What Day Is It?

I am usually on top of what day it is; I get into the routine of writing the new year pretty quickly in January because I have to manually time-stamp the reports I type with my transcriptionist ID and the date the report was done. My planner sits open on my desk right above my keyboard. This year, though, dates are meaningless. It has been a struggle to put them into context. I do know it’s March—almost April. I know that some things need to get done soon, like planting seeds. Many of the touchstones of my schedule, though, have disappeared. Normally, we would be getting ready for our fire department auction next weekend. For the first time in 50+ years, there will be no auction this year. Church has been canceled. Holy Week? Easter? How far will this stretch out? We here in Montana have always been in a unique position because ripples from events that happen in other parts of the world take a long time to get to us. On the one hand, that gives us more time to prepare. On the other, that time lag enables a fair bit of denial from people who think we are immune from the effects. We’re not. I am watching the wave of virus cases heading toward us. I wonder if people are going to exit quarantine at about the same time that wave hits Montana.

My days consist of working and sewing. I work in the morning and sew in the afternoon. I’ve made about 60 masks so far and every single batch has been claimed before the masks have come off the machine. Kalispell Regional Medical Center launched Project PPE this week, and while I’d be happy to be sewing masks for local use, friends and relatives who know I am making them have asked me to send them to other facilities. I don’t care where they go. I’m just trying to meet a need. Hobby Lobby sent a shipping notice this morning, so I should have more elastic in a few days. In the meantime, I may switch to fabric ties. Or I may take a break and plant seeds. I can’t put that off much longer.

Speaking of context, one image that keeps popping up in my head—and has, repeatedly, for much of my life—is that of a tapestry weaving. My brain likes things neat and orderly, so situations that are not neat and orderly make me uncomfortable. (Tapestry weaving is not necessarily a neat and orderly form of weaving.) With the perspective of 53 years in the rear-view mirror, however, I find it helpful to think of events like this as threads in a tapestry. I might look at one section of the weaving and think, “Why on earth are those threads in that spot? They don’t fit there!” When I come back to that spot later, though, after other threads have been added, I can see that even though those threads didn’t look like they fit at the time, they were necessary to make the overall design make sense.

Philosophy in the time of plague. Just another service I offer.

***********************************************************

DD#2 finished painting both bathrooms and now I begin the process of putting things back together. I want the downstairs bathroom to have a chicken theme, so this is the shower curtain she picked out:

I am not quite sure what I’ll do with the upstairs bathroom. The focal point of that bathroom has always been a large framed print of this piece, entitled Dancing Bears, by William H. Beard, and it will stay in there:

By some stroke of serendipity, we were able to find a wallpaper border based on the print, which was one of the reasons we’ve held off redecorating that bathroom for 20 years. DD#2 saved a piece of the wallpaper border, though, and I may frame it and hang it below the original print just for fun. I haven’t looked for any bear-themed shower curtains yet. Decorating is hardly a priority at the moment, although we do need to use the downstairs bathroom.