ODE TO COVID-19

Covid 19 breeds such fear:
Don't breathe on me; Don't come near!
Stay inside! Don't go out!
It's your fault (Millenials shout)!

Listen kids, and listen well:
You and your fear can go to HELL.
Here are things that we've lived through
With far more significance than little old you --

Missile Crisis, Vietnam,
Watergate, and on and on,
Woodstock, meltdowns, Commie fear,
Kent State, drugs, and terrorists here.

Insane shit that we've been through,
You think we fear the Covid flu?
The difference between us is a snap:
You fear the flu; we don't give one crap.

WILSON CRASHES MY CYBER MEETINGS

I am not a fan of the movie Castaway.

However, there is a certain sanity to the volleyball named Wilson.  The main character talks to Wilson, and even loses his mind when Wilson floats away during the escape from the island.  Being in voluntary quarantine pretty much by myself, I totally get it now.  I finally understand the significance of Wilson and the importance of having a minor character, perhaps even a foil, readily at hand.

Initially, though, this may not be the case.  When I am first relegated to real life shelter-in-place, I enjoy it.  I don't mind the lack of human contact and even manage to do some organizing around this still semi-organized house.

Then comes the first cyber meeting with live cameras.

After moving myself around the house, I understand that the best Zoom-worthy place in my house is the living room downstairs, but the best work space for me is in my den/office/sewing room.  It isn't until the first camera-live work meeting that I notice the dress form in the sewing area is clearly visible.  I don't have any place to move her, and I am seriously tired of migrating around my home just for a decent camera angle.  I mean, Mr. DeMille certainly isn't looking for me, so camera-ready basically means no pajamas visible on screen.

I decide the best thing to do is to clothe my dress form.  I have a tunic nearby (hanging on a closet door knob).  It works perfectly, except now she looks a bit like the JJill Headless Horseman.  No problem.  I have a beach hat that will match her tunic just fine.  Before I know it, I have a lovely model standing in my cyber landscape when I turn on the computer camera.  And, before long, I start chatting with her (okay, AT her).

Hmmm.  She is my ... WILSON.  Dear lord, I have become a castaway.  It's just me and Wilson, hanging out, sewing, Zooming, and generally enjoying our voluntary quarantine.  So far Wilson is a fabulous minor character.  She hasn't become a foil yet -- she is still quite respectful during my meetings, she patiently listens to my complaints and my jokes, and she doesn't ever change the television channel.

Honestly, though. if Wilson leaves me (floats away, blows away, falls apart, or worse), I might just pull a Castaway and come apart at the seams.  Get it?  Sewing?  Seams?

Whatever.  I don't need outside validation for another few weeks (or months) -- Wilson thought it was funny.  That's all that matters for now.

THE LEGEND OF BAD NANA'S HEADBANDS

My poor sewing machine has been largely ignored over the past decade.  Oh, sure, I take it out occasionally to pretend-quilt (throw together squares without much concern to angles and beauty, sew everything together, then tie it all off with tons of surgical knots), and sometimes I will sew a straight seam or two.  But I really gave it a workout last week trimming down some old curtains to use in my kitchen (in a place where I moved five months ago ... don't judge me).  So, I have been feeling rather crafty lately.

This is what urged me to try making headbands with buttons for mask-wearing essential employees (to spare their ears from elastic) and to sew masks for general use (pretty much epic failure on the masks).  The first headband was a semi-success (meaning I can't really sew worth a hill of beans), so I ordered a bunch of headbands (thanks to the smart recommendation of my sister) and a bunch of buttons because, despite the family button box full of leftover and errant buttons, not too many actually matched.

My daughter had to be my guinea pig and constant model during this initial headband phase:  "Come here.  Try this on.  How does this fit?  Are these buttons in the right place?  Let me measure your head.  Do you need a different width?  What about colors?  Here, try it this way.  Is this better?  Worse?  Do you want to slap me right now...????"

The end result yields thirty-three button-sided headbands for mask-wearers.  I have become intimately familiar with the button foot attachment to my old machine, an attachment that I used maybe three times about twenty years ago (or more).  The good news is that I only snapped two out of sixty-eight buttons into pieces when I wasn't in control of the machine and the needle smashed the buttons to oblivion (but the needle did NOT break .... SCORE!).  Headbands = Done, and done reasonably well, so well that I even name my endeavor:  Bad Nana's Headbands

Now, to master the fine art of mask-making.  Yes, I have watched countless tutorials.  Yes, I have tried four prototypes, the last of which was largely successful.  Either way, my sewing machine will probably either love me or hate me by the end of this.  Poor baby.  Maybe all it really wanted was to be left alone, but, like The Little Engine that Could, or, even better, like Mike Mulligan's steam shovel Mary Anne, this old machine has truly come to my rescue and outdone itself.

WEBINARS, OH, WEBINARS

Webinars, oh, webinars - How fickle you may be!
If I turn on video, my messy house you'll see,
You will see me yawning when I'm in your company
Because these endless webinars will be the death of me.

Everyone complaining that their kids are home from school.
Now it's not so funny when at first they thought it cool,
But now a lot of parents find their kids their homes do rule.
(Welcome to the life of teachers, innocent old fool!)

So now I'm stuck in webinars as this has all unfurled.
(Oh, dear God, I know now why I left the corporate world!)
In these endless cyber-meets my thoughts are blurred and swirled;
I must make sure the mic is off when expletives are hurled.

Now that I've gone incognito, life again is grand!
I can sew, or bake, or pee while in this cyber land.
I post a comment or go live when given the command
To make it seem these webinars are things I understand.

Meanwhile, I participate and I do not begrudge
Presenters who know more than I. (Who am I to judge?)
But if I start to snore you might just send a text to nudge,
And I will trade you with a piece of webinar-made fudge.