Self-Isolation Day 1

Clouds over Phoenix, Arizona

That breakfast we skipped yesterday took us out of our isolation nest this morning as we got out early to ensure there was nearly no one else in the place. Being regulars, we know that customers don’t really start showing up until about 7:00, and we knew we’d be gone well before that. We tipped one of our favorite servers the equivalent of about six weeks’ worth of tips in cash so she’d have access to it right away instead of having to wait for payday. We told her we hoped to see her in a couple of weeks, but who knows? Before we left, she let us know that as a single mom with three kids earning about $18,000 a year and being notified a week ago that she was being audited by the IRS, which would delay her refund by six weeks to six months, she’s in a serious pinch right now. Our generosity brought her to the edge of tears.

Oh, how I’d like to share that we went directly home after this outing so we could get serious about planting ourselves, but of course, there were “just” a few other things I wanted. You may ask, seriously, John, were those raw pumpkin seeds really that important? I have this perfect balance of things in my head for making that granola I wrote about yesterday, and while I maybe could have substituted hemp hearts, I thought if we arrived at the store early enough, we could top up our pumpkin seed supply. You know that movie World War Z with Brad Pitt, where the zombies are trying to scale the wall? That’s almost what the scene at our local Winco was, as they opened the doors at 7:00. We were pulling into the lot as a horde swarmed into the store in about 4 seconds. So, while I knew what just happened, the parking lot wasn’t so full that I thought the store was overwhelmed yet, so we went in. No pumpkin seeds in the bulk section, so we grabbed some additional oranges, limes, lemons, tomatoes, avocadoes, and nail polish and remover so we could paint each other’s toes.

So we stayed home after that, right? Of course not. Caroline was helping a friend empty a storage unit and move its contents to another unit down the street. We left early so we could visit our local Balkan Bakery on Bell Road for some kefir and left with a beef burek and a chunk of some mystery smoked meat that is supposed to add a nice flavor to beans. With the wife getting a ride home from her friend, I was once again heading to isolation.

On my way home finally, it dawned on me that yesterday we had wanted to stop at the Euro Market on Cave Creek Road for kefir, but we already have some. What’s one more, especially if I dump the goat kefir that Caroline hasn’t been enjoying anyway? In this shop and seeing some interesting large white beans, I scoured the joint for some kvas but the lady didn’t even know what the stuff was. I know; I’ll try Misha’s on Union Hills. They don’t carry it anymore as they’ve changed their market focus by becoming Misha’s Kosher Food Market, but Misha recommended I visit his brother’s shop on 32nd Street called Yasha From Russia. Not wanting to leave Misha’s empty-handed I picked up some kosher stuffed peppers, stuffed cabbage, smoked sprats, and roasted eggplant in tomato.

At Yasha’s, I’m kind of tripping out by the Russian hipster guys with undercuts, seriously tight red pants, and tight red shirts talking Russian to me; maybe they think that by carrying a bottle of Kvas I’m some kind of Gopnik in the making. I try to tell them it’s for my wife, but they then ask if she’s Russian, “No, she’s German, but she’s serious about transforming into a Gopnitsa after watching too much Life of Boris.” They have no idea what I’m talking about. With that, I went home and arrived just after Caroline did.

We made it nearly an hour at home before it was time to go for a walk around the block. For the past few days, I’ve not been cleaning up the path of our walk as I had been since November 1st, as our 5-gallon bucket has been full of rainwater we collected while things were torrential here recently. The bucket of water has now been depleted after Caroline drenched her cactus and other plants. Over these previous four and a half months I’ve picked up something around about 1,000 pounds of trash. Lately, though, I’m seeing an abundance of wet wipes and tissues as people wipe down their COVID-infected surfaces and then toss the contaminated shit out of their windows.

