Maybe you do have a cold. But also, you might have COVID. Let’s recap the Omicron symptoms:
Cough
Fatigue or tiredness
Congestion and runny nose
That’s right: Also symptoms of a cold.
So before you get around anyone, TAKE A COVID TEST. They are available in stores (you can use your FSA/HSA), and there are free testing sites all over the place.
If it’s positive, ISOLATE, FFS.
And let’s be clear: You shouldn’t be around anyone if you have a cold either.
It’s because of one of you that my son and sister in law had a lonely Christmas.
Gideon hung out with some friends. Two days later, he didn’t feel well. Typical cold symptoms. We sent him to his room. Tested him: positive. Then Eddie, Dominic and I tested ourselves: negative. We waited a day. Tested again. Negative. Waited. Tested. Negative.
Only then did we feel like we were safe to be around other people.
Even though we didn’t have any symptoms.
See how that works? Protecting others?
We just tested again to be safe.
Waiting for resultsStill negative
But Christmas 2021 is the one Gideon will remember as the one where we made him wear what amounted to a HazMat suit to open his gifts.
Poor Positive Gideon
I haven’t ever gotten Coronavirus [knocks wood], and I don’t plan to get it. I’m not taking chances.
The bottom line: If you think you have a cold, get tested anyway. Don’t be a Typhoid Mary.
You may be wondering where I’ve been. I’ve been in Hell. Specifically, I’ve been in the First Circle: Limbo.
I do not do well with uncertainty. And finding a place to live in St. Louis has come with SO MUCH UNCERTAINTY. And dealing with people who hang out in the Fourth Circle: Greed.
First, I was going to rent. Then I saw howexpensive rent is here. (It’s not as bad as Atlanta, but considering we are paying for two places to live, it’s bad.)
I decided to buy a cute condo downtown. Until I saw how much HOA fees are. (Hint: They are not cute.)
My brother said, “For that amount, you can buy a nice house.”
But I didn’t want a house. A house comes with upkeep.
My realtor said, “For that amount, you can hire someone to do the upkeep.”
So I found a house and decided to buy it. It’s adorable. It’s on a street that reminds me of Savannah, and the neighborhood brewery is a one-minute-and-20-second walk away. (For real. I timed it.)
But.
BUT.
The inspection found a few issues in this 1891 gem. We negotiated like mad to work it out.
But then, a new problem:
The seller got a divorce. Never took the ex off the deed.
Uh oh.
That delayed closing a week. Meanwhile, we had to get out of the place in Atlanta. No problem: Seller was going to grant possession prior to closing (as she should: It was her fault). But she wanted to charge $83 per day.
Excuse me?
As my stuff was in a moving truck and ready to go to St. Louis, I was in a tight spot.
Sigh. FINE.
Then — as Eddie and I were driving separate UHauls to Missouri (another terrible story), the seller changed her mind.
SHE CHANGED HER MIND.
Now, I need you to know this: I discovered (because I did spend many years as a reporter) that the seller would be my next-door neighbor. SHARING A WALL, as it is a row house.
So this woman fully knew she would be royally screwing over her soon-to-be-close neighbor. And she did it anyway.
(This is not even the climax of the story, in case you are wondering. We have a ways to go to the denouement.)
My GOD.
Now entering Fifth Circle: Anger. Please keep hands and arms inside the vehicle.
As the owner, it was her prerogative. For sure. But also a dick move.
So.
I’m nothing if not resilient. While driving the truck, I booked a storage unit in St. Louis and hired some folks for the next day to help us move my stuff into it.
Recalculating. This route avoids the Seventh Circle: Violence.
On the day I was supposed to move in, we ended up staying with my mother. Thankfully! And made the best of it.
I did close on the house a week later. Her decision cost me a week and SO MUCH MONEY because I had to hire actual movers, instead of abusing my family.
That experience was atrocious on its own. (Hence my comment about the climax.)
The good news is that the house is mine. I’ve been here two weeks. And my neighbor hasn’t dared to show her face.
Are you surprised? I’m not. She knows what she did.
But I have a place to live. And a forwarding address. Finally.
“Fake” ones rely on jump scares, which are too much like pranks for me.
