Thought I Was Gonna Die

It's been a couple of months since I rode a bike. Not counting a couple of mountain bike rides and a short road ride two weeks ago. It was warm and really pleasant, as long as  we had a tailwind, so at the time, it seemed like a good idea to do the full ride. Big mistake.

By the time I got home, I could hardly keep my head up. My legs were wobbly, blood pressure low and pulse high. It was so bad, I couldn't eat, my gut was churning and it was all I could do to get in the shower to cool down and drink cold water. It wasn't until five in the afternoon that I was able to get my ass up. And I was going to dig more bamboo roots out, plant and mow. Ha!

Mom, Wally and I went for high priced sushi. Get this, the place I picked, is a real sushi bar. You don't order, the chef decides what to fix for you and what he fixed for the three of came to over two hundred fucking dollars. Maybe it was the large Sapparos we had that had the price so high, or the amount we ate, okay, I ate.  Damn nice too, little finger food pieces of raw fish on rice but it was good.

We won't be back anytime soon, unless some sucker comes along and wants to treat us to dinner and asks for a suggestion. Now I smell like a sardine cannery worker with beer breath and no money. My legs want to fall off and I am so looking forward to bed right now.

But I'll be back, bamboo. Yes Sir and with ideas of turning what I find into chop sticks to recover some the money we spent for rice and raw fish the size of a middle finger.

The Fight Of The Bamboo

It was a tough go, one shovel broke but that didn't stop me. The pickax struck, it slammed into corded roots of bamboo, it lifted old pieces of post-cement. The sweat ran down my body as I slammed into the earth again and again. It is now two-thirds finished. The worse of it. I can see a garden taking shape. Green slips of leaves where sticks of bamboo once flourished. The water fountain was ordered for the center of the grape harbor and the grapes should arrive at any time. Juan the carpenter will be here in a day or two to finish the harbor and then the wood gate at the side of the house.

Peppers and tomatoes, sunflowers and squash, cucumber, beans, eggplant, it will all have a place in the expanded garden. At least that's the plan. The hope I hang on to as my hands swell with splinters and my back aches from sore muscles not used in some time.

The weather has turned to Spring. Cool in the morning with dew heavy on the ground. The day warms and dries it all, basks the green grass and snapdragons. It's getting warm, the heater is turned down more than up and each morning, I test to see if it's pleasant enough to have coffee with the paper in the patio. Not yet, but soon and yet not soon enough.

Bamboo

The name itself tells you a lot about the plant. Bam, as in a smack alongside the head, or a kick in the teeth. Then Boo and what does that say but scary. A kick in the teeth is scary, aka, bamboo.  I dug more root out today. Roots that went straight to hell and I dug. I dug down until my shovel cracked and had to get the pickax. Then plunge down to have it bounce off the root a few times before cutting. It looks like you are in a fight to pull up an alien life form. It clings to everything, nasty hard, hairy roots that have calcified into something akin to iron girders.

Someone suggested burning but no, I'm not going to give up the fight. Not me, fuck no. Tomorrow, I will return. I will get my pound of flesh.

The bloody remote for the TV is lost. I think Wally has squirreled it away. If so it may be months before I find it. I did find my back scratcher today. Oh that was a good find, and now in a safe place unless I forget where the safe place is or Wally finds it and puts it away. Between the two of us, the house is one big seek and find.

I remember something from the day of gin and mist. Some animal had made a home under the hen house. The other night, while in a gin-laden coma watching everything being engulfed in a cloud, a possum came waddling by and with a look around, at me mostly, went into his home. He is a very tidy fellow and the girls don't seem to mind him. He does keep his porch very well kept.

Gin In The Mist

Yesterday friends came over to help with the yard. There was a lot of work and made harder by the soil being saturated from the rains. We did get the potatoes planted and the peas, plus a good portion of the new area for the vegetable garden turned over until the shovels became thick with mud.

At Ralph's there was a great sale on steaks, so I lit the barbie, and as we waited for dinner, had martinis by the fire pit.  It was a great night, a very cold night with the clouds bringing in mist.  After dinner, and our friends had left and Wally went to bed, I stayed up with the martini shaker sitting outside until two in the morning. It is amazing what gin will do to your imagination when mixed with a drizzle of low laying clouds.

