Margm

Our state has 24,523 (reported) with 1296 deaths, 7044 recovered. (If my numbers are close). My parish has 65 confirmed and two deaths. On each side of us one parish has 41 with three deaths, on the opposite side 188 with 10 deaths. What started our state off wrong was Mardi Gras where everyone is together in parades, parties, street celebrations and it took off like wildfire in New Orleans. Kelli started with a fever, but she has never quit having a fever since infusion of platelets for her blood disease. Her body is rebuilding new platelets, but tries to fight off the foreign entry also with the fever. Her main physician (a hematologist) did the swab in her nose and punctured her sinus cavity, now she has a sinus infection (ENT put sutures), and her virus swab was negative. Scott works at the VA and one of the workers died of it before he came on working. His swab was negative also. I wish they would let the medical experts run the country in this time and the people who get in the way, cut off funds, stockpile respirators where no one can find them and even keep safety equipment away from health workers, I wish they would just get out of the way and let people who know what they are doing, do their job. It is a mess and hard to understand how they can involve poly-ticks in a pandemic will be something I can never understand.

I like to sorta stay close. I have to totally dehydrate myself to go any long lengthy trip. I can do it, have to do it. And, it hurts to move around in the bed most nights, but that was just since the colon rupture and the fact that I can get around is a miracle. I had lost my favorite aunt on February 1st of 2014 and the colon burst with sepsis in March. The ambulance stopped on the side of the long trip to the hospital and they could not get me a blood pressure. Kelli thought I had passed, but somehow I pulled through. I saw two little dark haired girls about 5-6 years old sitting on each side of the steps of the ambulance. I asked about them when I came to. No one but me saw them. My Angels, I like to think. One of my best friends would call and sent flowers. Tonight she will probably leave us and somehow I am so sad, but she has missed her husband for over 20 years. She stayed beautiful, had her own business and took care of all her family. She was taking care of her brother when they discovered her cancer. He quit treatments and she could not take them. I am so sad and yet I know she suffered all those years taking care of family, a daughter very ill, but I think and hope her husband is there waiting for her. I will miss our long messages, we started school the same year, same school, graduated together. Goodnight.

Thanks Karen. I've always called it my "black dog of depression" until I knew it was grief. I'm sure it still is. I go many days without it, but this self quarantine in prison of one's residence has brought on new feelings aside from my grief. So easy and true to blame it on grief, only this is something different than grief, made worse by grief. I think being guilted and ordered not to leave my house by my sister hit me square in the chest. Being told what I had to do is new to me since Billy lefft. Never being on my own in my life except these over four years, it also took my confidence away and threw me into deep depression, not just grief. Together, they confused an old lady that does not need any more confusion. I have always treated these feelings with getting in the car and driving. By myself. But, because of my "innards" I have to be completely without coffee, Sprite, no water, nothing to make my "innards" start their daily "can't leave house anyhow" functions. Historically, Winston Churchill would refer to it as such, but it goes further back. This is what is listed in "Listener" and is titled "Where the black dog metaphor for depression comes from. (M<arc Wilson, 11-28-2018). "Foley calls us all into the parlour and points directly at Samuel Johnson, author of the first dictionary (played for laughs by Robbie Coltrane in the excellent Blackadder the Third), as the culprit. He quotes letters written by Johnson in the late 1700s that clearly associate “the black dog” with mood in lines such as, “when he comes the first thing he does is to worry my master”. The trail dries up at this point – it’s not obvious what might have inspired him, and the leading candidates lead down dead ends. Samuel Johnson it is then."

