. It was also hot to touch.  I was really surprised, because I realised it must be from the vaccine, and it was by now 10 days later!  An internet search revealed a surprise - I was not the first to develop "Covid Arm" 10 days after the first shot.  For a few days I was quite lethargic and experienced some unpleasant gastric disturbances.  Go figure ......

I am fine again, and receive my second shot on March 13.  On the advice of answers to FAQ I will get the shot in my right arm this time. 

The Vaccine

 Today I joined the burgeoning multitude.  I had my first shot of the Moderna vaccine.

I stood in the 1.20 p.m. line.   This, I thought to myself, must be what it is like at Lourdes. The very old, the misshapen, the bent, the lame, those on wheelchairs,  those with canes, those pushing walkers.  Black people, brown people, yellow people, white people, all with a shared purpose - hopefully to evade the clutches of the virus that has changed our lives.

I feel there appear to be two streams of thought.   Those who place absolute faith in science and statistics, and the others -  the anti-vaxers. 

As I have written in previous entries, it is really difficult, if not impossible,  for us to grasp that our lives, or rather, our lives as we knew them, have irrevocably changed. It is almost a year now and what was really strange is now a way of life. We wear masks, We do not go to gyms, to theaters, to cinemas, to restaurants, to shops, we hardly socialise.  Zoom has found its way into our lives.  We learn languages, do yoga, paint, draw, analyze our psyches, learn to fix cars, whatever it is, on zoom. The world of science fiction is here.

I feel that I hover between these two opposing streams.   I don't feel science is invincible.   I don't feel we have all the answers and the genius to do and solve everything.   This virus is new, and it is doing what it must do, it is mutating.  We are learning about it every day as it continues to evolve.  Although I don't think the vaccine will change our lives, of course I will have it,  So today I drove to Contra Costa College. This is an area I worked in for years, but haven't been this way in quite a while.  The trees clad in their pink blossoms line El Portal Avenue, making the drive quite pleasant.

I had the vaccine, and have an appointment for the second shot.  So far I feel fine - I don't even have a sore arm, although I realise this can still happen,  But do I feel that my life will change?  No, not at all.  Has the virus been vanquished - no.  It is mutating, as viruses do, it is here among us, and we have to learn to live with it. Vaccine or not, we have to be careful that  we will not get infected, and that we don't pass it on to someone else.

That is our life now, along with masks, social distancing,  and zoom. 

Happiness is...........

 Happiness is finding my missing valet blade.  At last I can again scrape dry paint off my easel. 

I have no idea why I still have a valet blade, or where it came from.  Does anyone recognise them?  I remember my mother used them in South Africa to sharpen pencils.  One side is blunt.  I don't even know whether it is still possible to buy or find them.

I found one still in its packet a couple of years ago and have used it to scrape paint off my easel, as I stated before.  But just about a month ago I didn't see it in the box of brushes.  I searched high and low, to no avail.  I scraped paint off with makeshift items, a steel emery board, a blunt knife.  Nothing as good as my trusted valet blade.  This morning I sat down to my coffee and began clearing my table  for tomorrow's art class.  I have a small cart of art supplies which I pushed aside to make room for more tins and what have you's  when, to my unbridled joy, I saw the valet blade on the mesh surface of the table.  Such happiness!

It doesn't take much to bring me joy in these strange new times.  I am wondering what Mari Kondo would say to that!  I experience joy finding a missing sock in my basket of masks.  I am unreasonably happy to discover a pair pliers that I had misplaced.

I suppose it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of this, joy is joy after all.

A Slurry of Unfortunate Mishaps

This latest string of mishaps began last Saturday.  Hopefully now that this week is over, the string has been cut.  I am writing about personal mishaps, NOT what is going on in the larger world around us, because unfortunate mishaps would be a gross understatement.

Last Saturday a friend and I went for a hike.  We walked for two hours in an Oakgrove Forest not far from where I live.  

At the end of the hike we bought beverages from the neighborhood cafe.    Paper cups in hand we proceeded to walk up Stockton.  She was ahead of me.   I saw her foot catch on a section of pavement that jutted upwards, pushed by a tree root.  In slow motion I saw her stumble then fall, arms outstretched, head to the side as she landed face first, with a small cry, on to the unforgiving pavement.  Her sunglasses clattered to the ground as did the cup of tea she was holding.  It fell not too far from her and drop by drop the tea spilled out.  