However, when your children — whom you haven’t seen in almost two weeks — want you to go with them someplace, you say, “Yes.” Or at least I do.
Our group consisted of three moms and five teenage boys, ages 15-16.
Someone needs to shave.
Here are the things that I found scary upon arrival:
The ticket price. It was $30 each. Yikes!
The porta potties outside didn’t have lights inside them.
The lack of masks indoors. COVID isn’t gone, y’all!
Once inside, there were other things to scare me:
Just as I started to walk in, the dude pulling back the curtain stuck his hand in front of my face. I screamed from shock. Then giggled because HOW DUMB?!?
A huge animatronic demon face bum-rushed me and shoved me into a wall.
The floors were designed to match the “rooms.” Squishy flooring to represent grass in a cemetery, for example. What’s scary about that? The broken-ankle potential. I don’t need that again.
There was a corridor of clowns. HORRIFYING. I loathe clowns.
Each of the two haunted houses ends with a chainsaw-wielding madman. Or three. I loathe chainsaw-wielding madmen. (That comes from a certain movie seen at an impressionable age.)
One of the boys’ friends putting on a badass act. “What? I can’t help it if I’m not scared.” OK, then, Buzzkill.
I did have a good time, though. One of the best things was the boy banter.
Dominic: Gideon, be careful they don’t put you in one of the exhibits. Gideon: What? Dominic: “Oh, here’s another skeleton.” Dylan: More bones, all Fernbank style. Gideon (laughing): My superhero name can be Bones. Dominic: I feel like this right here is a villain origin story.
You said to me yesterday that I am “practically a foreign correspondent now.”
That resonated. I AM gathering information on a place that is new to me.
I’m trying to see and do as much as I can.
For example, I saw a billboard advertising tours of the Missouri State Penitentiary in Jefferson City.
Ghost tours.
Because of course they would offer ghost tours in October.
So I had to go.
Because of course I did.
I asked my mother if she wanted to go.
Me: I am booking a tour of the Missouri State Penitentiary Saturday night. Do you want to go? Her: (long pause) No.
I have no trouble going places alone, so I called to make the booking.
Me: The website says there’s no availability on any weekend tour. Lady on phone: We are sold out. When did you want to come? Me: Saturday. Her: How many? Me: Just me. Her: Just you? Me: Just me. Her: I can squeeze in one person. Me: Great! Her: 7, 8 or 9? Me: A.M.? Her (drily): P.M. It’s a ghost tour. Me: Right.
So I went. It’s an hour and some change north of Rolla. Rural Missouri looks like rural Georgia.
Fifty feet from this sign, there was a dead deer in a ditch. Must not have been good eatin’.What kind of fowl convention is this?
I got to Jefferson City early so I had time to look around.
Gov. Mike Parson’s place. He can walk to the Capitol building if he chooses. It’s a more modest place than Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp’s palace.Lewis, Clark and the gangBrisket, pulled pork, pit beans and jalapeño cheddar grits. Many animals were harmed in the making of this meal. I’m sorry.
At this point, you may be asking this:
But Beth, what about the ghost tour — the whole point of your trip?
I hate you like a high-school boyfriend hated shirts with sleeves (much to my father’s chagrin).
(I hate you so much, but I still don’t hate you as much as I hate Mitch McConnell.)
You installed “smart locks” a few months ago. Ours has never worked properly. Your maintenance folks have been out to fix it more than four times.
Last night, it wouldn’t open. Period.
I called the emergency line. Twice. Eddie called too.
Someone will be right over.
Someone did not come over.
Someone called.
The someone: We don’t do lockouts. We only do emergencies. Me: This is an emergency. Our lock isn’t working. We need to get into our place. Don’t you have the special key to get into the garage? Him: No. You’ll have to check with the leasing office. Me: They don’t open until Monday. Him: I guess you’ll have to wait until Monday. Me: How are we supposed to get into our apartment? Him: I don’t know. We only handle emergencies. Me: This is an emergency. Him: We don’t consider this an emergency. Don’t you have the garage door opener? Me: If we had that, I wouldn’t be calling you, would I?
I hung up on him.
I mean … WHAT the ACTUAL F?!
