Okay, so it's not Norman Rockwell and "Freedom from Want" but hey, it's portion control!
This past Thursday, I “celebrated” my first major Thanksgiving as a widow, Thanksgiving.
More after the Shameless Plug Department:
A recap — this past May, my husband, the beloved (if frustrating) Mr. Scribe, suffered a major heart attack while at the supermarket, and was dead before he reached the hospital. (Saved me a hospital bill on top of the ambulance charge, at least.) After spending 3-½ months with my Republican sister, getting my eyes fixed (bad cataracts) and figuring out my monthly income (a combination of Social Security survivor’s benefits plus a portion of his pension benefits), I moved into a very nice and actually affordable retirement community. I have a good sized 1BR with tons of closet space, on the second floor with a balcony so it’s quite safe. The rent, while higher than if I’d been in a standard senior apartment, includes everything (except for telephone, and I’ve got my cell for that): food (more on that later), utilities, cable/Wifi, weekly housekeeping, transportation (like for doctor appointments), and activities. I have people around me which is very important; if I’d been alone in a senior apartment with no stimulation I’d probably fall into a deep depression, especially during COVID with senior centers all shut down.
The food here is actually quite good — portion sizes are fairly standard, which is probably good for me as I continue my quest to lose weight. It has nothing to do with trying to look good for anyone else (though I’m open to that if it’s in the cards), it’s more that I feel that I have a new lease on life and want to be healthier.
Almost 2 weeks ago, on the 15th of November, we got a letter from our Executive Director informing us that someone in the community had contracted COVID, and though they were no longer in the community (I’m not sure if they had moved out, were in the hospital or had passed away), as a precautionary move we were going on quarantine. What that meant was all activities were cancelled, the dining room was closed, and we were urged to stay in our apartments as much as possible, not to leave the facilities or congregate in the common areas. Our meals have been delivered to our apartments; we had a daily menu to fill out and post on the door jamb, then we got our menu choice from the traveling cart.
Of course, the time period included Thanksgiving. My original plan was to go to my sister’s house (the same one where I spent 3-½ months) to join her and her husband, her husband’s sister and her husband, my oldest niece and her husband, and my niece’s mother-in-law (who was going to pick me up and bring me back home). I was of two minds about the plan; the increase in COVID cases plus the CDC guidelines made me a bit uncertain about going, but I wasn’t sure how to tell my sister. Well, the decision to stay home was made for me, it turned out.
So I settled in for two weeks of more or less isolation. Along with checking mail, doing laundry was a permitted activity so I did a couple of laundry loads. Unfortunately the weekly housekeeping was suspended for the quarantine, and I didn’t have the energy to change my own sheets so I’ve been sleeping on the same sheets for the last 3 weeks; fortunately it’s cooler so they haven’t gotten sweaty but I’ll be glad to see my floor’s housekeeper on Wednesday! I had some projects to work on, but admittedly I was too depressed to start much work on them; I’ll see if I can get some of that work done tomorrow. I watched a lot of TV (mostly MSNBC but I’ve gotten hooked on Shepard Smith’s news show on CNBC), and I did finish a scarf I’m making for the ophthalmologist who saved my eyesight (just need to do the hat):
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