In case anyone thinks I was making a joke of animals, I wasn't. Winston Churchill called his depression the "black dog." Wiley Hilburn, a writer of a column would refer to being visited by his "black dog" and might be an odd way to describe depression, but it "follows us around." My last and favorite dog I ever had was the black Chow. Every dog I ever had as a child, died some terrible death. (Way out in the country living, not much traffic, but think Ring chased cars). When Ring (black spaniel) was hit by a car, the other dogs came to fight him and I never understood. I saw death up close with all my pets because my mom would not let me keep them in the house. Midget, the little dog my dad brought home in a big match box, he lived until I was 15. He died of pneumonia outside my window. I had him in a box with blankets, all I could do. Never took one to a vet until after I got married. After Bear died, I did not get close to another animal. They are a joy to have, but my daughter goes into a depression when she loses one, and with her bipolar and my depression, I'm not going to push my luck. My aunt, as she got older, she was not going to have another dog, she loved them so much, she was alone, and said she did not want to leave one without her. (She lived till she was 91). So, no offence against fur babies. I think I understand your feelings. No, I won't have another fur baby. I will stand by Kelli and try to help her when her aging poodle, who is sickly, passes. But, I won't go through that again myself. Just my choice. No other husbands either. But I do understand your fur babies are part of your family.

Somehow or other, some of us hit a wall. I'm bouncy, but I don't get up easy. Yep, the black dog is taking over. Knowing I'm not by myself is not helping. This prisoner under your own roof brings out many things. More pain. Hearing those footsteps behind me. Grief is tough and a depression you never get rid of. Being imprisoned makes other characters come out. I don't like the main one. Sleep till noon. Bed at 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. It is not me, it is someone I used to know though, for many years. I think we all are feeling a thumb pushing down on us. Those with illness, the thumb has us squashed, hard to fight back when you can't breathe. Literally, I understand Gwen, you walk around like this as an everyday thing. I'm sorry. When you cannot fix yourself, it is hard to help someone else. One challenge is 2000 miles. Another is, we have to fix that what is broken in ourselves. And sometimes you get to where you wonder why. I fought the grief, but the black dog has come to visit and seems to want to stay.

OMGosh, it is Easter Sunday morning and I need to be up in time to see the Easter Services...........oh wait, there won't be Easter Services, but oh, I so hope, the ministries that I watch on Sunday will be on. The pastor chips away at my cold, cold heart. (Hank Williams song), and I hope he helps my hypochondria. Headache......oh my, yes. Oh wait, I have not had coffee. One cup, but it is an addiction still.. I am so good at these addictions. I can still see me and my 50 morphine pills left from Billy's extras. Those actually are the only real plans I have had in the last nearly five years. The pills were thrown away. I still had the ruptured colon issue and I would have died for sure. I cannot take pain pills. When I fell and hurt my ankle, docs said hairline fracture, wrapped up my ankle and gave me a prescription. I told them I could not take them. Tore it up. Gwen, I'm so sorry you are so ill. I hope the breathing gets better. I hear it with my sister. She starts a new med tomorrow. My daughter, who has the immune system of a gnat, she runs to the store, she brings me in three loads of groceries............and toilet paper. I am safe, for a little while. Do have to worry about Scott still at the VA. They go through so many things to keep their workers safe. He and Kelli found a townhouse to move into. Not sure it is his first choice, but he will make do and it is closer to his job. But, he says it is further away from Mama. Well, they both won't be but about 20 miles away, maybe a tiny bit more. The yellow roses with pink tinged petals are blooming all over my patio. I have not touched them, that would mean certain disaster. I kill plants. I did notice the poison ivy on the right side of the sidewalk has tendrils reaching out for anyone that walks close. That is life, beauty and poison ivy. Could I wish you a Happy Easter? Well, I could, I will, but happy is a word in very short supply these days. Please feel better. World, please feel better and please don't let poly-ticks get into our health system. Let smart people do what they know to do. Please.

Gwen, Let us know how things are going. I really want good news for you for awhile. And the rest, I don't have a clue about the world right now.