So we borrowed an extension ladder from a friend. I hummed the “Mission Impossible” theme while Dominic shimmied up and saved the day.
I was TERRIFIED of what bad things could happen here.
We should not have had to do this. Your emergency line people should actually have the capacity to help.
And you should have installed locks that actually work.
I can’t wait until our lease is up. I will NEVER recommend your company/complexes.
All is well here in the heartland of America. I explored downtown Rolla on foot in about an hour last weekend. I made it to much of the rest of the town throughout the week.
Plenty to amuse me here.
I’ve found that people are super chatty. It goes way beyond the Southern hospitality that I know.
I had LONG conversations with a woman next to me at the nail salon (she is from Salem, has four kids, back issues, etc.), a guy in the beer aisle at Walmart (his mom cooks with beer) and a couple at the farmer’s market (she is surprised I know how to cook turnip greens and he runs their produce mailing list).
My haul from yesterday. Am I a Southern girl or what?
Really lovely people. True embodiment of the phrase “salt of the earth.”
I’ve been all over campus this week and now know my way around very well. Same thing: such nice people!
I’m not sure if I mentioned this, but my new employer is putting me up in university housing for two months so I can acclimate to the university and get to know people before I start spending all my time in St. Louis.
University housing = residence hall
(No, I didn’t bring my futon, neon beer sign and bookcase made with plywood and milk crates. 😉)
I’m on what appears to be the men’s floor. Though I have a private outside entrance, the interior door opens onto the hallway.
I share my bedroom wall with the guys next door: Paul, Conor and Owen. They had a particularly rowdy night Tuesday night. I have no idea what they were doing, but now to me they are collectively the Noisy Nerds.*
I live for the day I’m invited to a hall party. (You know I’m not kidding.)
Anyway, I’m still fine. A little bored at night after work, but fine. I’ll make friends. Find things to do. As I do. Don’t worry.
Love, Beth
*Not a pejorative term. I too am a nerd about a variety of things. As you all know.
I Tetrised the heck out of my stuff to get it all to fit in my tiny trunk.
Dear Readers:
I’ve been keeping this blog for 12 years. I started it because I was about to make a class of students start one. I figured I needed to practice what I preached.
Anyway, though I’ve traveled all over the place and written about my adventures, my home base (i.e., where I get my mail) has always been Georgia.
That changes today. I’m Missouri bound.
Q: Um … why? A: I got a great new job, and I’ll be based in St. Louis.
Q: Isn’t that where your birth family is? A: Yes. The universe clearly has something to say. It’s also where I have loads of adopted family.
Q: Is your family excited? A: Excited for me, yes. But Eddie and the boys aren’t coming with me right now.
Q: What? A: Yeah. Eddie did not thrive when we moved to Atlanta. He missed Savannah, his job, his friends. So he went back to work at his old job. He’s much happier. The boys are staying in Atlanta with friends until winter break, then they will join him. I’ll be back with them as often as I can, and we’ll work it out.
Q: You think this is the right decision? A: I effing hope so. We had many family discussions. We decided on this plan together.
Q: You’re ok? A: Eh. In general. I watched two episodes of “Intervention” last night because I couldn’t sleep. Of course, I convinced myself I was scarring the children. I told Gideon that this morning. He rolled his eyes at me. So maybe I’m not scarring the children.
Q: But what if you are? A: What if I am? This is the path we chose together. At least the boys will see their parents doing jobs they really like.
Q: When do you start? A: Monday. I’ll be staying in university housing for two months. My plan is to find a permanent place this week, so I can make arrangements to get all my stuff moved up there.
Q: And you’re sure you’re ok? A: Well, there’s been plenty of ugly crying. I made a road-trip playlist. I got to “Wide Open Spaces” around Chattanooga, and lost my shit.
If you are inclined, send positive thoughts my way as I (we) embark on this new journey.
I am looking forward to writing about a new environment. I’m sure the Show Me State is named that for a reason.
I thought you were in the business of helping people. Immediately. I mean, IT’S IN THE TITLE of the place.
So when Gideon was attacked by a can of diced tomatoes, we naturally thought of you.
It was deep.
We showed up moments after the attack.
You said there were two other lacerations ahead of us, and that you wouldn’t be able to get to him before closing time.
