Black Friday

 (Note: This is a separate post because it's focused - I didn't want to tack it on to the end of the previous one. This needs its own page).

In 2005, I was a first-year teacher. Hurricane Katrina destroyed parts of New Orleans, and Hurricane Rita was barreling into the Gulf, heading straight for Houston. Houstonians freaked out, for Katrina was just a month prior. The majority of the city fled. To this day, ask anyone who left for higher ground, and they'll reply: "Yup. Dallas. 24 hours."  To someone who didn't experience it, that answer might seem odd. What it means is that yes, they evacuated. They went to Dallas and it took them 24 hours. Here's the thing: Dallas is 4 hours away.  So many people evacuated Houston that it was a grade-A cluster fuck. 

I stayed behind. I lived in Baton Rouge and went to New Orleans enough to realize that the majority of the damage was from the levy breaking - and Houston didn't have levies. In fact, we were more inland than N.O. Plus, the early evacuation stories were crazy, so I stayed behind with my mom. 

Hurricane Rita never came. At the last minute, it turned east and slammed into Beaumont.

The day everyone realized Rita wouldn't come, I drove around Houston. I was in downtown at noon on a weekday, and no one was on the streets. No cars drove by, no pedestrians scurried to and fro the tall buildings. Nothing. It was like a (cleaner) scene from "28 Days Later."

Today is Black Friday, 2020. Black Friday in the pandemic. Black Friday after a Thanksgiving in which travel was frowned upon (yet it happened) and large family dinners were discouraged (this, for the most part, I think happened). Earlier this week, I texted my hairdresser for an appointment. She replied, "Sure - how about Friday at 11?" I replied, "Sounds great!" Inwardly, I groaned. Ugh. Driving into the city, into Rice Village on Black Friday? Blech. Traffic. Crazy shoppers. No parking. I wasn't looking forward to it.  I used to be one of those crazy get-up-at-4am-to-go-Black-Friday-shopping-at-5am-and-then-be-home-by-8am-and-go-back-to-bed kind of person. I loved the thrill of the hunt, the bargains, the freebies given to the first 50 shoppers. By the time I was 33, I was pretty much over it. Online shopping became a thing, and I preferred to have lesser bargains but more quality time at home. I hated economics in school, but one thing I always remember is the concept of "opportunity cost" (which is the benefit given up by taking an alternate route). I don't teach summer school, for example, because the money isn't worth having a stress-free summer.  Although NOT teaching yield no money, it yields relaxation and the chance to focus on my skills and crafts.  And so the discounts I gave up were worth less than the time saved and relaxation of not fighting the crowds.

This morning, I woke up, at a breakfast of Thanksgiving leftovers, and set out early. I figured that there would be lots of traffic (and a stormy day didn't add benefits to the drive time), and if I could get to Rice Village by 10:30, then I'd have plenty of time to find a parking spot and even grab some coffee.  So I left my house at 8, got a quick oil change, and headed up 45. 

I-45 northbound was empty.  I mean, absolutely empty. On a normal weekday, I'd be in my car for 30-45 minutes for the 20 miles. On a weekend day, maybe 25-30. This was Friday - Black Friday - and yet I was at the Kirby exit of 59 by 9:45. I decided to do the unthinkable - see how crowded the Galleria was. Side note: Tiffany's has a pair of earrings I've been drooling over for months, but I didn't want to order earrings and have them get lost or stolen off the porch. The only Tiffany's is in the Galleria, so at some point I'd have to go to the Galleria if I wanted them.  So today, I made a decision: If it was meant that I'd have those earrings, then the Galleria would be empty on a Black Friday. I doubted that would happen, but I figured I'd see.

I exited Wesleyan. No traffic. I turned left onto Richmond. No traffic. This is strange. I turned right on Post Oak. No cars. This is insane. I've been to the Galleria on Black Friday before, and the entire area is normally a hot mess. I pulled into my favorite parking garage with ease, and found a spot. Is this the Twilight Zone? I walked into the Galleria at 9:55. It was a ghost town. It instantly reminded me of that day in 2005 when I drove to an empty downtown. This is not normal. Not normal at all. I went into Tiffany's and bought the earrings (because I have NEVER seen the Galleria that empty, even on a normal day). 

