What I Forgot

I got my Covid vaccine six weeks ago and was ready to take on the world. So I went out to lunch with a couple of friends at an actual restaurant.  Immediately, I noticed that things were different. My two friends sat across from me and actually talked. Unlike my two cats who sit across from me on the couch and just stare. I had to make conversation with regular adults.  And I needed to do so without offering them little tidbits from off of my plate. I forgot that humans need conversation, not desiccated treats.  

Because of virus concerns, we sat at an outside table.  It was so wonderful because the hot, humid weather allowed outdoor seating. I had eaten at other restaurants during the winter part of quarantine, but that required several layers of clothing, near an outdoor heater and wait staff willing to bring a constant supply of warm drinks. This summer outing was infinitely better because we could sit two inches closer to the table without all the outerwear.  I forgot what it was like to sit that close to a surface I was eating from.

Sitting at an actual table instead of sitting on a couch made me realize that my posture was upright. I wasn’t slouched on the sofa and I wasn’t bending over six layers of winter clothes. I could just sit up, face my friends and eat like a regular person. Well, kind of. After 14 or 15 months of eating alone on the sofa, I was unpracticed in using a napkin. For some time I had become accustomed to letting things fall where they may – down the front of my sweatshirt, onto the floor or in between the cushions of the couch. Of course I’d clean it up but eating at a restaurant doesn’t offer the perks of sloppiness one can acquire when there’s nobody to notice for over a year.  I had forgotten that out in public I had to, as my grandmother used to say, “Sit up, young lady!” In following those childhood instructions, I realized that sitting upright requires a different set of muscular contractions, whereas slouching requires almost none. By the end of the two hour lunch, certain muscles that I won’t mention, were sore.  Who knew that sitting was so much work? I guess I forgot that too.

I realized that we are no longer socially distancing, we are socially contracting. That means act nice, be polite, speak up, but not too loud. Use things like plates, silverware, and napkins. Pay attention so food doesn’t fall down the front of your shirt. I was no longer eating from the pan on the stove and using the back of my arm in case of spills. Beverages out in public typically come in attractive glassware, not the old Tupperware tumblers I bought at a garage sale. It dawned on me that I would be required to pay attention to what my friends were saying and to interact with them. That’s part of the social contract that I forgot.

It was a thoroughly enjoyable lunch. Old habits were resurrected, new habits were forged.  I am committed to rejoin civilization as we once knew it. Or even civilization as it will become. As Phoebe Snow and then Aretha Franklin assured us, it’s a different world from where you come from.

Even though I didn’t need one, I went ahead and bought a new purse. There was all kinds of rationalizing behind the purchase: I hadn’t gotten a new purse since last March, which was over a year ago; I needed that particular silhouette for summer outfits; summer was coming and I needed a new purse to go with shorts and warm weather clothes. I suspect that most of you reading this know the real reason for purchasing a new purse. I just wanted to buy a new purse. It’s been eons since I strolled through a mall, credit cards burning a hole in my wallet and small confection and pretzel stands calling my name as I passed by. We used to refer to it as “retail therapy.” I was sorely in need of therapy but alas, this is not prudent right now. So I looked up the shopping channels that hawk purses for the homebound and I found what I was looking for and I bought it.

After the transaction I began to think about the cost of a woman’s purse. Advertising tells you that it’s a good investment because it’s leather. Features that are included in the purse make this worthy of the amount submitted for the object itself. Things like a lining in the purse, a zippered side pocket, plus two pockets that will store your cell phone and another small object. I thought that a Snickers bar would be the ideal candidate for the extra pocket. A couple of brand name makers also include a leash for your keys. Good thing. Those purses are typically large enough to hold a small British sports car. My keys always get lost sifting through errant receipts, sun glasses, old shopping lists, crumpled work orders for things done to my car, loose change and face masks. Once I found several Bit-O-Honey’s that were quite hard, so I ate them to protect anyone else from having to risk broken teeth. What a sacrifice!

What really struck me about the purchase was the cost of the purse and how little I was offered in return. Yes, they are stylish but really, aren’t they just stylish grocery bags? For the amount of money charged, purses should at least offer the traveler’s friend, RFID protection. You can buy purses with that feature, but they are a separate fashion line costing slightly less than leather and vegan-leather options. By the way, it nearly drove me crazy until I figured out that vegan leather was plastic that was man-made to look like leather. They like to charge as much, but don’t offer RFID protection either.