This morning Kelli had to meet Scott. She stopped to fill her gas up and this man with a white towel on his head hit her up for money. Kelli does not have any money. She gets such a small amount of disability and that is one reason Scott and she are moving in together.. He asked for money. She said she had none. He saw she had packed Scott a lunch by looking in her car. He probably has diabetes as his legs were swollen so bad, or heart trouble, who knows. He saw the lunch and said she had food. He would not leave her alone,, even after the police pulled up. She walked over to the policeman who would do nothing. She had given too much money for gas and went in to get the change. When she came out he said "you've got money." Finally she was able to leave and she saw him stopping traffic at the red light for money. Scott said he is there all the time. I called the police department to report it and the police said if I thought he was ill to call the fire department. Now, why didn't I think of that? I told him, no, I would not call anywhere else. If the man gets hit by a car or hurts someone, that is on them. I never call the police department. It is a crazy world out there at this time.

I guess I was angry about being guilted in not leaving the house. And, after reading your problems, it was petty stuff. I'm sorry and I hope this can be taken care of without much trouble. I would like for you to get some good news for awhile. No, the curfew does not bother me. Cannot drive after dark anyhow. The world has Humpty Dumpty sitting on a wall and I hope we can keep him there. I'm sorry about the breathing problems. I sure hope you get some relief. Heart with you.

I Lysol sprayed my mask, my lungs now have Lysol, I sprayed my shoes, top and bottom, all my clothes, hair, purse, put mask on and went in. I took about 6-7 lengths of Lysol wipes and kept lysoling my hands. Anyhow I did this going in, then getting back in my car, the seats and the steering wheel. I came home, deposited groceries on floor, sprayed over them in the car. Came home, showered with antibacterial soap and clean clothes. I have had enough guilt in my life and won't stand for it now. My son just called me and one of the workers that was sick before he got there, he passed away. So, I worry enough about him now. "Many things about tomorrow I don't seem to understand But I know who holds tomorrow And I know who holds my hand" I'm afraid I was my maiden name only 18 years. I have been my husband's name for 59 years and one thing you never did, my kids included, you did not tell them they could not do something (after the kids got of age to not mind anymore). I'm home and will take my blood pressure medicine. I hate getting so angry.

Not just a curfew, we have a fine from $500 to $1000 if caught. It is unreal. This whole thing is unreal. Grief is unreal. Living is unreal. I have to go get a few things today. Toilet paper and towel paper are non-existent. We live in "another world" country. They buy out the meats. My daughter could not find HB meat. It is like living in a horror movie. Also, my sister has just shamed me into not getting out of the house. She was very stern (like my dad always was) by telling me I could not go to the store because I would bring the virus into Brianna and Scott. I am angry, mainly because there is truth in what she says, but I guarantee you the grocery store will not deliver her cigarettes. She will have to go out. Also her cat's food and litter. She is afraid mainly I might bring the virus to her and she is in no condition to fight it off. (Well, neither am I). Guess I might try grocery order later, but they cannot pick my stove parts out. (Orders are so far backed up sometimes you are given "days" before they can get to it. I understand.

Bri has two concerts in August. You know they will not have thousands of teens and young people all together by then. I was a child at the end of WW-II. I remember the rationing, I remember Mama's Victory Garden, the canning, and I might talk harsh about my mom, but that woman knew how to handle things. It was only when her mind was under the influence of Alzheimer's that things fell apart for her. I never saw the grief after Daddy passed away. I saw anger at him for having a cancer that could have been cured and instead of checking on it, he took his pastor's antibiotics to treat symptoms. He was always so afraid he was going to get cancer and he made sure Mama had her tests to check for things, but he didn't and she stayed angry at him for leaving. She looked like a movie star. She never let herself go like I have. I put off the Census until almost midnight of the day it was to be finished. I was scared to death of the numbers. I hate numbers. I had never filled out a census or income tax. Mama was a whiz with numbers. Anyhow, this is the first major trauma in life since Billy left. Jobs, lack of groceries, all the things they say are going to happen, all we can do is do like we have done so far, just get through it the best we can. We have a curfew of 8:00 p.m. And, I think I am just plain scared. I have admitted to being scared before, but that was not fear. I try not to watch the news. I'm out of words. That's unusual.