Why I couldn't go to bed was the nostalgia brought on by the drink and the mist. Memories flooded of days in Topanga when fog would creep up the canyon from the sea not far away and change everything into a magic place. Oaks became grander and the grasses greener than Ireland. It was a special time back then, young, gay and living in a special place that is now just memories.

But the gin and the mist brought it all back to life, until this morning when I woke with a hell of a hangover.

Black Cars & Black Men

The house just across the street and to the East is now occupied with very big black men, their cars are very big too, macho trucks with big wheels and black have been parked in front of the house for more than a week. The men only come out on occasion to greet a new arriving black man with his big black car and all the black men are as big as their black cars.

I would say the men are holed up. A petite young white woman brings in bottled water and groceries but they never come out to assist her in hauling in the groceries or the water. All the men wear black clothing too. Black on black on black, in a gray house with a white woman that delivers food and water stays the night and leaves for a few days before returning.

Now, in some hoods this would seem strange, and I too think it odd, but this hood is full of oddities. Mean Queen and Daddy in the Palace next door. The villiage idiot in back. Hag next to him and then Drag Queen and the Jihad Party Boys and Trans. But for a real sinsister mix, Nothing tops them like Big Black Men in black cars with black clothes.

The lady across the street from us has moved her children to the other side of her house in fear of flying bullets. And I too have wondered about that, ever since the day the Big Black Men moved in and sheriffs showed up in armor and guns strapped on. When I asked one, if everything was okay he gave me the same answer as Japan's prime minister. "Everything is fine, as long as you stay indoors." They were there for hours that day and the next but have since left. Apparently to go indoors.

Planting Season

The rain started just after I raked smooth a hundred pounds of gypsum across the South-Forty.  With the rain, the gypsum will have worked into the soil and broken the clay from bonding. It will make digging up the soil easier and by the time I get the compost on, will be ready for the rotor-till. Next week I'll have the plants from the nursery.

Some I have started from seed, Swiss chard, Cilantro, and Oak lettuce but the rest I'll get at the nursery and some seeds as well, like the Sun flowers.  I may try some native pumpkin seeds that I still have and see how they do. Nothing like them, as far as how they look. They take up a hell of a lot of space but there huge round squash leaves and golden squash flowers, the size of a dinner plate, make the garden look like a lily pond.

Have to get new fish. I think the cold killed the others. I'm not sure if I want goldfish or guppies. The guppies had babies but when it turned real cold, by that I mean in the high thirties here, they vanished. Still, they were small and ate the mosquito larvae like crazy.

The grape harbor will be up in a week or two, Redwood, and the grapes will arrive by next week as well. It will take two years though before we'll get any grapes. My hope is that Wally will be able to enjoy them in two years. Right now he can appreciate the garden, I just hope it's that way in two years when the grapes come in.

I had a real surprise today, Wally went with me to the nursery and when I ordered the compost and gypsum, he knew, without me telling him, to open the glove compartment in order to push the button for the trunk to open so they could load the order. He was like a kid, and when I gave him the okay, he beamed and pushed the button and then watched the trunk spring open. The Fat Ass Cadillac is his car and though it sucks gas like a hog sucks slop, we'll keep it as long as we can. Anything that he can still connect with is kept and it's all okay.

That little act of opening the trunk, made my day.

The Palace Is Breached

On Sunday, during the height of the storm, in the afternoon, Daddy showed up at the front door.

"Hello, Mr. Mike."

He came to borrow our ladder. the tall ladder that unfolds to twelve feet. It was an emergency, he said, something went out.

The storm is pelting us and this guy wants to get on a ladder outdoors and check something?  I got him the ladder and told him he could bring it back after the rainstorm.  Well, it stopped raining. For two days, not much rain. But I ain't got my ladder back as of yet.

I hope he didn't try to see if he could connect electricity because I think they had their power cut off again. Things are dark once more at the Palace and all their cars are gone during the day. However, at night, late, they return.

And what is with the slacks and dress shirt in a downpour to climb up a ladder on? What the fuck is going on with these people? Is that what they do in Israel? "Honey? The power was turned off, can you borrow the aluminum ladder from the Goya again and reconnect the juice?"

"Let me change into my dress shoes, slacks and dress shirt first, It's pouring rain you know." 

"Tell him we'll return it when we're good and ready."

"Will do."

After that, Mean Queen went back to laying eggs, "OH, my aching back. Such a back I got." 

