Soothing The Savage Beast

When last we saw our heroine, she had lost her pluck, her happy thoughts, and a great deal of her shine. Everything sucked. She was bored. She hated rain. She hated work now that work was only comprised of All the Worst Things and none of The Good Things.

Now work was taking turns in the office, instead of hanging out together. Work was stupid. If our heroine had to put on pants and leave the house, she dang sure wanted to have her co-workers and lunch hour waiting for her. AS A REWARD. BECAUSE PANTS. Stupid Pandemic. Stupid Dam Panic*. Stupid Rain. Stupid Pants. Stupid Everything.

So, there was stomping, some muttering. Perhaps some threats were made—a few crayons lost their structural integrity. Perhaps an ill-tempered beast stomped around; a fit was pitched--perhaps it was more of an impassioned plea to the Universe—I can’t really say. But at the end of it, our heroine felt a little bit better. She took a bubble-bath and got a good night’s sleep and in the morning, when the stupid work from home computer locked her out did she get mad and cry? No, she did not. Cry, anyway. She put on her plucky, and her pants. She packed up the computer and headed in to work before the start of office hours. She could work from work before anyone else was slated to show, fix her problem and be gone—because plucky! While wearing pants! Superman, probably. Except. Now that I think about it—he didn’t wear pants...

Superman? Or Brave Little Toaster?
You be the judge.

Anyway, the point is--  she was taking action. She was pro-active! Sure, in her heart of hearts she was still anti-pants—but if that’s what society required of her, the robe could stay home. She is a brave little toaster, in pants. With too many curls and a mask. It’s an interesting look, I’ll admit that.

Grands are GRAND:
Aiden Allen & John Shane

Now, I’m not saying that our heroine reacquiring her pluck is what turned the tide. I’m not saying that the epic fit she pitched swayed the Universe to her side, all I’m saying is, that when our heroine recovered her pluck and went to work on solving her problem—magic happened. Suddenly, and without any forewarning, her county was granted Phase Two status, effectively immediately. People could get haircuts again! Or sit at outdoor cafés, in small groups, social distancing from other small groups—at up to 50% occupancy! It was exactly like that scene in a Fairytale when the Princess wakes up and the world suddenly goes back to technicolor!

What I am saying is---you’re welcome.

*Also—I stole the “Dam Panic” spoonerism from artist Susan Branch. The internet is fun!

Ill Tempered Beast

Welcome back to this episode of Over My Garden Gate, in which we discover our plucky heroine isn’t quite a plucky as we thought.

Oh sure, she got on board the This Is a Serious Pandemic train early on and settled in for the long ride with nary a complaint, mostly. She had her snacks for the journey, and plenty of TP, and with that mess of curls she calls a hairdo who could tell she already overdo for a haircut in March? She packed her favorite soapbox and at every whistle stop along the way was happy to preach the gospel of Stay Home Save Lives.

When you shelter at home—who is going to see the whole hair mess anyway? Not to mention the later addition of masks—GENIUS! No haircut, no mascara—no problem! Put on a mask when you go out in public and voila! No one can recognize her! It’s like putting glasses on Superman—no one knew who he was! Secret Identity! Also, she stopped wearing contacts and only wore glasses—so exactly like Superman! Maybe she IS Superman!

Superman. Probably
Who can know?

It’s true, she had a brand-new grandson she hadn’t held since he was not quite a month old, and a slightly-used 20 month old grandson whose vocabulary was developing daily with out her there to influence it. But thank goodness for the invention of Snapchat and FaceTime! Our plucky heroine could receive multiple pictures of Baby Aiden in real time and do a nightly book club slash story time with John Boy Shane, and it was a lot to be thankful for. Word of advice? Toddlers shouldn’t be served wine in their sippy cups—but it’s totally fine for Nannas. Sippy cups save spills, amirite? Cheerios and string cheese are delicious snacks. It’s almost like being there!

Our heroine’s pluck took on some serious damage when one of her sons underwent emergency surgery mid hospital crisis, and no one could go visit him. But God is good--all the time--and her friends pulled her through; after a second hospitalization he was finally on the mend and Life in Lockdown continued on.

The sun was out, there was grass to mow and flowers to plant and multiple home improvement projects start—in a super plucky fashion, our heroine bravely started project after project without actually completing projects One, Three and Seven because—well, because she’s an idiot, but that’s a story for a different time.

But the wear and tear on her pluck became cumulative. And when the rains came, and day after day became darker, and soggier, her pluck went AWOL. Our heroine suddenly snapped one day last week and became an ill-tempered beast who could be neither soothed nor solaced, nor sung to. She stomped around the house, cursing the rain and the virus. She declared she was bored, and mad, and sad; she hated rain, threatened to break all her crayons, and run away from home. Did I mention it was raining? Still? Again? And that it would probably never stop? Ever ever ever? The cats sought shelter under the bed, and the neighbors vacillated between calling a Realtor or calling a Priest...and then the strangest thing happened...

Tune in to next week’s episode, where we discover the fate of our heroine. Does she get her pluck back? Or do the neighbors end up lighting torches and storming her castle? Does she get one of those cute little white jackets with the sleeves that buckle in the back?