social distancing

Kiffel Christmas – Day 775

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 4 Comments
Partial Plate of Kiffels – Photo: L. Weikel

Kiffel Christmas

Yuletide 2020 will forever be remembered as Kiffel Christmas. I know, I know. I wrote about my intention to bake kiffels how many days ago? Eleven?

Well, I’m relieved to report that I’ve finally managed to get those babies baked. Today – of all days. And given the length of time it ended up taking me to roll out those little balls, fill them, and bake them, I realize the unconscious wisdom I exercised in saving the endeavor for a day when I basically had no other obligations.

In my defense, I rolled the dough into little balls and had them resting in the refrigerator, contemplating their destiny a good four days or so ago. It was finding the time and dedication to completing the task that took some juggling.

Of course, because I commandeered the oven for this long-slog of a task, we decided to wait a day to roast our yuletide turkey. I have to admit, I’m looking forward to our last wave of turkey sandwiches for the year. We only roast two turkeys a year: one for Thanksgiving and one for Christmas. Hence we only indulge in turkey sandwiches twice a year as well.

Eye Roll

I have to say, I’m rolling my eyes at the fact that I’ve obviously ceded access to my keyboard to my gastric senses. But they’re primal. I’m incredibly grateful for the roof over my head, the heat emanating from our fireplace, and the comfort in my tummy.

I guess I’m especially appreciative of our good fortune right now. I’m acutely aware of the blessing it is to be able to bake kiffels, roast a turkey, and contemplate having enough leftovers to feed ourselves for a week (and even share some, to boot).

My heart goes out to the millions of people who are facing staggering hardships right now. Sickness, hunger, sadness and fear – and perhaps worst of all, the dark jaws of hopelessness. There’s nothing I can say or do or write that will ease their burdens. And it almost feels obscene for me to engage in the banter I do.

Love and Gratitude

But all I know is that the overriding feelings I want to convey today are love and gratitude. Love for the people and opportunities that fill my life. Love for the efforts of so many in my world to make a difference in people’s lives. Love and appreciation for the smiles and kindness I see in the eyes and on the faces of so many, even though I know for a fact their hearts are heavy with burdens.

There’s so much goodness in the world.

We may be pushed in the next several days and weeks especially to buy into the proposition that we can’t trust anyone who doesn’t look like or think exactly the way we do. We may be exhorted to think the worst of everyone we encounter.

It’s in times like these that we need to focus on those smallest of blessing around us. A cookie baked by a neighbor. The warmth of our blankets and the softness of our socks. The kindness and respect shown by people we don’t even know when they stand more than six feet away from us and wear a mask – the twinkle of a smile still visible in their eyes – just because they care about you as much as they care about themselves.

We need to focus on the littlest things right now because they are, in truth, gigantic and life-affirming.

Be well, my friends. Sending you all a virtual kiffel and a hug.

(T-336)

Imperfections – Day 774

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Christmas Eve – Photo: L. Weikel

Imperfections

I’m sitting here listening to rain pelt against the dining room windows while a long, lonely gust of wind whistles through the keyhole of our front door. No need to worry about ‘closed building syndrome’ in this old house – and that’s just fine with me. I’m happy with the creaks and cracks of this home, the things some people might consider imperfections.

In fact, I’d go so far as to say I love the imperfections that make our house our home. Not all of them, of course. (Oh, for even a smidgen more kitchen counter space.) But overall? I honestly think it’s the imperfections that keep me sane.

Maybe it’s because I grew up in a house that was built in 1770. It was nothing like the houses of most of my friends. Our wooden floors were known to occasionally cast splinters as big as spears into my foot, piercing my socks and making me yelp (and causing my father to reach for the black gunky stuff that smelled like tar, that would supposedly ‘pull it out’ if it was embedded too deeply to dig out).

Christmas Eve 2020

I think many of us would agree that this Christmas in particular is filled with imperfections. Certainly, it’s far different than any Christmas most of us can recall. But I have to wonder. What will we remember most about this most abnormal of yuletides?

There are so many people enduring untold grief this Christmas. (And of course, I am using Christmas as a shorthand for all the holidays we may be celebrating at this time of year that celebrate the return of light, and encourages going within, hibernating, and reflection.) Nothing feels the same. And precious little is the same.

People are losing loved ones to the pandemic and other causes by the thousands – every single day. We’re being asked to sacrifice our traditions for the safety of ourselves and others. We’re wondering just how long this no-longer-fresh hell is going to last.