Deluge

It was one heck of a storm. The South-forty turned into South Lake. I had to put water wings on the chickens. But with all that rain and wind there was not one leak in the roof. Everything was dry for the first time in thirty years.  We were quite cozy, Millie, Buster and Betty, Wally and I all watched from the window as the storm beat up the trees in the front yard and battered the wind chimes in the patio.

Mario, the gardener said to water a lot before trying to dig where the bamboo was, but over five inches of rain took care of that. Now if I can get the vegetables in but I'm not sure when because we are to get more rain during the week.  Gad Zooks. It looks like I'll get some time to work on Lollipop and post another chapter in Mystery.  Winter is certainly going out with a bang.

The South Forty

We now have the extension to the vegetable garden along with the chickens rescued in the nick of time.  It was a good thing for the break in the weather today. The gardener came with his crew and cleared out the rest of the bamboo left from last week. I had the Juanster, and get this, David Waldner (the man with a nicotine beard that should have died long ago), and myself working on the yard. The interesting thing was when Mario had his son come and help at noon, the guy goes to CSUN with scholarships and is drop-dead gorgeous. Juan, of course struck up a conversation in Spanish only to find out the guy speaks perfect English.....I loved that one.  So after the re-buff, Juan went back to work and we got the damn yard ready for a grape harbor and much more soil for crops. I call it the South-Forty.

Now to the chickens. Last week when the work was going on, I filled the water canister for the girls and then dropped it while full and the welding came apart. (China, I'm sure)  I bought another one right then and to save money, bought the cheapest one, it was made of plastic, all white, with cutouts for the chicken to dip its head into the water.

Here comes the trouble part. Not all the chickens took to the new water device. I swear it was that lesbian bitch to put the rest of the girls up to not drink from it. Some did, and others sided with the worker's rights girl. I got an egg that a quail would lay. Sign of not enough water. That dyke chicken got me again. Another forty bucks and they now have the latest in fucking water for foul. And yes, I know it's not spelled correctly.

The Taxman Er, Taxlady

She says she's from Europe...somewhere over there, pointing without looking toward the east.  It is an European accent of some kind. I think Gypsy, the only thing missing is a gold earring and a chicken bone necklace.

If it wasn't for Wally, it is his tax lady he has used in the past, I would go anywhere else. I don't think she knows what she's doing myself. Last year, she needed the cashed checks for the property tax payments. This year we don't need them, instead we need the amount of the quarterly payments to the State and the Feds. 

"Don't you have them?" I asked.  "You sent the payment coupons with the amount to pay."

She looked at me as if my life line suddenly shortened on the palm of my hand. "Do you have the envelope they were sent in? Because you should have brought that in, it has the payment amounts on it." Then she went back to looking at her computer screen.

The computer screen, which we can't see and I'm glad of it because I'm afraid I would see a solitaire game being played. How can someone stop halfway through inputting numbers and start talking about other clients and what an ordeal they are. Then go back, look at the screen and then at the different forms we brought and try to figure out where she was?

 "It doesn't add up correctly." She would say and then begin to look at what she entered against the documents. "Oh, here it is, this looks like it would add up."

Looks like it would? Okay, and on and she goes for almost two hours before announcing that she'll send us what we owe, unless there is a refund, which she isn't sure of and she isn't sure if we need to split the income or is that the State?

Yes, sir, it's the Taxman...er Taxlady  and were fucked. No two ways about it. If she doesn't fuck us, the Feds will, rest assured unless your a millionaire, you are fucked when it comes to paying the taxman er lady.

Wolves at the Palace Gate

When the crew came to remove the bamboo and trim the elm tree in the backyard, I went over to the Palace and knocked. After waiting sometime I rang the doorbell and waited some more but nobody came to the door. Which I thought strange, knowing there is always someone inside. I thought I heard someone rustling about too but no answer.  I was there to inform them that the tree trimmers would remove any debris from the elm tree that fell on their side, if that was okay.

After the tree was trimmed, one of the crew jumped the fence and began to rake up debris. He threw it over to our side and put it in the truck they had to haul the debris away, it was then that Daddy emerged demanding that they come back and remove more debris. He let them in by way of the Palace's back gate. 

Whatever, I thought and wondered why he didn't answer the door when I was there. I have noticed though, that the Palace had been unusually quiet and at night, dark, no lights of any kind, except for an occasional dim light in the kitchen area. Not that that is strange, they never put on many lights at any time but they would turn on a porch light to take trash from the Palace to the bin at night. And there was always the smell of clothes being dried, just about every day. That had stopped as well.

