So masks were difficult to find in the early days. Thank goodness for our local Buddhist community who went to work sewing beautiful, useful face cloths. Now, of course, they are widely available and even more widely argued about. When or whether? Helpful, useless, or possibly even harmful? Cloth vs. paper. Whatever you do, don’t touch your face.
Then there is the learning curve. I saw a woman speaking at a local county commission meeting — one of the first in-person but socially distanced masks-optional ones we have had since the phased re-opening started. She sat in the audience, mask in place. But when she walked to the podium to speak her mind, she removed the mask. At first, she held it gingerly in her left hand, letting it dangle by one of the ear-holds. But as she grew increasingly agitated during her allotted three minutes, she began to ball the mask up in her fist, gesticulating with both hands, voice rising. At last, spleen fully vented, she returned to her seat and reapplied the mask to her face.
Watching a re-run of the meeting video from home, I shook my head and sighed.
Like many folks, Buck and I are assembling a small collection of masks, from an ancient N-95 that was still in its original packaging and had been languishing in his tool shed for years, and a package of the ubiquitous pale blue paper surgical ones, to ones you pull over your head and pull up to cover your nose and mouth. My current favorite is a cloth one made by two local women. It’s bright yellow with navy blue squiggles. But the ones I’ve ordered for both of us may (I hope) be the best yet. They are cloth, with a vinyl window over the mouth area, and were originally designed to help hearing-impaired folks – like Buck – as they augment their hearing aids by reading lips. Fantastic adaptation, and I like the idea that our smiles won’t be hidden in the grocery store or other public places.
We are still spending most of our time at home, but that is really not much of a change for us. We are both fit and healthy, but in the older cohort for whom catching the virus could mean more than a bad day at the beach.
So we’ve made some other adaptations, too, including deliveries of frozen wild salmon and white fish from Wild Alaskan. We signed up for an every-other-month delivery, but I am finding we’re eating a lot more fish and loving it, so I keep bumping up the shipping date so that now, on our third box, we’re getting a delivery about every six weeks. This is something we’ll continue, Covid or no Covid. Same for deliveries of frozen chicken directly from Purdue Farms. The first box was a terrible disappointment, because the dry ice was completely melted and so was all the chicken. I hated the waste, but can’t fault the company. They were dealing with huge issues in trying to get their product to customers in pristine condition despite hiccoughs in the shipping chain and delivery timelines. Purdue Farms’ customer service was fantastic. They offered me a refund or a new order. I took the new order, and it arrived with extra insulation and dry ice in perfect condition. Most of the order was free range and organic, packaged in convenient serving sizes. It’s great. So far, we’ve made a teriyaki-style stir-fry from a package of boneless chicken thighs, fajitas from chicken tenders, and lemon-herb marinated boneless chicken breasts cooked on an indoor grill pan (photos below).