A Reminder

Karl and I were lucky enough to be able to spend a few hours with one of our sons and daughter-in-law. Because the weather is as unpredictable as it is, early this evening, it was balmy enough for us to safely sit outside in their enclosed porch and eat dinner together – occupying opposite ends of the long dinner table.

As we were driving home in the pouring rain that luckily mostly held off until we were leaving, the wind starting to whip around us, a couple of deer jumped out into the roadway in front of us. Luckily, I was driving slowly enough that I saw them well ahead of time. Turned out, though, that the three that popped onto the roadway before us were joining quite the cadre of peers on the other side of the road.

They were so beautiful and such an unexpected sight! I rolled down my window and took their photo, in spite of the raindrops splattering on my face. They were a lovely reminder of the gentleness we’re all wise to exercise with each other and ourselves over these holiday times.

I’m grateful we didn’t have an accident. And I loved the looks they seemed to give us as they stood there in the rain, returning our gaze. I realize this post probably makes little sense. But I wish all of you a peaceful, loving Christmas Day. May we all enjoy a day of respite from the insanity that has marked this year in particular.

And I’ll forgive myself for the vast imperfections of this post – not least being the fact that I just blew right through the witching hour of 1:00 a.m. (when it gets automatically sent out to my email list).

Merry Christmas. Happy Solstice. Let’s let the light shine into our hearts.

(T-337)

Just Gross – Day 746

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Photo: L. Weikel

Just Gross

I just logged onto my laptop to write tonight’s post and was met with something that’s just gross. Call me a prude, call me old-fashioned, but I was disgusted when my computer’s calendar popped up a notification alerting me to the fact that tomorrow is Black Friday.

Really?

Black Friday gets as much of a calendrical shout out as, say, Memorial Day? New Year’s Day? Or dare I say Thanksgiving?

Why in the world would this even be something marked on anyone’s calendar? It’s not a day of honoring, celebration, reverence, seasonal significance, or even religious observation. It’s simply a day of mass consumerism.

Breaking Even

Yes, I know the importance of Black Friday is that it is a day where people go out and purchase stuff in such a massive frenzy that the dollars spent cause retailers’ balance sheets to not only break even but go from being ‘in the red’ to ‘in the black.’ Therefore, it’s a day of huge importance to purveyors of goods, mostly – although those who sell their services also get in on the scramble.

I’ll confess: I’m not a big shopper to begin with. But this year, especially, the whole concept of Black Friday feels utterly icky. I can only hope against hope that we’re spared videos or photos of people clambering cheek to jowl for the chance to barge into stores for bargains. They’re disheartening to witness any year – but now? In the year of Our Dear Lord Please Don’t Let It Get Any Worse 2020? It makes me want to take a hot soapy shower just thinking about it.

It also makes me want to cry.

From Today to Tomorrow

How do we manage to internally shift gears from spending today feeling grateful for the people and circumstances in our lives, great and small, that make life worth living – and feeling responsible to express that gratitude and love by remaining away and separated from those we love and cherish – to spending the next day potentially exposing ourselves and each other to a deadly virus just to buy stuff?

Kind of ironic, all that ‘spending.’

Maybe my cynicism is unwarranted. Perhaps we’ll all be pleasantly shocked tomorrow evening by the dearth of evidence that people threw public health and caring for friends, neighbors, and loved ones (not to mention themselves) to the wind in service to their need to acquire stuff.

I’m not in any way suggesting that if Black Friday is your day to spend lots of money and help shopkeepers breathe a sigh of relief that you should refrain from doing so. I’m only hoping you’ll do it remotely, or at the very least intelligently and compassionately. If we don’t take care of ourselves and each other, next year there will be significantly fewer of us around to buy a damn thing.

Let’s carry forward our gratitude and appreciation for each other. Stay home; spend money online, and if you have to go out, wear masks and stay far away from each other. Short term hassle, long term health and life and the opportunity to spend another day – and hopefully many more – spending.

(T-365)

An Old Refrain – Day 737

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Waxing New Moon – Photo: L. Weikel

An Old Refrain

Whoosh, what a blast of chilliness blew into our area last night! While I haven’t seen or felt any yet myself, a coating of flurries was due to arrive sometime this evening. And in spite of an urge on both Karl’s and my part urging us to forego bundling up and venturing out, we pushed through. We did it, and it was the highlight of our evening. Hence, I’m launching into an old refrain: when you’re feeling glum or defeated or overwhelmed with the state of the world, take a walk.

Yes, the air was crisp. Tonight was the first time this season we had to bundle up and break out our neck gators. Aaaah – made of Turtle Fur, I must admit, I adore how soft and warm they are. They make all the difference when contemplating braving the elements. Keeping your neck warm is essential.