Yesterday, Sunday, a truck with the city logo for Water & Power pulled up in front of our house. I thought, oh fuck, there must be a leak in the street and their going to start digging but they didn't. One man stood by the side of the truck while the other went to the Palace's curbside where he quickly turned off the water that goes to the Palace, then they both left soon after.

Mean Queen and Daddy have not paid the utility bill for Water & Power. What dire straits they are in now, with no running water to flush toilets or clean with. And what else has gone unpaid when they won't come to their Palace gate?

I would send Great Horned Owl with the camera for a brain to fly high above and investigate this further but he has been destroyed. A tragedy befell him while on his perch overlooking the garden when the crew came to remove the bamboo. His great plastic head was broken on a stake of bamboo and his camera brain broken. He can fly no more to investigate these things for me.

Hag has been out with all the activity in the alley and so has Drag Queen, though Drag goes in the alley to see if anyone will complement her new tits, not that she is interested in the activities outside herself. Hag said I should befriend the squirrel that lives between us and the Palace. This is impossible, for Millie will not tolerate friendships with squirrels and so I have asked Millie to spy on what goes on at the Palace but from a safe distance. She's thinking it over.

Today, Mean Queen left in her tight skirt that shows her egg laying thighs at their best. Daddy is still there and so are the their younger subjects. Will they bring water back and electricity? So far there is no sign of either. 

Defense of Marriage Act or DOMA

I have had two run-ins with this offensive law that literally has taken my rights as a citizen away. The first time was returning from a cruise. We had to go through customs and in large letters at the customs agent's booth is a sign that says if you are married you can both come to counter at the same time.

Wally's dementia had been diagnosed before we did the cruise but he was still able to enjoy things and that's why we thought of a cruise. Everyone on board was helpful to us, it was really enjoyable but when I went up to the custom agent, explaining we were married legally and that Wally has dementia and might have difficulty, he refused my request and demanded we each go separately,   DOMA at work.

I sent Wally first because I was afraid if I left him he wouldn't go to the counter on his own. I could see he was confused in answering questions, giving his passport and finally the idiot agent told him to go on, but I couldn't go up until Wally left the area. That took some time because Wally didn't want to leave the area without me. Finally I came up, got through the procedure with the Nazi agent and allowed to go.

I searched for Wally in the baggage area but couldn't find him. Some people whom we made friends with  onboard found me and said they have Wally in a safe place. They took me to him. He had tried to get back on board the ship and had been crying  because they wouldn't let him and he was afraid of being left. He thought I was still on board.

I'm not afraid of going to other countries, I'm afraid to try and return to my own. We don't cruise now because of that traumatic event.

Today I get in the mail from Social Security a form to fill out for Medicare. They wanted the spouse name and social security. I called and said I'm married legally but we have a same sex union. How do I fill out this form?

The woman didn't know and had to ask a supervisor, when she returned, I was told to fill the form with Wally's information in there as well, but that Social Security would not give us the benefits of a married couple because of DOMA. Yet I'm to fill it out anyway.

I won't be entitled for help with prescriptions because as a couple we have too much money in the bank in a joint account, yet if I was single, and had my separate savings I would be eligible. So we are not a couple when there is a benefit but we are when there is an exclusion.

Yes, it's  America folks. The land of the free and the brave. Where religion has all the rights to deny people equality  because they can and do force all of us to live by their religious edicts.

It's like being forced to believe in religion whether you believe there is a god or not. You have no choice in the matter.

I say, tax their churches and temples and call them out for what they are, crazies who want to force all of us to believe that there is a god when it is complete and utter nonsense. There is no proof, or even a plausible assumption that religious scripture was written by any god, or even dictated by one. If there is, that god would be deemed a paranoid schizophrenic. " I am Love, I am a jealous God, I'll smite you, and raise you up." Why do people believe that crap? Oh, and the Christians, eating the flesh of a god and drinking its blood. That sounds real normal...NOT.  Why do we allow them to treat us like this? We should be enraged they have tax free status and are allowed to subvert the Constitution. They need to be condemned for what they are-- lunatics and subversive traitors.

