maybe we could at least make folks smile…under those masks

“Once plague had shut the gates of the town, they had settled down to a life of separation,
debarred from the living warmth that gives forgetfulness of all.”
“If there is one thing one can always yearn for and sometimes attain, it is human love.”
Albert Camus, The Plague

No you’re not having a case of deja vu…I just had a thought that piggybacks
off of a recent post.
Plus I still love that little meme…
‘looks like plague’s back on the menu boys…”

Cracks me up it does…and I think I need some cracking up—
in fact I think a good many of us could benefit with a good crack up,
chucke, chortle, laugh, or at least a smile.

And so do you remember a couple of weeks back when I did a bit of a history lesson on the
plague doctors of the Medieval and Renaissance ages…those physicians tasked
with dealing with those suffering from the plague, otherwise known as The Black Death?

Remember they were the ones who donned those elaborate bird-like masks and cosutmes
that were intended to protect them from the deadly vapors thought to be carried on
the winds, especially the night air.

(Paul Fürst, engraving, c. 1721, of a plague doctor of Marseilles
(introduced as ‘Dr Beaky of Rome’).
His nose-case is filled with herbal material to keep off the plague.)

Here’s a link to that post:
https://cookiecrumbstoliveby.wordpress.com/2020/07/28/miasma-once-again-we-are-afraid-to-breath/

I mused that maybe I should get such a mask and use it when I was venturing out into
contagionville, aka our everyday world.

(Venetian Plague doctor mask worn at Carnival / pintrest)

And pondering over this mask business, I had a new idea.

I really hate that we are now having to constantly wear masks.
I miss the smiles.
We are in isolation even when we venture out…
a sad reality.

I was on an elevator Friday with a family with a little girl…
she looked up at me and I told her how much I liked her cherry decorated mask.
She thanked me but I couldn’t discern a smile.

I follow the rules.
I do it.
I wear them.
Mine are not fashionable, just practical.

Doing as I am told and instructed…
I’ll admit that in the very beginning, before mandates, I confess to defiance…
but not now, as I’m not willing to die on this particular mountain,
as there will be other mountains soon that will require my allegiance…
I will adhere to the “mandate.”

So we know that I’m not being like those defiant ones who still venture into stores
where signs are all over the doors clealy stating that all who enter must wear a mask.

There are even those freindly little voices over the loudspeakers reminding all customers to wear
their masks and to follow the arrows as how to traverse the aisles…
‘follow the green arrows, don’t cross the red X’
And yet there are those who just can’t seem to follow directions.

I taught a lot of those kind of folks.
Directions, to some, just don’t come naturally–we simply say “bless their hearts.”

I have noticed that those who do wear their masks have issues with darting their eyes.
Quickly diverting their glance should another set of eyes make contact.
All other worldly really.

It makes shopping no longer very enjoyable.
The ‘mask fog’ on glasses makes seeing darn near impossible and yet maybe one plus is that
you can now tell you should do a better job brushing your teeth or yes, you do need mints.
Perhaps a blessing to those who use to be near you as you spoke.

And how about talking muffled?
Repeating over and over what you’re attempting to ask for until the
poor clerk finally can discern your words.

It seems that we all benefited from looking at faces for clues and discenment

I miss that.

So after looking over some old pictures, it dawned on me.
We’re about the start seeing those halloween festivities in stores.
What will costumes be like this year, what will trick or treating be this year?

So I found this picture when the Mayor was just a baby and we were strolling through
Target and I put on this halloween mask to give the baby Mayor a giggle.

And so now I have it.
Let us don the masks of the season to illict some most welcomed giggles and laughs!
Lord knows we need them.

By the way…the Mayor has been most puny. It seems she now has the Sherrif’s viral infection…
a high lingering fever.
Not Covid thank goodness…just a good ol childhood virus…so I’m off to go give care.

Be back soon.

A joyful heart is good medicine,
but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.
Proverbs 17:22

the Mayor is coming, the Mayor is coming…actually, she’s already here

“When I think something nice is going to happen I seem to fly right up on the wings
of anticipation; and then the first thing I realize I drop down to earth with a thud.
But really, Marilla, the flying part is glorious as long as it lasts…
it’s like soaring through a sunset.
I think it almost pays for the thud.”
L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea

(woobooville’s satellite office awaits her arrival / Julie Cook / 2108)

Not many constituents or aides can get as excited over a mayoral visit as perhaps this
satellite Woobooville office does… as all the aides gathered here become
practically giddy with anticipation!

The Mayor would like all to know that she is showing her support to all law enforcement
members and to anyone who has an affinity for doughnuts by sporting a seasonal set of PJ’s.

Plus she is demonstrating her support for the notion of goodie gathering for all little people.

As she will be attending a cul-de-sac pizza party for the neighborhood children on Halloween
dressed as a pumpkin— a sentimental nod to her dad who was also a pumpkin 30 years ago
for his first trick or treating adventure.
The Mayor is sentimental in those regards.

The Mayor is here for only a quick weekend visit before returning to her main office in Atlanta.
But her aides and constituents are making the most of the joyous time spent together…
even poor Moe the moose who is having his brains shaken loose.

Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
my body also will rest secure,
because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead,
nor will you let your faithful one see decay.
You make known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand.
Psalm 16: 9-11

Mise en place

“Decorate your home. It gives the illusion that your life is more interesting than it really is.” Charles M. Schulz

(one batch of the boxes of fall decorations / Julie Cook / 2014)

Is that what all this is about? Ill fated attempts at making our lives, our homes, more interesting than they are??