The neighborhood is back in sanitary equilibrium, except for the constant dogshit that blights our walk. So it goes. Time to make granola. An hour later, my almond, walnut, pumpkin seed, sunflower seed, flaxseed, oat groat, and oatmeal granola is mixed with eucalyptus honey, coconut oil, homemade vanilla extract and put into the dehydrator for the next two days.

On to making dinner, though by this time, I’m ready to go out and maybe get some Mexican food. Who am I kidding I’ll certainly not be heading into a restaurant during their busiest part of the day, but some Mexican food sounds really good right now. After dinner, you might guess that we will be out for our next 1-mile walk around the block, which will take us both over 6 miles for the day.

While I toil in the kitchen, Caroline doesn’t sit idly by; she’s been working on her sewing machine to finally make our new pillowcases. Last November, while in Oregon, we picked up some seaside-themed cloth, and now we’ll be sleeping on those so we can dream of one of our favorite places on earth. Our step and activity goals were similar to yesterday’s, with us clocking up just over 15,000 steps or just over 7 miles (11.4km) and 105 minutes of activity.

So this has been the blow-by-blow rundown of the majority of our day. Like clouds, we just keep moving.

Self-Isolation Day 0.5

Detour

This was supposed to be Day 1 of self-isolation from the COVID-19 virus, but after reading a couple of things today on the Center for Facebook Control site (CFC), I decided my earlier panic shopping wasn’t enough and that we needed more of everything else that we’ve already stockpiled. Of course, toilet paper, pasta, chicken, dried beans, rice, soup, peanut butter, oatmeal, water, sanitizer, and pretty much any other soap or Clorox product is off the list, along with most bread products, frozen veggies, pizza, potatoes, and hamburger. Via the CFC network, I learned that vegan and gluten-free products were readily available, and we’d decided that we seriously needed ziplock plastic bags so we had to break our own quarantine.

I’ll admit that the whole thing was a half-assed attempt anyway: we thought we’d visit a local breakfast place and leave one of the servers a healthy tip as we’d not be back for a couple of weeks, but by 6:30 in the morning we figured we’d beat the crowds by getting out to the store early. Hah! That was a mistake. Fry’s was already out of shopping carts, and only the self-checkout lines were open as they had everyone else restocking shelves from the carnage from the night before. They opened at 5:00 a.m., and by 6:40, when we arrived, the lines were to the back of the store and reportedly 4 hours long. Nope, there’s nothing we needed that badly.

Maybe Safeway is a better bet as it’s the Dasani of grocery stores. Walked right in and easily bought more of the stuff we already had. I’ve got to say that being flexible in what we eat has made our shopping lives during the pandemic much easier. By the way, I don’t know when Dasani became associated with something negative but we’ve seen stories where water is sold out everywhere, except for Dasani. I still wanted a bit more Silk Soy Milk for my sprouted and dehydrated homemade granola (still working through our Y2K supply), so with Safeway sold out, we visited our nearby Albertson’s, where I can rest assured there are no neighbors who’d dare drink almond, cashew, coconut, soy or any other plant-based milk; I scored.

We have one more outing to make to a local Indian store where I need to replenish our spice supply, as these 20-year-old soy chunks likely need some serious seasoning to make them palatable. In nearly celebrating this culinary edgelord status, I should give my wife Caroline a lot of credit as when she went vegetarian 25 years ago; I found it to be a real pain in the ass. Now, today, I’m happy as a vegan clam that we can eat from the fringe and be happy. These days, Caroline is once again an omnivore and certainly loves her pork, but when pressed by the threat of full indulgence or getting by while we live in this self-imposed isolation until it’s forced upon us from outside sources, we know that we’ll be living it up while others are forced to eat toilet paper and Lysol wipes.

Well, turns out, local Indians are not immune to the panic shopping as the Turmeric Cash & Carry was a mob scene and about two hours away from being sold out of most everything. Signs were up everywhere, warning people that NOTHING could be returned. Caroline took a place in the line while I went and grabbed some turmeric, cumin powder and seeds, mustard seeds, coriander powder, some Kala chana, and chana dal. After I got the things I wanted, it was Caroline’s turn to run through the crowded aisles; she returned with snacks and sweets. We were still about 20 places from the register, but things moved fast.