The Wind In The Bamboo

Call me silly but one of my favorite books is, Wind in the Willows.  I remember a high school English teacher who, I think, taunted me one day with the book. He wanted to know if anyone thought it a worthwhile book to read. He didn't think much of it. To me the book is about friendships among a group of gay men that Kenneth Grahame must have known intimately. They are all males, Mole runs away from house cleaning and meets Ratty and falls in love with river life and, apparently, Rat. They live together, quite cozy and meet other friends of Rat's. One being Toad, who at one point escapes prison by going in drag as a wash woman.

Women in fact are practically missing from the entire story, except for the old wash woman and some silly field mice, I think they were. How queer is that?  And a sleep over at Badger's, he was a bit of rough wasn't he? Maybe even a tad on the leather side.

Well, the bamboo is going to make way for more area for the vegetable garden. But it comes with a loss because there are families living in the bamboo. A large toad for one, an opossum and a number of birds. They will lose their homes in the thicket of black and golden bamboo and I'll miss them. I'm hoping toad comes out okay, the gardener is bringing a crew this weekend to remove and dig up the area.

And even though there will be sunflowers and string beans to grow up their stalks, tomatoes, squash and melons, I will miss my glimpses of toad and the possum.  I'll miss the chirps of chicks snugged in their nests and their parents bathing in the birdbath before teaching them to find bugs.

I'm sure they'll find homes, I hope so at least, I don't know about toad though, if he is in the ground when they come to chop up the roots of the bamboo, he may not make it but then, who knows, the river isn't far, I could get some tadpoles and put them in the cistern dug into the corner of the garden. Maybe one of the little guys will take his place. I hope so.

The Orchids Of Torrence

There was a show today put on by the South Bay Orchid Society. All the communities in near distance to the coast around the Long Beach area.  Mom lives in that area, heavily Asian and the group of us, Dafney, Mexican Monkey, Mom and I went to the exhibit. Afterward, we stopped at an Asian market that was like a general store, with a bit of everything from kitchenware to sleeping mats (a whole aisle for soy sauce) for lunch. Not a bad lunch either. Steamy bowls of noodles, sushi, tempura and it was all good--cheap too, about thirty bucks for the four of us including drinks.

I can grow things, but when it comes to orchids, I haven't really tried well enough or failed miserably. When people give them to me, they last, they endure and then, die. The show was five bucks and every hour there was a class on how to grow orchids.

I thought to sit in the class and find out what I do wrong. Well, I found out, I don't live at the ocean. They do have an Orchid Society in the valley but I never heard of them. The instructor suggested I ask one of valley orchid growers how to keep one alive because he didn't know.

I thought, when he said how to water them, (every two weeks) what medium they like, "rocks with good air space, kind of one rock that could fit easily in the palm of your hand. Smaller rock for Cymbidiums but not pebble size a bit larger it sounded more like a class on cacti  but orchids?  How easy is that?

Only when I asked, "Would this work for the San Fernando Valley,"  did the man laugh and said I should see how the orchid growers of San Fernando do it.

Probably with greenhouses but I'm not going to build a greenhouse, the chickens might want it.  I'll do it my way, although I did get enough information and ideas that I think I could set something up on my patio. One orchid grower said to me that when it gets below fifty to take them in for the night, except for Cymbidiums, they can go to the low forties and high thirties.

I think I'll have to increase the water when the heat of summer lays like a pizza oven on the valley, but I do have the misters and I think I can make an area that might work pretty well for a small collection of orchids.

If not, I'll grow zucchini, that never fails. They are developing a high protein zucchini for interplanetary exploration. Huge mega farms will be on Mars soon and no doubt the produce will be available in markets alongside the garlic from China that's there today. If Americans want to buy garlic from China, why not zucchini from Mars.

Bullet Holes

I really like the Mac desktop and the Mac Book but the Mac mouse for the desktop sucks. I got another Logi-tech wireless so that they now both have a good mouse. While at the store, Best Buy, the guy that checks your bags was talking to an employee from a business nearby. A shooting occurred in front of the Best Buy store the day before and a man was killed by the police.  I asked him about it when it came my turn and he said one of the bullets hit the wall where you can still see it.

Not far from there, where my old High School is, there was another shooting, some time back. It involved students at the school.  One day when Wally and I were coming home our street was blocked off because someone on parole had a gun and the police were called in until he surrendered. We were allowed in late in the afternoon.

When I left the store I went to see where the bullet hole was and it was easy to find, the police had circled where the bullet hit. It was a bit startling because the hole was at the height that if someone was standing there, they would have been shot.  The Best Buy employee didn't know why the police shot him but they must have had a good reason to shoot him.