I then drove to Rice Village. Again, empty. I found a parking spot immediately in front of the hair salon.

Kitty, my hair stylist, said that Rice Village has been empty. In fact, local business are hurting - and the salon itself was looking shockingly empty until recently.

I know we're in the middle of a pandemic. I know people are staying home more, and they're shopping online more. I know television shows are changing and showing the masks and living in a COVID life, but there's something about the emptiness of the Galleria and Rice Village that shook me. So many small businesses and locally owned restaurants have shuttered their doors forever. This pandemic is costing not only literal human lives, but livelihood.  And many of us are torn - do we stay home, stay safe?  Or do we go out and support businesses when we can?

I wished I dropped in to my favorite fountain pen store, which was just 2 blocks from the hair stylist.  Maybe I'll drop by tomorrow. I'd hate for them to close. 

So Black Friday during a pandemic was an experience. I hope next year, things are back to normal and I can enjoy Black Friday from my computer as I sip coffee.  I hope shuttered businesses come back somehow, and that other businesses near shuttering get the boost they need to survive this month.

And I hope to never see a ghost town in Houston again. 

Months Gone By

 I stopped blogging because an end was nowhere near.  For the past 7 months, life has changed drastically for some, none for others.  Me?  In the middle.

We stayed out of school for the rest of the year. My seniors didn't get a prom, they didn't get special exemptions from their last finals (because no one took finals), but we did have a graduation.  All the while we heard numbers were going up, but only a few of the people I know had it. But we stayed indoors. We stayed away from restaurants, concerts cancelled, Broadway closed. Those tickets to Hamilton on my birthday?  Poof. 

The virus continued. It killed people - we're up to 250,000 deaths in the US alone. Those early numbers... I laugh at them now. They seemed so small. We're back in school, and the numbers we've had in schools dwarf those initial numbers, those initial numbers that scared us.

On the plus side, a vaccine seems to be coming. Doctors are understanding this difficult virus more (although there are so many questions). I appear to be a high-risk, as I'm obese, asthmatic, and I have chronic inflammation already (gastritis). But I'm taking precautions. I wear my mask and avoid non-mask wearing (because there are people who are actually politicizing this virus, which is just mind-boggling), I don't go out in large numbers, and I test my pulse ox daily (since now doctors are saying that the pulse ox can drop without anyone knowing, a "happy hypoxia" issue).  If I can just hold out until the vaccine becomes available, I'll consider myself a lucky one. 

In the meantime, not only have I been at my house a LOT, but...

(1) My anxiety is through the roof at times

(2) We somehow got freakin' BED BUGS - discovered at the end of May because those suckers are good at hiding (note: they're gone. We paid a small fortune to bake our house to 150 degrees to kill them, and we've been bed bug free for 6 months now).

(3) I got pretty sick.  I thought it was COVID, but nope. After 5 months of changing my eating habits due to necessity (and losing 20 lbs!) doctors, labs, and various procedures (I got my first colonoscopy and endoscopy - and wow, was THAT an experience), I have been determined to have biliary dyskinesia (which means my gall bladder doesn't work well - it's only performing at 25%), gastritis, and possible kidney issues (I have to go back to my primary care doc to figure this one out).  The pros are that I've lost 20 lbs, I have majorly changed my eating habits (no more fried foods for me!), and I've hit my deductible within the first 3 months of my insurance year.  The cons? I've spent enough money to hit my deductible within 3 months, and my gall bladder may have to come out. I'm hoping I can last until Spring Break or the summer so that I don't have to take any time off.

