Pandemic Projects Evolving
By: Darya Mead
Tags: Stamina, Fruit Picking, Groundhog Day, Co Vid, Pandemic

I don’t know about you, but I’m kinda over my early attempts to cope. I’m lucky, I have plenty of work right now and can do most of it from home. I still enjoy baking, hula hooping, doing my daily yoga practice, puzzles, crosswords and my little watercolor project, but I am itching for outdoor time — preferably sans mask — when properly socially distanced. This is not gonna happen — at least here in CA— for a while. Maybe when we go out in the wilderness, but even out and about, masks are now mandatory in the whole state. I’m still gonna make my sourdough bread, but I do feel a shift of sorts, at least emotionally. I’m girding my loins for the long haul; how to keep the emotional uplift and life momentum, amidst a pandemic, social unrest, and all during the painful lead up to an iffy election. With little to no plans for the summer —let alone the future— how to keep spirits up and not become a 300 lb. alcoholic?? It is a sad demoralizing feeling to have little to look forward to. This is new territory for me, I can usually make even awful tasks somewhat fun or at least amusing, but I’m feelin’ a bit worn down.

In an attempt to get outside and enjoy a few things I love, a trip to pick fruit with my cousin’s twins — in masks — seemed like an OK proposition. Outdoors, active, in an open space, why not? The U-Pick orchard was busy, but all in all it was well worth the hour drive. The four-year-old twins love picking the cherries, precisely because they are accessible, bite sized and yummy. They both gorged and had predictable belly aches and cherry juice goatees, but it was a fun spring/ early summer ritual to maintain. The window for cherries is quite small, but we also picked peaches and aprium; a cross between apricots and plums. I’ve been making smoothies, scones and rustic tarts for weeks

Last weekend I went to pick up one load of my college kids’ stuff. He was planning to be studying in New Zealand til Christmas. That plan ‘suspended,’ now he may be able to recoup his summer camp counselor job in some kind of dystopian attempt to provide childcare and fun for so many kids desperate for so much. He will be a college senior next fall and it looks like his UCSC classes will be virtual, as will high school for my rising junior. Virtual school is ‘meh’ at best. I asked him how he was doing and he said “I have no hope for the future.” He is the product of my husband and I, we often do battle with sarcasm and zingers, so I know it was half in jest, but I’m sure the sentiments are real. For the first time in my more than 20 years as a mom, I did not have a robust answer. The best I could do was: ‘maybe you should consider graduate school, even if you might want to take some time off,’ or ‘you could live in our basement and work, and we could try to build an in-law in the garden’. Truth be told, I often feel I carry a large burden —not just as cruise director mom— but cheerleader for life. I can find a silver lining in most things and can often turn the most horrendous moments into— at least— an amusing story… I am running a bit dry these days.

We did make a day out of the trip to the beach/ University town of Santa Cruz with my bff and her boys. With a picnic, our wetsuits and boogie boards in tow, we had high hopes for a pre-Covid rush of ocean fun. Not sure what to expect, with the fragmented approach to this pandemic, we knew the parking might be tricky. Watersports were apparently allowed, but you could not have umbrellas, coolers or beach chairs. On the surface this sort of makes sense, but the beach was wide and long and no one was within 50 feet of each other. It struck me that with all the chaos and bungling of this pandemic, on some level this was an elitist approach. Who surfs and boogie boards? Mostly white people, at least people that can afford the gear and like that kinda stuff. Some people prefer to just hang on a beach with a cooler full of beer amongst friends. That’s never been my thing, but… to each their own. The rangers drove back and forth with a megaphone demanding everyone leave. They drove up to each party with said cooler, umbrella or chairs. We had none of that stuff and just rotated between the water, frisbee and beach paddle ball and spent a lonnnnng time putting on and taking off our gear; they never bothered us once. It was a glorious day, perfect temperature, great waves, lots of laughs and a big ice cream to finish off; it was so appreciated after 3 plus months inside. I really miss swimming…

As funny as the film Groundhog Day was when it first came out (doesn’t really hold up, but it’s an evocative expression), living it in these times is not so charming. Past horrors were suffered through, often with grace and humanity, so I still have hope we can at least muddle through this episode and come out better on the other side. We are lucky to not be living on the Corona Coaster; what some friend’s living with this virus call the weeks and months following the initial infection. I wake up each morning a tad logy and sore; I am no longer sleeping as well as I was in the early days of the lockdown. I get out of bed and open my curtains, in that Hollywood flourish gesture of a welcoming the new day, and I see our pretty little garden, butterflies, hummingbirds and rotating blooms, but I am struck by the stagnancy of my life right now and the inner anguish of not feeling like there is respite coming. One expert said this week that we are in the second inning of this ordeal.