IN TWO HOURS.
What the eff? For real?!
I don’t understand.
So we went to Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta Urgent Care. They sent us to the emergency room because the gash was three centimeters long — the cutoff for urgent care treatment, apparently.
The ER doctor rolled his eyes when he heard about our adventure. He said:
Just come here first. Don’t even bother with those urgent care places.
As many of you know, I’ve been taking what I’ve termed “murder-prevention trips” during the pandemic. As I’ve mentioned, I’m an extrovert who likes to travel. The pandemic was hard for me for those reasons, as well as the fact that my children and I were all up on each other trying to work/study.
(First-world problems, I know. We did not have nearly the issues that many, many other people had. But this was my reality, and I’m acknowledging its difficulty.)
I’m not an indoor cat.
Look at what Dominic got me (on his own!) to commemorate my latest trip:
Plus, my favorite band was playing their first gig in a billion years (i.e., 18 months).
I am such a huge Anglophile — constantly amused and/or impressed by the things I find. This jaunt was no exception.
An all-in-one station. You don’t even need to move your hands. Genius!If it’s needless, why is it there?Ew! No. That’s an assault on humanity.I asked the waiter what this was on the saucer. He said, “Flake.” I said, “A flake of what?” It’s chocolate. We Americans don’t have that.Brilliant!I love that it’s a “Demand” button instead of the more polite “Call.”I’ve never seen a toilet shaped like this.Well, OF COURSE there will be nudity. It’s the UK and “naked” is in the title.
I’ve promised Gideon a birthday trip there in May, COVID willing. Maybe he’ll be as delighted as I am with the cultural differences.
If you’ve spent any time at all reading this blog, you know how much I love all kinds of music. Well, almost all.
Two of you (Logan and Julia) wrote music-related Facebook posts recently.
I’ve done a take on the “10 albums” challenge, but this is different: These are songs that you associate with a time or a person.
Here are 15 songs indelibly linked to a certain someone.
“Tusk,” Fleetwood Mac and “Escape,” Rupert Holmes: These were the first two 45s I bought at my friend Michele’s suggestion. Solid choices.
“Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go,” Wham: Michele again. We played tennis rackets and sang this at 2 in the morning during a sleepover. A videotape exists somewhere.
“9 to 5,” Dolly Parton: I dressed up as Dolly and performed this for a talent show at church. I think of my dad because he made me do it. I mean that in the very best way. I had not yet fully discovered my ham gene yet.
“Coat of Many Colors,” Dolly Parton: At the church talent show the next year, I sang this while my dad played guitar. We were huge Dolly fans. Clearly.
“Beat My Guest,” Adam Ant: This is not a song that is appropriate for ninth graders, but there Julia and I were — titillated at the lyrics and salivating over Stuart.
“1999,” Prince: Julia again. See screenshot above.
“I Melt With You,” Modern English: High-school boyfriend Tom. It was “our” song.
“It Takes Two,” Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock: My Chi Omega sisters and I changed the words and sang this during Greek Week. I STILL remember most of our lyrics (“The situation that Delta Sig is in … “).
“NoSex,” Alex Chilton: Mike put this on a mix tape. I had never heard of Alex Chilton. Mind blown.
“Friday I’m in Love,” The Cure: Post-college boyfriend Rob. “Our” song because that’s what was playing when our friend Harry caught us kissing on the Malone’s steps. Oops.
“Mr. Vain,” Culture Beat: Eggy “watermelon” lipsynced to this while Sophia danced on a box for a music video Eddie had to do for a class. Alex debuted some dance moves. James too.
“I Swear,”John Michael Montgomery: Eddie and I danced to this for our first dance at our wedding.
“Si Tuvieras Tus Ojos,” Edgar Joel: This was on a Salsa Mix CD our friend Billy gave me. I’ll never forget him dancing to this. For a husky guy, he is shockingly graceful. (Billy, that is. I have no idea about Joel’s physique.)
“Take On Me,” a-ha: This is my song with Gideon. We sing it with gusto. Sometimes we can hit that high note. Sometimes not.
I feel like this is a Part 1 post. As soon as I put it up, I know I’ll think of others.
Observe and report 