(4) In going back to work, I realized how much of a kinesthetic teacher I am. I am not walking around as much these days in order to social distance. My desks are in rows - which completely bothers me because I can't get around much - and teaching with a mask is incredibly difficult. I have to project more, which dries out my throat, and the kids can't see my facial expressions. And I can't see them.  Sometimes I feel like an utter failure, but I realize we're all - my students included - doing the best we can. I hope my 9th graders will later be in my senior class. Maybe then I'll get to know what they look like without the masks.

The pandemic is not without its silver lining.  I am extremely grateful that I haven't gotten sick, and I wish our death count wasn't so high. That said, the silver lining is that I'm staying home more - which means saving money. I've paid off 2 of my student loans early and I'm on track to pay off another 3 by May (1-2 years early). I've also cooked and baked more.

 So... that's it in a nutshell.

I've written goals with my students - reading and writing. One of my writing goals is to blog once a week.  I've clearly been failing on that one, but finding the concentration to write is challenging. However, if I expect my students to write and reach their goals, then I'd be a hypocrite if I don't do the same.

So... 

Once a week it is.

Week 7 - Settling into Monotony

I wish I had more exciting things happening to warrant daily posts, but as this is now week 7... not so much.

School is out for the rest of the year, which is heartbreaking.  A $1200 stimulus check was sent out, but not all Americans get it (those married to ones without social security numbers, those who earned too much last year - even if they're self-employed and have earned little due to Covid).

Texas governor opened up the state yesterday.  He said that as of Friday, restaurants, retail stores, churches, and movie theaters can open as long as they only allow 25% normal capacity.  If that works, then in two weeks they can increase to 50% capacity and salons & gyms can open.  And then, in two weeks, they can increase more.

I'm no expert, but I think that if we see a resurgence, it'll happen in 4 weeks.  But I don't know if we will.  So many people - myself included - still will stay home.  I will not be shopping at retail stores as much (or just shopping in general).  I'll still be getting take-out.  No movies for me anytime soon.  I'm lucky in that I have no true reason to leave the house unless I need groceries or a few other things.  So I'm going to do my part and stay the fuck home for now.

I wish my husband felt the same way.  He's an extrovert and he's climbing the walls.  I fear that the moment he is "given permission" to get out - he will.  And he hasn't been buying masks like I have (I won't share my masks because (a) his head is bigger than mine and (b) he smokes and the masks will take on a smoke stench).   So he will either learn or not, but I can't control him and I can't make his decisions for him.  Just know that if I get sick - it's probably because of him.  Lol.

My routine has changed a bit, but settled.  I finally feel... comfortable.  Less stressed, less anxious.  My outside exercise classes will start up again next week so my routine will change again, but not majorly.  On those three days a week I'll probably be more productive in the early morning than the afternoon (whereas lately I'm more productive in the afternoon).  I wish my husband didn't sleep until 10/11 daily because I feel trapped in one room (we have a small place, and when he's sleeping, I stay out of that room).  My dog is thoroughly enjoying me staying home, but now that he gets 10am walks, he KNOWS when it's 10am and if we're late with his walks, he steps on our feet and jumps on us.

So, nothing new.  Just... existing.

Day 28.... Happy Easter!

We (Houston) just finished our 4th week of social distancing-turned-self-isolation.

28 days.

And we still have 3 weeks until school MAYBE opens.

Governor Abbott is going to released his plans for re-opening the state this week, and he said it will be done in phases and will hopefully begin the first week of May.  If it's done in phases, I doubt schools will start.  There is absolutely no way we can do social distancing or minimize groups when you're in a classroom with 25-30 other people.  Truth be told, I'm a bit nervous about going back, and I'm thankful I'm a teacher.  Thankful because even if we do go back, we'll be out again soon.  Some worry that there will be a second wave in the summer, and maybe another wave in the fall.  If that's the case, I might be able to wait out the second wave at home.  I can practice social distancing without fear of losing my job.  I feel for others, though, who rely on working face-to-face with people who don't have total respect for humankind all of the time.  I especially feel bad for waiters, waitresses, baristas, store clerks.  I've worked retail and restaurant, and sometimes customers are just assholes.  I'm glad I left that life years ago to be a teacher.