This is not going to make you feel better, but I'm noticing a lot of people losing it. Said that domestic violence had increased. I do not hear of as many drive by shootings. We measured Brianna last night and neither of us could remember if it was 58 or 68 inches. Both of us are numerically stunted and finally figured (with use of calculator), we could not use fingers and toes to count, but if it was 58, she was shorter than I am. We finally figured it out (a 3rd grader would have done it in seconds), but got the measuring tape stuck underneath the baseboard. Finally got it out with running a screwdriver under the baseboard. I think we are doing a lot of TV watching (I've done very little reading), and a whole lot of eating, which is troubling as the need for food means foraging, around humans. Screaming only gives me a headache, which I already had until I remembered I needed coffee. I tried to clean my stove and now cannot get it back together. I'm fixing to have to use it and I'm scared. So fear and paranoia are constant companions. Netflix saves me from watching what is happening now. But, I want to know what is happening now. I don't think Xanax is going to help me unless I take upward dose and that will just make me sleep. We are all going through the same craziness (I'm sorta hoping everyone is a little more sane than I am), but I'm not certain. My daughter had to block a friend of hers who is a health worker because I went to the clinic Friday. “All the world is queer save thee and me, and even thou art a little queer.” ― robert owen Mama used to say this different of course, substitute "crazy" for "queer" and in Robert Owen's day, the words were perfectly normal. It is like the paths we walk. All are different, but all the same. And, I do admit to a lot of paranoia. I am certainly more aware of my heart beats, but so far it still is beating.

Someone had mentioned on FB this morning about many of our friends having flu-like symptoms, a dry cough that would not go away, when they went to the doctor, the regular flu was ruled out. This was just before this virus. I remember many being ill, and we were wondering if maybe this flu had invaded some before we knew about it. I know I'm so paranoid that anything at all I notice. I don't drink but my morning cup of coffee and if I go without it I will have a headache. Oh the paranoia, headache, the new flu. Nope, fixed coffee and it went away, temperature stays 97.7 and will hit 98 sometimes. Always below normal. I'm old, my immune system should be on the bottom floor. Watching out for my kids and granddaughter. Scott works at the VA and they take his temperature before work each evening, make them put their street clothes into locker and change to clean scrubs, then change again when going home. They have all the Purell dispensers, antibiotic sprays, gloves, masks, but still I'm afraid. And my daughter drove me to Arkansas Friday and she would not let me do anything. She is not well, but acted as strong as an ox. Granddaughter had a bloody nose, but has not left the house since the stay at home orders. She would have a bloody nose ever so often as a child. A/C and heat environment. Everyone seems okay. Perhaps the best thing to do is not watch the news so much.

I'm so sorry Gwen. I wish there was something I could say. Please have patience (that is all you can do.) I was afraid at the clinic yesterday and they took my vitals outside, temperature and that thing they stick on your finger. All masks, gloves. No hazmat. You stayed in your car until brought in, straight to room. Please take care and let us hear from you.

We hit a patch over 20 years before he passed away where we could discuss everything without hard feelings, where trust was rebuilt, and I found the best friend a person could ever have. Nothing was ever thrown up by either of us of the wrongs, the hurts we did to each other, and our kids too. When we first married, I became friends with his friends, and one of my own friends married a boy from his group of friends. We all went places, played cards, visited until all the kids started coming and then we were still close. One of his best friends is in the nursing home, has been for two years. His wife is there first thing every morning and leaves at evening. Now she cannot visit him at all. This virus has killed and has torn families away from each other. And my heart hurts so much for my friend, and another good friend is hanging on by a thread. Her's is cancer. There is a story to be told behind every moment in time, every person we know, or that we used to know. I am so sorry.

Billy would always say, "I am you and you are me" and we still are. I still talk to him, in fact last night after sending the census in, I went outside and looked at the stars and said "Well Billy, I just finished my first census in 77-years." Brianna, my granddaughter, (20 years old) says he won't answer me because he knows it would scare me so bad. And, it would. If there was anything that involved numbers at all, Billy took care of it. Seventy-seven years, never did a census. So, I guess he and I finished it together. But, I also had a little talk with God about the predicament the world is in and this time there was no ceiling to stop my words. I know I probably had many more years with Billy than you did with Nancy, but I have found out now from experience and listening to my friends, the years did not matter really. We had time to correct some of our bad times and make the last years a friendship that death could not steal. My heart is with you.

