Continuing Covid-19 journal…
It feels good to write a word for how
I am feeling at a given time;
feelings roller-coaster
through the day like Portland weather.
I am selective about the news I read. I don’t want to hear from the moron-in-chief.
It’s been two weeks since we went to
the market. Another week and we will
miss oranges, bananas. Our apples may
last longer. We’ve decided for now it is
not worth the risk to go to the market.
We have frozen berries and bananas
and canned pineapple and can make
watery smoothies with protein powder
to get a hit of fruit or ice cream!
I tried to cheer Mitchell and I with some homemade oatmeal cookies.
I do not have the right ingredients and just went for it with what I have.
Not that successful!
We are playing this day by day.
About to flip this folding journal over and move to the back side.
Ink seeped through from me working it; I’ll make it part of my backside ramblings.
Life is certainly messy right now and
the Universe is having its way with us so why not go with the flow?
On the thirteenth day since they confirmed this a “World Pandemic.”
I had a sleepless night. Could not sleep at all.
I was up when the New Moon began to wax again.
I imagine others are also having sleepless nights…
on the other hand, worry can be exhausting.
I have to find a way through this. I am too scattered for art.
My writing in this post is all over the place…
I am handling business, calming clients,
and can’t afford the time to write until I have a break through in a journal.
We decided not to go to the market again, but we had not shopped to
hunker down for a couple months. We shopped, as we do, for about two weeks.
The only thing different is that we had picked up a few cases of items
we buy for the business, replenishing our stock.
Home to sleep-to-work and back again.
When the Stay-at-Home order came, people flaunted it! Insane!
Completely inappropriate, in denial, business-as-usual,
and we decided not to go anywhere but to the post box every couple weeks,
to hunker down for months.
This was going to get very bad, and we had each other and no one else.
Stupid knows no party lines;
our governor is wishy-washy with her orders.
We began to run low on fresh things, and many began to look tired.
I decided to take all of our remaining fresh veggies and turn them all into stews.
I did it in the big studio kitchen.
Cooking is therapy, a mediation. I center, and think without thinking.
As I tried to decide how to best use what we had
(no onions, but a handful of sad green onions),
separating items into piles to go with some Italian Sausage
(made into chili with beans, and frozen fresh tomato base I put up last summer)
and stew beef (using the last sweet potato, some frozen mushroom with onions),
one thing stands out. We are blessed.
We have a safe environment, for now, we have food, and we can work.
I thought about people who’ve lost their jobs or have to go to work with no protection,
about poorer people, families with homes stuffed
with kids and grandparents and little money, and how they would get by…
or the people on the streets who have to “stay-at-home.”
This is all very very bad, and I feel impotent.
At one point I felt like I was channeling women who had made much of little,
how they had worried for their families.
Perspective. Gratitude.
Rosh Chodesh is here; the beginning of the light of the moon.
I wonder how many of these little folding journals
I will do before this thing is over?
Above, the journal and other images that relate to
grappling with the corona madness.
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“Memory is more indelible than ink.”
Anita Loos, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.
“I think not….”
Me… why I journal!
©D. Katie Powell.
My images/blog posts may be reposted; please link back to dkatiepowellart.
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