I'm reading again.  I've only finished 1 book while home, and in 28 days, I should've finished at least 4.  I'm going to have to put one book on hold because it's just not moving fast enough (as much as I'm enjoying it), and I need books that keep my attention/focus.  I'm reading a new one for a Quarantine Book Club (a former coworker made the club), and it's keeping my attention pretty well.  I need to set a goal of one book per week (at least).  I have the time - I need to just get over my anxiety, sit down, and freakin' read.

As of today, Harris County has 3,261 cases and only 40 deaths.  2 days ago they had 615 new cases in one day, and Judge Hidalgo and the Houston mayor spoke of how Reliant Park is getting transformed into an emergency field hospital if need be.  Yesterday, New York City surpassed the deaths in other COUNTRIES.  There are temporary mass graves until things slow down and proper funerals/burials can happen.  Poor NY.  I was hoping to take a trip there in the next year, but I don't think that will happen.

A friend of mine really wants to open the state back up - she's frustrated with rights being taken away (the right to assemble, the right to go to church).  Her logic is, "If I'm going to get it, I'm going to get it.  It doesn't matter to me if it's now or July."  She said that she's in the at-risk category and her thoughts on death are the same - it's either now or later, but it'll happen.  I'm not at that stage yet.  I've had a few friends who had it - and survived - and they said it was just awful.  As an asthmatic, I'd like to avoid it until the vaccines come out.  I'd like to not die of a lung issue like both of my parents did.

But it's Easter.  Husband and I are making an Easter brunch for two - steak, eggs, homemade brioche bread (yummmm), and non-alcoholic Bloody Marys (only because we don't have any vodka in the house).  Maybe I can convince him to watch a Pixar movie - something fun and family-oriented.

And then it's just another day.

Day.... Who the Heck Knows

Today is Tuesday, and it's week 4 of this social isolation/quarantine-type environment, and that's not even counting Spring Break.

Last week was really rough.  I had a complete meltdown last Friday over an insignificant occurrence, but all of my frustration built up and I acted out like a petulant child.

Friday was payday.  When I was a kid, we only at out on paydays (to spend money more wisely).  As an adult, I didn't stick with that because I had more disposable income.  However, with the lock-down that's happened, going out just doesn't feel right (even to take advantage of curbside and delivery to support restaurants).  I just want to stay in the house as much as possible and only leave when I could get some bang for my buck (figuratively, not literally).  The previous payday was during week 1, and we (husband and I) decided to order takeout from our favorite family-owned Mexican restaurant.  I ordered fajita nachos, and it was amazing and probably tasted even better because it has been a week since I had restaurant food.  So last Friday, another payday and now two weeks since I had restaurant food, we decided to once again patronize that Mexican restaurant (because we don't want them to fold under the economic pressure of today).  I again wanted the beef fajita nachos, but this time I also wanted a side of guacamole and a side of queso.  I entrusted my husband with the ordering and picking up.

20 minutes later, he walked in, the aroma of Mexican food wafting behind him.  He handed me my container, and I opened it slowly, fully prepared to inhale the aroma of sizzling beef and toasted tortilla chips.  At the same time, my husband was opening the container of queso and said, "Huh.  Why didn't they melt it?"  I looked at the container of shredded cheese he was holding, and then looked at my food.  There was NO cheese on my nachos.  None.  My container instead was filled with toasted chips with beans poured over it and beef fajita sprinkled on top.  Basically, it wasn't nachos.  I looked at my "nachos."  I looked at the cheese.  A second later.... "Shit."  I realized that when my husband asked for a side of queso, he did just that; the Spanish-speaking lady who took the order thought he meant that I didn't want cheese ON my nachos, that I wanted them on the side.  So that meant not only did my nachos not have cheese, but I didn't get my hot, creamy, spicy queso dip.  Seriously, though - who eats nachos without cheese?  Nachos without cheese is just beans on chips.  NOT NACHOS.