What bothers me is, in this area, which isn't considered a problem area, there seems to be a lot of violence and guns you would associate with a rougher hood.  What does that say about the lives of those that do live in rougher hoods.

I got an idea of what it's like from a co-worker where I use to work who did live in a rough neighborhood. Her children played inside, away from the windows and everyone in her apartment complex put the heaviest furniture, couches and such on the wall that faced the street. No one sat there, everyone sat on the floor, just in case. How bad is just in case? She was proud of her new car until gangbangers came by and shot holes in the windows. They weren't picking her car out, it was in the way of what they wanted to shoot at was all.

Americans having to fortress their homes and apartments to survive day to day life and the right wing thinks we don't need to rein in guns, we need instead to get more guns in the hands of more people, young people going to school, where testosterone rage is a common occurrence.

Wally and I don't have a gun, everyone I know that does, has had some kind of mishap with them, like Bill getting pistol whipped with his own gun until he begged the assailant to kill him. The guy didn't but his brain damage from the beating is significant that he can't add or subtract and he has a plate in his head and bone fragments left that they couldn't remove.

Yeah, more guns is what we need, not to help any of us, but it will make those that make money off guns a lot happier and in America, keeping powerful business interests  happy is  best isn't it.

I don't think we have to wait for global warming to hasten our extinction, we seem to be doing quite well with weapons of our own design we make here and abroad. And if we can't kill the last mountain lion or wolf, there's that pesky neighbor down the street that could use a bullet.

Mom V/S The Virus

In the garage, next to the garden tools, is a box of latex gloves. Mom put them there so that when any of us gardens, they can put on the latex gloves and then the garden gloves. Mexican Monkey asked why I had latex gloves in the garage and not in the house.

"They are in the house too, in the cabinet in the bathroom."

"What do you use them for?"

"I don't, they're for Mom."

"What does she use them for?"

Sometimes, Mexican Monkey can be real annoying, as if Mom is into giving anal examinations like Mexican Monkey and of course his latex gloves are at the bedside.

"Look, Mom is afraid she'll pick up a virus, you know that, she thinks the compost we make from the garden waste and the chicken shit is loaded with viruses waiting to infect someone not wearing latex gloves. "

"Is it?" he asked.

"Of course, it's full of all kinds of bacteria and things, it's compost. Just don't put it in your mouth and eat it, wait until it turns into a vegetable."

I don't use the latex gloves to garden. As a child, I ate so much dirt that I have an immunity to just about anything contained in soil. But Mom is different. She grew up in an apartment in city-central where her mother instilled in her an absolute fear of the unseen. There are gloves for washing dishes, gloves for gardening and gloves for band aids. There are gloves for just about anything she touches.

It was a conversation we had a few weeks ago about Mom's boyfriend's place that gave me a clue as to how serious her fight against germs has developed.

"How's the vegetable garden project going at the boyfriend's, " I asked.

"I haven't done anything yet," she answered.

"Now is a good time to get the soil dug up and ready to plant. Spring will be here soon."

"I know, but I haven't had the soil tested yet."

"For what?"

"He has a cesspool and I'm afraid the dirt is filled with e-coli."

"Do you see dead squirrels and opossums all around?"

"No, but don't cesspools have human waste?"

"Last time I had one it did. But the best vegetable gardens were over cesspools and I can't remember anyone that died eating a tomato from one of these gardens."

She put on her latex gloves, then her garden gloves, squatted where the garlic is coming up and pulled some weeds. I guess, the boyfriend's tomato patch will have to wait for the results of the soil sample.

Then, I came down with a cold or flu. I'm sure Mexican Monkey had something to do with this on one of his visits. He has this nasty habit of finding god-awful diseases and then visits to friends. Those, that is, that are still alive from the last visit. I have, fortunately, survived all of his plagues so far.

I've been flat on my back for the last few days, hoping to survive the latest one, when Mom came over.  She had on her paper mask, and latex gloves, a common sight you see medics wear in the tropics and Mom.

"Can I get you something at the store?" She asked.

"I'll give you a list, thanks."

A short while later, she came back. Of course, nothing on the list is what I asked for,  instead of frozen dinners, I got a gallon and half of orange juice and a huge pot of chicken soup. To make sure the soup had no living virus, Mom salted it to the consistency of brine.

I will survive somehow, just as soon as I can get my achy ass to the store for coffee, danish and tamales.