Across the street, at the Balkan Bakery, where we were hoping to indulge in some cevapi and pick up a bottle of kefir, we found a sign in the window that they closed early because they were sold out. Needing something to eat before our last chore, we visited HEK Yeah BBQ, sitting outside to minimize proximity to people because our time at Turmeric was kind of stressful. Over to Joann’s for some thread, bias tape, sewing machine needles, and a bit of yarn. With our charcoal-lined tea towel, elastic bands, and wired ties, and the stuff we picked up today Caroline will be making our homemade surgical masks. After doing a bit of research, it turns out that cloth masks can be close to the efficiency of commercial surgical masks. While not N95 levels of protection, since when is 85% as efficient better than ZERO percent effective?

Now we’re home. Our detour away from our first day of self-isolation is complete, and now we have to hang out together 24/7.

Uh oh, we forgot to get a TV. Hah, fooled you, as we’ve not had one of those in the 21st century. Instead, we sit on our computers reading every horror story about the virus we can find so we can better secure our fear of the giant unknown. Okay, that’s not true. We did get some serious walks around the block, with me clocking in just under 7 miles (about 11km) or 14,541 steps, giving me 105 active minutes for the day. I’ve started this journal of how things evolve in our new routines where, hopefully, in a couple of years, we can look back at these notes and the global anxiety that has arrived with 2020 and be happy that it came and went.

Apocalypse Tourism

Flowers

Vigilant about what I touch and how close I am to people I’ve taken to strolling the aisles of stores to be a first-hand witness to how this rapidly evolving apocalypse is rolling out. Being a tourist in order to see with my own eyes the behavior and effect all of this COVID-19 business is having on people can be kind of heavy-duty emotionally. Back on Tuesday the 10th, while making my twice daily visit to Costco to investigate the progress, it was the most somber day as older people had gotten the message to stock up on food since they are the most vulnerable. The achingly painful look of grief was writ large on many faces as they stocked up on supplies that were quickly dwindling. If you are over 60 or even approaching that age, staring into the face of your mortality is going to be an incredible weight on most people’s minds.

My new form of tourism has rapidly grown depressing, so I needed to go for a walk and take delight in our Arizona Desert that is stunningly beautiful, following all the rain we’ve had.

Oh, You’d Like Some Food?

Drudge Report

The FAKE MEDIA lead by Drudge Report appears to be collaborating with CNN. How Matt Drudge came to this point in his illustrious career is baffling, but how else can anyone explain why he’s lying about how many Americans can get infected by a bug that’s no more dangerous than the normal flu? And why would anyone talk about the Fed pumping a TRILLION dollars into a market that should have the confidence that Donald Trump will turn this around in a day or two? When Obama gave $80 billion to the automobile industry there was outrage and now there’s talk about having to bail out the airlines and possibly a whole host of industries that allegedly will suffer due to a fake virus. Jeez, it was just on February 28th at a campaign rally in South Carolina that our President inferred that COVID-19 was part of a Democratic hoax and now he’s on the verge of maybe spending TRILLIONS on bailouts? Either I’m being betrayed or fake news strikes again.