In 2019 my sister, brother-in-law and a guide hiked around a glacial lake in Torres de Pines in Chili.  The winds were fierce and gusted from every direction. A sudden fierce gust sent my sister toppling face forward onto sharp rocks.

To see my friend fall face down was a deja-vu.  Fortunately in both cases, no limbs were broken, no concussion.  Just stunned participants with cuts on their noses and blood dripping down.  Grazes, bruises, etc.

The night after this I sat on my couch at 6 to watch the news, when - total blackness.  A power outage - the second in a couple of weeks. NOT a dreadful thing - just an inconvenience without of course any idea of how long it would continue.  Power returned after an hour.  

The very next morning when I went to make my cup of coffee I saw droppings -  the same place they had been before when I insisted to myself that it was cumin seeds.  This time I could not deny what I saw, and this is a sight that really sets me on edge - of what - a cliff that is high.  I called a friend who said she had bought an electric rodent zapper. I wanted to buy one.  She generously told me I could borrow hers.  I went to her house and brought the zapper back and set it.  Well, strange to say, but since then, no droppings, no you-know-whats.  Who knows what is going on - ours is not to reason why. The trap is set just in case.

The next day I drove to meet a friend at the Berkeley Marina.  I waited for the light to turn green at the junction of Stockton and  San Pablo Avenues so I could make a left hand turn.  Yet again I experiened a disconnect between seeing and hearing things.  I kind of saw a grey car coming out of the strip mall to my left. Then I heard a crash and I realised something, that car, had crashed into me. I turned my head to the right expecting the car would stop at the side of the road and we would exchange information or something. Instead I saw the car pass me on my right and it turned right on San Pablo Avenue.  I registered it was a grey Pontiac - I couldn't see the license plate, but I then turned right and drove after it as it was not going to stop. I followed it down San Pablo, it turned right on Waldo Avenue. In hot pursuit I made a right, lost sight of it and realised what I was doing was insane. Thoughts, time, movement coalesced back into so called normal.  I drove toward the Marina and then thought I should check my car - a serious ding on the rear seat, no hubcap - scratches.

So - severely shaken up.  Thank the lord no injuries, and thanks for the help of a friend who helped ferry me back from the body shop, and to rent a car.  

Lets hope that is it.

Bye 2020

 Farewell to the dying embers of 2020.

and to all - a gentler 2021

         Do not go gentle into that good night.

        Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

      

        The words of Dylan Thomas come to mind today as I walk through the     cemetery with its unimpeded views and socially distanced, unobtrusive     inhabitants.  The very old, the very young , the soldiers, the everyday     citizens - mothers, fathers, grandparents, great grandparents. The Asians, the Christians, the Muslims, the Jews, those without denominations but whose names reveal their ethnicities if not their religions.

         I see people sitting in the grass visiting . Others stroll through the gentle rolling hills, masked.  We wave or otherwise acknowledge our mutual, still living presence.

        Almost all the trees have either shed their leaves or no longer display their vibrant autumn yellows, reds, russets, burnt sienna. Winter is here, even though I am perspiring.

        Tomorrow is the solstice.  And according to astronomers and astrologers there is a profound Jupiter-Saturn great conjunction that has not been seen for 800 years.  Apparently we are  moving from the age of Pisces into the age of Aquarius.  I am certainly no expert in any of these fields, but it is obvious we are in a profound time of death and rebirth.  Nature tells us all we have to know, but so does the entire state of our planet.  Old forms are dying, old ways struggle mightily and forcefully to continue.  And nothing and noone, it seems, is going gently into that good night.

    Our orange haired monster together with his Dracula counsel are certainly neither modelling grace nor dignity.

     The virus that changed our world at the beginning of the year seems to be getting worse all over our planet. It has the better of us.

    On top of it all, the air quality here in the East Bay is not good. 

    Still, I enjoyed my walk. Still I am in close touch with family and friends.

    Still the sun rises and sets.

    Still I enjoy spectacular sunsets every single evening.

Some Things

 Since the spider incident I have not posted.  I will attempt to post a few paintings I have done this year.

sunset over Mt. Tam - pastels

pastel of a friend's garden

Jess' garden in Cornwall, oil 

Oil of sunset over Mt. Tam - during fires

oil.  Hibiscus in my garden

watercolour  Sunset

oil - kitchen in Saxonwold

Many more pastels and watercolours of sunsets - just haven't posted them all.

This is what has sustained me during these covid times.