In the next few weeks things are going to change around here. I am getting my second vaccine next Monday, Ally is getting her first. My son, who’s already gotten his one and done J&J and hopefully because he does not have a vajayjay, he will not be subject to blood clots, will be home in 8 days and my husband, my husband will be getting a brand new shoulder in 11 days.
I have been having some hip issues, which I will be getting imaged for next week. You know how in college they have different houses for kids to live in–the music house, the soccer house, the poetry house–we over here, are the orthopedic house, um, yeah. The lot of us have had more ortho issues than ER, Scurbs and Grey’s Anatomy put together. But, ah, thank God for modern medicine.
I am ridiculously grateful for all the scientists and every single medical person who has missed breakfast, lunch, and dinner for months on end to make vaccines that are helping us out of this pandemic. If you haven’t gotten one yet, please consider it a must-have. We need to lift ourselves up and out of this craziness and that little shot wlll allow that to happen. And whoever created a shoulder replacement, well you are bananas amazing and I am more thankful than the alphabet has words for.
Yup, things are going to change around here in the next few weeks. More freedom, less pain, and new body parts. I’m ready.
I am a flower junkie. The more the merrier. So for me, spring is a kid in a candy store kaleidoscope of mood enhancing drugs. When my dog and I hit the neighborhood every morning, I get to monitor what’s happening in the plant world. Who is crazy enough to take the risk to put out window boxes and containers during this unpredictable weather time of year (me), where the magnolias are (out), how many battalions of daffodils there are, heads held high, rooting for the sun to come out and warm them like the heat lamps I see in so many patios that helped keep us social through the winter months of the pandemic.
I keep tabs on what’s about to bloom, where the natural world in our little corner of the world is at. It buoys me to know that no matter how harsh the winter might have been, the flowers come alive again, up and out from black soil, pushing aside dead brown leaves to make themselves known, to say brightly, loudly, “I’m still here.”
This year, more than any other, nature’s reliable rhythm, feels like a lifeline. We too are beginning to step our vaccinated selves out of our forced hibernation, dipping our ratty pedicures into the waters of an unknown new world, none of us quite certain how far we should go, how safe it is. This spring, watching the flowers bloom, the trees leaf up, it’s not just a celebration of the end of winter, but the beginning of a new part of the pandemic. Yes, we’re still in it, yes, we won’t be putting our masks away for a while, but yes, there is a distinct possibility that we may be a good way through this historical chapter. Or not. I don’t want to hear about the deadly and super contagious variants that might force us back down (but of course, I listen intently to the news on this). I want to believe that Covid will be a story we regale at parties and family gatherings. I want it to be the past. But whatever happens, whether we must crawl back into our shells or get to begin again soon, you know we’ll be like the spring flower crowd, we won’t give up. And as Arnold said in The Terminator, “We’ll be back.”