Out with the old...

Rashly, a few weeks back, I told Marc he could get a new TV with his stimulus check.
There were two reasons I made this promise.
First, I didn't think there would ever be a stimulus check.
And secondly, I didn't really think he'd take me up on it.
Our current TV was working fine and it was just about as big enough as the space would allow.
It also had some quirks that made it so it required three remotes working together to get it going.
I had finally mastered the system so I could get my shows without having to call him up at work (back when he did that) or rehearsal (back when they could hold rehearsals).
I really was quite happy with the way things were and I've never been very impressed with how the different TVs broadcast their pictures.
He kept pointing out the ones at Costco that had such good pictures and I'd just keep going to the produce department.
But then, the dad gum government actually started to send out the money.
I was standing in the kitchen making lunch for grandkids when Marc started celebrating.
"I know just the one I want!' he hollered.
I realized we were committed and I even said a mild cuss word. "Grandma!, said shocked kids.
I immediately regretted my slip and Marc stopped talking about his new TV but he didn't stop measuring.
A few days later, I realized my mistake.
I owned up to the fact that one of the stimulus checks was truly his and a new TV would lift his spirits in this pandemic period.
We put on our masks and headed to Costco.
Now we have this lovely, large TV where the old, outdated cast-off used to be.
We took that one downstairs and started to figure out how to get rid of the big, boxy HD thing that preceded it.
It's a huge, heavy monster that has actually served well as a game monitor for many years.
It took Marc and my son 10 years off their lives to wrangle it up the stairs and out to the porch so some guys could haul it off for $90.
Now we have this smart, Samsung 55-inch television that walks, talks and does our taxes and laundry for us.
It's nice.
I just can't really tell the difference.

Easter funny...

Marc and I thought we were so clever.
Since we couldn't provide Easter Egg hunts in person this year to our many precious grandkids we decided to design a virtual hunt.
We found pink and purple plastic eggs that would blend in with our cherry blossoms on the backyard tree.
We strapped rubber bands around them and hung them from various branches.
We put the little fluffy Easter bunny Marc had bought me on top sort of like a star.
We carefully positioned the eggs so in a photograph they would be a little difficult to see.
Then we took a picture.
Marc wrote a sort of poem with rhyming words like "quarantining" and "preening."
We put in a challenge about finding all the Easter things for a prize.
I told the grandchild in England he only had to find all 12 things to win, basically giving away the ending before he started.
We sent every household in America with grandchildren of ours a copy.
Then we waited, thinking everyone would be impressed with our imagination and creativity.
By late afternoon, only one family had responded but they did find 10 of the 11 eggs and the bunny.
Later a second bunch sent in their findings.
One child found nine eggs.
Another pair found all 11, including the green one and gold one hidden behind the others, and the bunny.
We haven't heard much from anybody else except one who told us it was a prettily decorated tree.
It was like "good job guys!"
We apparently didn't make our intentions very clear but it was fun to put together and it took up a little of our abundant spare time.
Happy Easter all!!

P.S. Here is the poem, a literary prize:

There’s something new in our plum tree,
An Easter bunny preening.
It was a surprise that all of you could see
If you weren’t quarantining.
So make a count and let us know
What Easter items you see.
If you get it right, not too high nor too low
We’ll deliver a prize for free
The next time we’re allowed to roam,
To wander any trail,
We’ll bring it by your very own home.
Or put it in the mail.

God Save the Queen...

With a son, daughter-in-law and grandson living in Britain and having watched "The Crown" all the way through, I feel like part of me is literally English.
I still have pounds in my luggage and several British games in my game stash.
So when Queen Elizabeth came out to speak to her subjects about the current virus crisis, I sat right down to listen.
I found her compassionate and full of grace.
Her words were carefully said, logical and well chosen. 
She is so elegant.
She made me feel a little safer and I was glad that I "know" her.
As she talked about getting through this trying time and anticipating brighter days to come, I felt my heart open.
I found some peace.
I felt the same when President Russell M. Nelson talked at the end of conference. He acknowledged the situation and offered hope without pretending any of this is easy.
Being understood is huge.
Then my granddaughter, who is on a mission in Arizona, sent her weekly message.
She was so bright and happy and full of hope for the future that I felt better just having read it.
I think our future might be good hands.
It helps to know someone you love and respect is aware of your worries.

Good rules...as opposed to...

This whole corona virus situation is a learning experience.
I think we are all finding out things about how we cope, how we share, how we panic and how we live.
"Trapped" in our homes, we find comfort and safety and bliss at the same time that we chafe at the restrictions.
The opportunity to choose where we go and when we go, along with who and how many we can go with, is a precious thing.
We realize that just walking out the door is something to cherish.
The air outside is crisper, fresher and sweeter.
The paths we walk are new.
There's much to be learned here and I get that.
But there's some stuff that is incomprehensible: the hoarding, for instance.
My son told me a story of a lady who grabbed all of the hot dogs on the newly delivered pallet, 100 packages. When he asked if she really needed 100 packages of hot dogs, she retorted, "My family likes hot dogs!"
As Marc shopped the grocery store during senior hours, he watched a customer grab not one or two, but four large jars of pizza sauce. Does she need four when the sign says "Please only take two?"
Probably.
(Maybe she makes pizza four times a week.)
I won't even go into the toilet paper sweep up or the list of unavailable items that gets longer each hour, a list that includes a wide variety of now unattainable items beyond soap, diapers and disinfectant.
But the delivery guys who didn't want to bring my daughter's new fridge up the steps and into the kitchen were unrealistic.
Is she or her husband supposed to be able to move the new fridge themselves? Would bringing it just as far as the garage be enough?
And the plumber who was asked to come out to fix a toilet and then told by an anxious homeowner that he had to stay out of the house. Is he supposed to work by remote control?
Those kinds of things mystify me.
I think our fear is messing with our minds.