1 Corinthians 13:12: “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” "That’s more than enough to settle the issue for me, and I hope that it is for you as well. Christians who know and love each other on earth will know and love each other in heaven" (That was from Colin Smith, a pastor, and his belief.) I don't know. All I know is something my mama told me all my life. "You do not question the Bible" and I have lived by that. Did I have questions? Well, I sure have had them,, but like the analogy of politics. I don't understand either one. I have what I was taught for 18 years. I have questions I have put to many theologian's. (Not sure of the spelling of that word). I know my faith has been put through a blender of sorts. I do not dream about Billy. I feel his presence next to me each morning, but know he is not there, it lasts only a nanosecond. I talk to him less. Sometimes I get angry with him. No, he would not have left if he could have done anything about it. I do know we would be together "till the end of time" if he could have. I get angry/jealous of him as if he were still alive. The three girls/women he was at one time serious about, and I know it was before me, but they have all passed away too. I know this is silly. I know how stupid it sounds. Sometimes I feel they have him, I don't. I have dream amnesia. I might remember it the next morning, but I can remember dreams I had while married and before marriage, cannot remember any now. For awhile I felt his presence, now first thing in the morning I feel it, but only a moment in time. Scott coded on the operating table after he was shot. The first time he remembers only a darkness. The second time he was in a place of happiness among people he knew, but cannot remember how he knew them. When I doubt myself, like his dad used to help me with my faith, Scott said "you will be with Daddy." And I am calmed. It is nearly five years. I was away from him one time for six weeks, but we saw each other every day, so really not much of a separation. This time, it is, of course, extreme. Like the little water bug that kept wondering what happened to other bugs when they climbed to the top of the water and got their wings, became dragonflies, another verse comes to mind, and I won't quote it exactly, but it comes from 1 Corinthians. It says when I was a child I spoke as a child. Then as an adult, I put away childish things. I don't think of that too much either, just heard my mom quote it often. I don;t think any of us have answers, we go by faith and my faith sometimes is all I hold on to. And my grasp hangs on to it sometimes in a tenuous hold. Too much religion here, I did mention politics. All I can say is this is one woman's journey and the path I have to walk on, and as we have mentioned so many times. We all have different paths. I received information in my Facebook this morning from one of our "prayer warriors" and this is a good woman of faith. I always feel when she prays for me that I've got to be better. I know she is not perfect, but she is so much more than I am.

Kevin, I'm sorry; and I'm sorrier to say I know exactly what you are going through. Unfortunately, my son had to go through it with his son and we are only getting good news now and can only hope and pray it stays good news. You've got her in a good place. Both my kids are bipolar and I talked to my daughter's physician and told him my fears. He told me if it was something she was going to do I couldn't stop it. I never gave up though. A few months later the psychiatrist went the suicide route. Guess he knew the feeling. We've had A/C on this week.