Another thing I’d like purses to offer for the price they charge is some kind of service, like refrigeration. That way I could keep a sandwich cold while out and about. Or perhaps they could include a portable USB charger so that I could plug in my phone and not worry about losing a charge if I’m running errands. There is one brand that offers more storage than a U-Haul truck center. It’s typically got a zippered flap on the front that opens up to rows of credit card storage, a mirror small enough for any mice that might want to live in there, coin storage, dollar bill storage and pen slots. Inside you could almost maintain a wardrobe on hangars because the purse is so big. There’s room for a tablet, a phone, work papers, umbrella, water bottle and, in a pinch I suppose, a very small child. They could play with the mouse in the outer compartment. For expensive purses, this brand is at the lower end. The leather isn’t vegan, it’s actual plastic. But even with all those zippers, features and gewgaws, there still isn’t any RFID protection.

Why am I railing about this? Because my credit cards have been hacked several times over the past six months. It happened at a department store I was visiting and they incurred several charges over $300. There are some purses that cost that much and I for one would like to think that if I’m paying that amount, they should offer super-sleuth protection as I walk around with their logo on my arm. If I’m going to advertise for them, they should offer protection to me. I’ll let you know when that happens.

Spring is here! At last the weather is warm, winter gear is no longer necessary, days are longer. There is also a plethora of outdoor activities that present themselves. Long walks in the neighborhood, hikes in  State Parks, bicycling along trails, and when the Covid quarantine lifts, there will be outdoor café visits with friends. In the land of 10,000 Lakes, we also await the thaw of all the waterways. Along with that there’s an increase in various flora, fauna, ichthyoids, and testudines. No, that doesn’t have anything to do with male anatomy. Less formally, testudines are turtles. Ever since Dr. Seuss opined about Yurtle and his hard shelled friends, I have been in love with the domed creatures.

One of my hobbies is to visit various lakes to find them. Back when it was permissible, I even owned a couple of them. Fact is, turtles are adorable. I love everything about them. Their shiny, faceted shells that gleam in the sun. Their splayed paws with the long fingernails, their ability to hold their breath underwater. I’m in awe of their ability to sleep without breathing for an entire season. Don’t even get me started on how magnificent sea turtles are!

In pursuing my love of turtles, I often go in search of a peek at them basking in the sun. Turtles sun themselves on logs near the shoreline of ponds and some smaller lakes. The sight of them laying in a row or stacked upon each other is more endearing than I can say.  I have spent hours walking slowly along trails and through shoreline undergrowth to catch a glimpse of dark half circles lined up on a tree branch in the water.

To preserve my citings and to share them as well, I purchased a new camera that has a very long lens. Alas, while I love looking at turtles, they aren’t always fond of my approaching them. Typically what happens is a very soft ‘plop’ into the water and the silent ripples that follow. This occurs more frequently earlier in the spring when the turtles are re-acclimating themselves to the world outside their muddy den below the surface. When they lose their camera shyness, I have been able occasionally to take pictures of them sitting in all their glory. I was using the camera on my phone. This is a perfectly serviceable piece of photographic equipment, but it was difficult to get close up.  So I bought the new camera.

It came with a camera bag, two lenses, one of which would surely enable me to see the turtles painted undersides at long range. In addition to the camera, the lenses and the equipment bag, I also own a tri-pod. With all that paraphernalia and my trusty waterproof hiking boots, I imagined myself as intrepid a naturalist as David Attenborough. For my first outing with the new gear, I wanted to prepare my camera, lenses, and the tripod to be ready for any photos that I’d be quick enough to catch. I got everything out, laid it out on my kitchen table in neat rows and put the camera bag on a chair out of the way. So exciting, so professional. I have to admit, there were images of being a famous turtle photographer dancing in my head.

Holding the camera in my left hand, I got out the instruction book. My primary objective was to understand how to set up for the long range close-ups. Feeling very proud of myself for having saved the instructions, and being humble enough to realize I needed the instructions, I flipped to the first page. It was all in Spanish. Not to be dissuaded, I flipped to the back, thinking the English instructions would be on the reverse side. Nope, just Spanish. While I remember a few phrases from 6^th grade Spanish, I am by no means fluent enough to interpret a camera manual. There I was, the sunshine of Spring abounding and a camera that I wasn’t sure how to use. I was devastated. After a few moments of chagrin,  I resigned myself to trial and error with the new lens. Maybe I could get a shot of turtles worth looking at.

Where was the English manual? I have no idea. I had purchased the camera over the winter and fastidiously thrown out all the packing materials and anything that seemed unnecessary. What did this teach me about photographs of turtles? Nothing. I did learn that I don’t have to listen to others when they insist on that it’s important to throw out things you don’t need.