a peek inside the fishbowl

Some sports are slower. More about the strategy. pic.twitter.com/JMBaGJ1tSd

— Andrew Cotter (@MrAndrewCotter) April 9, 2020

• The mighty feat of the tiny Prairie crocus, theglobeandmail.com
• The Weirdly Enduring Appeal of Weird Al Yankovic, nytimes.com
• “Crazy Cat People,” Explained, thenib.com
• The CBC Books spring reading list: 40 great books to read this season, cbc.ca

On the nightstand: Lost Roses by Martha Hall Kelly

As I mentioned before, our groceries are done primarily doing the Loblaws Click & Collect but I’ve had to augment this with a couple of in-store visits this past month. One trip was to stock up on groceries for my mother (which the youngest dropped off to her, she lives about 2.5 hours away) and the second trip was because the youngest has a birthday this weekend and our C&C slot is still a week away.

I also forgot it was a long weekend and that some stores would be closed.

I was early, but not early enough. There was a line-up out the door because they were staggering entry. (For the record, it was raining.)

There was toilet paper, but no flour, or sriracha to replenish my dwindling supply. I didn’t bother looking for bleach spray or hand sanitizer.

What’s new (at least for me): The aisles were all one way now, which in cuts down on the number of traffic jams when shoppers ore obeying rules of traffic flow. And if you haven’t been for awhile: the checkouts take credit or debit only (except for one), you can’t bring your reusable bags, and there are plastic shields between the cashier and the customers.

Here’s what it all looked like from my perspective:

I felt mad and sad and icky and scared the entire time I was there. It was hard to breathe through my DIY bandana mask without fogging up my glasses. My nose was itchy. The check-out line snaked through the middle of the store. It’s hard to believe but some people still aren’t getting the idea of physical distancing. (!!)

Let the record show that I’ve NEVER spent so much money in one go at the grocery store. And that includes Christmas! I paid full price for almost everything I bought. I came, I saw, I grabbed two of everything. :(

When I left, it was snowing.

As much as I hate going to buy groceries right now, it somehow keeps me grounded. What happens in our kitchen is something that is within my control, more or less. I can bake bread and buy cartons of juice. I can plan meals around what we have, and I know I’m capable of eating tuna fish on crackers if it ever comes to that. Also, I am pretty amazing at making meals out of nothing. It’s my secret skill. All of this is a source of comfort for me.

p.s. in other news, have you ever tried a toasted peanut butter sandwich with pickles and sriracha? I recommend it.

As some of you already know, I’ve been working from home these past few weeks. I feel very fortunate to be able to do so, and to have a good set up in order to Get Things Done. I went to the office yesterday to pick up a couple of things and also to check out a weekly meditation session for employees. These are hosted by a rotating group of staffers. As far as I know they tend to be indoors, but because of new physical distancing guidelines they were moved outdoors.

This meditation session was a walking meditation. I thought it might be guided – that someone would lead us and tell us what to do – but I was wrong. The instructions were simple, or so I thought: wander around one area of the grounds and breathe. Of course, there was a bit more to it than that. We were instructed to pay attention to our breathing, the feeling of our feet on the ground, and for the sounds/smells/stuff around us. And with that, we all went our separate ways.

Some people walked around the lawn, some people walked through a woody area, some people stood with their faces to the sun. It was pretty cool.

I discovered something about myself. I’m a speed walker and walking slow was surprisingly difficult for me. In fact, I wobbled a couple of times. Somehow, it was harder to keep my balance when I wasn’t a human projectile. How slow were we walking? Good question. I can’t honestly say we were walking. Perhaps stepping describes it better: One, very, slow, step, with, every, inhale, and, one, slow, step, with, every, exhale. Repeat. And repeat.

I had to force myself to slow way down. I took deep breaths, and noticed things around me that I would have missed at my usual pace. I really looked; really listened. There was the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves, bird song, the smell of the earth. Somehow, I became closer to it all. I banished intrusive thoughts and focused on the moment and on the beauty around me. I felt closer to the world around me than I had in the long time. It was a lovely gift.