Empty display at Costco in Phoenix, Arizona

First America was frightened into buying ALL the surgical masks and respirators before the media told us to hoard all the toilet paper. Then we cleaned the shelves of hand sanitizer after they gave us new instructions, followed by needing to buy up paper towels, rubber gloves, cough meds, cleaning supplies, bottled water, and some other stuff I’m losing track of. Seriously, how can any of us remember what we’re doing when the fear-mongering panic-inducing fake media tells us fake things that have real consequences? Take today, I was catching some subliminal messaging going on that was being broadcast by MSNBC or maybe even recently deceased CNN mouthpiece, Bobby Batista, because that’s how liberal propaganda is done, and it said to go out and buy all the chicken. I was able to resist the pressure of their brainwashing tactics but had to witness for myself how many sheeple listened to those socialist tools. Sure enough, ALL the chicken is now gone. I was at Costco when I took this picture and obviously the fresh chicken would be gone because that’s what those yuppy, Gen Z, Millennial, hipster freaks eat with their quinoa and avocados, but then to my amazement over at the frozen food area where I was certain good old Republican Americans were able to exercise some self-control and not give in to the media tripe, ALL the dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and frozen pizzas were gone too. So either the liberals bought up our supplies to make us look bad or some of the MAGA faithful are growing weak from the constant attacks on our beloved President.

Empty display at Fry's Grocery Store in Phoenix, Arizona

Needing to restore my faith in my fellow white Republican brothers and sisters I left for a local grocery store called Fry’s that is located in a lower-income neighborhood and was happy to see that the Mexicans bought up all the dried rice and beans, dumb asses. Tomorrow I’ll head over to Whole Foods and report back if those whack jobs are sold out of wild-caught salmon, wheatgrass, and organic all-natural pompous bullshit.

#SARCASM!

Social Distancing

My writing setup on the day I try to do the social distancing thing

It was a bit longer than two weeks ago that I wrote about N95 respirators being nearly sold out along with some foodstuffs, and then a few days after that, I noted that hand sanitizer was mostly gone from the shelves. On that day, America had its first COVID-19-related death, and now, just 12 days later, we are at 31 deaths.

The speed at which we people respond or choose not to respond appears to play a large role in how quickly systems that support and maintain pandemics are able to deal with the rapid onset of overwhelming logistics. Northern Italy is warning people within their country and trying to message others that the seriousness of the situation cannot be understated and that with just 10,000 reported cases, their healthcare system is at the breaking point.

Angela Merkel today said that up to 70% of the German public could be infected if steps are not taken to limit exposure to the virus. If Italy is reeling from their cases now, what kind of environment would they struggle through if, even stretched out over the next two years, they were to face something like 42 million sick Italians and just 1% of those people required hospitalization? The system would be in total collapse. With only about 1,000 people hospitalized of the 10,000 infected in the Lombardy region, the system is out of beds and is trying to transfer patients to other areas. How would any health care system deal with 420,000 COVID-19 patients needing hospital treatment, even over a two-year period, when in 6 weeks Italy went from reporting its first case to a countrywide quarantine?

Since sitting down to write this entry, I’ve cringed at the three sneezes people have let off near me. Every time someone coughs, my head whip pans to see if the person covered their mouth. I can’t look at tables, silverware, glasses, gas pump handles, number pads on credit card processing equipment, or shopping carts without seeing these surfaces as germ-infected opportunities to acquire COVID-19. I want to see past this and not be affected by my sense of evolving panic, but the lack of initiative in America to deal with this head-on has not instilled confidence in my quickly devolving behaviors.

For days now, I’ve considered backing away from social contacts as I’m becoming neurotic watching those around me. I’ve taken to traveling with hand sanitizer, and I have wet wipes in the car so I can disinfect surfaces, but this is not always convenient or remembered, so I contribute to my ever-growing fear. I know I need to start this process of social distancing, but damn, it’s hard to self-enforce that when most people around you are going on with all things appearing to be normal.

I’m telling myself that with this post, I have to back away from my visits to coffee shops, restaurants, and other public gathering places until we know more details about how people and society are dealing with this force of doom. Am I being hysterical? I feel like it, but then it feels like an issue of semantics that I cannot explain the difference between hysterics and being proactive. As I look around me and feel that I should tell those people I’ve become familiar with at my regular coffee shop hangout, I’m feeling ambivalent about how others will perceive me in my paranoia.