The Real Good Stuff

But enough of my late fall dressing tips. What was really important for us over the past two nights of walking was the gloriousness of the night sky. First, the sliver of a moon last night, which became noticeably larger and brighter crescent in the passage of just one evening.

As you can see, I managed a lovely shot of that tiniest of new moons last night – dangling enticingly in the burnt orange sky.

While tonight, although she was dramatically brighter and a noticeably more pronounced waxing crescent, I couldn’t for the life of me get a good shot of her. I did try; and I could share them with you. But nah. They didn’t do her justice.

Vast Beauty of the Night – Photo: L. Weikel

Starry Cloudy Night

So I turned my attention away from the setting moon and onto the clouds parting directly above, revealing a thick blanket of glitterati.

I’ll confess: Karl and I had both been in a bit of a foul mood as we cajoled each other into taking our evening constitutional. It’s helpful, as always, when Spartacus gets wind that we’re “going to take a walk-y.” His enthusiasm is sometimes the only thing that drags or guilts us into setting out – especially when it starts getting cold out.

But we did tonight. Thank goodness.

The spiraling crisis of the pandemic as it starts to devastate the Midwest and Southwest, as it starts to raise its ugly head again here on the East coast, is sobering. If we’re paying attention, we can see the irrefutable proof that gathering with anyone beyond our own household for Thanksgiving or the Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanza holidays (not to mention New Years) could result in rampant community spread, hospitalization, and potential death.

We walked. We reveled in the recollection and appreciation of just how precious our lives are in this moment. Gazing upon the growing young moon and boundless stars has that effect on most of us. But it’s easy to forget. It’s easy to talk ourselves into staying home, hunkering down, and ducking for cover.

But I promise you. There’s still plenty of time to cuddle and cocoon upon your return. But there’s no substitute for a dip into the vastness of Mother Nature to remind us that life is fleeting. It’s healthy to expand our horizons and remember just how precious these moments are.

Starry Cloudy Night – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-374)

Coronavirus Equinox Birthday – Day 494

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Anonymous Representative of Coronavirus Birthday Celebrants Everywhere

Coronavirus Equinox Birthday

Coronavirus Equinox Birthday. Well, there’s a mouthful for you. What a day.

I gave birth to a certain someone 32 years ago today. Alas, the 19thof March was not the spring equinox that year, which definitely would’ve made the day even more sacred than it already his arrival certainly made it for me. But on the upside, there wasn’t a pandemic stampeding across the globe, with nary a facemask or bottle of hand sanitizer in sight.

Festivity Buzzkill

I have to say, this social distancing, and in some cases social isolation, is a festivity buzzkill. All in service to the preservation of mankind, though, which I totally support and appreciate.

However – and Karl will back me up on this I’m sure – we need to implement new rules with respect to pandemic birthdays. Why? Because when we’re forced to forego actually being together and celebrating as a family, somebody always ends up a LOSER.

Since we live fairly close to each other, we’ve frequently had the chance to celebrate birthdays with the “CVEB-Boy” as the years have gone by. All – every single one –has involved a sharing of cake (unless one or the other of us was out of town or otherwise indisposed).

All have involved birthday cake, most often of the Aunt Carol’s Cake variety.

This time, though, because of our adherence to the CDC and Commonwealth of Pennsylvania’s Guidance on maintaining social distancing, we found ourselves in a particularly difficult spot.

The Police song “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” kept repeating in a never-ending loop in my head, while my tastebuds yearned to be rewarded for my efforts not only in birthing a 9 lb. 4 oz. baby 32 years ago but also in baking a chocolate cake in the midst of a pandemic.

I risked my life buying butter and powdered sugar for that icing.

Proof of Love

You’ve heard the expression, “proof of life,” in kidnap situations? Well, I feel like I delivered proof of love instead.

This is what I delivered to the doorstep of my middle son this afternoon. In the midst of a pandemic.

Coronavirus Birthday Treats – Photo: L. Weikel

So, you tell me. (And yes, that’s three flavors of Owowcow ice cream, too). Even in the midst of a pandemic, when the meme above is (sadly but hilariously) representative of all  those celebrating birthdays around the world in these troubled times, I think we can all agree on one thing: this guy (my guy) scored. Big time.

Especially since he didn’t have to share any of it with us!

I hope you had a great birthday, Middle Son. Your personal anniversary, on the equinox no less, is especially precious this year. I hope we’ll be able to share the treats next year. In person.

(T-617)