MORE QUESTIONS IN SEARCH OF ANSWERS

I have been here before--pondering persistent questions.**

Yet, just when I think I have listed all of my puzzlements for your perusal, I once again find myself with questions large and small.  And, of course, I have more time than usual at the moment to ponder these mysteries.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

So, here we go--one more time.


Why do:


- people buy bottled water in preparation for a pandemic?  

Our water supply is intact and, as far as I know, in no way threatened.  And, for the love of God, do we really need to fill our shopping carts with more plastic?  If you don't like your tap water, then buy a filter.  And please note that 50 percent of the bottled water for sale comes from municipal water supplies -- same as the water coming out of your faucet.

- people hoard toilet paper during the current pandemic? 

Seriously, what is this about?  We are not living through an epidemic of dysentery.  Come on people.  Back away from the TP.  (If you're really worried, maybe buy a bidet attachment.)

- people bring assault weapons to protests?

I am horrified by pictures of people protesting the pandemic lockdown with assault weapons in their hands.  Yes, I know that the First Amendment provides that "Congress shall make no law . . . abridging . . . the right of the people peaceably to assemble," but how is openly displaying assault weapons "peaceable"?

Leaving behind the pandemic, why do:

- people make so few phone calls, now that phone calling is free?

Before I retired, I worked at an office 13 miles from my home.  And although that isn't very far, the two were in different states.  Thus, until the advent of cell phones, Skype etc., my calls home involved long-distance charges.  Same with calls from home to friends and family back east.  (Yes, children, in the dark ages--say, 15 years ago--there there was no way to avoid paying for phone calls to places outside one's very-circumscribed local area.)

It strikes me as ironic that now, when phone calls to almost anywhere are free, many people seem to prefer email and texting. But isn't there something warmer about hearing a voice? With its inflections and nuances?  Or am I just old?  How I would have loved a free phone call in the even darker ages (pre-email) when our only option was to write letters or call on Sunday when the long-distance charge was less.  (I have noticed bit more willingness to talk on the phone since we have been in isolation.)

- people say, "You deserve it" when I ponder whether to buy something?

The word "deserve" in this context makes me uncomfortable.  What does this say about those who cannot afford what I am thinking about buying?  Do they not deserve to have the thing I am purchasing?  Maybe we should say, "You will enjoy it" or "You can afford it." Suggestions?

- people say "woman author," "woman judge," "woman astronaut"?

We wouldn't say "man author" or "man judge."  We would say "male author" or "male judge."  Perhaps the day will come when it no longer feels necessary to identify people by gender, but as long as we are still dealing in firsts, as in "first female chairperson," can we please be consistent?

- companies send me emails with subject lines such as "Are you aging well? and "You need an air fryer in your life"?

They can't really think I will open these. (And what is an air fryer, anyway?  If I don't know what it is, I doubt that I need one.)

- companies sell solid deodorant in a package made of this much plastic when only a fraction of the package is actually needed for the small amount of deodorant inside?

(Yes, I know.  They are trying to fool me into thinking I am getting more product.) And might I add, when the solid deodorant starts to dwindle, it falls out as you screw it up from the bottom.

I have switched to this:

Check it out--made by a local small-business owner (and she ships).  

What is causing you to scratch your head in confusion these days? May your questions all have answers.  And please stay home and stay safe!



**See:  Inquiring Minds Want to Know  know and Why Do They Do That?  

THE VIRUS MADE ME DO IT: Cooking in the Time of a Pandemic

I am not much of a cook.  (Go ahead; ask my friends and family.)  In saying this, I don’t mean to say that I can’t cook – I can get a meal on the table – or that I don’t cook – I do.  It’s just that it isn’t a passion or even a pleasure most of the time.  True, there are rainy days when I enjoy making a big pot of soup, but most of the time cooking is just something that has to get done.

Like many other uninspired cooks, I have a small but sufficient repertoire of meals that I rotate through. And although the rotation may be limited, we eat well.  My husband doesn’t like to cook either, but he can chop – we eat lots of salads, lots of fresh stuff.  

I have even been known to cut out interesting looking recipes from the paper and put them in a notebook—a notebook that, I confess, mostly stays closed until I have to figure out what to take to a potluck or some such event.  

So, this isn’t a cry for a meal service; it’s just a report that, to my great surprise, I have, since being homebound by the virus, taken an interest in cooking.  The other day, for instance, Bill announced that he was going to the store, and I heard myself say, “Let me get out my recipes.”  

These are not words often uttered in my house. 

I made a list.  He brought home ingredients.  I started to cook.  

I cooked new things.   

I don’t know what to make of this.  I look at myself in the mirror and wonder whether I have been replaced by a pod person.

Pod person or not, though, it has been—dare I admit it—kind of fun, punctuated, of course, by other more familiar kinds of fun, such as gardening.  (I wouldn’t, after all, want to go overboard with this cooking thing.)

Let me pause here to note that most of the gardeners of my acquaintance seem also to be enthusiastic cooks.  I don’t know why I don’t share that enthusiasm.  I have often thought that cooking resembles gardening in this regard:  If you don’t enjoy the process, the whole business generally feels like drudgery.  After all, gardening, like cooking, is never finished (although you do get to take a break for much of the winter.)  

Still, I love everything about gardening.  I don’t do it to reach a final result.  I do it because I find the repetitive tasks to be relaxing and rewarding.  I do it for the beauty and peace that I experience along the way.  My garden will never be finished.  I will never be “caught up.”  And that’s OK.  There are whole days and weeks and months of glory to be enjoyed before plants die back or go dormant or lose their leaves or their lives.

Cooking, on the other hand – such an ephemeral outcome. All that work and the food is gone in minutes.  So, I will say it again; you have to be in it for the process. And for most of my life, on most days, the process has left me cold.  

Those of you whose interests are the opposite of mine are in a better position than I.  After all, if you don’t like gardening, you can just plant junipers in a sea of bark dust and call it good.  But, if you don’t like cooking, well—you still have to cook, unless you have the means to hire a chef or go out to eat every day.

I, for one, cannot afford a chef (nor would I want one hanging around my house) and have no interest in going to restaurants on a daily basis.  In any event, we can’t go restaurant hopping during a pandemic.  So, I am delighted, if baffled, by the sudden and unexpected uptick in my interest in food preparation.  

Will this enthusiasm outlast the pandemic?  If I were a betting person, I’d bet not.  You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks.  Still, cooking is helping to solve the existential dilemma during this time of social isolation and giving me something to look forward to as evening approaches each day.  

Maybe being a pod person isn’t such a bad thing, after all . . .

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

(Stay safe, everyone!)