#StayTheFuckHome

Why We Wish For Apocalypse

Somewhere in Los Angeles, California circa 1982

I’m positing that personal economic vulnerability is at the heart of America’s desire for an apocalypse. We joke about a zombie apocalypse, and during the reign of Trump, people bandy about ideas of civil war as an inevitable outcome if their president is removed from office, but at the heart of American life for the past twenty-some years is a generalized wish that the entire system should somehow collapse. Why?

Housing costs, credit ratings, job insecurity, and lack of a safety net if someone gets sick, are contributing to our hopes and dreams that something should break with such ferocity that the playing field is reset. Many people voice how they have the mettle to survive true hardship and if it were to come to a gunfight, they are ready to go all out. This is not rational. On the battlefield of the job market, if you are not in demand and earning over $100,000 a year, your entire sense of stability is hinged on variables that if any of the dominos topple, the person might see the crumbling of not only their dignity but the roof over their head, the food they hope to eat, their relationships, and their health. With a blotch on their credit rating, they may not be able to rebuild the house of cards. With this kind of instability and lacking the intellectual skills to compete, it’s better to hope for a street brawl where a person can lay claim to what they need through sheer force. Isn’t this the mentality we already see among gang members?

Capitalism and the gross imbalance of how wealth is distributed in America have created a toxic economy and mindset where millions of people seek redemption and greater participation through the demise of civility. They perceive that a breakdown in the social order will allow them to rise above as they prove to others their value through strength and fortitude. The current environment where people are being victimized by the ever-increasing cost of housing, which is one of the three basic necessities of life, plays a large part in the economic chessboard where your home is a move away from checkmate.

We have allowed capitalism to devolve to a point where many people feel insecure trying to participate in an economic model based on debt and the resultant relative servitude. There is no security when someone feels trapped and in potential danger. Fear then becomes exploitable, allowing those holding the purse strings to exercise the tools that force people to bow their heads and hope nobody hears them complain. Surround the most economically vulnerable with the threat of imminent violence coming from crime, the migrant horde, or the unseen viral plague, and you have the recipe to keep the bottom 50% of a population captured on a hamster wheel where stepping off would be economic and cultural suicide.

We are no longer a community or cohesive nation; we are the consumer body prodded along to deplete inventories with perfectly timed marketing. We are like a shopping bacteria under threat of a Black Friday antibiotic that will extinguish any hope of learning who we might have otherwise been.

How are the signs of this expressed? First, I should admit that my filter is a biased interpretation of randomly ambiguous signals. I feel that it is most often witnessed in toxic masculinity, where guns, cars, tattoos, piercings, attitudes, and a potential for violence all segue into a person with something to prove in appearance, and they might argue substance, but the intellectual underpinnings are often missing. This is not a rule or a universal and I certainly know of many exceptions to this ugly and gross generalization. The differentiation is easiest for me to demonstrate by the example of who stands behind strength as a bulwark of an all-encompassing totality and those who integrate it as an effective part of their character and a small aspect of a persona.

Mastering hunting and killing skills in order to brag about them. Lifting trucks and employing massive tires that never see dirt but elevate the driver above others. Wearing a pistol on one’s hip in public to show dominance. Projecting allegiance to a group via specialized clothing that acts as de facto uniforms, such as those used by motorcycle gangs, veterans, political ideologues, and many sports fans, are all symbols that transform these people into the conformist lifestyle/brand dolts afraid to be themselves. To a large extent, I do not find these behaviors among women, but among the overly masculine and lesser-educated, I am willing to make the preposterous supposition that these behaviors are cover for the person’s own awareness of their intellectual shortcomings.

Maybe that 1-4% of Neanderthal DNA we inherited is fighting to come out and express itself? Should the troglodytes win, the irony will be that everything they covet will disappear in the flash it will take to return humanity to the pre-stone age era of living in caves or simple huts where they’ll hone their hunter-gatherer skills and celebrate having killed off thinking.