I just had to turn the TV to "Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga'Hoole" off of the news. I woke up at noon, missed my church services, and I appreciate them putting church on TV, there are many that are "shut in's" and not just because of crippling illness. This grief causes fear to be magnified. I had not been to the store in a week. I had enough still (thank goodness for my tax return), When my fear gets this bad, taking a Xanax won't help. My hours have changed. I used to be an early riser and in bed by 11:00 p.m. No more. If I am in bed by 2:00 a.m., I am doing good. I really hate doing that, but I have to have time to read. I did lose my concentration to read again for awhile. Now that does worry me. We were getting low on things so I was determined to go to Walmart. I know, I am an "at risk" person. My sister wore a mask sprayed with Lysol when she went. I expected to see hazmat suits, but all I saw were everyday people doing their regular grocery shopping and all Walmart employees in their regular garb. One time a customer saw me come down the same aisle as she was on and she quickly disappeared. In the grocery aisles we were shopping cart dodging in all aisles. All the while, there were Walmart employees trying to restock the shelves. I had enough TP but needed paper towels. They were guarded, and as usual, I only took one package. I found everything I was looking for. I will note, I was so paranoid (smart???) that I took my Lysol spray with me. I sprayed my purse and every inch of my clothes before I went in, shoes, bottom of shoes. When I finished, I loaded the groceries, sprayed the sacks, then sprayed the steering wheel, my cushion (I'm short) my seat entirely, my clothes again, head to bottom of feet. I got home, got groceries in, sprayed over them before putting them up, put my clothes in the washer, and this is the first time I found bacterial soap of any kind. They had my Dial antibacterial bar soap well stocked. So, I showered and put on clean clothes. In the meantime, they are not praised enough, we have people working, wearing their everyday uniforms, nothing to ward off this virus. And me, I am just the average paranoid shopper that could be bringing my germs/viruses to these innocent people. And yes, we have a lot to be afraid of. If we were at war with another country the generals would lead, now we are at war with a virus and the medical generals should at least be able to work under conditions that they will not die on the front lines. But, they are. Let people who know how to run hospitals, who know how to order enough equipment and supplies, let them lead this battle instead of political factions that only know how to fight each other. Sorry...........I did mention politics.

Had to put parents house on market, second person took it. My sister had no ready money to get things out. Tool shed in back with family belongings, had to be left. Took down her beautiful flower trees first. Nothing we could do. My sister could not keep house up. I signed everything over to her. She is barely making it even now, money gets "gone" fast. sometimes that thing that is said that about worry, that if nothing can be done, why worry. I have seen the point I have to do that. I will see it more and feel so helpless. None of us with the virus yet though, so we can be thankful for something. My sister's lungs are terrible and that scares me. My son working in a hospital worries me. My daughter being so immune compromised scares me, my granddaughter with her drug-born anxieties from a bio-drug mother, her fears that I cannot cure, they scare me. I scare me. Louisiana has worse numbers related to the crowds of Mardi Gras coming "home" with the virus. Wonder if maybe being in a particular humid state does not harm us. I really think the insurance worry is not even on the list of worries for this epidemic..

Kevin, have not seen my only grandson for years. I know my son had to hunt him down in California, literally in drug jungles that the police praised him for coming out alive. Warned him not to go into them. I do not know what happened. A few years ago we had a picture of him threatening a law officer that was put in a California newspaper, he had a huge knife. There is no rehab. None he would stay in. His letters placed on Facebook were like they came from some unknown language, nothing spelled correctly and no thought could be comprehended in any words. I have not seen this boy in years, but he lived with us once and was so sweet and loving. With Billy gone, my son was in deep depression and his son writing letters that could only be described as hate gibberish. Then, out of no where, my son talks to him. He is able to be understood. He has goals, which is something he has not had since we last saw him in the 11th grade. He is in his 30's now. He has two children that are taken care of by reliable people and he could not see them. He has cleared some hurdle and is going to get to see his little girl who is about 8-9 now. I'm afraid I have not kept up with him. I cannot help him. We helped his dad get through the drug jungles in Louisiana until he took himself out of it, we gave him a safe place to fall and he wanted to please his dad too. I counted my grandson as lost. I have faith but there seems to be some sort of wall I cannot break through since Billy left. I love, I love my family, but I feel somehow half of my life, love, faith, feelings are blunted. I think we may all feel blunted to some extent. It is so good to see my son with some of his depression gone. My grandson has been free of drugs through some rehab location, I don't know where it came from. I did not expect it, my son didn't expect it. With this epidemic turmoil, I'm just afraid.....plainly. I hope and pray for your child.

Karen, I went back up and put an addendum. Some of the things I "remembered" needed to be quoted with more than my memory. As a child I thought the land beside my grandfather's house was a canyon. Louisiana with a canyon? Only in a kid's imagination. It was actually an ancient road that led to a schoolhouse way back in the woods. Went by the last house we lived in from my being born until graduating. I remembered it as huge with big porch and swing. It was a tiny house, tiny porch and a swing. We see things so different after we have traveled so long through life.