I do realize that this is absolutely a first-world problem.

Yet, I had a meltdown.  I was absolutely crestfallen.  With little to look forward to in this time of homebound isolation, all I wanted was some ooey-gooey beef fajita nachos with bubbling cheese, crips chips, and perfectly seasoned beef.  With a side of queso.

I won't go into the details of my meltdown, suffice it to say it wasn't pretty and I'm not proud.  Shredded cheese may have ended up on my wall.  Food may have ended up in the trash can.  I may have cried.

But the outburst wasn't about the food.  It was a compilation of frustration, let-down, anger, sadness, and lack of optimism about the situation.

I'm frustrated that I'm stuck in my house.
I'm frustrated that the weather is unseasonably warm so that I don't even want to go outside for a walk most days because I start sweating immediately.
I'm frustrated that I can't go into my classroom.
I'm frustrated that I can't go to bootcamp with my workout buddies.
I'm frustrated that I'm working AND cleaning the house and my husband is watching tv or playing games.
I'm frustrated that our politicians seem to be politicizing everything rather than giving us real answers.
I'm frustrated that some of my students are having a difficult time at home and there's nothing I can do.
I'm frustrated that every article in the front section of the Houston Chronicle is about COVID.
I'm frustrated that the one thing I was looking forward to was marred.

I'm having a difficult time doing what I enjoy.  I haven't been able to sit down and read comfortably because I can't focus.  I haven't baked as much as I want to because I don't have all the ingredients and going to the store daily is out of the question.

Today I'm better.  I hit my wall last week.  A friend of mine told me that she hit hers yesterday.   My husband hit his two nights ago.

I have a feeling that everyone around me is hitting walls.  I hope someone is there to tell them that it's ok - that this is normal.

And when I order my beef fajita nachos next Friday (pay day), I know NOT to order a side of queso.

Day 17....going on 50

Welp, yesterday Governor Abbott declared that schools will be out of session until May 4th at the earliest.  This morning/yesterday(?) the governor of California declared school's out for summer (adding to similar decrees in Arizona, Kansas, Oklahoma, Virginia, and a few other states).

I don't drink much, but when I heard the news, I really wanted a margarita.

This by far isn't the only school year in which I've struggled.  Three other shining examples are: the year Hurricane Ike slammed into our area, cutting school out for over a week (2008); the year my mom died and I barely made it through spring semester (2012); and the year Hurricane/Tropical Storm Harvey hit, cutting school out for two weeks and then continuing when many (including myself) had to adjust to life as our houses were fixed (I slept on my couch for 6 months because I didn't want to go to a hotel while my walls were getting redone, floors fixed, and then kitchen redone).

But this by far is the worst.

One of the most remarkable books I've read is Man's Search For Meaning by Victor Frankl.  I used to teach that book to my leadership class every year until recently (now I highly recommend it for students needing to fill in the "nonfiction" box of their reading Bingo/book-of-the-month goal sheet).  In it, Dr. Frankl relates his experiences in various concentration camps during the Holocaust.  It's not a typical Holocaust book; it's almost a self-help book in which he explains about the importance of finding meaning in one's life in order to survive the most darkest tragedy one may have (and he uses his experiences in the camps as support).  He wrote about three stages of mental reaction to the camp, which can in turn be considered universal for tragedy: admission/shock, entrenchment in camp routine/apathy, and the period following liberation/disillusionment.

Please note, I am by NO MEANS comparing our quarantine/isolation experience to the horrific torture and murder of several million Jews at the hands of sociopaths.  I'm just trying to apply his ideas of logo therapy (using logic to get past difficult times)

Here is my interpretation of his three stages to what's going on right now:
1. Shock: I think this happened for us around Spring Break.  There were several cases in the US, but the depth of it hadn't hit us.  We had a bit of foreboding around us: our boss told us to take our school laptops home, just in case.  We heard of the horror stories and shutdowns from China, but that seemed so far away. Stores were starting to run out of toilet paper and bottled water (so random).  But then, at the end of Spring Break - the shock came.  The forced social distancing.  Schools shut down for a week.  Shock in that - what is actually happening here?  How did this happen?  What does this mean?  What is our future going to look like?