Actually this is more of a tale about a boat load of crap, uh, I mean, gourds, pumpkins, colorful leaves, acorns, straw, nuts, etc. . .anything and everything to do with Fall, Autumn, the season of Harvest. . . or whatever you may wish to call the 3rd season of the calendar.

I like to call it my favorite time of year–and no, that is not Christmas as Christmas is just another word for consumerism chaos but that’s for another day.

The Thermometer is currently registering 90ᵒ–it’s not yet noon. The news is telling me it feels more like 96ᵒ as our high today will be 95ᵒ, meaning it will feel like 110ᵒ –give or take–but I’m sure it will be more like give, with the humidity ringing in around 87% currently–higher later–ugh—-and whereas this is Labor day weekend, Summer’s grand final hoorah, I, for one, choose to look ahead—as to something, say, a little more comfortable and inviting. As in I don’t wish to remain naked when venturing out of doors because I am tired of my clothes sticking to my body —picture flies stuck to fly tape and that’s me with my clothes.

Nothing is flattering about this time of year. Hair, no matter how hard a woman may attempt taming her coiffure–and trust me, I try awfully damn hard–digressing, it will either wilt, explode with puffiness or revert back to its natural wavy state the minute it is introduced to the out of doors.
Humidity + hair = disaster.
And of course any and all freshly applied makeup will soon be oozing down a sweaty oh I forgot, we women of the South do not sweat—we glisten— glisteny faces which are responding to the 87% humidity.

A friend of mine in Texas, sweet Natalie, replying to a blog post, told me how she sings daily praises to the man whoever invented air-conditioning. I must second that praise. Which brings me to an interesting observation— the Italians do not like air-conditioning. They fear it produces “bad air” which equates to respiratory maladies—things like the croop, pneumonia, Legionnaire’s Disease. . . you name it and they think it will pour out of an air conditioning unit waiting to strike down any and all, exposed to such air, with immediate illness and death.

The Italians are fretful when it comes to health. They take great precautions to stay well. So this is why, if you ever go on Holiday to Italy say in July or August. . . why you would do this I am uncertain as anyone can tell you that these are the two months you do not wish to visit Italy as the entire country shuts down and heads to the shore or high up in the alps seeking respite form the heat and the malaria (I’m telling you, über health conscious). . .I know this as I have made such a fatal mistake, but again, I digress. . .you will suddenly go into apoplexy upon entering your hotel room, say in Rome, when you find your windows wide open with nary a breeze and nary an AC unit in sight and it’s 100ᵒ out with 97% humidity.

Which brings me full circle back around to my picture of all of the Fall crap, uh, decorations sitting in the middle of the floor on a soon to be 98ᵒ day.
Rather than venturing outside today to enjoy the sun soaked (hot as hell day) Labor Day weekend, I’m preferring to say inside like anyone with any sense. . .yet my husband is currently attempting to plow his deer land on a hot tractor in the middle of nowhere in 102ᵒ, which in my opinion is asinine, but again I digress. . .I am opting to decorate my house with a more Fall-like theme—of which I am hoping will have a psychological effect, making me feel much cooler than I am in my tank top, shorts and bare feet. Surely twig pumpkins, fake squirrels, dried nuts, a bunch of gourds and colorful faux leaves will make me feel cooler, almost chilly, right??

Which brings my thoughts, as I schlepp this crap , these boxes of decorations down from the 150ᵒ inferno, aka attic and up the steps from the dungeon, aka, basement, as to why it is, why in the heck, do we, I, feel the need to decorate, seasonally, in the first place?! It must go back to some paganesque ancient druid need hiding in our / my roots. Lest we forget, I am indeed adopted and as I fear, there must some druids hiding in my background someplace—and no offense to any druids currently reading this —I’m just saying.

Perhaps it is our consumer driven economy and lifestyle. . .
The stores are, as I type, filling their shelves with boxes of fake colorful leaves, fallesque wreathes, cute fake little squirrels, dried gourds, indian corn, acorns, dried straws and sticks that we buy by the boat loads in order to “decorate” our homes and even workplaces—we set the mood so to speak. In my case, the mood to cool!!

And let’s not talk about how next month we will be riding the Halloween bandwagon. What was once a fun little excuse for young children to dress-up, going door to door trick or treating for candy has morphed into a really scary time which calls on us to lock up our cats–lest some cult out there decides to have a little sacrifice session, as we scan and have our children’s candy bags x-rayed at local hospitals for any signs of sickos who sadisticly and maliciously may have put razor blades in apples or cyanid in Reeses cups, to those who protest trick or treat all together because it is no longer politically correct as all the witches and satanist out there take offense (no offense witches and satanists), or the fundamentalists who fear it will turn our children literally into withes and satanists, which has all actually lead to this little “holiday” being the largest and biggest sales event excuse out there for adults to throw a party—hence why that diva of domesticity, who will remain nameless as I don’t want to get sued, is set to sell a myriad of magazines giving her, at the ripe old age of 73, an excuse to dress up in elaborate costume hawking her blood red punch and eyeball deviled egg recipes. . .yes, we’ve lost our collective minds. . .

Which brings me back to the boat load of crap , decorations sitting on the floor and of my having to now “put away” Summer, making way for Fall. . .and could someone please remind me as to why I waste, spend my time doing this. . .

Oh yeah, that’s right, because it’s 103ᵒ outside in the shade and I want to psyche myself into thinking I’m feeling cooler, much cooler—like Fall cooler—not that the Fall cool temperatures will arrive here, before, say Thanksgiving. . .which means it’ll just be time to schlepp out all the turkey and Thanksgiving crap decorations down from the attic and up from the basement. . .as the never ending saga of decorations and decorating, putting crap in its place, never ends. . .