It all scares me. If we get "it" or if we require surgery or a hospital stay we are in the position that some of us are in anyhow, only, they will not let anyone in with you. I've got a six month appointment on the 3rd, and specifically, it is to get the Xanax renewed for six months, but I have three other prescriptions that are renewed at the same time. My daughter was/is going with me. Never know. Then she starts listing all the places we "need to go" and in normal times, we could. These are not normal times. I'm just hoping I get seen. I won't let them touch me medically (nothing they can do for me), so it is just officially a six month renewal for meds. I'm not sick, at least not yet. Gwen, I wish the best for you. It seems "going it alone" is our only possible choice. Some of you will remember the late 40's and early 50's when we were vaccinated for smallpox and will remember our parents fears of the polio virus. I know I took the "cure" for the polio virus and back then we were not as far advanced scientifically as we are now, but Jonas Salk somehow helped cure polio, and have not read about the smallpox, was never afraid about it, but the little blister that came up after the vaccination always stayed on top of my arm rather than being a scar, like the other kids. When I started work at the big hospital, we still had patients in "iron lungs" that were farmed out to nursing homes. One look at the head to toe iron lung patient should have thrown horror into all our nightmares. We are home bound. Regular allergy symptoms, no high fever, and my sister is so afraid that she used her winter gloves to pick up a few groceries this morning. I have not talked to her yet. One woman, middle aged, passed away here in town from the virus, but she had been exposed at a convention in New Orleans, where most of our cases came from, all the crowds of Mardi Gras. I worry about Scott at the VA Hospital working, but he tells me he is safer there more than all of us on the outside. Stay safe y'all. I was going to go out for a ride in the country by myself but remembered I cannot get far away from my "necessity." And yes, I was allowed to buy a big pack of toilet paper, and it should suffice until all the corn cobs are dried out enough. ADDENDUM: Not 100% sure about those vaccinations, but if you google them, they are pretty interesting to read. I'm putting this on after I had put the wrong vaccination on FB and my cousin corrected me. Made me not trust my memory and go searching for facts. And, it was interesting. If they could do all that back 60 years ago, if they are given the freedom, then perhaps they can still cure the incurable. We don't talk politics and I don't know enough to talk about it anyhow, but if given the freedom to search for a cure, maybe it is possible. I know we have enough fear.

Brianna thought people would eat the corn off corn on the cob and then use the cob. She was evermore aghast at the spread of germs. I remember running the mobile one in the kitchen at my Grandma's and loved churning and everything but slopping the hogs. I drew the line at that. I explained to her the corn was allowed to dry and then put through the process to get the dried corn off the dried cob. Well, that was some better for her. But still............. It just got worse when I read her what people used to use and finally we had to quit googling, she wanted to hear no more. "Before Toilet Paper: Leaves, rags, moss and rags were some of the less-painful (and probably more sanitary) options. ... In the late 15th century, paper became readily available, so newspaper was commonly used as toilet paper. In more modern times, Americans used the Sears & Roebuck catalog and The Old Farmer's Almanac.Dec 12, 2018" I can remember the Sears catalog slung across a wire coat hanger in my country grandma's. They had a bathroom soon after though. They dug a well and had running water that (the land was called Red Land) and the soil was so red there had to be lots of iron in it. It would stain everything. I got a lot of my ways from Grandma (but I wanted my sweet, gentle, small, good smelling mammaw's ways), oh well, it is what it is. My grandma was a tough ole gal. Riding those five miles home from night service at the "local" Baptist revival, I said "Grandma, you only have your parking lights on." She informed me she knew how to drive but kept commenting on it being a dark night. As she went in front of her car, when we got home, while she said "well, I did have my parking lights on" and I was kissing the ground, happy we had made it. Stubborn ole gal. They called that part of Louisiana the Ozark foothills, and it was as close to mountains I would get until I married. Her and her dad both rode down the center of those dirt hill roads with their horn blowing meaning "get out of my way."