2. Entrenchment in routine/apathy.  As we started hunkering down, tempers flared.  Egos rising and shattering.  Grocery stores cleaned out by able-bodied people, leaving little for the elderly and poor to pick from.  People buying mass quantities of hand sanitizer and sell it an an uncharge on Amazon and eBay to make money off of other's suffering (and to "survive," as they claim).  People aggressively announcing that they're not going to socially distance because it's a conspiracy, because it's the government's way of controlling, because it's "better" than the flu.  And then it's all of a sudden NOT better than the flu.  Masks fly off of shelves by people NOT in the medical field.  It at times becomes "all man for himself" in some situations - the hoarding takes on a new level (let the toilet paper jokes fly).  While there are wonderful stories about caring and kindness coming around, there is a minority of bad apples poisoning the barrel.  I hope that the stories of the neighbors dancing in the street daily at 11am, the stories of authors reading aloud their books on the internet, the stories of people sewing masks at home for the medical professionals thrive, and maybe - just maybe - our apathy will not be center stage and we will veer away from Dr. Frankl's second stage.

3. The period following liberation/disillusionment.  This stage has yet to be entered.  In his book, he describes the survivors trying to go back to their old life without the realization that one can never achieve their old life - family members were dead, houses were sold, their belongings stolen.  In this stage, he noted the suicides of survivors who could not quite figure out their place in this new life.  While I don't think anything as drastic as this will occur with us, it does make me wonder what life will be after we are released.  Will people be angry with schools for how they attempted to do the best with what they could?  Will they be angry with the government?  Will this change the politics of the country?  Will high school seniors become bitter about how their senior year was atypical?  Will we as a species become better or worse?  Will those who have lost their jobs be able to get new ones?  And what about those who lost family members to COVID-19.  Will there be anger at how it was handled? Will their grief be doubled, tripled with the addition of loss of jobs, loss of dream trips, loss of a feeling of safety.

One thing is for certain, Dr. Frankl said that the meaning of life is love.   Whilst almost dying, whilst starving, whilst having to make choices that could kill someone else or himself, he said that the thought of his wife (who he did not realize had already been murdered in a camp) is what helped him survive.

I hope that love and kindness is what helps us now.

So in this time of fear, the time of immense frustration, this time of wondering what life will look like for us on the other side, be kind.

Day 15? I'm losing count

32 more days.

That's what President Trump announced yesterday.

Social distancing and shut-down of public places for 30 more days - until April 30.  Health officials are saying that the peak of cases/deaths won't be for 2 more weeks, and then we'll see a slow-down.  I hope so.  8 weeks of basically isolation is difficult for many people.  I'm ok.  I mean, the first week was rough because I was trying different routines, figuring out ways to keep teaching adequately, and convincing my husband to stay the f*** home.

2 weeks later, I'm in a new phase.  At first, I was motivated.  I wanted to do things.  I figured I had three weeks so let's get some lessons together, let's clean the house, let's try to enjoy slowing down.  Now, however, I'm just wondering what's the point with some things?  Why bother cleaning the back patio today if we're going to be stuck here for another 30 days?  Why bother cleaning out the spare room  today if we have 30 days to do it?  Why can't I binge-watch ER on Hulu?  What's the freakin' hurry?

I hope this stage doesn't last long.

I'd bake a cake, but I'm afraid I'll emotionally eat it in 2 days.


When I started this blog 2 weeks ago, there were 30ish cases in Harris County.  Today - 928.

Oh, and the Texas DPS is now at the border, stopping people coming from Louisiana, making sure that they self-quarantine immediately for 14 days.  They're doing it at the airport for flights from 11 areas (including NY, NJ, Chicago).  I wonder what the next two weeks will look like.